Ahhh...

Well, looks like I'm not so good at the book reviews. What I am good at, though, is posting pictures of vacation.

We just got back from ten days spent between Portland, Oregon, and Victoria, British Columbia. We flew to Portland and stayed with Craig's brother Brian and his wife Chrissy, and accompanied them to Victoria. You can see the general relation of where we were in the map on the left. I hadn't realized that Victoria was so far south.


Actually, after posting all of these, I see that the size of the pictures has pushed my links over to the side. I don't want to resize them all, so please forgive my screwing up of my Blogspot template. Just concentrate on pretty pictures.

Our first day in Portland was spent at a farmer's market, the Portland Saturday Market, and the Portland Rose Garden. The actual garden with roses, not where the Portland Thugblazers play.





We had a nice dinner at Brian and Chrissy's and enjoyed playing with their dog Laci. She's got cool ears.



The next day we hiked various waterfall trails along the Columbia River Gorge.



You're not actually supposed to go behind this waterfall, but we did anyway.



Multnomah Falls.



The next day we got up early and drove to Port Angeles, Washington, where we caught our ferry to Victoria.

We took a scenic drive around Dungeness, where Dungeness crabs come from, I guess. Craig was amused by Kitchen Dick Road. As were we all, but Craig was amused enough to have his picture taken.



It was a fairly short ferry ride, but we enjoyed the view of the Olympic mountains.





That evening, we went to Butchart Gardens, the Victoria must-see spot. It was lush and beautiful, and made me despair for my garden at home. If only I could have a full time staff.



Craig liked this tree in the Japanese garden. It's so windy that it needs a prop to hold up its branch.



We stayed until the gardens were lighted, which was worthwhile. The lights in the fountain were a highlight.





Onward! Tuesday! Whale watching!

We bundled up into these snowsuit like things to go out on the water. We felt very strange, but were glad for them later. We were on a very fast little 12-person Zodiac boat, which you can see in more detail here: Spring Tide Charters







We took our trip in the morning, and the whale watching companies hadn't located their regular pod of whales yet, so we spent plenty of time searching. A normal trip is about 17 nautical miles. Ours was 70. It was fun to be out in the boat, though. After three hours, we finally had success!

You can see a fin just to the left of the large boat in the center. Don't be unimpressed. It's really hard to take pictures of whales.



We spent the afternoon with a leisurely lunch and posing as pirates at the Maritime Museum. (In case you can't tell, Ellen is saying "Arrrrr.")



Our last day in Victoria was spent taking a hop on - hop off bus tour of the city. Some highlights:

Craigdarroch Castle.



Tea at the Blethering Place.



The Empress Hotel.



British Columbia Parliament at night.



The next day was spent traveling from Victoria to Port Angeles to Seattle. We had just enough energy to check out Pike's Place and the Space Needle.







We went back to Portland through a flurry of national parks.

Brian's mad photography skillz at Mt. Rainier.



Mt. St. Helens has actually become active again in the last few years, and is creating new lava domes in the crater. If you look closely at the second picture, you can see steam escaping.





Our last day in the Northwest was spent white water rafting on the White Salmon River. Sadly, our camera would not make it through the rapids, even if there had been pockets in our wetsuits. For at least the time being, you can see the professional photographs from our rafting company at White Salmon Photography. We're the first few pictures in that string.

Snap back to reality...

Hey, Carl and Tenley are reading my book reports. Yay!

My reading style is such that I'm usually reading one fiction book at a time. I'll often have three or four nonfiction books that I'm skimming through at any given time, though, because I need something to do while I watch baseball with Craig.

At the moment, I've been working through the following:

• A few vegetable gardening books, which are way more involved than I really want to be. I think I'll just look up a few tomato varieties on the MN Extension website and call it good.
  
• A couple of lawn books. I got these for Craig, but he didn't look at them much. I tried, but somehow it's just not interesting at all to read about lawns.
  
• The Millionaire Next Door. This is kind of hokey and poorly written, but it's a terrific reality check now and then. Although we're apparently on the wrong path, since we have no intention to start a trucking or plumbing business anytime soon.
  
• Smart Couples Finish Rich. Every so often I come across a financial book that actually motivates me to do something, and this one has done it for me. I think I've read it before, but it really takes on new meaning now that we both have steady jobs and a house.
  
• The Average Family's Guide to Financial Freedom. I really only skimmed a tiny bit of this. I liked Smart Couples Finish Rich better. But hey, the authors are from Iowa!

So there's a very complete accounting for the content that's been entering my brain lately. And for no reason at all, here's a cute picture of Phoebe.

Good in Bed, by Jennifer Weiner

Well, two weeks ago I proclaimed that Jennifer Weiner's Goodnight Nobody wasn't the pinnacle of the chick lit genre. It all makes sense now - see, she already wrote the book that is the pinnacle of the chick lit genre, and it's Good in Bed.

As with most of Weiner's heroines, Cannie Shapiro is a sarcastic, full-figured Jewish woman who went to Princeton. (See, that's me! If I were Jewish and went to Princeton, that is.) She's in the midst of breaking up with her long-term boyfriend, and picks up a copy of Moxie magazine to find that he's the new "male perspective" columnist. It gets better, though - his first column is entitled "Loving a Larger Woman." Good God in heaven, pass the margaritas.

I can't go much further into the plot without giving too much away, but this is as funny and witty as the rest of Jennifer Weiner's books (I'm done now, so you won't be subjected to any more.) It features a chain-smoking lesbian named Tanya, a hyper rat terrier named Nifkin (do NOT google), and a wide-eyed movie star who hides from her publicist. The only bone I have to pick with Good in Bed is the fact that the movie star's name is Maxi. I suppose I can forgive that in the name of hyperbole.

The best thing about Good in Bed is the way the story feels real. It doesn't wind up in a perfect, happy ending. Cannie doesn't become a new woman and learn to love herself after losing fifty pounds, as happens in Jane Greene's otherwise delightful Jemima J, and scads of other women's novels. The pothead ex-boyfriend doesn't turn himself around, begin a successful investment banking career, and show up on Cannie's doorstep with roses and a tearful reunion. There's only one piece of predictable romatic entanglement, and it's very manageable. I was rooting for it to happen, so I'm satisfied. It was a thoroughly enjoyable, fun read that didn't insult my intelligence.

In summary: I loved it. It's probably worth the price you'd pay at the airport bookstore. And that's a pretty high recommendation.

Wideacre, by Phillippa Gregory

Phillippa Gregory is the author of slightly fluffy historical novels like The Other Boleyn Girl. I usually find her books to be a few steps above Danielle Steele and a few notches below Sharon Kay Penman. Wideacre is her first novel, and it's a doozy, inspiring Amazon.com reviews such as "disgusting and unbelieveable," "just really, really BAD," "sadly, the first of Gregory's deplorable trilogy," and "pure trash, but..."

All those things are true, but it's the "but..." from the last review that kept me reading. To sum up the plot without giving too much away, the novel's main character is Beatrice Lacey, daughter of the Wideacre estate. Beatrice loves everything about Wideacre, and suffers a nasty shock in her early teens when she finally figures out that her older brother Harry will inherit instead of her. (That would be one of those unbelieveable things, yes.) She then resolves to do anything to preserve Wideacre for herself. Other than Wideacre and its running, the thing that consumes most of Beatrice's mind is sex. So things get rather interesting, rather quickly.

The last half of the book has all of the characteristics of books I really hate reading - all the wheels are in motion, and the reader is strung along as the characters are driven to their inevitable ruin. The first half of these books are usually very good, though - they suck you in and force you to stick around through the crap. Everything just crumbles, crumbles, crumbles, and there's nothing that can be done to stop it. (For me, the best example of this kind of plot is The Crimson Petal and the White. I still want to throw things when I think about that book.)

The saving grace of Wideacre, amid all the impending doom and conniving sex, is that Phillippa Gregory is a really good writer. The characters are perfectly presented, and you can almost smell the fields and woods that make up the estate. Even as I grew tired of the downward slide of the plot, the book was never boring. The scenes move right along with plenty of drama and tension, and that kept me reading until the end.

Wideacre is the first novel in a trilogy about the estate and its heirs - the following volumes are The Favoured Child and Meridion. I'm not sure if I'll be reading either of these, but they'll stay on my list of things to check out. Higher up on my list are Phillippa Gregory's later novels, especially those in the Henry VIII era.

In summary: Steer clear if you are easily shocked, but buy the paperback used if you're in the mood for some well-written trash.

Goodnight Nobody, by Jennifer Weiner

Goodnight Nobody is Jennifer Weiner's most recent novel. Like Little Earthquakes, which I read first but haven't recapped here, it deals with motherhood, but adds a murder mystery into the plot.

Like her other books, this was fun and easy to read. It pokes fun at suburban Connecticut living, down to the pretentious model names of the starter castles lining the town's streets. (Kate, the main character, has her very own Montclaire.) The other mothers at the park, also known as the Tal-bots, are perfectly dressed, coiffed, and exercised. The name nerd in me had a good laugh at the names of these women's children. Kate did reasonably well with Sophie, Jack, and Sam, but Powell and Peyton, Tristen and Isolde, Madeline and Emerson, and little Hadley scream "trying too hard."

The mystery aspect, though, just seems a little off. It involves politics, journalism, parenthood, and a sharply written Ann Coulter clone known as "Laura Lynn Baird." Kate, bored by her Montclaire and suburban life, takes it upon herself to investigate. She does this with her hip, single, and rich friend Janie Segal (of the carpet Segals) and an old flame who never really comes into focus. (Kate apparently almost slept with him years before, and never really got over him. Why is anyone's guess - he doesn't seem to have many redeeming qualities.) The investigation takes them all over New York City, Connecticut, and Cape Cod, and into a variety of bank accounts and bedrooms, but just sort of peters out at the end.

In short, Goodnight Nobody isn't the pinnacle of the mystery genre, and it isn't the pinnacle of the chick lit genre, but it's still pretty funny. If you're going to read one Jennifer Weiner novel, though, I wouldn't pick this one.

In summary: Fun reading, but check it out from the library.

I Capture the Castle, by Dodie Smith

I had never heard of I Capture the Castle, but have heard it referenced and had it recommended to me several times in the last year, so I dutifully checked it out of the library.

My paperback copy features a quote from J.K. Rowling, which proclaims, "This book has one of the most charismatic narrators I've ever met." It's certainly a set-up custom-made for Ellen: The Mortmain family, including two teenage girls, lives in an old, run-down British country castle in the late 1930's. Their father is a struggling writer who was once successful, and his wife (their stepmother) is a flamboyant artist's model named Topaz. An American inherits the manor down the road, and the two Mortmain girls and the two Cotton boys sort out their feelings for one another.

The story is told in journal entries by 17-year-old Cassandra. She is an extremely charismatic narrator, as there's no one quite as dramatic, confused, and enthusiastic as a 17-year-old girl. She narrates the summer's happenings in rich detail, and I could really feel everything from her perspective. The downside to this is that her introspective nature can be a bit much at points. I suspect that I would have found this brilliant ten years ago, when I was 17 myself, but it wore a bit as the novel went on. I wanted to know how the story ended, and even found myself peeking ahead at times. (That's simultaneously a good thing and a bad thing - I'm invested enough in the story that I really want to know what happens, but the writing isn't enough to keep my mind from racing ahead.)

A lot of the charm of this book comes from Cassandra's tangents into religion, novels, differences between Britain and America, her father's relationship with Topaz, social class, money, and a plethora of other topics. I particularly liked the following foray into religion, as Cassandra speaks with the town vicar:

"How the intelligent young do fight shy of the mention of God! It makes them feel both bored and superior."

I tried to explain: "Well, once you stpo believing in an old gentleman with a beard...It's only the word God, you know - it makes such a conventional noise."

"It's merely shorthand for where we come from, where we're going, and what it's all about."

"And do religious people find out what it's all about? Do they really get the answer to the riddle?"

"They just get a whiff of an answer sometimes..."

And later...

I wondered if I was an atheist. I have never thought of myself as one, and sometimes on very lovely days I have felt almost sure there is something somewhere. And I pray every night, though I think my prayers are only like wishing on the new moon - not quite, though: I pray just in case there is a God. ... Certainly I never felt any sense of communion with God while praying - the only flicker of that I ever had was during those few minutes I wandered around King's Crypt cathedral at sunset, and it went off when I heard our head-mistress's voice droning on about the Saxon remains. Sitting there with the Vicar, I tried to recapture my feelings in the cathedral, but they merged into the memory of the cathedral-like avenue I saw when I was describing Midsummer Eve - and then the cathedral, the avenue, my love for Simon and myself writing about all these in the attic were in my mind together, each enclosed in its own light and yet each one part of the other.

In summary: The perfect book for a few lazy days, especially in spring or summer. Unlike many coming-of-age stories or most of chick lit, there's definite substance here.

Ugh.

It's been so long since I've written something that isn't a description of our work on the house, picture captions, or a description of the research resources available in the Department of Family Social Science, I feel like it's nothing but crap. I'll have to ignore it and hope my writing improves throughout this little book blogging exercise.

In which I resolve to be a better blogger

Well, I have sadly neglected this blog. It's hard to measure up to pictures of Phoebe in her Harry Potter costume and a European vacation. My everyday life is nowhere near as cute or interesting.

Since I obviously don't have enough witty observations about life to keep a blog going, I've decided to try something new. One of the great joys of my life since graduating from college is that I'm able to read for pleasure again. I read a lot, but I often don't retain much of it.

I'll be using this blog in an attempt to keep track of what I'm reading, and what I think of it. Miniature reviews, if you will.

So, without further ado, the last book I finished was In Her Shoes, by Jennifer Weiner. I've been doing a lot of work on our kitchen cabinets lately, and I needed something light and fluffy to relax with, so I've been on a bit of a chick lit bender. Jennifer Weiner was recommended to me as an author in this vein whose books don't insult the reader's intelligence in the way that many "women's" authors do, and I found this to be so. In Her Shoes and Little Earthquakes, which I also read recently, are easy to blow through, but very funny and real.

In Her Shoes is the story of two sisters and their estranged grandmother. Rose is the sister who has it all together - she's a lawyer with Ivy League degrees. Her sister Maggie has absolutely nothing together, and has had a rough time. The novel opens with Maggie in a bathroom stall, having drunken sex with a guy she just met at her high school reunion. Ella, the girls' grandmother, was shut out of their life after their mother died while they were young.

The book alternates between Rose, Maggie, and Ella's viewpoints, so the reader gets a good sense of what's going on in each woman's head. This is important, especially as Maggie does some really horrible things throughout the book, but is so sweet at times that it's impossible to write her off entirely as an evil character.

All three women have some of their personal issues resolved by the end of the book - one finds a man she loves, one finds a career she loves, and one finds a family. Some of the plot is a little cliched, but not terribly so. It's not so bad as to be unenjoyable or insulting to my intelligence. For example, one character is pursued by a man she doesn't care for at all, but it's obvious to the reader that he is The Perfect One for her. Weiner spares us a long, drawn-out chronicle of How She Comes Around and How They Fall In Love, and skips from their first date to their engagement. Yay!

Overall, I'd recommend In Her Shoes, and I've put Jennifer Weiner's other two books on hold at the library.

Halloween Goes to the Dogs

One of the good things about living in a large city is that there's a pretty good chance that you can find people that share your interests. Even if those interests include wrangling your dog of Scottish origination into a Halloween costume.

I've never been big on Halloween, but I find that it's much more fun when you have someone/something smaller and cuter than yourself to dress up. So, I made a Harry Potter costume for Phoebe and trucked her off to the Memory of Monroe Scottie Rescue Halloween party.

She looked pretty cute, and won second prize in the costume contest.







The glasses stayed on for all of three seconds - just long enough to get a few pictures.

Here's the winner of the costume contest - Heidi, dressed as Heidi! (Heidi and Phoebe are from the same breeding facility, and I think they look somewhat alike, especially in the face.)



We also met Buddy, a terrier mix fostered by Carol in Fort Dodge, who had Phoebe before she came to us.



Buddy is going to a new home on Friday, where he'll be known as Eddie. Buddy and Mikey, a Scottie up for adoption, were hot dogs for the party.



We played a few more games, including "musical mats," chatted, and had a generally good time in the country on a beautiful fall afternoon. You can see a bunch more pictures on the Memory of Monroe site - http://www.memoryofmonroe.com/halloween05photos.htm.

Just maybe...

I think I may have just fallen in love with the guy who created this site...

http://www.wsu.edu/~brians/errors/index.html

Sorry, Craig.

Hey, look - we went to Europe!

Early in September, we took our long-anticipated trip to France and Switzerland. We spent about five days in Paris before traveling to Susanne's wedding in Zug, Switzerland.

Our flight from Minneapolis to Amsterdam took off about three hours late, and we missed our connector to Paris, so we arrived later than anticipated on Sunday. We still managed to check into the Hotel Moliere and walk to Notre Dame that evening.


Our hotel, taken very early one morning. The Paris board of tourism places plaques near the doors of all the hotels that advertise how many stars the hotel has - you can see our three.


The back of Ellen's head visits Notre Dame.


Mass was going on while we visited. The combination of the music, the prayers, and the surroundings was quite striking.

On Monday we attempted to visit the Musee Rodin and see the Thinker (and take the obligatory pictures), but the museum was closed. We spent the rest of the day doing the Paris necessaries - the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Champs-Elysees. We also had lunch with Monsieur Amado, a Paris attorney who was one of Craig's professors when he studied in France a few years ago.


Hey, it looks like that lamp they used to sell at Target!


The Arc de Triomphe as seen from the top of the Eiffel Tower. You can see how many of the main streets radiate out from it.


Craig and the Arc de Triomphe. We walked through a tunnel that went under the street in order to access the Arc close-up. The names of French soldiers who died are carved in the stone.


Looking down the Champs-Elysees from the Arc. Craig is very proud of the way he shot this photo in between waves of traffic.


Lunch with Monsieur Amado, at a typical Parisian outdoor cafe.

Tuesday was spent on a tour of three chateaux in the Loire Valley. We shared a minivan with our delightful tour guide Honore and six Russian immigrants from New York City. The mix of French, Russian, and history was a bit heady, but it was a wonderful day trip.


Chambord, which was originally built as a hunting lodge.


This double staircase at Chambord was designed by Leonardo da Vinci. Two people can enter at opposite sides of the stairwell on the same floor, and each ascend to the next floor without ever meeting.


Chateau d'Amboise is where Leonardo da Vinci died and is buried. Parts of the castle and the adjoining church were sold during the time of Napoleon for the money the limestone brought.


Overlooking the Loire River.


Craig and the town of Amboise.


Our third destination of the day was Chenonceau, which is built as a bridge over a river.


Across the garden of Diane de Poitiers at Chenonceau.


After returning to Paris, we walked a little ways from our hotel to see the Eiffel Tower lit up and "sparkling."


The Louvre at night.

Wednesday we left Paris again, and took the train to the castle at Versailles, and later on to Chartres.


Walking through the gates at Versailles.


Part of the original facade of the chateau.


From our picnic spot on the Grand Canal, looking back at the chateau over the gardens.


The Hall of Mirrors, where the Treaty of Versailles was signed.


No cake was served.


The cathedral at Chartres. The spire on the left burned in 1194, and was later rebuilt in a different style.


Some of the stained glass in the cathedral dates from the 12th century. On the left is the "Blue Virgin."


This structure screening the choir area from the outer perimeter of the cathedral was carved over a period of 200 years. Forty scenes depict the lives of Mary and Jesus.


These buttresses fly.

On Thursday, we rounded out our tour of Paris necessaries at the Louvre and the Musee d'Orsay.


The Mona Lisa, behind some serious protective glass and a bevy of camera-wiedling tourists.


The gallery of Italian painting outside the room that houses the Mona Lisa. I think this is where the opening scenes of The Da Vinci Code took place, but I'm not curious enough to check the book out of the library again to make sure.


Somewhere, a beautifully sculpted pair of arms are missing a body.


Craig and the walls of the medieval Louvre, which was a residence and armory. The wall behind him dates from the 12th century and still rests beneath the museum.


This painting depicts Napoleon's coronation of Josephine. Ellen is added for scale.


The Louvre pyramid and entrance plaza in daylight. The ice cream from the little cart was very good.


Inside the Musee d'Orsay. The building used to be a train station, but was converted to house art from after the period contained in the Louvre, much of it Impressionist.


Sacre Couer, as seen from the fourth floor of the Musee D'Orsay.


Be honest, Vincent - you're showing your good side. The one that still has the ear.

On Friday, we took the TGV train from Paris to Zurich. The ride was quiet and peaceful, but the mountains made it slower than many TGV trips.


Trains at Gare de Lyon in Paris.


The Swiss railways really do run on time.

On Saturday we had a great time at Susanne and Otmar's wedding. The reception was held in a little town up in the mountains. We enjoyed hearing the cowbells clanking above us all evening.


Near the reception site.


The happy couple being showered with streamers during their first dance.

On Sundays, everything in Switzerland is apparently closed. We met up again with Susanne and Otmar, had a nice lunch at their apartment, oohed and ahhed over Tim, and visited Susanne's parents in Malters.


Craig, Tim, and Tim's new Taggie blanket.


Tim is not a terrorist, and has the passport to prove it.


Susanne, Otmar, and Tim, during their day of recovery between the wedding and the honeymoon.


Susanne, Ellen, and Brigitte and Hans (Susanne's parents and generous hosts extraordinaire).

Monday was our last day in Europe. We took the train to Lucerne and walked around the lake. From there, we took a cruise across the lake, then rode the world's steepest cog railway up Mt. Pilatus. The peak was cloud-covered, so we couldn't see much of its much-heralded view of the Alps. (The cloud cover did help us figure out why the cows need to wear bells in the mountains, though.) We took a cable car down the side of the mountain, returned to Lucerne, and went back to the hotel. The next day, we flew from Zurich to Amsterdam and back to St. Paul.


Ellen in front of the old covered bridge in Lucerne. The tower houses a gift and jewelry shop.


Looking out over Lake Lucerne. The lake is fed by a glacier, so the water is a clear blue.


On the cog train up Mt. Pilatus. It's hard to tell from our pictures, but the grade is 48% in many places.


Craig in the clouds near the top of Mt. Pilatus.


From the cable car on the way down the mountain.


The mountain in the distance here is Pilatus. No wonder we couldn't see anything at the top.


Craig and the lion of Lucerne. This lion, which is carved into a bluff, memorializes Swiss guards and soldiers.

New Blog

Our other blog, Adventures in Domesticity, has just been listed on Houseblogs.net, which chronicles the adventures of people restoring, remodeling, and generally fixing up older houses. So that every post we make about the, ahem, utterly fascinating details of our everyday lives doesn't show up on the Houseblogs feed, we've created a new place for our news and musings.

But please still check out Adventures in Domesticity. Big plans, baby, big plans.