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I love Valentine’s Day. I know some dismiss the holiday as another ploy for retailers to steal our hard-earned cash, but I really can’t find fault with a day designed to celebrate love. I mean, who doesn’t want it? Who doesn’t need it?

As adults, Valentine’s Day is a chance to ply our significant others with chocolates, cards and flowers. We share a smooch over a romantic dinner; we talk about the years gone by, experiences we’ve shared. It can be as crazy or as low-key as we want. Last year I was sick as a dog, so our plans included me mustering up the strength to go out for sushi and then falling asleep on the coach with some chocolates. And Spencer.

When we’re young, though, Valentine’s Day is a crisis waiting to happen. And if you think it’s no big deal whether you receive valentines in school, you’ve never been a 7-year-old.

I totally have. In second grade, Mrs. Brown orchestrated a way for us to leave each other notes: in the pink and red mailboxes we designed. Like many little girls, I had a massive crush on a classmate. He was blonde and blue-eyed. We met in the first-grade classroom next door, our hands touching over a shared bottle of Elmer’s Glue (or some such). His name was Daniel.

After loving him from afar for more than a year (a whole year!), I somehow decided that Valentine’s Day in Mrs. Brown’s class was D-Day. No more hesitation. Time to get bold and do something crazy. Looking back, it’s funny to see shades of who I am now in that tiny body. If there’s one way I have always hoped to win a man’s heart, it’s through a letter — or poem. I’m all about seduction through the written word, baby.

Daniel couldn’t have known what was in my heart of hearts, of course. The night before Valentine’s Day, I sat down with an array of cards my mom picked out. In the early ’90s, we’d reached a point of equality: each student was to bring a valentine for every member of the class. Regardless of how we feel about it, no one was left out.

But which valentine to assign to which kid was vitally important, you know — the wrong message to the wrong kid could prove lethal. I mean, what if you gave a “Be mine, Valentine!” to the boy who throws rocks at you on the playground? He could think you like him. And that is so gross.

Choosing Daniel’s valentine was tricky. After writing out every card but his, I had to find the perfect one. Valentine’s Day is all about love, I figured; how could I do anything but express my feelings for the boy with whom I was irrationally obsessed? Um, as a 7-year-old?

After much deliberation, I finally chose a card featuring Barbie with arms outstretched to Ken, her face split into a smile. “I Love You,” it read. My heart was pounding as hard as it ever had, but I wrote his name and signed my own. Our fates were sealed.

Passing out our valentines the next day, I crept up to Daniel’s mailbox and slipped the life-changing note inside. This was my chance to open up to him! To let him know how I felt! He’d see Barbie and Ken, read that “I Love You” and think . . .

Nothing. From the corner of my eye, I watched as classmates sifted through their sparkly bounty, enjoying the lollipops other kids had dropped in their mailboxes. If Daniel read my card, I couldn’t tell; he was probably too busy eating candy.

An early lesson learned: poetry’s great and all, but the way to a man’s heart is actually through his stomach.

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Filed under musings, crushes & drooling

Tagged as candy, childhood, memories, treats, Valentine's Day

How quickly the light changes . . .

For more Wordless Wednesday, visit here!

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Filed under wordless weds.

Tagged as Chesapeake Bay, Cove Point Lighthouse, lighthouses, Maryland, photography, photos, Southern Maryland, Wordless Wednesday

Oh, Joshilyn Jackson. How do you craft such intriguing, lovable characters? And create a menagerie of love and amusement out of such weird, dysfunctional people? And because I loved this book so much and the description itself is funny and awesome, here’s the publisher’s blurb:

Nonny Frett understands the meaning of the phrase “in between a rock and a hard place” better than any woman alive. She’s got two mothers, “one deaf-blind and the other four baby steps from flat crazy.” She’s got two men: a husband who’s easing out the back door; and a best friend, who’s laying siege to her heart in her front yard. And she has two families: the Fretts, who stole her and raised her right; and the Crabtrees, who won’t forget how they were done wrong.

Now, in Between, Georgia, a feud that began the night Nonny was born is escalating and threatening to expose family secrets. Ironically, it might be just what the town needs… if only Nonny weren’t stuck in between.

To say I raced through this book is an understatement. As I borrowed an audio version from the library (time crunch!), I found myself prolonging errands so I could spend just a little more time in Between. I loved that Jackson incorporated completely out-of-the-box characters like Stasia Frett, a blind and deaf woman who felt compelled to become Nonny’s mother when her biological mess of a teenage birth mother couldn’t care for her.

As Between is such a small town, the Fretts and Crabtrees no each other very well. Tthe Crabtrees might be hardscrabble poor and vicious, but that doesn’t mean they take kindly to their own flesh and blood being taken in by a holier-than-thou Frett.

Sometimes it’s hard to articulate why you mesh so well with a story, but I’ve quickly become enamored with Jackson and find myself savoring each and every one of her words like an expensive truffle. Though Nonny could be boneheaded at times, I thought she was a wonderful and caring person — a truly great daughter — and couldn’t help but laugh at the Frett sisters, all of whom were good-hearted but more than a little eccentric. Bernese was probably my favorite. Jackson always has at least one character that brings the zingers, making you laugh or cry at the most unexpected moments. That was definitely Bernese for me.

Entertaining and heartwarming by the close, I wanted to drive my own self down to share a glass of tea with the ladies of Between, Georgia. Nonny’s struggles with family — those who gave you life versus those with whom you make a life — will ring true for many. Fans of Southern fiction and Jackson’s exquisite storytelling will find plenty to love here, and I can’t wait to pick up her newest novel: A Grown-Up Kind Of Pretty.

4 out of 5!

ISBN: 0446699454 ♥ Goodreads ♥ LibraryThing ♥ Amazon ♥ Author Website
Personal audio book borrowed from my local library

My thoughts on the narration: As with Backseat Saints, my first experience with Jackson, Between, Georgia was narrated by the author herself. She has impeccable timing and a warm, pleasant voice. I thought her take on Henry, Nonny’s unlikely love interest, was a little exaggerated — he sounded like a Creole caricature, really — but loved everything else about her sweet Southern lilt. She’s awesome.

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Filed under 4-star reads, book reviews

Tagged as adoption, book reviews, books, family dynamics, Joshilyn Jackson, Southern fiction

Though I don’t talk about him as much these days, John Mayer will always be the musician of my soul. His music has gotten me through some pretty tumultuous years, that’s for sure, and snippets of his songs often provide the background noise of my experiences.

I woke up at 4 a.m. Saturday, showered and threw myself into my car en route to Cove Point, Maryland. Our photography club had gotten special permission to shoot a sunrise at this gorgeous lighthouse along the Chesapeake Bay. Despite the fact that I’m a crazy shedevil first thing in the morning, my mom and I decided to make the 50-minute trek. We got to the lighthouse just as the sky was beginning to lighten.

I can count on one hand the number of sunrises I’ve seen. And I don’t count watching pretty hues paint the sky as I was headed to an early shift or an airport; I mean sunrises I really watched, from beginning to end, doing nothing but stare at the horizon.

It was freezing by the water. The wind kicked off the bay and cut right through my thin wool coat. As we stepped onto the beach, wet sand soaking my sneakers, I struggled to find my footing. It didn’t matter, though; I was fixated on the changing light, watching how quickly the clouds morphed in the stillness. Hours later, after the sky had turned bright blue, I thought about how rewarding it is to see a day from beginning to end.

And I thought about John, of course. About “3×5,” a song from his first album — an album I’ve listened to countless times, memorizing each breath. Though it’s one of my favorite tunes, it’s been so long since I listened to “Room For Squares.” I played it later.

“You should have seen that sunrise
With your own eyes
It brought me back to life.
You’ll be with me next time
I go outside
No more three by fives . . .”

I think about that song from time to time: about how sometimes it’s more important to soak up a moment than try to document it. Though it pained me, I chose not to bring my camera to Erin’s wedding last fall. I knew I’d be more obsessed with taking pictures of every detail than enjoying my good friend’s union, enjoying being a bridesmaid.

But sometimes we get lucky, as I did on Saturday. At Cove Point, I did both. I stayed in the moment and I documented the moment. It’s magic when that happens.

My souvenirs of that morning — my photos, which I’ll share on Wednesday — are great, but the real take-away is how it felt to stand on a cold beach as the world woke up. You really do feel like it’s you alone on an island, the only person left in the universe, and that everything is yours for the taking.

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Filed under out and about

Tagged as morning, photography, sunrise, waking up

In their quest to become mothers, three women find their lives intersecting in unexpected ways in this novel of family — the ones we have, the ones we create — and love.

Carol Snow’s What Came First follows Laura, Vanessa and Wendy as they grapple with issues both familiar and foreign to many mothers. Laura and her bright, kind-hearted son, Ian, love their lives in suburban California. Born after Laura’s visit to a sperm bank nearly a decade before, the two-unit family would like nothing more than to welcome a third . . . but Laura, perpetually single, isn’t sure how to make that happen. Posting on a website designed to link families who may have conceived children from the same sperm donor, she eventually “meets” Wendy — a harried mother of twins.

Wendy’s son and daughter have major behaviorial issues, a problem that drives her to seek out potential biological siblings to compare notes on her kids’ temper tantrums. After Wendy and Carol exchange notes and start their own research into their children’s DNA, they eventually find an answer to some of their questions — which leads them to Vanessa, a twenty-something trying to get a diamond from her live-in boyfriend. Ready to start a family of her own, Vanessa waits desperately for an engagement ring . . . but Eric seems no closer to committing than he did when they met.

All three women have trials, difficulties; no one’s life is perfect. And that’s what I loved about Snow’s novel dealing with fertility, motherhood, what it means to be a family — and what I always appreciate about her warm, rich and true-to-life characters. I probably related best to Laura, a type-A go-getter who can’t accept her family won’t grow. Her desire to have another baby seemed enviable rather than desperate, and I definitely felt her frustration and pain.

Vanessa was probably my least favorite character, especially as events . . . transpired . . . (sorry, trying to be obtuse and non-spoilery here) and she failed to understand the importance of it all. I was sympathetic to her plight and felt her frustration regarding her relationship with Eric, too, but sometimes felt like she was just so young. Though her issues were no less important, Vanessa’s problems seemed to pale in comparison to Wendy and Laura’s. But then again, what do I know?

Where the story began and where it ended were completely different than I expected, and I love that What Came First surprised me from beginning to end. Though often light-hearted and very witty, Snow’s novel also raised questions about how families are formed and how love develops. In Wendy’s case, especially, I could see how difficult conceiving children who were not biologically “his” was for her husband, and these troubles were something I’d never considered before. I love a good slice of women’s fiction that also makes me think!

Fans of Snow — as I am, from books like Just Like Me, Only Better — will appreciate her take on love, relationships and moving forward. If you’ve never devoured a Carol Snow novel, you’re missing out — and What Came First is a great, feel-good place to start.

4 out of 5!

ISBN: 0425243036 ♥ Goodreads ♥ LibraryThing ♥ Amazon ♥ Author Website
Review copy provided by author in exchange for my honest review

4 Comments

Filed under 4-star reads, book reviews

Tagged as book reviews, books, Carol Snow, chick lit, motherhood, What Came First, women's fiction

I wrote an entire post for today, grappling with some of The Big Questions I’ve had on my mind lately. It was scheduled to post this morning. That post was very cathartic, cobbling together my thoughts on life and death. Everything shifted into focus once I’d typed it out.

But then I did something strange, something I rarely do: I made it private. I changed it to “draft” and let it burrow quietly into my blog dashboard, to be seen — and remembered — by me alone. I usually have no difficulty bearing my soul . . . and, to be frank, I sort of enjoy it. Writing is the way I typically come to terms with what I’m experiencing. Writing about everything that has happened of late was a huge relief to me, especially as I’ve stopped writing in a journal.

The relief was in the writing, though. Not in the posting. Not in the validating. I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me, and I’m not seeking praise or comfort. I didn’t want to bring a total downer of a post into the world.

I simply wanted to record what I was thinking and make sense of it by stringing together sentences — just as I always do. And though I’m pleased with how I expressed my foggy thoughts, I’m remembering a resolution I’ve made to myself: to keep some things to myself. Some things for me. For my family and friends. For my boyfriend. Not to bear my soul repeatedly in every a newspaper column or blog post.

I’m being obtuse, I know — and I’m sorry. I’ve felt so strange and out of sorts lately. I’ve barely been reading, have been focusing just on work — but I know that time will march forward now, taking us with it. That everything will be all right.

Blue skies will be here again.

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Filed under musings

Tagged as blue skies, death, grief, life