I like big books and I cannot lie. (part one)

Listening To: Dreamer by The Tallest Man on Earth
Actual Text from The Rogue Accountant: "I think Sloth from Goonies is in the office next to me."

Good morning beauties and beastlies!

I was up before the sun this morning, writing like my fingers were on fire (as the ever-brilliant Kathi Applet says to do) and I got all delirious crazy confident and thought I'd accumulated some pretty awesome pages. I scrolled back to the top of my document and said, "Okay! Biscuit! Listen to this and tell me what you think!"

I read the passage aloud.

And then I hollered, "Right?!"

And I looked back at my dog and this was her response:

Awesome.

So I decided to take a break and finish write about a few books I'm excited to read in 2012. And then the post got so stinking long ... that I broke it into two posts. (By the way, the fact that I took a break from writing to ... write ... is not lost on me.)

I hope to write about some of my favorite reads in 2011 ... before 2011 is a far distant memory. But I thought it might also be fun to give you a quick list of books I'm psyched to snatch up this year. (And, admittedly, because we're all booknerds up in here, I would love to hear about the books on your wish list so I can add them to mine!) Obviously, this list will grow as the year progresses. This is just a starting point. (These posts will only contains books from the universe of KidLittery.) Think of this as the first layer of my 2012 Booklist. If my booklist was a pie, this would be the foundation. The flaky pastry. Nay, the Oreo crust! (Have I mentioned that I haven't slept much?)


Also, this is a humdinger of a Part One so maybe go get some java and come back.

Also! Please read this very important notice: the novels I'm talking about today are Young Adult novels (my Middle Grade post is coming on Friday). Young Adult novels have more mature content than middle grade. If your parents are very strict about what you read, be sure you read more about these books before you read them. That's my wimpy way of saying: please don't send me mean emails. One of my most favorite things about this blog is that there are so many different (read: wonderful) people who are reading. We live in different corners of the world. There are different faith backgrounds, different nationalities, and manner of college football loyalties represented on here. There is quite a range of ages up in here as well. I love our younger readers dearly. That said, there's no way I can know for certain if a book is okay for you specifically to read. These are books I'm interested in ... but I'm a bonafide grownup. Ish. Sort of. So use your best judgement here and, if these books aren't for you, or if your parents say ix-nay (BTW: I think your parents are awesome, regardless of what they say) simply move on to something else. There are thousands of beautiful stories out there waiting to win you over.

Now! Are you caffeinated? Comfy?

Here goes:


Books I want to Read Like Whoa in 2012

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. It's a fact: I've never met a John Green book I don't like. Looking for Alaska is my favorite but I sometimes wonder if that's simply because it was my intro to John Green. His books have a literary quality that's so accessible, so full of smart humor. And as somebody who (*does a victory dance that much resembles the hokey pokey*) survived her teenage years, and someone who worked with students for many years after that, I think John Green captures the spirit of adolescence so perfectly. He takes the sarcasm and the smart-funny and the hilarity and the heartbreak and the fierce loyalty to friends and the falling in love and the rejection and the boundless, endless, passion teenfolk haven't learned to harness yet (please don't ever harness it) and he throws it into a blender. And it blends into a smoothie of awesome. Or something. I might have overworked that metaphor a bit. *puts blender away* But his books are beautiful.

My only hesitation in reading this book, and you're allowed to make fun of me for this, is that the people in the novel have some serious medical issues ... and one of the issues touches on something very personal. I don't know if I can read the novel without my imagination constantly wandering some place I don't need to let it wander. So I might wait a bit before I read it. But. That doesn't negate the incredibleness of this novel. I have a feeling this one will make you weep, but it will be a good cry. Embrace the tears! Hazel is going to be the best girl in a JG novel so far. I can feel it. (I'm such a fan of the way he writes the girls in his books, aren't you? They're heroes in his stories. They get funny lines and they get to be flawed and smart and cute - but not cute in an "I'm dumb and oblivious ... *giggle-giggle*" way. Even secondary characters aren't props in his books.) The book is out now and I've seen several signed copies in the bookstore. I've even seen pictures of signed copies containing little Yettis! (Which will only make sense if you watch his vlogs.) I hear he messed some of the sigs up, and left a link in those books for an apology clip on YouTube ... how fun would it be to find one of those?! More fun than finding four leaf clovers and Waldos! I gift his books quite often and I'm pretty sure every person I've ever given one to calls, or emails, to tell me how much they're loving it. And how hard they're laughing. Listen to him read the first chapter, and prepare to be wowed. (PS - I lurve that cover.) (PSS - I harbor a not-so-secret hope that Hank Green will also write some YA someday. Vlogbrothers, FTW.) What's your favorite John Green book? (If you've never read John Green's work, but want to, you should scoot on over to Katie's blog. She's a proud/adorable nerdfighter who would could recommend the perfect starter novel. Also, Katie helped create this gorgeous blog. I keep clicking through just to stare at the pretty header.)


The Disenchantments by Nina LaCour. This story has to do with Colby and Bev, two best friends who've made a pact to tour Europe with their band after high school graduation. The plan falls apart when Bev decides to go to college instead, leaving her best friend behind. Now all they have left is one wild, wonderful summer to live out their dream. (Instead of Europe, their backdrop becomes the Pacific Northwest.)

I'm so excited for this read 1.) because I love music, and I love it when authors know how to weave music into a novel. 2.) because it takes place in the Pacific Northwest, where I left my heart (and, incidentally, a brand new Moleskine journal daaaaangiiiiit) over the summer and 3.) - and this is the most important - because Nina LaCour wrote it. I read her first novel Hold Still with no inkling of how she wrote. (I read it because Julie Strauss-Gabel edited it.) (Fact: it is an especially nerdy attribute when you admit to following the work of certain editors. Not just authors. But editors.) My very articulate reaction to Nina's writing was: wow. And wowzers. And whooooa, nelly. Nina's prose blows me away. She is an incredible writer. And I think the most incredible part of it is that she still stays rooted in her character. Sometimes, it seems like very talented authors get tangled in their prose. They lose control of story and all the characters start talking exactly the same way. You savvy? But Nina never loses control of the story. There's some restraint in her writing; and it makes the story even better. Her craft is so technically on point ... but I got so lost in the story that I didn't stop much to appreciate it as much as I should have. Hold Still was one of my surprise favorite novels of 2010. I thought it would be a story about a grieving process, and it is, but it's way more of a healing story, about a girl who finds her way back from a devastating loss with the help of her family, her friends, and the process of creating. That novel was a stunner.  (PS - Hold Still also contains illustrations by Mia Nolting, and they compliment the story in such a wonderful way.) (Also, I do sincerely adore The Disenchantments cover. That's how face-covers should be done.)

All These Lives by Sarah Wylie. So, I am slightly biased because Sarah is my friend. But she's also a crazy-talented writer and I'm so excited for her debut that I can't hardly keep from leaping out of my chair, doing a roundhouse kick, and making jazz hands. I'll post the official blurb from Goodreads, because this plot is rather intricate (but not confusing!) and I don't want to mess it up. From Goodreads:

Sixteen-year-old Dani is convinced she has nine lives. As a child she twice walked away from situations where she should have died. But Dani’s twin, Jena, isn’t so lucky. She has cancer and might not even be able to keep her one life. Dani’s father is in denial. Her mother is trying to hold it together and prove everything’s normal. And Jena is wasting away. To cope, Dani sets out to rid herself of all her extra lives. Maybe they’ll be released into the universe and someone who wants to live more than she does will get one. Someone like Jena. But just when Dani finds herself at the breaking point, she’s faced with a startling realization. Maybe she doesn’t have nine lives after all. Maybe she really only ever had one. 

You might have seen this read blurbed as a "literary YA My Sister's Keeper".  Mmmhmm. It's hot stuff. I'm extra excited because I know this is the first of many, many beautiful books Sarah's going to release out into the wild. (PS - that's another gorgeous example of face done right.) Here's the book. Here's Sarah's twitter.

Cinder by Marissa Meyer. So, a few years ago, I was having a conversation with this girl and she mentioned that she was a total outcast when she was in high school. She then qualified this statement by saying that she was the kind of girl who dyed her hair crazy colors and read obscure poetry.

And I couldn't help but chuckle (later on) because I thought - ah. She was a loner in a cool way. Listening to The White Stripes when they were still unknown. Reading dark poetry and writing even darker poetry and so on and such. Fact: I didn't dye my hair crazy colors in high school. I didn't read Sylvia Plath. I wasn't that cool. I did, however, play ping pong with my friends on Friday nights, anticipate Saturday breakfast with my grandparents all week long, wear lots of plaid shirts and watch Star Wars almost every weekend (in Middle School I watched it almost every day). For reasons I cannot make excuses for, I also parted my bangs down the middle. Like Dwight Schrute. There's no justification for that, but in every high school picture of me I've seen, my eye goes immediately to that horrible center part. It's like a curtain divided to show the vast stage of my forehead. My point is this: I was more of a classical kind of dork. But! I had a sweet bunch of friends and we were all uncool and plaid-ified together, so I was fine.

These days, I do not part my bangs down the middle. But plaid shirts are totally hot right now (score!) and Star Wars is still one of my favorite movies of all time. (Whenever I pass a car on the interstate, I yell, "Punch it Chewy!")

So. When I started reading about droids and a handsome prince and an empire and a girl named Cinder ... in the same book ... my nerdy senses started to tingle. This book excites me so much that it makes me want to part my bangs in the middle and start singing Spice Girls songs. Cinder is a futuristic retelling of Cinderella that makes the geeky, plaid-wearing, Star Wars watching part of my heart do somersaults. Here's the synopsis from GoodReads:

Humans and androids crowd the raucous streets of New Beijing. A deadly plague ravages the population. From space, a ruthless lunar people watch, waiting to make their move. No one knows that Earth’s fate hinges on one girl. . . . Cinder, a gifted mechanic, is a cyborg. She’s a second-class citizen with a mysterious past, reviled by her stepmother and blamed for her stepsister’s illness. But when her life becomes intertwined with the handsome Prince Kai’s, she suddenly finds herself at the center of an intergalactic struggle, and a forbidden attraction. Caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal, she must uncover secrets about her past in order to protect her world’s future

A futuristic fairy-tale with a gorgeous, half-robotic, mechanic in the lead? I'm into that. (In the immortal words of Posh Spice, it makes me wanna "zigga-zaeg-ah!") The first five chapters are free on Kindle, if you want to try it out.


Same Sun Here by Silas House and Neela Vaswani.

This is another book with an intricate plot that I don't want to mess up with my caffeine-induced description. So I'll let the Amazonians help me out with the details. Meet River and Meena:

Meena and River have a lot in common: fathers forced to work away from home to make ends meet, grandmothers who mean the world to them, and faithful dogs. But Meena is an Indian immigrant girl living in New York City’s Chinatown, while River is a Kentucky coal miner’s son. As Meena’s family studies for citizenship exams and River’s town faces devastating mountaintop removal, this unlikely pair become pen pals, sharing thoughts and, as their camaraderie deepens, discovering common ground in their disparate experiences. With honesty and humor, Meena and River bridge the miles between them, creating a friendship that inspires bravery and defeats cultural misconceptions. Narrated in two voices, each voice distinctly articulated by a separate gifted author, this chronicle of two lives powerfully conveys the great value of being and having a friend and the joys of opening our lives to others who live beneath the same sun.

You know what's crazy? It's already making my heart flutter and I've never even opened it. The book sounds beautiful but, admittedly, the summary isn't what initially what drew me to this novel; I will read this novel because of the combustibly awesome pairing of talent. I love the way Silas House writes. And even though this doesn't factor into the writing; I love his advocacy for my mountains. (I'm especially interested in this story because, obviously, mountain top removal will be a thread in this book, and mountain top removal is a very tragic process, one that devastates communities, that he actively campaigns against.) That won't be the heart of this novel, I don't think. I think the heart of this novel is that two people from very different backgrounds are going to realize how much they have in common (probably way more than the differences that separate them - which is a very profound thing to learn, and I hope I never, ever stop learning it).

On a personal note, I also love that he's such a champion for new and upcoming writers. About a billion years ago, I entered one of my short stories in a swanky contest. After submitting my story, I discovered that Silas House was the judge. And I immediately wished I hadn't entered at all.

Because 1.) he was the judge and every English major at my college (including myself) was enamored by his work. He's a big deal now, especially admired and respected in Southern literary circles, but back then, he was just getting started. And we all went to one of his readings because our professors were all name-dropping him 24/7. Hearing him read back then sort of felt like when you watch some indie band you know is about to go big. And so, a very short time after that, I couldn't believe that HE was reading MY measly story.


Which brings me to 2.) I've always been riddled with self doubt to the point of self sabotage. There's always a major wave of sickness (never confidence) that comes with doing something kinda brave and scary. Especially *gulp* sharing my work with other people. Especially if that work is fiction. The only peace of mind I had about sending my story off was knowing that he wouldn't actually see my name (they removed the names for the judging part). It's not like he would have remembered my name anyway, but it's easier to be anonymous sometimes, isn't it? And yet. Lightning struck twice and pigs flew and etc., and my story won.

It would have been enough just to know that he thought my story was worth a first place nod (I still hold tightly to that experience when I'm traveling the Oregon Trail of Writing Woes). But then! He actually took the time to say hello to me at the conference that I was attending. And he told me how much he enjoyed reading my work and encouraged me to keep writing. I will never, ever forget it. It's not just that I won't forget what he said, but the fact that he took the time to speak to me at all. He's a big deal. I will never, ever be a big deal. But he talked to me like I mattered a little bit and that meant the world to me. My favorite Silas House novel is still Clay's Quilt, which is pretty much a love letter to the modern Appalachia I know, (and love). It's a beautiful story.  I'm also smitten with The Coal Tattoo, which includes some of those same characters. I've never read an author who can write music into a scene like he does. (Please excuse these moments I get all big-sisterly. But, younger readers: there are, obviously, some adult themes in his novels for adults, and Appalachian lit, regardless of the author, is usually dark. So those books might not be your thing just yet. Same Sun Here is YA and he has another YA novel called Eli the Good.) Neela Valswami is an accomplished, wonderful writer as well. Their styles combined will collide like a perfect storm. (In her memoir she penned this perfect line: "This place; that place. You have to stand someplace. I pledge allegiance to the in-between.") She also teaches in the MFA program at Spalding. It would be worth every penny just to be able to  sit in one of her classes.

If you love reading Young Adult novels (regardless of your age), then I'm sure you know about my friend Sarah's blog. Sarah, The Green Bean Teen Queen, is a savvy librarian and she's crazy-passionate about literature for and about kids and young adults. She frequently posts great reviews of upcoming books (and giveaways). And she also occasionally tries to convince me that I should read more novels in verse, which I have a long-standing bias against, but I'm coming around (more on that Friday).


Any new Young Adult novels on your radar this year? Movies you're excited for? Are you still convinced that Peeta is the right Peeta for the job? Because I'm not. But I promise I'll go into the theater with an open mind. Happy reading! 

pink hot chocolate, etc.

Listening To: After the Storm by Mumford & Sons
Line obsession: "Wolf, /show your face." - from May B. by Caroline Starr Rose

Hey there beauties! I spent last weekend on the road (which makes it sound like I had a gig somewhere) (and I sort of did ... if you count hanging out with a really awesome eight year old a "gig"). Lucky for you, I took some exciting ( well ... "exciting") pics of my adventuring!

This is a perfect Georgia sunset:

This is what I was listening to while that sunset occurred:


I think that's appropriate. Stars are for lullabies and love stories. But I've always thought sunsets are more like rocksongs.

This is pink hot chocolate:

I know the pic makes it look like milk in a mug but it was very pink up close. I found it at World Market and packed it along so that Erin and I could partake of the pink hot cocoa while we watched Say Yes to the Dress. If you're wondering if we could possibly be any more girly, the answer is no. 

This is my nephew, Andy, and he's just about ten thousand kinds of adorable:

He's fluent in Star Wars talk. He loves Legos and Nickelodeon and he spends most of his time plotting ways to annoy his sister.

This is Andy's new hamster, Tiny:

Tiny is cute as long as he stays in his condo. At one point, Andy opened the condo to try and pet Tiny and I fluttered my hands, then screamed, then slammed the lid shut and hollered something like, "DON'T UNLEASH THE BEAST!" Because can you imagine if a hamster got loose in your house? I had visions of Tiny scampering across my face while I slept at night. *shivers*

Tiny's hamster condo is hardcore. It contains a plastic igloo, a slide, a wheel that looks like some fancy sci-fi contraption, a food bowl he likes to sit in, and a top hatch which he mostly uses for bathroom purposes. (If it had a big screen TV, it would be every guy's dream apartment.)

Speaking of monsters! This is The Cookie Monster:

And he wasn't on the farm (sadly) but I'm posting that picture to prove a point. I've long believed that we all become more like people we admire and esteem. For most of my life, I've admired The Cookie Monster for his passion, tenacity, and fierce advocacy for baked goods. (You might call him a hoarder. I call him a connoisseur; a carpe diem kind of guy.) Lo and behold, while I was on the farm, I looked down and realized I was proving my theory true:

Crazy!!!!

And this is my favorite cuddle monster, Biscuit, who has been especially snuggly since I got home:

That's the pic she wants on the back of her next album, tentatively titled: Born to Bark at the Neighbors Kids.

This is the look she gave me after I found a stain on the carpet exactly where Kramer's crate was when he visited over Christmas. Biscuit, you'll remember, doesn't particularly like her little doggy cousin. She usually reinforces this notion by re-marking her territory on the carpet whenever Kramer leaves. Which is exactly what she did after he left most recently. So I said, "Biscuit ... what's up with the mess in the floor?" And she was all:

"Uh ... Wasn't me."


And finally, this is Biscuit just being Biscuit:

Which is to say: lovable, cuddly, fuzzy, and just totally awesome. (Did you see the movie Tin-Tin? Did you know that Biscuit and Snowy are the same breed? Which is why I can't see the movie. Because I'll be squealing and clapping excitedly through the whole thing. They'd kick me out for sure.)

<--- Biscuit and I both think you're awesome, by the way. 

What's new with you this week? Are you keeping up with Downton Abbey? Did it drive you bananas when Mr. Bates's crazy wife came back and was all, "Bait-seh, you're coming with me!"? Are you a little bit confused by the story lines this time, or is it just me? OH! This factoid won't matter to many of you but, for those of you who remember the BBC version of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe that came out in the 80's ... did you know that the actress who plays Mrs Patmore on Downton also played Mrs Beaver?! You are welcome.

I'd love to hear what's new with you in the comments. Even if it doesn't include Downton Abbey. ;) 


Housekeeping Note: I've been mailing out lots of Paperdoll buttons and bookmarks lately. I'm so excited to share those with you! If you're reading Paperdoll with your friends or your church group OR if you're just reading it for yourself and you'd like some bookmarks or buttons, I still have a bunch. Just email me and let me know! You can see what they look like here. 

carry on, alexa chung.

Listening To: Calling You by Jeff Buckley
Also listening to: the falling rain. One of my most favorite sounds. 

Alexa Chung's Fall Madewell ad.
 The shirt was from the catalog.
 Pretty sure the necklace was borrowed from Xenophilius Lovegood.
*jealous*

Someone recently said to me, "I bet you and your friends have really smart conversations."

I didn't know how to respond. Because the question was well-intentioned; it wasn't sarcastic at all. And don't get me wrong; I would certainly classify my friends as smart. And they're not just smart but assertive and easy-going and very funny. And they're all crazy pretty. I'm not just saying that so they'll buy me coffee either - in the words of Derek Zoolander, they're all really, really ridiculously good looking. But I'm also confident that our typical conversations aren't the sort that make people envy our brilliance or even want to eavesdrop. (Even though I'm confident that, if they do eavesdrop, folks will wish they had girlfriends as cool as mine.)


For example. 

Recently, while waiting for our movie to start, my bffSarah and I sipped some java at Starbucks and conversed. Smart-like. By which I mean: we were lamenting the loss of our favorite purple puffy chairs. The purple puffy chairs used to be caddy-cornered there in The Buck, situated perfectly for conversing. Whichever one of us got there first would run for the purple puffy chairs and claim them. They were our favorite place to chit-chat and scheme and solve the world's problems. Alas, the purple chairs have been done away with in favor of boring tables. Tables are no good for problem solving. What will the world do with out us fixing its problems?!


Table-talk consisted of Muppets and Ziploc bags and holiday catalogs and other exciting topics. (See what I mean?) For some reason, I started talking about the Madewell Holiday catalog. I don't know why this came up. But I don't really know how 90% of our conversation topics come up, so no biggie.

Full disclosure: I've never actually bought clothes from Madewell. I guess I get the catalog because I've bought accessories there. They have cool pieces at a good price point; stuff that looks just a little more quality than Urban. More like what you hope to find in an old antique/thrift store. Except I never find cool jewelry at antique stores. (I only find gigantic rings with Shriner insignia.)

This year's Madewell Holiday catalog is especially fun for two reasons. 1.) Because it contains the llama sweater:

Which is kind of awesome. (If you have a strange sense of humor, which I most definitely do.) Priced at $90, it's approximately $87.99 more than I would pay for such a piece, but it's still fun. And it made me laugh so I pinned it. (I don't think I understand The Pinterest correctly ...) The llama love sweater is already sold out on Madewell, so don't get your hopes up. *fingers crossed for Alpaca Hoodie in the Spring 2012 ...*

But it wasn't just the llama sweater that made me fistpump the air for The Madewell Holiday catalog. Which brings me to 2.) As you probably know, Madewell has been featuring none other than .... Alexa Chung. And I am an ardent fan of Alexa Chung, but not necessarily because of her style.


Her style is rad, don't get me wrong.

But Alexa Chung holds a special place in my heart because of her stint on, of all places ... The Golden Globes.

Before last year's Golden Globes, I didn't know much about Alexa Chung. I'm mostly pop-culture deficient. I'd never seen her on TV before. She's popular on fashion blogs and the like, so I knew who she was. But I didn't really know what she did besides wear cool clothes and be pretty. (She does television and contributes to British Vogue, in case you too live under a rock.) However. She forever endeared herself to me when she did fashion commentary on the pre-show/red carpet.

Her commentary is awesome. Behold:



"And your shiny shoes. Is that for any particular reason?" 

Her interviews were exceptional. Like an ongoing (very funny) SNL skit. The shiny-shoes question was my favorite, because that's like a question I'd ask. It still makes me laugh.

I especially like that she makes it just awkward enough for whoever she's interviewing that it's fun for me to watch. ("You're presenting for best foreign film. Who do you hope wins?" *crickets*) For the record, I think she was purposely being a little bit cheeky about the whole thing. And I can't blame her.

I guess, when it comes to commentary on clothes ... there's only so much you can say at an event like that. Tim Gunn would have had much to say, and said it all elegantly, of course. But mostly, when you've got two minutes to talk to actors about "who" they're wearing (when, let's face it, Rachel Zoe and Brad probably picked the clothes and texted to remind the celebs "who" it was) ... there's really not much interviewing to be done. Might as well talk about shiny shoes, I guess. So kudos to her for having fun with it.

("Who do you hope to bump into on the red carpet?"
"I don't know who's here? Clare Danes. I hope she wins."
*nods* "Thank you very much for talking to me. Cheers." 
... that whole exchange is so absurdly funny to me.)

So anyway. Awards season is approaching and I'm getting excited. First, I'm excited because Dad and I always wager Dairy Queen Blizzards over who correctly picks the most winners (Oscars, not Golden Globes). We're very fancy that way. But I also get excited because I start to hope that maybe, just maybe, Alexa Chung will do red carpet reporting again. Bring on the shiny shoes! *fingers crossed*

I said all this to Sarah. And then I think I got back to talking about the Muppets. About how Kermit and Miss Piggy were really inspirational, because YES, they've have had their ups and downs, and yes they come from different corners of Old McDonald's farm, but if they can make it, anybody can make it! Here's to the frog and pig! Cheers! ...

... And that's the kind of smart conversations I have with my friends. It's truly amazing that they keep hanging out with me. 


Inspired by Alexa Chung, here's my question to you: which celebrity would you be most excited to run into on a red carpet? I would pick Kate DiCamillo or JK Rowling but they probably don't hang out on red carpets that aren't for their movies. If we're talking about movie-star celebrities ... I guess I'd go with Dolly Parton, Carol Burnette, or Tina Fey. Or John Schneider, the original Bo Duke. Obviously. Also, Taye Digs. If I ran into Taye Digs, even if the "run in" was a slight shoulder brush in a gas station as we passed each other in the candy aisle ... I'd brag about it every day for the rest of my life. See you in the comments!

regarding downton abbey.

Listening To: Sugar Cane by Missy Higgans
This: is rocking my heart in a wonderful way. 


Happy Twenty/Twelve, beauties and beastlies! :) I hope this week has been a sweet one for you. I know I should probably try to make this first post of the year inspiring or pretty or riveting. I should make this post matter.


But I'd rather make this post about Downton Abbey.

via weheartit; pretty sure this was originally in a British newspaper

Are you into Downton Abbey? Because I'm so hooked.

via Vogue Magazine, Jason Bell photograher

Obsessively, crazily, bespeckled-eyes-glued-to-the-telly hooked.


And I'm doing my part to hook other people. That's the beauty of Downton Abbey, in case you aren't watching it yet. Part of the joy in watching this program is driving your friends crazy until they watch it too passing the joy on to as many people as you possibly can. Even if you don't think Downton Abbey's your thing ... with the corsets, the period drama, and so on ... you should try it.

Because in the immortal words of Indigo Montoya from The Princess Bride: "I do not think him is what you think him is."


This show is probably not what you think. Or it may be everything you think. Regardless, you might be very surprised by how weirdly compelling it is.

Important Note: Some mature content. Would probably be PG-13 if it was a movie. I'm not policing what you watch or read - but we have some (awesome) younger readers on here. If this show had been on when I was in Middle School, I would have preferred Saved by the Bell reruns.

Please let me count the ways I love Downton Abbey:


1. The characters on this show are exceptionally written. I figured with a cast this big, I wouldn't care about individual stories. But I care about every single storyline on this show. I care so much that it's hard to even pick favorites. But if I had to pick ... like, if someone was going to take away my coffee unless I picked ... these are the Crawleys (and maid!) I'd vote for:

Lady Violet. As if there's any other choice. Dame Maggie could star as a tap-dancing tree and she'd still be the scene stealer. I have this theory that her presence elevates the performance on any set she's on. Maybe the cast is good before she gets to work. But I bet when Dame Maggie shows up, and she brings it, and then they have to bring it x100 just to try and elevate to her level of awesome. But that's just my theory. (Just some leftover love for Professor McGonagall, maybe.) In this show, she's Lady Violet - conniving and uppercrust and (often unintentionally) funny, too. And surprisingly tender-hearted. Even in her upper crustiness, you can't dislike her. It's impossible to dislike her. She's a wicked-wonderful gem of a character.

"Put that in your pipe and smoke it." - Lady Violet

via weheartit

Sybil (far left). The Crawley girls are all great characters and I could get bloggy about each of them. (Mary has a very Jane Austen quality about her, right? Kinda prideful? Mostly prejudiced? ;-) But Sybil is the kind of girl I'm likely to root for in any book. Or movie. Or ... real life situation. She's got this wide-eyed approach to life - very innocent, maybe a little naive. She still sees the world, and all the people in it, as a very complex and wonderful thing. (Even the scary parts of the world seem wonderful.) But she's not just a day-dreamer. She's very world conscious, interested in politics and women's rights and current events. Mary and Edith, the older Crawleys, shoulder a bit more responsibility, and regret, and they're usually trying to one-up each other, or out-jealous each other (and it's so fun to watch). But Sybil has managed to stay clear of all that. Maybe because she's the youngest? I think she's one of the coolest teen characters I've seen on TV in a very long time. And I think Sybil's character will refine into something even more gritty in Season 2. She's getting older. The world's going to war. I'm interested to see how she processes it all. I also think she's going to make some big mistakes this season. I hope so. I'll like her even more if she does.

Anna. The neato burrito thing about Downton Abbey is that you see the inner workings of rich society family who owns the house and, also, the inner workings of their staff (a bevy of maids and butlers who take care of them). I like the staff. I adore William. I like Daisy, too. But Anna! Anna's big job is serving as maid to the girls - and, in my not so humble opinion, she's the quiet hero of Downton Abbey so far. She's sweet and kind and loyal. She's not necessarily inclined, not so far, to up her status (like lots of staffers at Downton), but she's fierce about what she loves. And who she loves. I think that's my favorite thing about her;  that she's sweet and driven. Sweet and driven aren't traits commonly paired together. I wish they were more often though. People don't have to be aggressive in order to be assertive and confident. Anna's a very modern woman, even though I don't think she'd classify herself as such.

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Yes, I realize I'm talking about the characters like they're real. Just roll with it for today, please.

Also, these two:

Are the most dastardly villains on television since Murky and Lurky tried to suck all the color out of the world.

2. I love the clothes. I know it's girly point to add to this conversation, but ... I'm pretty sure it's just girls reading the post at this point :). So, full confession: I pause the DVD just so I can freak out a little bit over what the girls are wearing.

found on weheartit

There's a show that came on several years ago that people (women my age, especially) were always freaking out over, mostly because of the threads. And I never felt cool because 1.) I never figured out why the show was so compelling and edgy and 2.) I didn't particularly see what was so cool about the clothes. Maybe it was the constant Manolo Blahnik references. I might be the only girl in the world who doesn't give a french toast about expensive high heels. (I prefer Converse to Manolos. For the sake of poetry, I also prefer Rolos to Manolos.) (Tangent: I also can't understand the cuteness factor of high heels with the built in platforms. You know what I'm talking about? I know they're hot and fashionable and everybody else gets their intrinsic style factor ... but I think they look kinda costume-ish. Like something you'd see at a pop-up Halloween store in a bag labeled "Sexy Minnie Mouse". But I'm not fashion forward.) Alas. *turns in cool girl card*

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I wouldn't want to wear the clothes on Downton Abbey, because those gorgeous dresses would look most wretched on my body type,* but I'm nuts over the costuming on this show. These silhouettes are so gorgeous, aren't they? I've never liked big puffy ballgowns as much as graceful silhouettes, like these. Sometimes the clothes on the girls are elegant, feminine and flowy. I like that. But my favorite is when they pair a dress with a very structured jacket. Mary wore this sick (sick = awesome) black jacket for the fox hunt. She was looking all elegant, edgy, House of McQueen; fitted black coat, long black skirt, black top hat and a whisper of a black veil. And she was riding her horse in stride with all the boys ... it was too much cool for one TV screen.

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I haven't squealed this hard over clothes since Project Runway. I cannot even imagine how wretched a corset must be, but the dresses make the characters look like moving paintings. Whoever does costuming on Downton deserves ten thousand tons of ice cream. Or some fancy award. They'd probably prefer the fancy award. I'd prefer the ice cream.

3. I love the time skip. Downtown Abbey's Season 2 will start with some significant time skippage between the episodes. I think that's a pretty cool jump to make. I've succeeded in not reading anything about Season 2 (which is already airing for you lucky Englanders). But I'm seeing lots of pictures. And they're making me very excited ....

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4. I love the way this house functions a funky little microcosm of society; a small (but accurate) infrastructure of people who are trying to survive in a rapidly mad-madder world. I get that there's a town outside the gabled walls of the house; and a world beyond the tiny town ...  but the house is a society in itself. Downton is big, so teeming with life and gossip and change, that it pretty much has its own hierarchy and governing system (for the family and the staff). And it's interesting to see who falls into place, who bucks against the system. Who plots and schemes. Who falls in love ...

My favorite line from the show so far is this:"She doesn't wish to keep it secret. She wishes to keep it private. There's a difference."

That quote doesn't reference what you might think, if you aren't watching the show yet. But it still sums up everything I love about Downton Abbey - the difference between what stays secret and what stays private. The pressure to fall in love (and the motive for falling in love). The snapshot of a society that was about to shift in a major way (the life you were born into vs. the life you make for yourself). The strange frazzled ties that bind families, friends, and co-workers (do we unite over what we love or what, and who, we hate?). There are lots of secrets in the house but, in the end, everybody kind of knows everybody's business, too.

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Mostly, I love the show because it's darn fun to watch. 

You can watch all of Season 1 on PBS (I watched it all on Netflix for free ... not sure if that's still an option?) (And then I got Season 1 for Christmas and I'm watching it again don't judge me.)

And here's a peak at Season 2:



I'll be DVR'ing that this weekend. As if I won't be planted on the couch, with my dog, watching the show as it airs ... (Biscuit loves it too. Especially when they go on fox hunts. She barks at the TV and wiggles her tail so fast it's a blur.)

(And for the record - my parents are also into it. Like I said, weirdly compelling.)

So ... are you a Downton Abbey watcher, too? I'd love to hear what you like about it! And if you want, maybe we could come back to this post after Sunday's episode and talk it up? Thanks for indulging me this week! I promise not to pester you with television talk too often. This blog will return to regular programming next time. 


* Sometimes, when people talk about period dramas like this one, or Pride and Prejudice, they lament about how they were born in the wrong century. But I have no doubt I was born in the right century. First off, I like showers and indoor plumbing. Second, I like to wear jeans. Third, I'm guessing glasses at the strength I wear them weren't so cute back then. These days, glasses are hipster but back then, I'm guessing they were more spinster, you savvy? There are also hygiene issues I'm not sure people take into account when they wish they could live in ye olden days. But most of all, I'm confident I wouldn't have been a cool girl at the regency dance with the Crawleys. I probably would have been a maid dumping out chamber pots or something. So I'm quite happy in my own century. 

just enough dark to see.

Listening To: You and I by Ingrid Michaelson
I read: Mark Batterson's The Circle Maker and highlighted, underlined, and put little ♥'s on every single page. The book rocked my soul and my whole concept of prayer. Incredible. Would be an amazing first read of 2012. Full gushy review coming soon. 
This: is beautiful. Did anybody not cry when they watched it? 

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Every year around Christmas, Dad and I drive to the top of Lookout Mountain and walk through Rock City's Enchanted Garden of Lights. The whole experience is fun and festive and, I'll admit it, tee-totally touristy. But I think people should geek out and get touristy more often, especially when it comes to the cities they live in.

I once heard someone (snarkily) say that tourists are easy to spot because they're always looking up. And I remember thinking, and I still wonder ... what's so bad about always looking up? 

I hate the idea of walking around like some uninspired drone all the time. I've lived in my city for a few years now and I still look up at the buildings. I still take pictures of them. And I still freak out when I drive over the hill at night and see my city's lights. My town looks so sweet then, all snuggled up into the mountains, shining and blinking like clusters of stars have fallen asleep in the valley.

We weren't headed for the valley though. We were headed for the hill top.

Dad and I drove up and around the curvy-tall mountain, all the way to city of Lookout Mountain (which, incidentally, has always looked a little bit like The Grinch's Mountain to me). Lookout Mountain is a gorgeous, whimsical town; criss-crossed by streets with names like Red Riding Trail and Pied Piper. Fairyland Elementary is their school. How amazing is that? Lookout Mountain is home to crazy mansions and sweet cottages. And cute cafes, trails, and parks and a ton of Civil War history. (And a college that looks like Hogwarts.) (And a gas station that won't let you use the restroom even if you buy gas there. Not that I'm still bitter.) (Also - so not buying gas there ever again.) (*gives the Shell Station the stink eye*)

And it's the home of Rock City. I've been to Rock City several times, but my favorite time to go is Christmastime, for The Enchanted Garden of Lights.

As you may already know, the Enchanted Garden of Lights is pretty darn fun. You get to walk through all sorts of caves and caverns, all lit-up for Christmas. It's gorgeous and a little bit spooky and kind of cheesy and so, so, so fun. Rock City is a rare blend of natural beauty and manmade-dorkdom. I'm a fan of both aspects. We walked through Fairytale Caverns and looked through the storybook windows. We read nursery rhymes carved into stone. (The nursery rhyme people are delightfully creepy up close.)

We walked down into a cave and found a wishing well, where little lights sparkled up the stone walls like fairies:

I made a wish. A B I G wish. Tis the season. (It's always the wishing season ;)

We walked through Goblin's Underpass. We stopped to watch a timed-light manger scene. We pointed out gnomes (fake ones) (... I think) sitting on rocks and swings. We stopped for hot cocoa and split a chocolate chip cookie and took pictures of a cliff-facing turned into a snowman (pic forthcoming).

Christmas music played constantly (gnomes like surround sound). And the lights were always shining; around us and above us. One of my favorite displays is the simplest: a wire-bird made of tiny, white lights.


But my most favorite part of the whole tour was the star-part. 

Before the tour started, while we were driving up the mountain, we rounded the final curve and I saw the big, iconic star that's fastened to the cliffs of Lover's Leap at Christmastime:

And I pointed and yelled, "Look!"(As if we hadn't seen that star a billion times before.)

My dad pointed higher and said, "Look."

And I looked up just in time to see a falling star burn a fire-path across the sky.

A falling star.

A real star.

And it was every bit as magical and wild and wonderful as falling stars are rumored to be. They're a scream and a sparkle, those star-things. Suddenly the world seemed very merry and bright and full of hope. I couldn't stop smiling. I'm smiling now just thinking about it. 

I've always been a skyfreak. Stars and sunsets, in particular, make my heart pound like crazy. Stars make me a little bit melodramatic, obviously. And that particular falling star got me in a thinking way. 

I thought about how it's kind of funny that I was so busy freaking out over a fake star that I almost missed a real one. And I thought about how typical that is of me, how sometimes I get so fixated on one thing - one dream, one goal, one flaw, one chance to prove myself -- that it consumes my vision. And I forget there might be something better, even more wonderful, even more rare and beautiful just past what I can see. 

I've been thinking star thoughts ever since that night.

Every December,
when I climb up the mountain,
and I stand on the edge,
I see miles of stars.

I see the sleeping stars down in the valley.
I see the wire-star that somebody fastened against the rock.
I see the timed-light star that buzzes like a bug light over the manger scene.

I see real stars, the night-kind that reach for each other across the ceiling of the sky.

But that night,
Because somebody reminded me to look past a star made of wire and light,
I saw one perfect wish burn a mad-dance down the December darkness.

And I remembered what I love about this season,
the advent, the epiphany, the new year, the new of it all:
it's this desire I have not just to live-out the day I'm in,
but to have enough vision and imagination to look past it too.


I think even the most dreamy dreamers need that reminder:
there is more happening here than what you see.

It's not that you're overlooking the day you're given.
It's that you have the perspective to see past it,
to know this is one page in an amazing story.

I've been reading so much lately about vision and imagination and prayer (and how they're all linked together). And I've been thinking about how I need to cast my vision further out than I do.

Sometimes, I need to look past this day I'm in, especially if it's breaking my heart, and know better days are coming.

Sometimes, I need to look past my flaws and choose to see something that is sometimes, surprisingly, kinda cute. (Snakeskin jeggings and all!)

I want to look past my fear and find enough courage to do the thing I love.
Even if it seems crazy.
Especially if it seems crazy.

I want to look for the good in a situation.
I want to keep choosing to see the good in people. To find the best and brag on it.

I want to choose beauty.
Choose goodness.
Choose to do some good,
choose action over apathy.

I want to set my sights a little higher.
Get a little bit riskier.


I don't want to limit my perspective to only what I can see.

When we got to the top of the mountain, to the very edge where the city lights and stars roll into one long canvas of night and light, I thought about everything I'm standing on the edge of right now.

And I thought about how easy it has been in the past (and no doubt will be in the future) to convince myself the climb will never be worth it. But sometimes the climb is worth it. Sometimes all it takes a slight change in perspective, just one brave glance past the obvious, and I see that the view isn't just good from here. The view is starry from here. One of my most favorite song lyrics of-all-time-and-always comes from Cindy Morgan. She sings, "Heartaches we go through are often blessings in disguise." It's a good reminder for a new day. I believe there's so much truth in those words, even though sometimes it's year before I see it.

I'm starting to see it. Some of it.

By day, you can see everything from the edge of the mountain: cities and six other states and farms and battlefields and woods. But almost none of that is visible at night. All you can see at night is the promise of something good: the tip of a far-off mountain in the moonlight, the lights from the city, dark patches of fields. Miles and miles of stars. You only see the promise of what's in front of you; a vision that's not realized just yet. But will be.

And that's how I'm ending my year: with my feet firmly planted on the rock. With hope in my heart. With stars in my eyes.

Happy New Year, Beauties! Thanks for being so encouraging and smart and funny and genuine. I adore you people. So does Biscuit. If you were here, Biscuit would totally pounce on you and sniff your ears. Which is her way of saying that you're awesome (I've considered trying this out when I meet people ... seems more creative than a handshake). I can't wait to see what shenanigans we'll get into in 2012.

Till then, I hope your weekend is super fun - full of sparkling grape juice and pizza snacks culinary wonders. And full of falling stars.


Do you have any big hopes for 2012? Any plans you're looking forward to? Do you make resolutions? Or set new goals? I'd love to hear about them! 

all things merry and bright.

Listening To: Us Against the World by Coldplay

Happy Monday, Party Animals! I thought I'd wield some photojournalism savvy and send some fun pictures your way, along with the usual holiday love and cheer. (I'd also send you some Chattz if I could, because I've been hitting the stuff pretty hard, because it is so delicious, but alas. That could get pricey. Do try it though, if you're ever in the area!) I have a Christmas Tale of Terror involving a duck attack, but I'll save it for next week. Let the anticipation build, etc.

So here goes: 

First, let's discuss my family's Christmas tree. It's a fine and fluffy tree, circled with starry-white lights and perfect for picture taking. Fake trees know how to strike a pretty pose: 

Note the lovely gifts underneath the tree: 

Also note this gift, which was not so lovely, which I affectionately call, "Best Wrapping Job EVER."

Last week, after we talked about ornaments we loved, my brother texted and told me that I needed to remind you of the "best" ornament on our family's tree, the one he purchased and put on the tree himself. The one my mother tries to "accidentally" drop and break or hide in the back of the tree proudly displays each year: 

That would be a Santa Claus holding a shamrock and a pipe. My brother is all class. 

Speaking of The Rogue Accountant: 

Here he is hanging out with my dog. They look to be conspiring in this photo: 

And here we are with Chase's dog, Kramer. I love that the camera flash always catches Kramer's eyes. Makes him look like an adorably fuzzy little psycho:

Doesn't he look like a little Ewok?! (Kramer. Not my brother.) Too adorable. 

Biscuit was mostly thrilled and snuggly and tail-waggy about Christmas: 

But. She's kinda territorial and she doesn't like anybody else playing with her toys ... or sharing her family ... or trying to eat leftover snacks out of her beard (what girl does?). Kramer's love language is licking. So Kramer loves chew on Biscuit's beard and Biscuit isn't down with that. So they don't get along. At all. Biscuit mostly eyes Kramer like she wants to brawl so we kept them apart except for a few, very short, well-chaperoned visits. We had to takes pics with them separately, due to ongoing shenanigans. I wish I knew how to convince the dogs to like each other ... but I don't. Any tips? 

Let's talk gifts. Nothing says "merry and bright" like this gift, which my nephew asked for: 

Which appears to be a large, scary Lego man holding a flaming robot-head. Tis the season! 

I didn't get a flaming lego head for Christmas (not yet, at least). But my family makes me promise to buy absolutely no books after November 1. Books are what I hope for and books are usually what I get. Behold this year's stash: 

So much squealing went down. (I was the one squealing. My peeps don't squeal so much.) I've pretty much declared the next week BookFest 2011 so I can devour some of them. Or all of them. Whichever comes first. (I also got Beth Moore's new study, "James" ... but that one isn't pictured because I had already opened it and started working on it.) Have you read any of these? (I can't wait to email my friend Ruth and talk about Dyan Cannon's Dear Cary ... because I have a feeling she'll squeal with me over that one.)

Now. Do you see the Mindy Kaling book? That's the only book that I'd dropped a hint about. And by "dropped a hint", I mean: my brother called and said, "What do you want me to get you for Christmas?", and I said, "Mindy Kaling's book!" and he was all, "Cool." So I thought I might get it. 

But then, this week, The Rogue Accountant got all cocky started saying stuff like, "Not to brag, or anything, but the thing I got you for Christmas this year? Is the best thing I've ever given you. EVER." 

And then he smiled in this quasi-evil way that made me wonder if he was giving me a slug farm or a sculpture made of spam cans. If you have a brother, you know this feeling of impending dread. 

Before I tell you exactly what my brother's gift entailed, you need to know these things: 

1.) This was an off year for me. Usually, I have this savvy about gift giving. Most years, I know the perfect gifts to give. Other than my ability to start kitchen fires with nothing but chopsticks and a sweet potato, I'm kind of known for my gift-giving-prowess. But this year? NADA. Everything about this year was off for me. My world got a little bit crazy (in a good way) and I didn't give this area the time and attention I usually do. I didn't put the creative time and energy into my gifts, not like the masses have come to expect. I warned the fam early on that this year was an off year. The gifts I gave were cool, just not up to par with what I usually do. Even Santa has off years, I've tried to convince myself. But alas. I have lots of Christmas guilt this year. 

So. 

2.) I gave my brother the following: I took one of my favorite pictures from our summer trip to Oregon, and I sent it off to the picture elves, and the photo came back as a big print. And I framed it. The pic is really cool: a beautiful shot of Multnomah Falls surrounded in fog. I also gave him a pack of Tully's Coffee and, and this is the especially funny part, I gave him a block of Tillamook Cheddar Cheese. It was like a Pacific Northwest prize pack and I was pretty proud of myself. Plus I thought it'd be funny to give him a block of smoked cheddar with a bow on top. And it was.  

And then I opened my brother's gift to me, which was Mindy Kaling's book.

I freaked out, because Mindy Kaling is funny and smart and awesome. And I'd wanted her book so bad for so long. 

And then my brother said, "There's a bookmark in there." 

And he flashed that quasi-evil grin again, the one that made me wonder if he'd scattered dead bug confetti between the pages or something.  

I was surprised to discover that my brother had tucked a receipt into the Mindy Kaling book. 

A receipt for the purchase of two tickets to see, oh, just some little indie band ... 

For Christmas? I gave my brother a block of smoked cheddar. 

And he got us tickets to see Coldplay!!!!!!!

*headDESK*

After lots of screaming, this slight juxtaposition became apparent to me. And I got very quiet and looked at the tickets. Then looked at my brother. Then looked at the tickets. Then I buried my head in my hands and said, "I gave you smoked cheddar." 

To reiterate. My brother gave me this: 

And I gave him this: 

*sigh* 

I've been a Coldplay fan since high school which has been, gah, over 10 years. (I know many of you were *gulp* born in the 90's ... but if you were in high school in the 90's, you might remember the first NOW CD? That's when I first heard Coldplay! Heh. :) And I've always wanted to see them live but tickets have been a little too pricey every time they've been close. And they sell out quick and all that jazz. So I'd kind of assumed Coldplay Live wasn't in my future. 

Would you think me especially dorky if I told you I cried, just a little bitty bit when I realized what my "bookmark" was? 

I have the sweetest bro ever. Seriously. 

'

But it's not just the Coldplay *dances a happy jig* part that makes me happy. I'm most excited that I get to see them with my brother. Like most sibs, we have a bunch in common. We can talk in movie quotes. We have the same weird sense of humor. We're both ambitious and we love dogs and we have that shared language all families have; the kind made up of the funny, inside jokes nobody else will ever get. But Chase also gets the music-part of my heart. He gets the visceral reaction I have to music, because he has it too. He knows what it's like to tuck a memory into a song. He knows why I listen to certain songs during certain seasons, why I write lyrics on index cards and on my mirror and sometimes, randomly, on the back of my hand so I can keep them close. I'm forever spellbound by the stories songs tell. Music makes me feel wild and safe. But the best part is that music makes me feel. Whether my heart is pounding in fear or anticipation, I've got a song that I can steady against it. That all probably sounds goofy, but I'm sure you get it too. Music is a gift that I'm endlessly grateful for. 

And that's a roundabout way of saying that I can't wait to see Coldplay live. I've set so many of my memories to their songs that I wonder if the concert's going to feel like reading an old diary.

Is it July yet?! ;-) 

One last gift. And this is so very girly, so please scroll if you don't like to discuss clothes.  My parents gave me too much sweet stuff, even though I told them not to get me anything. (Because, not to be corny etc., but I feel like the fact that I get to be around them so much is pretty much the best gift ever.)  One of the gifts they gave me was this jacket: 

Pardon the dressing room pic. That's the pic I sent to my mom and sister a dozen times and said, "... Maybe?" (To which they both replied, YES!!!) I kept going back to the store, and trying it on, but I never bought it because 1.) I'm cheap and 2.) because it's a weirdly wonderful blend of trends: military style + ruffles + a bold, brassy zipper and I think ... is this too much trend for me to work? 

Even when I opened the present, and flipped out and said, "... but are you sure I can wear this ..." My mom was like, "YES. Duh. Yes. Of course you can wear it." And, truly, if I had no qualms about wearing snakeskin jeggings (more on those later), you'd think a well-structured jacket would kind of be a no brainer. I dig it.

I hope you had the sweetest weekend ever. I hope you were surrounded by people you love. I hope you laughed until your face hurt. I hope you ate loads of Oreos. Or bacon. Or both. 


Merry (... day after ...) Christmas, friends! I would love to hear how your weekend went. Did you get any new books? Start some new traditions? Travel somewhere amazing?