I’m now going on my 11th year doing this. No one has since asked me what kind of books I read even though now I can tell them. A variety. This listmaking has taught me a few things. First, that I read more books a year than I thought. I average one a month. And, second, as I said before, I read a variety of books. From biographies to romances to science fiction. Now, I’m not saying that I like all the books that I read, but a variety of books interest me. So, that’s the real reason I was stumped so long ago when that person asked me that question. I didn’t know what kind of books I read because there wasn’t just one kind of book that I read.

A couple of years ago I set up a profile on LinkedIn and have been using Amazon’s Reading List to track my book list, this time with reviews. Unfortunately, there’s no Amazon Reading List widget for WordPress. There is a WordPress widget for Goodreads, however. Recently I set up an account there and added that widget to this blog as you can see at the right. Now my readers can see what kind of books I read, and what sort of reviews I give them. Now, having two electronic book lists is going against my 2012 mantra to “simplify, simplify, simplify,” but I thought it a good idea anyway, since this blog and my LinkedIn profile both present a bit of what interests me to the general public.

I’m hoping, though, that some time in the future these lists can be consolidated…

1. Relearn to crochet
2. Start and finish sewing projects
3. Read all the unread books on my bookshelf
4. Start writing again

These goals are part of a larger picture. Feeling burdened by all the stuff in my life I decided to reassess things, both physical and psychological. First reassessment came with Farmville. In the beginning it was a fun diversion. But, more recently, the more I played, the more I realized it was just something to kill time and not something that I was truly enjoying. And, the more I thought about it, the time spent doing this something that I was not truly enjoying was taking time away from things that I did, at least at one time, enjoy. So, I made the decision to stop playing. But, now what?

Again, feeling burdened by the stuff in my life, I decided to be mindful of what I had and mindful of what I bring into this house. I have to ask myself: Do I have a spot in my life (the life I want) for this? If not, it gets donated, or tossed in the garbage or recycling bin. And in the case of new things, not get bought at all.

An ongoing project this. Perhaps throughout the year, I’ll stop again and re-evaluate my progress. Hopefully a year from now my burdens will be lightened and I will have made room for the truly enjoyable.

As of this writing, I have already made progress:

1. Organized my address book and vowed NOT to save address labels from friends and relatives. I will now, upon opening a letter or card, double-check to see whether I have the most up-to-date address in my address book. If so, the address label gets tossed. If not, I will enter the new address immediately, then toss the label out.

2. I started crocheting a sampler blanket. So far I’ve relearned the chain stitch, the single crochet and the half-double crochet stitches.

3. Almost finished reading We Were the Mulvaneys, by Joyce Carol Oates. This book is definitely NOT a keeper. It goes in the donate pile.

4. Organized two drawers in my office closet. Now the envelopes are actually in the drawer marked “Envelopes”. In the process I found some mementos from long ago. Some that no longer have meaning were tossed, others will be donated. And, in among them was a beloved pendant that was my mother’s. For years I thought that maybe it somehow got accidentally donated or tossed away. I was very thankful to learn that it did not!

Time in a bookstore is a selection process. You touch the spines, one by one, until your finger lands on the desired work. [Filip] Marinovich calls this accidental research, because, at times, your finger slips and you land on the wrong book. That wrong book can ultimately be the most important book in your life — as if, for once, it was the book that chose you.

This quote is from The Book Bind, by Saskia de Rothschild. If the sentiment speaks to you, I recommend you read this book about the people behind Ugly Duckling Presse (that’s not a typo), a cooperative of writers and artisans who hand-typeset and hand-bind books in New York. Yes, the irony that The Book Bind is a Kindle ebook is not lost on me.

Some memorable moments for me while reading this book include:

The author relating the story of when she was 19 years old she wrote a novel. Completely on her laptop. You guessed it. Her laptop failed. Unfixable. The novel gone forever. She asks the writers at Ugly Duckling how they write. They all say on paper. This is memorable to me because I too do all my writing on paper first before transfering it to bits and bytes.

At one point the author is learning to bind a book, with needle and thread. That brought back memories of when I was younger. I had an old book, in pretty bad shape. I don’t remember the title, but I do remember the thread binding. While that book was more than likely bound by machine, it fascinated me. Hand-binding of books is that much more fascinating.

The author describing the poetry readings at St. Mark’s Bookshop in East Village brought back memories of the time I was at the Festival of the Arts in Detroit, Michigan. On the lawn of the main branch of the Detroit Public Library one year there were poets reciting their poetry. I was mezmorized. I loved to hear the words come alive. From my perspective this quote by Matvei Yankelevich, one of the people in Ugly Duckling Presse’s editorial collective, rings true: “when you hear a poet read, you get acquainted with his vibration, it is intimate.”

Now that I live near a college town, I wonder if the University offers open-to-the-public poetry readings… Hmmm…

Now, conversations with my cousin are always interesting. One year, when everyone still lived downstate, there was a family gathering with both my family and my husband’s family. At the time my cousin was retired, but to earn some extra money he drove a school bus. During dinner, he brought up the subject of a field trip he took the kids to recently. To the morgue. My cousin, not being the type to just sit in the bus for hours, went on the field trip too. My cousin was fascinated by it all and wanted to tell us all about it. While I didn’t see anything wrong with that, and that’s saying something since I’m probably one of the most squeamish people on the face of the earth, my husband let me know that he was appalled. I learned then that certain subjects were off-limits at the dinner table.

While my cousin’s personality has not changed in the ensuing years, the tone of the dinnertime conversation has turned darker and more personal. One such conversation involved my father. All through his growing up and into his early adult years my cousin and my father were very close. My father lived with his family for many years until he married my mother. During this particular conversation my cousin was telling stories from those years past. Happy memories, then not so happy memories that were made happier thanks to my father. Finally, the conversation moved to the painful, traumatic memory of my cousin telling my father in the nursing home that he would have to have his leg amputated. The rest of the conversation had this somber tone. The good memories of my father were overshadowed by this one single event. An event that clearly had been troubling my cousin for many years and continued to trouble him deeply. At this point, my father had been dead for nearly 17 years.

Dwelling in the past. I’m no stranger to it. My aunt, his mother, does the same thing. I don’t think there’s a conversation we have where she doesn’t bring up something from the past. Sometimes it’s happy memories, wishing she was young again. But many times it’s what I call the “would’ve, should’ve, could’ve” type of conversation. My father should’ve taken better care of himself, then he wouldn’t have gotten dementia…. I should’ve taken better care of him so that the nurses in the nursing home wouldn’t have caused the infection that led to his leg being amputated…. She should have insisted that her sister get a new doctor then she wouldn’t have gotten the debilitating stroke….

Nothing can change the past. Dwelling on it doesn’t help. The advice I gave my cousin, who clearly felt as though he let my father down in some way, was to live his life so that my father would be proud. My father wouldn’t want him wallowing. He would want him to lead a full, happy life.

The advice I give my aunt: what’s past is past. You can’t change what happened those many years ago. You just have to count your blessings now. To that she replies that she has no blessings and that there’s nothing good about her life now. Still she continues to focus on how things used to be and on the fact that they can’t be that way again. Understandable. It’s difficult to change perspective when you’re in your late 80s, basically confined to home. No friends and family (other than your son’s family) close by to visit often.

Me, I tend to put the past behind me. What’s done is done. If I can’t do anything to change or fix it, then there’s no point in dwelling on it. So, in that way I do take my own advice. But, my problem is that I dwell on the future. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, my mind eventually drifts off to all the things that need doing or that I want to do in the future, whether that be an hour from now or a year from now. It’s not like there’s only one long to-do list in my head, though that’s there too. But mixed in with the to-dos are what ifs. What if this happens. What if that happens. I try to plan for every contingency. All hypothetical and I never really work out solutions to all the what ifs. So, I get more and more anxious and lose sleep about things that are out of my control and about things that may or may not happen (and, in my experience, rarely, if ever, do happen).

Dwelling in the past and dwelling in the future. What about dwelling in the present? Why do many of us find it so difficult to do that? We are each given only so many days on this earth. We are each given only so many days to enjoy the blessings of God’s creation. We are each given only so many days to contribute to the betterment of God’s creation. By dwelling on the past or dwelling on the future we are are letting the present along with its blessings and opportunities pass right by.

My aunt’s large living room window looks out over a lake. When my husband and I stay there we sleep on the sleeper sofa which faces this window. Every morning I love to watch the sunrise over the lake. On our most recent trip, the last night we were there, the sky was clear and the moon nearly full and there was a moonrise over the lake. I was enchanted. During the day I like to watch the few boats on the lake when it’s calm. I even like to watch the waves when the water is choppy. To me it’s very soothing.

At one point in our vacation, I briefly sat in my aunt’s chair. She usually sits there for hours either reading the newspaper or watching TV. Looking at her view from this chair, I understood why her perspective is so dismal (at least in part). Her view from this chair encompasses the hummingbird feeder outside her window (good), a large tree in the corner of the lot (a desolate area where no flowers grow, the lake is obsured, and where there’s a well-used clothesline), and her TV. If I sat in this chair day in and day out, with this view, I too would be depressed! Why she chose to set up her living room thus, I have no idea. Personally, I would’ve rearranged the furniture to hopefully get a better perspective on my little world and on life in general.

Changing our perspective requires rearrangement of our living spaces, whether that be rearrangement of the physical or rearrangement of the mental. Either way, bringing our thoughts back to the everyday blessings and opportunities that God gives us requires, for some of us, a great effort. I believe, in the long run, that that effort is well worth it.

I’m currently reading City of God by E.L. Doctorow. About a year ago my husband went to a lecture given by Doctorow at Michigan State University. I was curious to know what sort of a writer he is but never got around to actually reading any of his works since then. A couple of weeks ago I went to the Friends of the Wixom Library Semi-Annual Book Sale and saw this book by Doctorow, read the back cover, and decided to buy it.

For me, it’s a very confusing book. First, it’s not written in a style that I’m familiar with. Second, above and beyond the metaphysical issues it presents, at times I find it difficult to follow because I get confused as to which character is talking when. But, despite this, I find myself oddly drawn to this book.

There are times in this book when I just have to say to myself “Brilliant!” E.L. Doctorow has a way with words. This quote bears that out. However, after reading it, I’m not sure you’ll be saying “Brilliant!” I thought it worthy to share nonetheless.

Normally, I wouldn’t use such language on my blog, but since these are Doctorow’s words and not mine, I’ll make an exception.

In this section of the book, the author goes back and forth between the father of one of the characters talking about his time as a young boy in a Jewish ghetto in Nazi Germany during WWII and talking about the natural world as God intended. Here he is talking about the natural world again and creatures that have “the amazing ability to fluoresce when they are attacked or need to illuminate their prey.”

God has a reason for all this. There is one fish, the hatchet, which skulks about in the deep darkness with protuberant eyes on the top of its horned head and the ability to electrically light its anus to blind predators sneaking up behind it. The electric anus, however, is not an innate feature. It comes from a colony of luminescent bacteria that house themselves symbiotically in the fish’s asshole. And there is a Purpose in this as well which we haven’t yet ascertained. But if you believe God’s divine judgement and you countenance reincarnation, then it may be reasonably assumed that a certain bacterium living in the anus of a particularly ancient hatchetfish at the bottom of the ocean is the recycled and fully sentient soul of Adolf Hitler glimmering miserably through the cloacal muck in which he is periodically bathed and nourished.

Source: Doctorow, E.L., City of God, Plume: February 2001, p. 105. (Plume is a member of Penguin Putnam, Inc.)

Yesterday I was pondering the following in a commentary by Fr. Ron Rolheiser entitled “A prophetic mantra about the poor,” in The Michigan Catholic:

The great prophets of Israel had coined this mantra: The quality of your faith will be judged by the quality of justice in the land…. For the great prophets of Israel, ultimately we will be judged religiously and morally on the basis of how the poorest of the poor fared while we are alive.

That’s a scary thought which becomes scarier when we see how Jesus endorsed that view…. Jesus tells us that, at the end of day, when we stand before the great King on the day of judgement, we will be asked only one set of questions and they all will have to do with how we treat the poor: Did you feed the hungry? Give drink to the thirsty? Welcome the stranger? Clothe the naked? Visit the sick? Visit prisoners?… Nobody gets to heaven without a letter of reference from the poor.

This first got me thinking about an article I read not an hour before in the Lansing State Journal about those in the Occupy Wall Street movement creating a situation (free food, medical care, and shelter to anyone) that attracts the homeless. While there have been incidents of fights, drunkenness, and weapons being drawn as a result, according to this article many homeless people say that the movement has given them a voice to speak out against the economic conditions that forced them to be homeless. The article goes on to say that some organizers feel that including the homeless allows them to demonstrate their political ideals, showing the world that the homeless can become functional parts of society. [Source: Associated Press, "'Occupy' sites offer food, shelter," Lansing State Journal, October 23, 2011, p. 4A]

I then got to thinking about how I would answer those questions above. First off, I can honestly say that I’ve never visited anyone in prison and it’s highly unlikely that I’ll do that anytime within my lifetime. As for the other questions, well, my husband and I have been blessed so we try to do what we can. We give money to the local food bank yearly. Recently when the Okemos High School National Honor Society put a bag on our porch wanting food and toiletries for their Red Cross Food Drive, we were eager to help. However, what was in the bag never got to its intended destination because no one came back on the appointed day to pick up the bag. So, I rebagged the food and donated it to the ongoing food drive at church. Periodically we’ve given goods to Goodwill. Visiting the sick. I’ve definitely made enough trips to visit relatives and friends of the family in hospitals and nursing homes to last a lifetime. For years I helped an elderly aunt of mine run her errands. I suppose when I stayed overnight or on weekends this provided some companionship so she didn’t get too lonely. I still call her periodically. On the spiritual end, I was once what they used to call a Eucharistic Minister in my church and over the years I have thought about getting re-trained for that ministry if or when my time gets freed up to serve. But, is this enough?

Somehow this brought to mind a chipped teacup. Years ago someone I know was working for an organization that was having a fundraiser. This person was tasked with going around to people’s homes to pick up donations then unpacking them at the fundraiser site. In one of the boxes, there was a chipped teacup. Now, who would think that someone would buy a chipped teacup? she said, dismayed (or disgusted). Her father replied, perhaps equally disgusted, “Of course no one would buy a chipped teacup.” Now, I did not see this cup, nor do I know the people who donated it. But what if the people who donated it were not well off, or were facing some tough times and didn’t have much themselves or were afraid of losing what they had and yet they still wanted to donate something to this fundraiser? They may have thought that this teacup, despite its flaws, was still usable and therefore still valuable and could fetch at least a little something at the fundraiser.

This led me to think about a garage sale I went to long ago. Growing up we didn’t have much money, but I did get some money for birthdays and Christmas. I saved most of it, but I did spend some too. When I was in elementary school, or perhaps early in middle school, my neighbor had a garage sale to raise some money (no one in that neighborhood was too well off). A friend of mine and I went with some pocket change. There wasn’t much that we could afford, but there were two things that caught my eye there. One was a small, plastic glow-in-the-dark St. Mary statue and another was a small plastic figurine of a little girl at her First Communion kneeling at a Communion rail. I paid the 10 cents or whatever it was and was so excited to get it home and show my father. We decided to put both in prominent places in the living room.

I was not shy about showing these beautiful pieces to my relatives that came over. But when I showed this one aunt of mine the First Communion figurine her reaction was not supportive. “Why would you pay money for it? It’s broken.” Implying that it was best suited to the garbage, not to a place on a table in the living room. Until she mentioned it, I had not seen its brokenness. I didn’t notice that one of the candles was missing. All I saw was the little girl in the beautiful dress with the angelic look on her face. When I saw this figurine and the St. Mary figurine, something spoke to me from within. Both were beautiful in my eyes, and I wanted that beauty near me. Although my aunt’s comments hurt my feelings, I never stopped seeing the beauty. I no longer have the First Communion figurine. Until I moved a year ago, the glow-in-the-dark St. Mary statue was near my bedside, one of the last things I’d see before going to sleep at night.

Sometimes I wonder if these two things, and the feelings they evoked within me over the years, helped lead me back into full participation in the Catholic faith. All I know for sure is that I am grateful to whatever did lead me back. I have not regretted a minute of it since.

First we start in the backyard. It’s a good thing that I have a tendency to look down while walking because if I didn’t I would have totally missed this little Pincushion Flower. A volunteer, I surmise, since it was all by itself.

Now that the local raccoon has stopped digging in my flowerpot, my impatiens are doing well.

In my side garden we come upon one of the few Asiatic Lilies that the deer (or woodchuck) didn’t eat.

On the other side of the same garden we find some delicate pink Astilbe.

Here are some unknown purple flowers. When I took this picture, the lily had already overbloomed as you can see in the background.

Here is a closer look at the purple blossoms.

This picture was taken more recently in the same garden. The purple flowers are waning and the Black Eyed Susans are showing their beauty. The Astilbe in the lower left has long since turned brown.

Wherever there are beautiful flowers, there are also weeds. Here’s a weed with beautiful purple and yellow flowers. I don’t know what it’s called, but clearly this is one of the weeds that will give me trouble year after year. It likes to grow under trees and among the ivy and is difficult to pull out by the roots. What I couldn’t pull out, I cut back, but when I did the scent this plant gave off was horrible!

Moving to the garden on the other side of the driveway we come upon some more Asiatic Lilies.

Surrounding the Asiatic Lilies is Creeping Bellflower, a plant that’s considered an invasive species. I’ll have to keep my eye on it yearly to make sure it doesn’t grow beyond its current boundaries.

At the front of our house the Clematis and Shasta Daisies are blooming.

In the background, behind the colorful dog lawn ornament you’ll see a Butterfly Bush, only this Butterfly Bush looks more like a tree. I don’t know enough about Butterfly Bushes to know if there’s some way I could cut it back to get it to be more bushy or not, so I’ll stick to just minimal cutting for now. Here’s a picture of some blossoms. It does have a nice fragrance.

Nearby, in a later picture, we have more Black Eyed Susans and some Tall Phlox. The heat of July is taking its toll.

Here’s some Coreopsis Grandiflora hidden behind a bush in the same garden.

Dotted here and there throughout the gardens are daylilies.

Some pale pink ones:

Some pale yellow ones:

Some bright yellow ones:

And some striped ones:

Moving on here’s some Variegated Obedient Plant. And, I can attest to its obedience. One of these plants was actually growing horizontally across the sidewalk. I picked it up and propped it up against one of the other plants. Now it grows tall and straight!

My porch petunias are doing well this year.

Some of my roses are still blooming.

Another of those volunteers, Lupine, with Sedium in the background:

Here’s some Bergamot. Yes, it does smell like tea!

A neighbor stopped by one day while I was outside in the yard and asked me what those red flowers were. At the time I didn’t know. She was planning a garden for her yard and wanted some red flowers and admired mine. I told her that she could come by anytime and take some. She took a picture instead.

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A Thank You to my husband’s Aunt Martha for the early birthday present: the book Perennials for Michigan by Nancy Szerlag and Alison Beck ©2002 by Lone Pine Publishing International.

As the weekend wore on, the thought of going to the Balloonfest was less and less appealing. Sure, I wanted to see the balloon launch, but the thought of battling crowds and traffic on such a lovely summer day sealed my decision to make other plans. So, Sunday morning I suggested that instead of going to the Balloonfest that evening, we go on a bike ride instead. My husband was agreeable.

Now the decision of where to? I had been wanting to ride into Downtown Okemos for some time now. I wanted to see the new artwork that was installed there this year. I decided to take my camera, just in case I felt inspired for a travelogue entry.

“Don’t blink, or you’ll miss it.” That describes Downtown Okemos. In fact, until I moved here and started keeping up with the goings on in Okemos, I didn’t realize that this little (roughly) two block area was the downtown.

First, why is Okemos called Okemos? You’ll have to read the historical marker:

The Red Cedar River, by the way, is about a block and a half from this historical marker, looking straight ahead as you read this:

If you imagine yourself standing on this street corner reading this, Hamilton Road is directly behind you. Okemos Road is directly to your right.

Later that afternoon we rode up to my in-laws’ condo and my husband mentioned that I had been taking pictures of some of the artwork in Downtown Okemos. My father-in-law laughed and said “The fish?” My husband said “yes, and the new artwork that was installed this year (which my father-in-law apparently did not know about).

These fish have been around a while, a staple of the downtown area. They’re quite pretty when you get up close. They are covered in mosaic tiles. The fish closest to you is covered in mirrored tiles and is shiny in the sunlight.

Here’s a picture of another staple of the Downtown: The Travelers Club International Restaurant and Tuba Museum. It’s quite a unique place. Their website is here, if you’d like more information. (I highly recommend checking out the website.) Each month their special of the house is from a different country in the world. And, for you beer lovers out there, this restaurant offers a selection of 202 beers, including microbrews from Michigan. I don’t drink, but the Michigan draft beer called “Final Absolution” is intriguing to me for some reason.

Across the street (to the left in the picture) is where my favorite new art installation resides. It’s called “Little Joyful Dancer.” It’s in front of the dancewear and lingerie shop. They were having a sidewalk sale, so I didn’t take a picture of it, but you can check it out here on Facebook. This was when it wasn’t yet installed.

Across the street to the right in the picture, is Zea’s Okemos Barber and Style Shop. Its recent claim to fame is that the owner, Vincent Zea, won the 2011 People’s Choice Award for Best Barber in the East Lansing/Okemos/Haslett area. The shop was started in 1962 by his father and is still family-owned and operated.

Turning the corner to the right, as we go down Hamilton Road a block we come upon this new sculpture. It’s called “@Com,” but every time I see it I think of Scotch Tape (with apologies to the artist).

And, this is looking East to the edge of Downtown. There’s another new art installation in the traffic circle. Quite impressive and modern. It’s called “Divine Wind Gate.” A picture can be found here.

If you look to your left in the picture, you can see the edge of Wood’s Marathon gas station (my preferred gas station). When you pull up to pump gas, an employee comes out to wash your windows for you. Can’t get service like that anywhere else around here! As a plus, one of their mechanics, Mike O’Connor, won the 2011 People’s Choice Award for Best Mechanic in the East Lansing/Okemos/Haslett Area.

Now back to the corner of Okemos and Hamilton Roads. Tired out from walking? How about relaxing and sitting a while here. Um, maybe. These aren’t the most practical benches to sit on. Especially after the sun has been beating down on them all day. Actually, since they are part of the art installation, are we allowed to sit on them?

To keep up with the goings-on in Downtown Okemos, visit the Facebook page here.