Circle of Friends: GONE GIRL and Green Beans

This past Monday night, the Friends met at my house. These gatherings are always one of the highlights of my month, but this particular meeting seemed especially enjoyable. Maybe because I hadn’t been able to attend the past two months. Maybe because all the delectable comfort food they brought hit the spot on a cold “spring” night. Or maybe because Gone Girl—our book for March—lent itself to a very interesting discussion.

The Friends were divided in their opinions of this NY Times bestselling mystery by Gillian Flynn. Basically, it is the story of Amy and Nick, married for five years and hell-bent on destroying each other. Amy is narcissistic, self-absorbed, and psychopathic; Nick merely narcissistic and self-absorbed. Neither is remotely likeable. About two-thirds of the Friends enjoyed the book; one third didn’t. Those who did enjoy it liked it mainly for plot, for its “shock value.” As one Friend so succinctly put it, “It creeped me out.” It isn’t surprising the book’s appeal lies mainly in its plot, as there is NOTHING in either of the two lead characters we can even remotely admire. One Friend said she “admired” Amy’s “evilness,” but I’m thinking she found the “evilness” intriguing rather than admirable. The book did lead to a discussion on the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath—a point we never never fully clarified. One googled source stated the issue is debated at the “highest levels.” We decided we definitely fit into that category!

Having given the opinions of the two-thirds who favored the book, I’ll now give voice to the few dissenters, of which I’m one. Before writing this post, I checked the reviews on Amazon. Given the book’s popularity, I fully expected to see it rated as a five-star or at least a four-star read. I was surprised to see it earned only three and a half stars. The one-star reviews expressed my exact sentiment: There is nothing positive to be gained from reading this book. Or as Miss Dupree, my eleventh-grade English teacher, would have said, “It has no redeeming social value.” As I implied above, there is no protagonist in this story—no one to “pull for.” A protagonist doesn’t have to be perfect, but he/she should have at least some qualities that make him/her worthy of our sympathy. Nope, no such person in Gone Girl. Like Tom and Daisy Buchanan on steroids, the lead characters tear through their egomaniacal lives, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. And we don’t even have a Jay Gatsby to feel sorry for.

As for plot, I’ll admit, Flynn writes a great beginning. The first few pages had me hooked, hungrily reading and turning pages. About a third of the way in, I was suspecting the major twist, and about halfway through, I found the plot to be contrived and unrealistic. My husband and I have been married for almost thirty-nine years, and the only prediction I’ll make with absolute certainty about him is he won’t eat beets. The amazing Amy is able to foretell every single move her husband will make. She might be brilliant, but even a genius wife can’t do that. I thought I might be alone in this assessment, but I found many on Amazon who agree with me. For us, Gone Girl can’t be gone soon enough.

Something all the Friends did agree on—every single dish deserved five stars! It was almost impossible to decide on a single recipe to share with you, but one mentioned several times was Jean’s Beans—prepared by Pat. If only all veggies could taste this delicious!     

Jean's Beans

1 lb. fresh green beans

4 T butter (I use less)

1/2 cup minced onion

4 cloves garlic, crushed

1/4 cup celery, minced

1/2 cup parsley, chopped

1 tsp rosemary or 1/4 tsp dried (98% of the time I use fresh, but I did use dried once and it was still good)

1/4 tsp basil

3/4 tsp salt - I use half this amount if I salt the water the beans cook in

Trim the ends off the beans and cut them diagonally into 2" pieces. Cook in enough water to cover them for 15 mins. or until tender

Drain and keep warm.

Melt the butter and saute the onion, celery and garlic for about 5 mins. Add the parsley, rosemary, basil and salt, cook for another the 10 mins. The recipe says to cover them, but I don't.

Toss everything together and serve.

The original recipe is called Herbed Green Beans and Jean found it in the cookbook San Francisco A La Carte which is put out by the Junior League of San Francisco. It has become the go to holiday recipe for most of my family.

Hope you enjoy this recipe as much as the Friends did. And please share with me your opinion of Gone Girl.

Latest Marketing Ploy--More Questions Than Answers

            No doubt about it, the writers for Yahoo Shine know how to rope in a reader. The teaser under the headshot of an attractive young woman was something like: “What’s different about this mannequin?” Oh, so it was a mannequin. I clicked on the pic. 

            I thought the article would be about how a certain H&M store in Sweden is using lifelike robots as mannequins. I was wrong. What’s causing all the buzz—or what has “gone viral” or “set tongues wagging”—is that the mannequins are a lifelike Size 12. In addition to “sparking an internet praise-a-thon,” the use of these mannequins has raised a criticism: “Will this just encourage obesity?”

            I’ll have to say, this particular question was not what first popped into my mind for many reasons. First, Lane Bryant has used “plus-sized,” “full-figured,” or my favorite Precious Ramwotse euphism “traditionally-built” mannequins for years. The concept is not new. I guess what makes these mannequins so special is that they’re being used in a more mainstream venue—a store that caters to the youthful and “hip”—as opposed to the old and hippy. Second, I don’t consider a Size 12 to be obese. A little overweight, maybe, but not to the point of being unhealthy. And when the average size of women these days is a 14—as the article states—a Size 12 could actually be considered the “new small,” couldn’t it? Anyway, that’s the reasoning I’m going with.

            So while the obesity question didn’t occur to me, here are some that did:

·         What’s with the Princess Leia hairdo? I’m so hoping this isn’t a fashion forecast. But maybe because this store is in Sweden, the Viking-opera-singer look works.

·         Why the socks? Are the mannequin’s feet cold, but not her bare legs and midriff? Has she just smeared Vaseline on her heels and doesn't want to get the platform greasy? Are slouchy, stretched-out socks the latest in sexy boudoir attire? If so, I’ve been sexy all this past winter and didn’t even realize it. I don’t think my husband did, either.

·         If this model is supposed to be so lifelike, where’re the muffin tops? I know they claim to make panties that don’t create these, but I’ve yet to find any that follow through on this promise and still stay up without a belt or suspenders.

·         Along this same line, where are the wobbly bits? If we’re truly going for lifelike here, let’s show a little cottage cheese.

·         Why the shawl? Actually, I know the answer to this—to hide the wing-dings. The only time I’ve bared my upper arms in public in the past few years was to go swimming. And I wouldn’t have done it then if they made swimsuits with sleeves.

            Maybe you can answer some of these questions for me. Or maybe you have questions of your own. Or maybe you just don’t give a rip about what marketers tell women they should look like and you’re happy with yourself whatever size you wear. Please comment!

PS If you know where I can find those magic no-muffin-top panties, I'd really love to hear from you!

           

Oh, the Possibilities!

             When I received this picture of Brooks, I immediately thought of the first lines of a William Carlos Williams poem, “So much depends upon a red wheelbarrow.” I guess in my career as an English teacher, I must have read or assigned this poem a dozen times. But to be honest, I never understood—truly understood—that first line until I saw this picture. Brooks might not able to verbalize his thoughts, but his expression tells me he definitely understands what Williams is saying. A red wheelbarrow doesn’t just carry dirt or tools or toys. A red wheelbarrow carries possibilities.

            Another person who would have understood this poem was my dad, Joe Fink. As a young man of seventeen, he found his dream job. He joined the merchant marines and sailed off to see the world, albeit a world being ravaged by WWII. A few years later, it took a shipwreck to convince him that sailing was not the best occupation for a family man. He traded his seafaring for a job at a refinery along the Houston ship channel. Not the most glamorous or exciting of occupations, but steady work that would provide well for his family.

            After twenty-five years at the same company, he retired. A hard worker all his life, he now had time to pursue another dream job—gardening. And he pursued it with gusto. In winter, he’d study the Farmer’s Almanac, deciding when and what to plant. The first hint of spring would draw him outside to prepare the soil by hauling dirt, manure, or compost--all in a wheelbarrow--all the while imagining the crops the contents of that wheelbarrow would yield.

            I’m sure he didn’t work long hours tilling, planting, harvesting just to put food on the table. Quite honestly, it probably would have been cheaper for him to buy vegetables at the grocery store— although they wouldn’t have been as tasty and he couldn’t have shared them with friends and relatives. I think gardening attracted him because it provided a way to stay active and fit. And it gave him a sense of accomplishment, a sense of still being productive in his later years. Most of all, I think it gave him peace—a place and time to meditate, to connect with his Creator. Once, for Christmas, I gave him a little plaque for his garden which bore the following verse by Dorothy Frances Gurney: “The kiss of the sun for pardon, The song of the birds for mirth, One is nearer God’s heart in a Garden, Than anywhere else on Earth.” When he opened the gift and read it, he said, “You know, I really believe that.” 

            My dad passed away a few weeks ago. God, in His perfect timing, took him just as all quality of life was gone. But it was also perfect timing because it’s almost spring. Time to start a garden. 

             I’m no Bible scholar, but I do know that heaven is a place where our souls will be at their happiest, most content state. So with spring approaching, I like to think of my dad outside. He’s wearing a straw hat, some worn leather working boots, a pair of dark green coveralls that sag in the rear. Under a gentle morning sun, he’s headed toward his garden, pushing a wheelbarrow full of heavenly possibilities.

Daddy maintained a huge garden until his late 80's when he had
to downsize. But even in a small garden, he was able to produce
bumper crops of veggies. (And, of course, he allways had his
his faithful sidekick Sandy to keep him company!)

 

                              

Master Brooks's Bookses: Potty Training by the Book

            

           I’ve come to the conclusion life is all about change. Just when you’re comfortable with the status quo, suddenly you’re adjusting—adjusting to things like a big boy's bed...or a little brother. I’ve always been fairly flexible in adapting to new situations, but the latest change being thrust upon me has me somewhat perplexed. It seems that now, instead of continuing to wear my comfy, dependable diaper, I’m required to go through a regimen called “potty training.” I’m not sure I like it. Besides being a little scary—what if I fell right through that hole in the seat?—the potty is not nearly as convenient as a diaper. I mean, with a diaper, when you’re ready to go, you go, right?

            I admit, however, there have been a few upsides to this process. I got a super new potty seat that is bright, shiny red and has pictures of my favorite movie stars, Lightning McQueen and Mater. I also got a matching stool that helps me reach the lavatory. And, oh yes, there’s flushing. I love flushing. Pushing that silver lever and hearing that great whooshing sound are so...so empowering. But even with these perks, I’m not completely sold on the idea of using the potty.

            As with the other changes in my life, I fear I must bow to the inevitable. And I’ve found one of the best ways to master life’s challenges is with the help of a book. If you or a loved one is presently facing this stressful rite of passage, let me recommend My Big Boy Potty, written by Joanna Cole and illustrated by Maxie Chambliss. I closely identify with Michael, the protagonist in the story. He is about my age and size. Like me, he enjoys playing with his toys, and he loves reading books. At the first of the story, he wears a diaper—just like I do. Ms. Cole explains how Michael learns to use the potty, and by the end, he is wearing BIG BOY underpants! 

            I haven’t quite reached that point yet, but I’m making an honest effort. And when I’m successful, I hope I get a pair of big boy underpants with Lightning McQueen and Mater on them. In the meantime, I’m finding the bathroom is a good place to get in some quality reading time.

Instead of goldfish, I give My Big Boy Potty five flushes!
(I know, I'm being silly.)

           

The Next Big Thing

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop

This is a blog tour that's been circulating for quite a while. I was excited when friend and gifted author Sonia Gensler contacted me to participate and gave me a chance to share my work in progress with you.

What is the working title of your current/next book?


Cross Dressing is the book I just completed.

Where did the idea for CROSS DRESSING come from?

One afternoon my husband and I were driving across Oklahoma City, and I saw someone’s clothes strung along the freeway. I started thinking, boy, someone’s going to be really disappointed...or angry...or up the creek when they get to where they’re going and discover they have no clothes. I started thinking about all the possible scenarios. A plot was born.

What genre does your book fall under?


Definitely women’s fiction. It’s what I love to read most, and it’s what I love to write. 

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?


My book actually has two protagonists because it is two stories running simultaneously, connected by a wardrobe exchange. Wendie Malick would make a great 56-year-old Estelle Grant-Perkins. In picking an actress for this role, I feel my choices are limited because, as we all know, “mature” actresses are not exactly  in huge demand in the U.S. film industry. Fortunately, that situation is improving, but it’s still a problem. I began writing this book before Hot in Cleveland ever aired, but when I saw Malick in that show, I immediately thought,  Estelle!

The choice for my second protagonist, 26-year-old Paige Perkins, is Emma Stone. She has spunk and sensitivity, and she fits the physical description perfectly.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Near the crossroads of the country, two women reach across generational divides and cultural prejudices to find surprising answers to the question: “Do clothes make the woman?”

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I’m in the process of pitching it to agents right now. I’ve had one book published by an indie publisher to whom I’m grateful for putting my debut novel in print. It was an excellent learning experience, but one of the lessons I learned was the value of a good agent. If the agent angle doesn’t pan out, I’ll see what direction to go then.

How long did it take you to write the first draft?


About two years. I’m pretty slow, and contrary to popular advice, I edit as I go. I try not to, but my inner-English teacher rears her ugly head and starts  correcting me.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

There are lots and lots of books within women's fiction and every other genre that deal with the "trading places" plot line. But I'm going waaay out on a limb here and comparing Cross Dressing to Sense and Sensibility--only with a contemporary, southwest flavor. I can hear all of my critiquing partners screaming "What?!" but when you think about it, both books deal with women of different generations who find themselves in reduced circumstances. They must rely on their resourcefulness to survive, and they learn much from each other. And there's some romance thrown in along the way!

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

When I reached a certain age as a teacher, I started observing the dynamics between the new, young teachers and the...let’s say... more established ones. At the same time, my own daughter was entering the work force, and she and I would discuss her situations with older co-workers. In my case and hers, these weren’t always situations of conflict. Some were, but others were very positive mentoring/learning relationships for both the old and the young. And that is the way it should be. When women of varying ages and circumstances work together to support and encourage each other, they all benefit. That is a message I hope comes across in my book.

 And I must admit to a not-so-hidden agenda of promoting Oklahoma and, in particular, Oklahoma City. I love reading books about New York City, but, hey, life—interesting life—happens in other locations, too.  Rural Oklahoma has beauty and charm and a no-nonsene, laid-back approach that appeal to many. At the same time, Oklahoma City is a metropolis on its way up. It has much to offer in the way of culture and entertainment. I wanted to share that message with the rest of the country and even—pardon me for dreaming big—the world.


________________________

Be sure to look out for the next installments of The Next Big Thing next week, February 22nd, on the blogs by authors C. D. Jarmola and Jennifer Collar McMurrain.

“You had me from...'eh- lo?'”—Baby Boomers, Technology, and Multi-culturalism

Picture it:  My husband, Bill, sitting at the kitchen table which doubles as his home office (yes, that’s material for another post), laptop open in front of him, flip phone pressed to his good ear, eyes squinted as if listening intently.

Bill: “Excuse me. I didn’t catch your name.”

(Pause)

Bill: “Yes...uh...Wamika, this is William Chumley. I’m having a little trouble downloading some tax  soft—”

(Pause)

Bill:  “WEEL-YUM CHUM—”

(Pause)

Bill: “DUBYA...EYEEE...EL...EL—” (His volume level has now risen a few decibels. He informs me later this is not due to frustration but rather to a bad satellite connection between Edmond, Oklahoma, and New Delhi.)

(Pause)

Bill: “No, that’s DUBYA—”

 (Pause)

Bill: “No...DOUBLE  YOO as in...ah...uhm...Wamika!” (Eureka! His face lights up, he nods his head enthusiastically.)  “Yeah, yeah! That’s right! Okay. DOUBLE YOO...EYEEE...EL...EL—”

(Pause)

Bill (holding up two fingers): “No, that’s TWO ELs.” (He stops. From experience, I know his next words will be is there someone else I can talk to.) “Is there someone else I can talk to?”

(Pause)

Bill (rubbing his free hand over his face): “Look, this just isn’t working.” (Apparently the connection became weaker at this point because his voice grew even louder.) “Is there someone there who speaks Eng—”

(Pause)

Bill: Yes, but I can’t understand you, you can’t understand—”

(Pause)

Bill: “DOUBLE YOO...EYEE...EL...EL—Oh, for crying—”

(Sound of flip phone snapping shut)

I look across the table at a defeated man, eyes glazed over, flip phone tossed onto the table. He rises and pours himself a cup of coffee, buying time to gather himself before attempting another call. The odds aren’t good, but maybe next time he’ll have more success.

“Why didn’t you hang up at WEEL-YUM?” I ask.

“Because I’d already waited twenty-five minutes to talk to Wamika. I hated to lose her.”

Valid point.



Bill wouldn't pose for a picture, so I had to improvise. Work with me here.



Master Brooks's Bookses: If You Give a Pig a Party

     You might recall a few months ago, I mentioned I would be getting a new baby brother and a new room. Well, guess what? BOTH have finally arrived! And I’m enjoying them both. Bennett—that’s my new brother’s name—can’t play with me yet, but I do like giving him kisses, patting him on the back, and holding him (with some assistance). But I’m REALLY excited about my new playroom! It has lots of storage for my toys and lots of floor space for playing with my Legos and trucks. What I like best about it, though, is my book nook. That’s right. There’s a cozy place for getting comfy while someone reads me my favorite stories.

Master Brooks's Book Nook

 

    Lately, one of those favorites has been If You Give a Pig a Party. This is from the delightful series of If You... books, written by Laura Numeroff and illustrated by Felicia Bond. The stories are based on the ol’ “slippery slope” theory. You know how it goes: If you do one thing, it sets in motion a chain of events—all of them bad. Except in these stories, the events that follow are good...VERY good. Events like a bumper car ride, a game of hide-and-seek, a sleepover, a pillow fight. The pictures of the crazy, winsome characters like Moose and Mouse make these events all the more hilarious, resulting in a truly delightful read. But I must add a word of caution. If you own this book, you’ll want to remove the jacket so it won’t get torn. Then you’ll want to sleep with the book hugged against your face. While you’re sleeping, you’ll start to drool, and you’ll wake up with a purple stain on your cheek. It won’t wash off, and you’ll go to school looking like you have Kool-Aid on your face. This will concern your mommy a lot more than it does you. And that’s not theory. It’s fact.     


When Bennett gets older, I'm going to read my favorite books to him!