She's ready to party. So ready!!!
Sent from my U.S.Cellular© Smartphone
Tuesday, December 29, 2020
Bad Girls Don't Die
Bad Girls Don't Die
YA Thriller
Alexis, protagonist of Katie Alender's Bad Girls Don't Die, is
facing a number of of challenges.
She's on her own at school. She'd believed that she and her
best friend, Beth, would be there for each other forever, or at least
through high school. But after an acrimonious parental divorce and a
cruel incident at school Beth and her mother took off for Florida,
leaving Alexis the sworn enemy of the cheerleaders and their minions.
She's not all that crazy about the one group that accepts her. "I
mean just because you don't want to be a cookie cutter clone doesn't
mean you have to wear a spiky collar and dress like a vampire
wannabe...". She's also on the radar of her principal, Mrs. Ames...
...and not in a good way.
Alexis lives in one of those houses that carry echoes from bad
things that have happened in the past. Appliences operate when they
shouldn't. Spooky lights with no sources appear. Doors open and shut
on their own. Not exactly home sweet home.
Alexis' family is not really functioning well. Her desperately
striving for a promotion mother is always at or preoccupied with
work. Her father isn't around much either. Not surprisingly neither
of them notices that Kasey, Alexis' doll obsessed younger sister, may
be crossing the line between quirky and demon possessed. She begins
doing strange things like stealing her classmates' ancestor reports
and marking up Alexis' yearbook.
Alexis' father is in a car accident. The police suspect foul
play. The wires to the brakes have been cut.
Is there anything Alexis can do to prevent tragedies as Kasey
seems to morph into or at least share her body with an evil green eyed
entity?
Read the book and see.
On a purrrsonal note, it looks like 2020 is well on the way out. I
sure hope 2021 is a lot better and the start of a road back to semi
normal. Tobago and I have all we need for our big New Years Eve
party. I'm going to cook a nice steak dinner for me and Eugene. Then
Tobago and I will stay up to midnight to see the ball drop. We've got
books and candy. Party on!
You probably want to know my resolutions. I already started getting
better about exercise in October. So I'm resolving to continue to
excel academically and work toward my degree as much as I can. I sure
hope I can do an internship fall semester. Oh, yeah, and get up to
1900 reviews. (Jules).
New Years Resolutions? I resolve to continue to be adorable and sweet
and keep my family happy and our home mouse free. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to you, our readers, with best wishes
for a safe and happy New Years Eve.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA Thriller
Alexis, protagonist of Katie Alender's Bad Girls Don't Die, is
facing a number of of challenges.
She's on her own at school. She'd believed that she and her
best friend, Beth, would be there for each other forever, or at least
through high school. But after an acrimonious parental divorce and a
cruel incident at school Beth and her mother took off for Florida,
leaving Alexis the sworn enemy of the cheerleaders and their minions.
She's not all that crazy about the one group that accepts her. "I
mean just because you don't want to be a cookie cutter clone doesn't
mean you have to wear a spiky collar and dress like a vampire
wannabe...". She's also on the radar of her principal, Mrs. Ames...
...and not in a good way.
Alexis lives in one of those houses that carry echoes from bad
things that have happened in the past. Appliences operate when they
shouldn't. Spooky lights with no sources appear. Doors open and shut
on their own. Not exactly home sweet home.
Alexis' family is not really functioning well. Her desperately
striving for a promotion mother is always at or preoccupied with
work. Her father isn't around much either. Not surprisingly neither
of them notices that Kasey, Alexis' doll obsessed younger sister, may
be crossing the line between quirky and demon possessed. She begins
doing strange things like stealing her classmates' ancestor reports
and marking up Alexis' yearbook.
Alexis' father is in a car accident. The police suspect foul
play. The wires to the brakes have been cut.
Is there anything Alexis can do to prevent tragedies as Kasey
seems to morph into or at least share her body with an evil green eyed
entity?
Read the book and see.
On a purrrsonal note, it looks like 2020 is well on the way out. I
sure hope 2021 is a lot better and the start of a road back to semi
normal. Tobago and I have all we need for our big New Years Eve
party. I'm going to cook a nice steak dinner for me and Eugene. Then
Tobago and I will stay up to midnight to see the ball drop. We've got
books and candy. Party on!
You probably want to know my resolutions. I already started getting
better about exercise in October. So I'm resolving to continue to
excel academically and work toward my degree as much as I can. I sure
hope I can do an internship fall semester. Oh, yeah, and get up to
1900 reviews. (Jules).
New Years Resolutions? I resolve to continue to be adorable and sweet
and keep my family happy and our home mouse free. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to you, our readers, with best wishes
for a safe and happy New Years Eve.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, December 27, 2020
The Book Of Two Ways
The Book Of Two Ways
Adult Fiction
Jodi Picoult's The Book Of Two Ways is book number 1801 for my
book review blog. That isn't counting the ones I reviewed for
newspapers when they had freelance budgets. However, it raised a
dilemma I had never before experienced. It had my mind going two
ways. It is excellently written, rich and engaging, and insightful.
So I couldn't put it down and pick up the next book. But because it
was so far out of my comfort zone sticking with it to the end was the
psychic equivalent of wisdom tooth surgery without benefit of
anesthesia. So I'll do my best to pitch it and hope it's good enough
to do the book justice.
"My calendar is full of dead people."
If this isn't an attention grabbing first sentence I don't know
what would be.
Dawn, Picoult's protagonist, has an unusual profession. She's a
death doula. Basically she's in the business of helping terminally
ill people make the transition between life and death, discerning and
facilitating that which will make their last days and nights most
meaningful.
Fifteen years (and a lifetime) before she had been pursuing a
PhD in Egyptology. She'd focussed on the Book of Two Ways, a sort of
guide to help newly deceased ancient Egyptians navigate the path to a
desirable afterlife. A fellow student, Wyatt, had first rubbed her
the wrong way with his seeming arrogance. But then working out in the
field rivalry had morphed into passionate romance.
Than a phone call had changed Dawn's life. Her mother was being
admitted to a hospice, dying of cancer. Dawn flew back to the states
to be with her mother at the end. And after her mom passed there was
no way to return to grad school. There was a younger brother who
needed her to become his guardian. There were mountains of debt. And
there was Brian who had just lost his grandmother. He held out the
stability she needed. Before long they were parenting and married.
But in the intervening fifteen years Dawn has never gotten Wyatt
out of her head and heart. And her marriage is fraying a bit around
the edges.
"I have had a good life. But maybe I could have had a great one."
Dawn is in a plane crash. She is one of the survivors. After
the doctor clears her to leave the air line offers to fly her to
wherever she wants to go. Here's where she story splits into two
strands, each one exploring a possible path. In one she heads to
Egypt to rekindle her relationship with Wyatt. In the other she
returns to Brian and their daughter, Meret. These diverging
realities alternate chapter by chapter.
One of the things that makes The Book Of Two Ways great is that
it takes the sense of what if that many people experience at least to
some extent and turns it into a fully engaging narrative. It's other
real strength is that the characters in both strands are unique, fully
fleshed out, believable and faced with complex and challenging lives.
I can't imagine reading the book to the end without caring about its
outcome.
It will also be of great interest to archeology fans with its
great wealth of information.
Picoult is spot on about the transformational nature of coming
close to death. I did right after the death of my first child by
emergency c section. I woke up with an infection. When I told the
doctor on rounds he said that was my imagination. He said "first time
mothers" dismissively to his flock of doctorlings. The second they
left I rang for a nurse. I was soon on intravenous antibiotics. I
later was told that if I'd believed the doctor Eugene would have
started parenthood widowed and Katie and Adam would never have been
born. In the book's terms I got the best of possible paths.
I was not the same person. I chose to stay home rather than try
to balance parenting and work. I realized that the most important
aspect of my life would be not achievement, but touching lives. I
gained a mindfulness mindset that is still going strong decades
later. And, knowing that tomorrow is not guaranteed, I make sure to
voice my valuing and appreciation of the people around me on a regular
basis.
One of the things that distinguishes the great writer from the
good writer is that the former has the ability to evoke and connect
with readers' own life experiences for a deeper level of engagement.
Picoult is consistently one of those writers.
However, this is not the book to read if you're in the acute
grieving stage following the death of a loved one--human, cat, or dog--
or anticipating a loss. It could hit a little too close to home.
Dawn is a death doula with a subplot following her work with a
client. And Egyptology is centered on digging up ancient crypts. The
reality of death is woven through the book.
This is what made it so challenging for me to read the book. In
the summer of 2019 I had been the untrained death doula for Joey, my
beloved cat companion of sixteen years who was losing a valient battle
with lung cancer. Making his last months as happy and comfortable was
the focus of my life. Because he loved turkey I had a Thanksgiving in
June. When cat food became hard for him to eat I was elated to
discover that he could still enjoy baby food. We spent a lot of
precious beyond measure time cuddling and looking out the wibdow.
What was hardest was at the end giving him permission to leave when
hanging on would be too difficult. I was with him when his soul left
his body.
As I write this I can see my iPod through my tears.
So if I haven't given this fine novel its due, my apologies to
the author. I believe she would understand.
One part of the book, though, I took great comfort from,
though. Win, Dawn's client, also has a love from her distant past.
She tells Dawn that people know who they thought they'd end up with
and for very few it's who they go home to. I knew from the night we
met that Eugene was the one. He was going to be my partner and baby
daddy. It's been nearly 34 years since the day we met and he's still
my one and only. It's funny how one paragraph made me realize how
truly blessed I am.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult Fiction
Jodi Picoult's The Book Of Two Ways is book number 1801 for my
book review blog. That isn't counting the ones I reviewed for
newspapers when they had freelance budgets. However, it raised a
dilemma I had never before experienced. It had my mind going two
ways. It is excellently written, rich and engaging, and insightful.
So I couldn't put it down and pick up the next book. But because it
was so far out of my comfort zone sticking with it to the end was the
psychic equivalent of wisdom tooth surgery without benefit of
anesthesia. So I'll do my best to pitch it and hope it's good enough
to do the book justice.
"My calendar is full of dead people."
If this isn't an attention grabbing first sentence I don't know
what would be.
Dawn, Picoult's protagonist, has an unusual profession. She's a
death doula. Basically she's in the business of helping terminally
ill people make the transition between life and death, discerning and
facilitating that which will make their last days and nights most
meaningful.
Fifteen years (and a lifetime) before she had been pursuing a
PhD in Egyptology. She'd focussed on the Book of Two Ways, a sort of
guide to help newly deceased ancient Egyptians navigate the path to a
desirable afterlife. A fellow student, Wyatt, had first rubbed her
the wrong way with his seeming arrogance. But then working out in the
field rivalry had morphed into passionate romance.
Than a phone call had changed Dawn's life. Her mother was being
admitted to a hospice, dying of cancer. Dawn flew back to the states
to be with her mother at the end. And after her mom passed there was
no way to return to grad school. There was a younger brother who
needed her to become his guardian. There were mountains of debt. And
there was Brian who had just lost his grandmother. He held out the
stability she needed. Before long they were parenting and married.
But in the intervening fifteen years Dawn has never gotten Wyatt
out of her head and heart. And her marriage is fraying a bit around
the edges.
"I have had a good life. But maybe I could have had a great one."
Dawn is in a plane crash. She is one of the survivors. After
the doctor clears her to leave the air line offers to fly her to
wherever she wants to go. Here's where she story splits into two
strands, each one exploring a possible path. In one she heads to
Egypt to rekindle her relationship with Wyatt. In the other she
returns to Brian and their daughter, Meret. These diverging
realities alternate chapter by chapter.
One of the things that makes The Book Of Two Ways great is that
it takes the sense of what if that many people experience at least to
some extent and turns it into a fully engaging narrative. It's other
real strength is that the characters in both strands are unique, fully
fleshed out, believable and faced with complex and challenging lives.
I can't imagine reading the book to the end without caring about its
outcome.
It will also be of great interest to archeology fans with its
great wealth of information.
Picoult is spot on about the transformational nature of coming
close to death. I did right after the death of my first child by
emergency c section. I woke up with an infection. When I told the
doctor on rounds he said that was my imagination. He said "first time
mothers" dismissively to his flock of doctorlings. The second they
left I rang for a nurse. I was soon on intravenous antibiotics. I
later was told that if I'd believed the doctor Eugene would have
started parenthood widowed and Katie and Adam would never have been
born. In the book's terms I got the best of possible paths.
I was not the same person. I chose to stay home rather than try
to balance parenting and work. I realized that the most important
aspect of my life would be not achievement, but touching lives. I
gained a mindfulness mindset that is still going strong decades
later. And, knowing that tomorrow is not guaranteed, I make sure to
voice my valuing and appreciation of the people around me on a regular
basis.
One of the things that distinguishes the great writer from the
good writer is that the former has the ability to evoke and connect
with readers' own life experiences for a deeper level of engagement.
Picoult is consistently one of those writers.
However, this is not the book to read if you're in the acute
grieving stage following the death of a loved one--human, cat, or dog--
or anticipating a loss. It could hit a little too close to home.
Dawn is a death doula with a subplot following her work with a
client. And Egyptology is centered on digging up ancient crypts. The
reality of death is woven through the book.
This is what made it so challenging for me to read the book. In
the summer of 2019 I had been the untrained death doula for Joey, my
beloved cat companion of sixteen years who was losing a valient battle
with lung cancer. Making his last months as happy and comfortable was
the focus of my life. Because he loved turkey I had a Thanksgiving in
June. When cat food became hard for him to eat I was elated to
discover that he could still enjoy baby food. We spent a lot of
precious beyond measure time cuddling and looking out the wibdow.
What was hardest was at the end giving him permission to leave when
hanging on would be too difficult. I was with him when his soul left
his body.
As I write this I can see my iPod through my tears.
So if I haven't given this fine novel its due, my apologies to
the author. I believe she would understand.
One part of the book, though, I took great comfort from,
though. Win, Dawn's client, also has a love from her distant past.
She tells Dawn that people know who they thought they'd end up with
and for very few it's who they go home to. I knew from the night we
met that Eugene was the one. He was going to be my partner and baby
daddy. It's been nearly 34 years since the day we met and he's still
my one and only. It's funny how one paragraph made me realize how
truly blessed I am.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, December 26, 2020
The Cheerleaders
The Cheerleaders
YA mystery
"I should be happy enough for my mother and Tom, because the old
house took so long to sell that it nearly destroyed their marriage. I
should be thrilled I don't have to hear the words terrible real estate
market and bad location ever again. Neither they nor the listing
agent had the balls to come out and say that no one wanted to buy a
home on the street of horrors."
Five years ago Sunnybrook High had cheerleaders. Then bad
things started happening. Two cheerleaders, Colleen and Bethany, died
in a car crash so horrific it was hard to tell one from another and a
first responder threw up. Then two, Julianna and Susan, were killed
by a neighbor who was shot by a police officer. Finally one took her
own life. At that point the school disbanded the team.
"Some people say a curse fell over our town five years ago.
What else could explain the tragic deaths of five girls, in three
separate incidents, in less than two months?"
Monica, protagonist of Kara Thomas' The Cheerleaders, younger
sibling of the last cheerleader to die, is sure that, even though no
note was ever found, Jen didn't kill herself. One day she makes a
startling discovery in stepfather Tom's home office desk. Tom is the
police officer who had arrived at the murder scene and shot Juliana
and Susan's alleged killer. There is a stack of four envelopes, each
postmarked on an anniversary of Jen's death. Each contains the same
message: "I KNOW IT WASN'T HIM. CONNECT THE DOTS."
"Key, key, I rifle through the rest of the drawers. There's a
ring of tiny keys in the top drawer. I don't even know what I'm
looking for. There has to be something else here that could explain
these letters. Why Tom would keep them--and what the hell they mean."
Could the letters be the reason Monica's parents abruptly
decided to move? Is it possible that Tom shot the wrong person?
Might the real killer still be at large--maybe poised to strike again?
Read the book and see.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. I sure
did. The best part for me was when Eugene and I zoomed with our kids
and their partners. As always we had a lot to talk about between our
current lives and favorite memories. At one point the kids were
showing off the grandcats. Much to my surprise Eugene got Tobago and
held her up to the laptop to get her admiration. She has bewitched
him. Anyway our family get together was precious beyond measure. I'd
thought I'd get to sleep in with no kids in the house. Wrong. Tobago
woke me at 5:00, eager to see what was in her stocking. She was quite
pleased with all her gifts. I made Eugene an eggs and sausages
breakfast. Then we opened our gifts. Between family and friends I
was totally spoiled. I got money toward school, lots of nice gifts,
and enough candy to tide me over til Valentines Day.
Today Eugene is at camp. There was a lot of wind and rain yesterday.
He went up to do any repairs that might be necessary. We agreed that
leaving a cat and a Christmas tree home alone overnight might not be a
great idea. So I'm chilling with Tobago, reading near the tree,
eating stuff that does not involve cooking, and wearing my new
awesomely velvety Snoopy and Woodstock pajamas from Eugene. (Jules)
He came. He came. The big SC. He filled my stocking. I tried to
stay awake to see the flying reindeer. Oh, well, there's always next
year. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to our loved ones near and far.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Oh, yeah, this is the 1800th book I've reviewed in 9 1/2 years for
this blog. Not too shabby. Maybe I can make it to 1900 before 2021
is over.
Sent from my iPod
YA mystery
"I should be happy enough for my mother and Tom, because the old
house took so long to sell that it nearly destroyed their marriage. I
should be thrilled I don't have to hear the words terrible real estate
market and bad location ever again. Neither they nor the listing
agent had the balls to come out and say that no one wanted to buy a
home on the street of horrors."
Five years ago Sunnybrook High had cheerleaders. Then bad
things started happening. Two cheerleaders, Colleen and Bethany, died
in a car crash so horrific it was hard to tell one from another and a
first responder threw up. Then two, Julianna and Susan, were killed
by a neighbor who was shot by a police officer. Finally one took her
own life. At that point the school disbanded the team.
"Some people say a curse fell over our town five years ago.
What else could explain the tragic deaths of five girls, in three
separate incidents, in less than two months?"
Monica, protagonist of Kara Thomas' The Cheerleaders, younger
sibling of the last cheerleader to die, is sure that, even though no
note was ever found, Jen didn't kill herself. One day she makes a
startling discovery in stepfather Tom's home office desk. Tom is the
police officer who had arrived at the murder scene and shot Juliana
and Susan's alleged killer. There is a stack of four envelopes, each
postmarked on an anniversary of Jen's death. Each contains the same
message: "I KNOW IT WASN'T HIM. CONNECT THE DOTS."
"Key, key, I rifle through the rest of the drawers. There's a
ring of tiny keys in the top drawer. I don't even know what I'm
looking for. There has to be something else here that could explain
these letters. Why Tom would keep them--and what the hell they mean."
Could the letters be the reason Monica's parents abruptly
decided to move? Is it possible that Tom shot the wrong person?
Might the real killer still be at large--maybe poised to strike again?
Read the book and see.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. I sure
did. The best part for me was when Eugene and I zoomed with our kids
and their partners. As always we had a lot to talk about between our
current lives and favorite memories. At one point the kids were
showing off the grandcats. Much to my surprise Eugene got Tobago and
held her up to the laptop to get her admiration. She has bewitched
him. Anyway our family get together was precious beyond measure. I'd
thought I'd get to sleep in with no kids in the house. Wrong. Tobago
woke me at 5:00, eager to see what was in her stocking. She was quite
pleased with all her gifts. I made Eugene an eggs and sausages
breakfast. Then we opened our gifts. Between family and friends I
was totally spoiled. I got money toward school, lots of nice gifts,
and enough candy to tide me over til Valentines Day.
Today Eugene is at camp. There was a lot of wind and rain yesterday.
He went up to do any repairs that might be necessary. We agreed that
leaving a cat and a Christmas tree home alone overnight might not be a
great idea. So I'm chilling with Tobago, reading near the tree,
eating stuff that does not involve cooking, and wearing my new
awesomely velvety Snoopy and Woodstock pajamas from Eugene. (Jules)
He came. He came. The big SC. He filled my stocking. I tried to
stay awake to see the flying reindeer. Oh, well, there's always next
year. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to our loved ones near and far.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Oh, yeah, this is the 1800th book I've reviewed in 9 1/2 years for
this blog. Not too shabby. Maybe I can make it to 1900 before 2021
is over.
Sent from my iPod
Thursday, December 24, 2020
They Wish They Were Us
They Wish They Were Us
YA/adult mystery
I think many of us enjoy seeing the tarnish on the gold, the
dark sides of the societies to which we'd never be admitted. So a
mystery involving a privileged group within an elite, monied private
school?
Delightfully decadent.
Jill Newman, protagonist of Jessica Goodman's They Wish They
Were Us, is a scholarship student at Gold Coast Prep and a member of
the Players, an elite group with access to not only the prime
cafeteria turf and best parties and status, but files of test answers
and other insider information designed to pave the way to unearned
success.
Jill and her Player cohort are at the pinnacle of their high
school power. They've paid their dues, passed all the pops
(challenges), some designed to tap into their deepest fears, that they
were given to show themselves worthy of membership. Now this is their
year, the year they will rule the school.
Jill is not entirely a happy camper. She knows how cruel and
dangerous the pops can be. Her beloved little brother, Jared, has
been selected as a potential player.
And then there are emails she's started to get alluding to the
death of her best friend, Shaila, during their freshman spring Players
initiation. Cause of death was listed as blunt force trauma.
Boyfriend Graham is doing time.
Jill begins to get emails from Rachel, Graham's older sister.
"I know you probably never want to hear from me again, but I
have to tell you something.
Graham didn't kill Shaila. He's innocent.
It's all so ducked up. Can we talk?"
What if Graham wasn't the killer? What if it's someone Jill and
her friends trust, someone who might strike again? And what kinds of
risks would connecting with Rachel involve? The Players just want to
move on and Gold Coast Prep can't afford the negative publicity a
reopened investigation would bring.
Reading They Wish They Were Us was the spooktacular highlight of
my mostly home alone Halloween. I highly recommend the book.
On a purrrsonal note, the tree is decorated. I've sent out gifts and
cards. I've baked the cookies. Now Tobago and I are enjoying the
peace and quiet before the most unpredictable Christmas ever or at
least in our life times. (Jules)
I'm watching for the man in the red suit. I really want to see those
flying reindeer. And word on the street is that I'm on the nice list.
(Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all our readers who celebrate
Christmas. May you have a safe and joyous day!
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA/adult mystery
I think many of us enjoy seeing the tarnish on the gold, the
dark sides of the societies to which we'd never be admitted. So a
mystery involving a privileged group within an elite, monied private
school?
Delightfully decadent.
Jill Newman, protagonist of Jessica Goodman's They Wish They
Were Us, is a scholarship student at Gold Coast Prep and a member of
the Players, an elite group with access to not only the prime
cafeteria turf and best parties and status, but files of test answers
and other insider information designed to pave the way to unearned
success.
Jill and her Player cohort are at the pinnacle of their high
school power. They've paid their dues, passed all the pops
(challenges), some designed to tap into their deepest fears, that they
were given to show themselves worthy of membership. Now this is their
year, the year they will rule the school.
Jill is not entirely a happy camper. She knows how cruel and
dangerous the pops can be. Her beloved little brother, Jared, has
been selected as a potential player.
And then there are emails she's started to get alluding to the
death of her best friend, Shaila, during their freshman spring Players
initiation. Cause of death was listed as blunt force trauma.
Boyfriend Graham is doing time.
Jill begins to get emails from Rachel, Graham's older sister.
"I know you probably never want to hear from me again, but I
have to tell you something.
Graham didn't kill Shaila. He's innocent.
It's all so ducked up. Can we talk?"
What if Graham wasn't the killer? What if it's someone Jill and
her friends trust, someone who might strike again? And what kinds of
risks would connecting with Rachel involve? The Players just want to
move on and Gold Coast Prep can't afford the negative publicity a
reopened investigation would bring.
Reading They Wish They Were Us was the spooktacular highlight of
my mostly home alone Halloween. I highly recommend the book.
On a purrrsonal note, the tree is decorated. I've sent out gifts and
cards. I've baked the cookies. Now Tobago and I are enjoying the
peace and quiet before the most unpredictable Christmas ever or at
least in our life times. (Jules)
I'm watching for the man in the red suit. I really want to see those
flying reindeer. And word on the street is that I'm on the nice list.
(Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all our readers who celebrate
Christmas. May you have a safe and joyous day!
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, December 23, 2020
No Bad Deed
No Bad Deed
Adult mystery
"If my kids had been with me, it wouldn't have happened. I would have
stayed in the minivan, doors locked, windows rolled up. Just like the
911 operator instructed."
Driving home late at night, Cassie, protagonist of Heather
Chavez's No Bad Deed, comes upon a horrifying sight--a man killing a
helpless woman. The 911 operator she calls instructs her to stay in
her vehicle. But she's a vetinarian with a saving life mind set. She
comes to the woman's aid. The assailant makes her a strange and
ominous offer. If she lets his victim die he'll let her live.
Cassie's spur-of-the-moment decision has huge consequences for
her. When the assailant hears sirens he absconds with her car
containing her purse. He has all the information he needs to come
after her and her family.
The police assure Cassie that Carver, the bad guy, won't be
going anywhere near her house.
But the next night, Halloween, Cassie's husband, Sam,
disappears. He might be having an affair. Their relationship has
been fraying a bit lately. There are allegations that Sam, a high
school teacher has given pretty girls a rather sick option for getting
better grades.
But he also may have been kidnapped. He may not be the only
family member in deadly peril.
If a fast packed thriller that keeps you on the edge of your
seat is your idea of a good read you don't want to miss out on No Bad
Deed.
On a purrrsonal note, this is a very special day for the Hathaway
family. It's Tobago's fourth birthday and first adoption
anniversary. A year ago I was dreading my first Christmas after Joey
cat's death. My manager, Anna, drove me to Waterville Humane
Society. A beautiful black and white cat with luminescent gold eyes
grabbed my arm (and heart) and wouldn't let go. The year between
those two days has been one of learning and adapting to and repeatedly
falling in love with all aspects of Tobago's uniqueness. The closest
experience in my life has been bringing my babies home from the
hospital. It's also encompassed much of a pandemic I would probs not
be surviving without my little friend. (Jules)
Yasss! It's my birthday. We is going to celebrate with tuna. I
decree that everyone give themselves a treat to celebrate the special
day that is my birthday. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all who give rescue animals homes
and the special buddies who fill their hearts with unconditional love.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult mystery
"If my kids had been with me, it wouldn't have happened. I would have
stayed in the minivan, doors locked, windows rolled up. Just like the
911 operator instructed."
Driving home late at night, Cassie, protagonist of Heather
Chavez's No Bad Deed, comes upon a horrifying sight--a man killing a
helpless woman. The 911 operator she calls instructs her to stay in
her vehicle. But she's a vetinarian with a saving life mind set. She
comes to the woman's aid. The assailant makes her a strange and
ominous offer. If she lets his victim die he'll let her live.
Cassie's spur-of-the-moment decision has huge consequences for
her. When the assailant hears sirens he absconds with her car
containing her purse. He has all the information he needs to come
after her and her family.
The police assure Cassie that Carver, the bad guy, won't be
going anywhere near her house.
But the next night, Halloween, Cassie's husband, Sam,
disappears. He might be having an affair. Their relationship has
been fraying a bit lately. There are allegations that Sam, a high
school teacher has given pretty girls a rather sick option for getting
better grades.
But he also may have been kidnapped. He may not be the only
family member in deadly peril.
If a fast packed thriller that keeps you on the edge of your
seat is your idea of a good read you don't want to miss out on No Bad
Deed.
On a purrrsonal note, this is a very special day for the Hathaway
family. It's Tobago's fourth birthday and first adoption
anniversary. A year ago I was dreading my first Christmas after Joey
cat's death. My manager, Anna, drove me to Waterville Humane
Society. A beautiful black and white cat with luminescent gold eyes
grabbed my arm (and heart) and wouldn't let go. The year between
those two days has been one of learning and adapting to and repeatedly
falling in love with all aspects of Tobago's uniqueness. The closest
experience in my life has been bringing my babies home from the
hospital. It's also encompassed much of a pandemic I would probs not
be surviving without my little friend. (Jules)
Yasss! It's my birthday. We is going to celebrate with tuna. I
decree that everyone give themselves a treat to celebrate the special
day that is my birthday. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all who give rescue animals homes
and the special buddies who fill their hearts with unconditional love.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, December 21, 2020
This beautiful ceramic cat was part of a Christmas gift from an awesome church family. It also included a dozen eggs form their backyard hens and a pin from the Orono Middle School Gender/Sexuality Club. One of the reasons why I love my church is that they're not stuck on the binary.
Sent from my U.S.Cellular© Smartphone
Our Time Is Now
Our Time Is Now
Adult nonfiction
"Voter suppression--from getting on the rolls to having those
votes count--is real. But Americans need a robust understanding of
what suppression looks like today. Today the ones barring access have
shifted from using billy clubs and hoses to using convoluted rules to
make it harder to register and stay on the rolls, cast a ballot, or
have that ballot counted. To move forward, we must understand the
extent to which the shrinking conservative minority will go to create
barriers to democracy..."
I voted a little differently this year out of COVID caution. I
received my ballot in the mail and turned it in early. Normally on
election day it takes about ten minutes from having my name checked
off to getting an I voted sticker. I've also had the surreal
experience of seeing my name on the ballot a number of times. And,
yes, I did vote for myself.
I knew that for a lot of people this rite of citizenship is
nowhere as easy or even possible. I'd keep reading news stories of
the disenfranchisement of people, especially Black people, by all
kinds of devious means. But I had no idea what I could do to help
improve matters when I couldn't even grasp the whole picture. It was
like getting a few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle here, a few there. I
couldn't even fill in the edges.
In Our Time Is Now Stacey Abrams gives us the whole boxed puzzle
with the picture on the cover. Through a seamless blend of research
and anecdotes (some of them heartbreaking) she shows readers all the
points at which the most basic right of citizenship can be stolen.
She also goes into great detail in a discussion of why the census
really matters and why the usual undercount of the most vulnerable
residents is a very bad thing.
One of my favorite parts of the book is the one in which Abrams
totally trashes the electoral college. It was created as a desperate
bid to keep the slave holding states from fleeing the union before it
even got off the ground. It let their slaves be counted as 3/5 humans
while not being allowed to vote. It's equally dysfunctional today.
Candidates have lost by millions in the popular vote and won in the
electoral college...
...Isn't it time for a more representative process?
I also love how Abrams reminds us that national and state level
offices aren't the only ones that matter. She explicitly mentions
school boards as legislative bodies that can make a difference or fail
to do so.
When Veazie was part of RSU26 (along with Orono and Glenburn) we
were debating adding prekindergarten classes for four-year-olds. The
possible benefits to children conflicted with the perrenial OMG! This
will cost money! It wasn't a done deal. Another member stood up and
said it would be a waste of taxpayer dollars. The parents in low
income families didn't care. They didn't even go to meetings. I saw
red. I didn't wait to be called on. I stood up and enumerated all
the reasons (shift work, lack of transport, babysitter unaffordability
etc.) these parents couldn't come. I told him that those parents had
to deal with challenges he couldn't imagine and that they cared very
deeply about their children's education.
I sat down. The rest of the board looked stunned. I didn't
show the customary restraint expected of elected public officials out
in public. But the audience (and the place was packed) was on its
feet agreeing with me. The chair called a ten minute break. When we
reconvened we voted in favor of preK.
I think Abrams would have enjoyed that meeting. What we did was
take a step toward not leaving our more vulnerable kids behind.
Abrams believes that there are a lot of ways we can work on
making our nation great for the first time in gauranteeing this
fundamental right. If you want a clear picture of the evils of voter
suppression and ways to help end it you'll find Our Time Is Now to be
a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had an awesome weekend. I sure did!
The highlight, of course, was Adam and Asia coming by to deliver
presents. We had a wonderful visit. They got to meet Tobago for the
first time which was really special. No matter what they delivered
for presents, the biggest gift they had for Eugene, Tobago, and me was
showing up to deliver rather than going the FedEx route.
I went to zoom church which was good. I also received an unexpected
food box from my church.
Eugene bought some treats when he did shopping: two boxes of
raspberries which are a favorite delicacy of mine, bagels and cream
cheese, a big old pizza which meant no supper cooking last night, and
tonight, ingredients for cookie baking (today I'm gonna bake chocolate
chip cookies and later in the week I'm gonna try a sugar cookies with
crushed peppermint candy canes), and flowers. He also got cat treats
and cat toys. Tobago is going to have her Christmas stocking. (Jules)
A very special day is coming up in two days: my fourth birthday and
my first anniversary of being a Hathaway. I decree that all shall
celebrate. I like that word decree. Gotta use it more often. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Adam, Asia, Eugene, our church
family, and you, our readers, with wishes for a solstice renewal of
hope.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
"Voter suppression--from getting on the rolls to having those
votes count--is real. But Americans need a robust understanding of
what suppression looks like today. Today the ones barring access have
shifted from using billy clubs and hoses to using convoluted rules to
make it harder to register and stay on the rolls, cast a ballot, or
have that ballot counted. To move forward, we must understand the
extent to which the shrinking conservative minority will go to create
barriers to democracy..."
I voted a little differently this year out of COVID caution. I
received my ballot in the mail and turned it in early. Normally on
election day it takes about ten minutes from having my name checked
off to getting an I voted sticker. I've also had the surreal
experience of seeing my name on the ballot a number of times. And,
yes, I did vote for myself.
I knew that for a lot of people this rite of citizenship is
nowhere as easy or even possible. I'd keep reading news stories of
the disenfranchisement of people, especially Black people, by all
kinds of devious means. But I had no idea what I could do to help
improve matters when I couldn't even grasp the whole picture. It was
like getting a few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle here, a few there. I
couldn't even fill in the edges.
In Our Time Is Now Stacey Abrams gives us the whole boxed puzzle
with the picture on the cover. Through a seamless blend of research
and anecdotes (some of them heartbreaking) she shows readers all the
points at which the most basic right of citizenship can be stolen.
She also goes into great detail in a discussion of why the census
really matters and why the usual undercount of the most vulnerable
residents is a very bad thing.
One of my favorite parts of the book is the one in which Abrams
totally trashes the electoral college. It was created as a desperate
bid to keep the slave holding states from fleeing the union before it
even got off the ground. It let their slaves be counted as 3/5 humans
while not being allowed to vote. It's equally dysfunctional today.
Candidates have lost by millions in the popular vote and won in the
electoral college...
...Isn't it time for a more representative process?
I also love how Abrams reminds us that national and state level
offices aren't the only ones that matter. She explicitly mentions
school boards as legislative bodies that can make a difference or fail
to do so.
When Veazie was part of RSU26 (along with Orono and Glenburn) we
were debating adding prekindergarten classes for four-year-olds. The
possible benefits to children conflicted with the perrenial OMG! This
will cost money! It wasn't a done deal. Another member stood up and
said it would be a waste of taxpayer dollars. The parents in low
income families didn't care. They didn't even go to meetings. I saw
red. I didn't wait to be called on. I stood up and enumerated all
the reasons (shift work, lack of transport, babysitter unaffordability
etc.) these parents couldn't come. I told him that those parents had
to deal with challenges he couldn't imagine and that they cared very
deeply about their children's education.
I sat down. The rest of the board looked stunned. I didn't
show the customary restraint expected of elected public officials out
in public. But the audience (and the place was packed) was on its
feet agreeing with me. The chair called a ten minute break. When we
reconvened we voted in favor of preK.
I think Abrams would have enjoyed that meeting. What we did was
take a step toward not leaving our more vulnerable kids behind.
Abrams believes that there are a lot of ways we can work on
making our nation great for the first time in gauranteeing this
fundamental right. If you want a clear picture of the evils of voter
suppression and ways to help end it you'll find Our Time Is Now to be
a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had an awesome weekend. I sure did!
The highlight, of course, was Adam and Asia coming by to deliver
presents. We had a wonderful visit. They got to meet Tobago for the
first time which was really special. No matter what they delivered
for presents, the biggest gift they had for Eugene, Tobago, and me was
showing up to deliver rather than going the FedEx route.
I went to zoom church which was good. I also received an unexpected
food box from my church.
Eugene bought some treats when he did shopping: two boxes of
raspberries which are a favorite delicacy of mine, bagels and cream
cheese, a big old pizza which meant no supper cooking last night, and
tonight, ingredients for cookie baking (today I'm gonna bake chocolate
chip cookies and later in the week I'm gonna try a sugar cookies with
crushed peppermint candy canes), and flowers. He also got cat treats
and cat toys. Tobago is going to have her Christmas stocking. (Jules)
A very special day is coming up in two days: my fourth birthday and
my first anniversary of being a Hathaway. I decree that all shall
celebrate. I like that word decree. Gotta use it more often. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Adam, Asia, Eugene, our church
family, and you, our readers, with wishes for a solstice renewal of
hope.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, December 18, 2020
I decided that with Adam planning to stop by tomorrow I'd make ginger cookies for him to take home. I was sorta nervous because I'd be using a new recipe and I am no Betty Crocker. But the cookies came out tasting awesome and even looking good. My heart is full of joy. Cooking for my baby.
Sent from my U.S.Cellular© Smartphone
Everything's Trash, But It's Okay
Everything's Trash, But It's Okay
Adult Memoir/social commentary
If you enjoyed Phoebe Robinson's You Can't Touch My Hair (Recall
we discovered that gem last August?) you are going to love her
Everything's Trash, But It's Okay. It's narrated in her very
distinctive friend-to-friend candid voice. Although it's replete with
current pop culture allusions, you don't have to be a millineal to
take to the book like Tobago cat to nip. (I mean that's what we have
Google for.)
Robinson reminds readers that we all have trash moments and
aspects of our life. They may be simply awkward or embarassing. They
may conflict with our family or community's or society's avowed
values. They may even conflict with our own, as in seeing certain
music as oppressive to women but liking it anyway. No matter how
sophisticated or saintly we appear there are things we might be less
than eager to share. Even the Pope. (You'll find some of the trash
aspects of my life in the personal notes).
We should all find this revelation to be immensely liberating.
Robinson sets a fine example. She shares many of the most
intimate trash aspects of her life: mistakes, romances gone downhill,
finance challenges...stuff most of us can relate to.
Finances are a great example. Robinson reminds us that money is
still a more taboo topic than sex, even among family and besties,
never mind with the reading public.
"It's awkward if you're lacking cash yet people assume you have
some. It's worse when e'rybody knows your pockets are like my Afro
after a night out on the town: full of lint, down-pillow feathers,
cracked M&M's, and not much money. And if people know you have plenty
of money? You best believe they're looking at you like, 'I left the
milk and cookies out, St. Nick. Where's my shit?' and expecting you to
start paying for things."
Robinson also works some magic. Her trash talk often leads up
to some serious insights into the hot button issues too often our
society is tiptoeing around. An essay on her struggles with body
image leads to a discussion of how in a fat phobic society not only
the self esteems, but the job and financial security prospects, of
larger women are jeopardized. A piece on the failure of feminism to
become intersectional enough starts out with an allusion to a reality
tv show. People who might be put off by a more academic looking book
are going to be eased into these topics that we all need to be
thinking on. It's sorta like how I slipped a few extra veggies into
my taco soup and corn chowder when the kids were little, before they
bypassed me in nutritional savvyness.
So, since anyone who would be put off by directness and language
would not be reading this blog, I say read the book. Enjoy
Robinson's narrative, make peace with your own trash, and learn a
thing or two.
On a personal note, what people who know me for academics, activism,
volunteering, and drag artistry don't know is that I'm incredibly
image conscious. I gotta look a certain way. Nothing pricey.
Wardrobe by Goodwill. Much of the time it's cat shirts and jeans
because dining has the kind of safety code necessary to protect
student workers from burns and other painful injuries. But I'm known
for cat shirts and I never wear mom jeans. When I can wear my skirts
and leggings my gold standard is garments that have undergrads saying
"Jules, where did you get that?" not "you look niiiiiiiice". Of
course for drag performing I go all out.
If I was to wake up in a hospital bed the first thing out of my mouth
wouldn't be "What the hell am I doing here?" or "Am I going to live?"
but "No family or friends allowed in until I decide who I can take
seeing me like this." Looking pathetic and helpless in an ugly ass
hospital gown. It's gonna be a very short list.
Finally I'm being cautious on ice not from fear of breaking a bone but
from terror of being sentenced to rehab. Being stuck for six weeks in
a place with a roommate who watches tv nonstop or wants to give me all
the details of her gallbladder operation and a staff pressuring me to
socialize (like play bingo) with people I have no interest in
interacting with would be for me a ring of Hell. Fam, if I go to
rehab: private room or damn good earplugs, Internet access and zoom,
my homework and research materials, my own clothes, and the right to
interact only with the physical therapist who will empower me to get
the hell out.
That's my trash and I'm sticking to it.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult Memoir/social commentary
If you enjoyed Phoebe Robinson's You Can't Touch My Hair (Recall
we discovered that gem last August?) you are going to love her
Everything's Trash, But It's Okay. It's narrated in her very
distinctive friend-to-friend candid voice. Although it's replete with
current pop culture allusions, you don't have to be a millineal to
take to the book like Tobago cat to nip. (I mean that's what we have
Google for.)
Robinson reminds readers that we all have trash moments and
aspects of our life. They may be simply awkward or embarassing. They
may conflict with our family or community's or society's avowed
values. They may even conflict with our own, as in seeing certain
music as oppressive to women but liking it anyway. No matter how
sophisticated or saintly we appear there are things we might be less
than eager to share. Even the Pope. (You'll find some of the trash
aspects of my life in the personal notes).
We should all find this revelation to be immensely liberating.
Robinson sets a fine example. She shares many of the most
intimate trash aspects of her life: mistakes, romances gone downhill,
finance challenges...stuff most of us can relate to.
Finances are a great example. Robinson reminds us that money is
still a more taboo topic than sex, even among family and besties,
never mind with the reading public.
"It's awkward if you're lacking cash yet people assume you have
some. It's worse when e'rybody knows your pockets are like my Afro
after a night out on the town: full of lint, down-pillow feathers,
cracked M&M's, and not much money. And if people know you have plenty
of money? You best believe they're looking at you like, 'I left the
milk and cookies out, St. Nick. Where's my shit?' and expecting you to
start paying for things."
Robinson also works some magic. Her trash talk often leads up
to some serious insights into the hot button issues too often our
society is tiptoeing around. An essay on her struggles with body
image leads to a discussion of how in a fat phobic society not only
the self esteems, but the job and financial security prospects, of
larger women are jeopardized. A piece on the failure of feminism to
become intersectional enough starts out with an allusion to a reality
tv show. People who might be put off by a more academic looking book
are going to be eased into these topics that we all need to be
thinking on. It's sorta like how I slipped a few extra veggies into
my taco soup and corn chowder when the kids were little, before they
bypassed me in nutritional savvyness.
So, since anyone who would be put off by directness and language
would not be reading this blog, I say read the book. Enjoy
Robinson's narrative, make peace with your own trash, and learn a
thing or two.
On a personal note, what people who know me for academics, activism,
volunteering, and drag artistry don't know is that I'm incredibly
image conscious. I gotta look a certain way. Nothing pricey.
Wardrobe by Goodwill. Much of the time it's cat shirts and jeans
because dining has the kind of safety code necessary to protect
student workers from burns and other painful injuries. But I'm known
for cat shirts and I never wear mom jeans. When I can wear my skirts
and leggings my gold standard is garments that have undergrads saying
"Jules, where did you get that?" not "you look niiiiiiiice". Of
course for drag performing I go all out.
If I was to wake up in a hospital bed the first thing out of my mouth
wouldn't be "What the hell am I doing here?" or "Am I going to live?"
but "No family or friends allowed in until I decide who I can take
seeing me like this." Looking pathetic and helpless in an ugly ass
hospital gown. It's gonna be a very short list.
Finally I'm being cautious on ice not from fear of breaking a bone but
from terror of being sentenced to rehab. Being stuck for six weeks in
a place with a roommate who watches tv nonstop or wants to give me all
the details of her gallbladder operation and a staff pressuring me to
socialize (like play bingo) with people I have no interest in
interacting with would be for me a ring of Hell. Fam, if I go to
rehab: private room or damn good earplugs, Internet access and zoom,
my homework and research materials, my own clothes, and the right to
interact only with the physical therapist who will empower me to get
the hell out.
That's my trash and I'm sticking to it.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Biased
Biased
Adult nonfiction
Talk about inter library loan serindipity! I received two books
on the same day from Patten (northern Maine) and Bar Harbor (the
coast) libraries. Recall Lisa Bloom discussed implicit bias in the
context of the George Zimmerman trial? In Biased: Uncovering the
Hidden Prejudice That Shapes What We See, Think, and Do Jennifer L.
Eberhardt, PhD devotes a whole book to the topic.
"This book is an examination of implicit bias--what it is, where
it comes from, and how we can address it. Implicit bias is not a new
way of calling someone a racist. In fact, you don't have to be a
racist at all to be influenced by it. Implicit bias is a kind of
distorting lens that's a product of both the architecture of our
brains and the disparities in our society."
Discerning implicit bias and learning where it comes from and
how it works in order to eliminate or at least mitigate it is
Eberhardt's life mission. She's a psychology professor at Stanford,
but one who does leave the ivory tower. She consults for
organizations such as police departments. She's a Black Woman who has
had to have difficult discussions with her sons. In Biased she ties
these strands together: research, real world scenarios (including
being in Charlottesville when white nationalists descended on and
terrorized a university and its surrounding community), and her life
story to help make a concept that is often kept abstract or used as an
insult understandable and relatable.
Eberhardt has seen a lot of the worst America has to offer.
Still she's hopeful. She believes that we all have roles in exposing
and eliminating racial bias.
"Neither our evolutionary path nor our present culture dooms us
to be held hostage by bias. Change requires a kind of open-minded
attention that is well within our reach. There are successful
approaches we can learn from and new ways of thinking that we can
build upon, whether we are trying to change ourselves or the settings
where we live, work, and learn."
Through Biased Eberhardt invites readers to join her in her
journey of discovery. This is an invitation well worth accepting.
On a purrrsonal note, this has been quite a week! Monday my counselor
helped me get beyond frustration while assuring me that during a
pandemic frustration is very legitimate. Lethargic and distractable
to engaged and focussed. That night Eugene drove me around to look at
all the beautiful Christmas lights--one of my favorite holiday
traditions. Wednesday my choir friend Connie gave me a ride to the
credit union so I could transfer money to the checking account so I
can pay next semester's tuition. She bought me a flavored coffee and
big ginger cookie at Ampersand. (If you're ever in Orono, Maine check
them out. Their cookies are the cat's pajamas.) Wednesday was choir
zoom get together. We all enjoyed catching up. Our sole feline
member, Tobago, made a gracious appearance. Yesterday we had a snow
storm. Eugene plowed last night. He's safely home. I am trying out
a new ginger cookie recipe which I hope will turn out well because
tomorrow Adam will stop by to drop off and pick up gifts and I'm
baking the cookies for him. He really likes my baking. (Jules)
I am a choir member. I haz dulcet tones. I had to google that. It
means my voice is sweet to the ear. Of course it is. I'm a cat.
(Tobago)
Great big shout outs go out to to Libbey (counselor), Eugene, the
people who put up all the lovely lights, Connie, Roberta who runs
Ampersand as not only a store but community gathering place, our choir
family, and, of course, Adam, who we are so looking forward to seeing.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
Talk about inter library loan serindipity! I received two books
on the same day from Patten (northern Maine) and Bar Harbor (the
coast) libraries. Recall Lisa Bloom discussed implicit bias in the
context of the George Zimmerman trial? In Biased: Uncovering the
Hidden Prejudice That Shapes What We See, Think, and Do Jennifer L.
Eberhardt, PhD devotes a whole book to the topic.
"This book is an examination of implicit bias--what it is, where
it comes from, and how we can address it. Implicit bias is not a new
way of calling someone a racist. In fact, you don't have to be a
racist at all to be influenced by it. Implicit bias is a kind of
distorting lens that's a product of both the architecture of our
brains and the disparities in our society."
Discerning implicit bias and learning where it comes from and
how it works in order to eliminate or at least mitigate it is
Eberhardt's life mission. She's a psychology professor at Stanford,
but one who does leave the ivory tower. She consults for
organizations such as police departments. She's a Black Woman who has
had to have difficult discussions with her sons. In Biased she ties
these strands together: research, real world scenarios (including
being in Charlottesville when white nationalists descended on and
terrorized a university and its surrounding community), and her life
story to help make a concept that is often kept abstract or used as an
insult understandable and relatable.
Eberhardt has seen a lot of the worst America has to offer.
Still she's hopeful. She believes that we all have roles in exposing
and eliminating racial bias.
"Neither our evolutionary path nor our present culture dooms us
to be held hostage by bias. Change requires a kind of open-minded
attention that is well within our reach. There are successful
approaches we can learn from and new ways of thinking that we can
build upon, whether we are trying to change ourselves or the settings
where we live, work, and learn."
Through Biased Eberhardt invites readers to join her in her
journey of discovery. This is an invitation well worth accepting.
On a purrrsonal note, this has been quite a week! Monday my counselor
helped me get beyond frustration while assuring me that during a
pandemic frustration is very legitimate. Lethargic and distractable
to engaged and focussed. That night Eugene drove me around to look at
all the beautiful Christmas lights--one of my favorite holiday
traditions. Wednesday my choir friend Connie gave me a ride to the
credit union so I could transfer money to the checking account so I
can pay next semester's tuition. She bought me a flavored coffee and
big ginger cookie at Ampersand. (If you're ever in Orono, Maine check
them out. Their cookies are the cat's pajamas.) Wednesday was choir
zoom get together. We all enjoyed catching up. Our sole feline
member, Tobago, made a gracious appearance. Yesterday we had a snow
storm. Eugene plowed last night. He's safely home. I am trying out
a new ginger cookie recipe which I hope will turn out well because
tomorrow Adam will stop by to drop off and pick up gifts and I'm
baking the cookies for him. He really likes my baking. (Jules)
I am a choir member. I haz dulcet tones. I had to google that. It
means my voice is sweet to the ear. Of course it is. I'm a cat.
(Tobago)
Great big shout outs go out to to Libbey (counselor), Eugene, the
people who put up all the lovely lights, Connie, Roberta who runs
Ampersand as not only a store but community gathering place, our choir
family, and, of course, Adam, who we are so looking forward to seeing.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, December 14, 2020
This year I'll let you see some of my favorite ornaments and hear the stories behind them. I bought the one with the peace and the origami bird at Goodwill in Portland with Katie and Jacob. It's a precious reminder of a very special day. The other two are from my sister-in-law's last year yankee swap. It's a holiday tradition. I sure will miss it this year.
Sent from my U.S.Cellular© Smartphone
This Is My America
This Is My America
YA/adult truth-based fiction
Reading Kim Johnson's This Is My America right after Brittany K.
Barnett's A Knock At Midnight was basically lightning striking twice.
Just as I'd realized that Barnett's memoire was too cogent and current
to put at the back of my list, I quickly saw that not putting
Johnson's novel out there with at least the last few days of shopping
going on would be a serious error of omision.
Tracy, Johnson's protagonist, is in a race against time. Her
beloved father is on death row. As the story opens he is scheduled to
be executed in 275 days. ..
...Try to wrap your mind around that concept. When you were a
teen how would it have felt to know that society has set a date to put
your parent to death? Not to mention, isn't the whole idea of cold
bloodedly executing someone barbaric? Not to mention the major role
race has in determining who we deem no longer worthy of life. Not to
mention if this person is later discovered to be innocent not even
Apple has an app to remediate that...
...And James, Tracy's dad, is totally not guilty. His being on
death row has to do with the ugly intersection of racism and the
criminal justice system. Every week Tracy has been writing to Stephen
Jones who runs Innocence X, an organization dedicated to saving the
lives of unfairly convicted death row inmates. So far she hasn't
heard back. And the clock is relentlessly ticking.
If you're thinking things couldn't get worse, you're wrong.
When a well loved White girl whom he is in a relationship with is
found dead, Jamal, Tracy's track star college bound brother, is on the
run with the police deeming him their number one (and probably only)
suspect.
Now Tracy has two family members to protect from the police and
the whole criminal "justice" enterprise.
The narrative is gripping and the characters totally relatable.
Once you get a few pages in the book it is nearly impossible to put
down. (Ask Eugene. Last night he got hot dogs and beans because I
was at the part building up to a climax and not about to spend more
than a few minutes cooking.) But the book is so much more.
Information about racism is woven into the story skillfully enough to
enhance rather than distract.
"Racism in the justice system was imprinted on me at twelve
years old when Los Angeles police officers violently beat Rodney
King. I was shocked at the inhumanity of his treatment, and when the
video aired on national television, I thought justice would finally be
served. But it wasn't..."
Although This Is My America is a work of fiction, it is based on
Johnson's decades of activism, advocacy, and research. She wrote the
book to facilitate difficult conversations on police brutality and
bring hope to her children's generation.
This is Johnson's debut novel. If we're really lucky even as
you read this review she's working on a second.
If you have a special teen in your life This Is My America would
make an excellent gift. It would also make a great present for
friends well beyond this demographic and your local public or school
library. Heck, gift yourself. You deserve this most excellent
reading experience.
On a purrrsonal note, this weekend was mostly good. As you know, I
had awesome books that were super inspiring to review. I talked to my
three children on the phone. I finally figured out what I can give
Eugene for Christmas.
But when I watched Grease while I was finishing Adam's scarfzilla I
felt like a bird in a cage. I'd danced drag to some of the songs and
used every bit of the stage. Now I don't have the space I need. I'm
going to get some potential drag songs on my iPod by spring. Then
even if it isn't safe to do shows I am going to practice outside
everywhere I can. I'm not gonna lose my edge. (Jules)
If you can afford to adopt a companion animal there are so many cats
(oh, yeah, and dogs) whose Christmas wish is a home and family. Like
me last year. (Tobago)
A great big shout goes out to Barnett and Johnson for their very
important literary contributions.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA/adult truth-based fiction
Reading Kim Johnson's This Is My America right after Brittany K.
Barnett's A Knock At Midnight was basically lightning striking twice.
Just as I'd realized that Barnett's memoire was too cogent and current
to put at the back of my list, I quickly saw that not putting
Johnson's novel out there with at least the last few days of shopping
going on would be a serious error of omision.
Tracy, Johnson's protagonist, is in a race against time. Her
beloved father is on death row. As the story opens he is scheduled to
be executed in 275 days. ..
...Try to wrap your mind around that concept. When you were a
teen how would it have felt to know that society has set a date to put
your parent to death? Not to mention, isn't the whole idea of cold
bloodedly executing someone barbaric? Not to mention the major role
race has in determining who we deem no longer worthy of life. Not to
mention if this person is later discovered to be innocent not even
Apple has an app to remediate that...
...And James, Tracy's dad, is totally not guilty. His being on
death row has to do with the ugly intersection of racism and the
criminal justice system. Every week Tracy has been writing to Stephen
Jones who runs Innocence X, an organization dedicated to saving the
lives of unfairly convicted death row inmates. So far she hasn't
heard back. And the clock is relentlessly ticking.
If you're thinking things couldn't get worse, you're wrong.
When a well loved White girl whom he is in a relationship with is
found dead, Jamal, Tracy's track star college bound brother, is on the
run with the police deeming him their number one (and probably only)
suspect.
Now Tracy has two family members to protect from the police and
the whole criminal "justice" enterprise.
The narrative is gripping and the characters totally relatable.
Once you get a few pages in the book it is nearly impossible to put
down. (Ask Eugene. Last night he got hot dogs and beans because I
was at the part building up to a climax and not about to spend more
than a few minutes cooking.) But the book is so much more.
Information about racism is woven into the story skillfully enough to
enhance rather than distract.
"Racism in the justice system was imprinted on me at twelve
years old when Los Angeles police officers violently beat Rodney
King. I was shocked at the inhumanity of his treatment, and when the
video aired on national television, I thought justice would finally be
served. But it wasn't..."
Although This Is My America is a work of fiction, it is based on
Johnson's decades of activism, advocacy, and research. She wrote the
book to facilitate difficult conversations on police brutality and
bring hope to her children's generation.
This is Johnson's debut novel. If we're really lucky even as
you read this review she's working on a second.
If you have a special teen in your life This Is My America would
make an excellent gift. It would also make a great present for
friends well beyond this demographic and your local public or school
library. Heck, gift yourself. You deserve this most excellent
reading experience.
On a purrrsonal note, this weekend was mostly good. As you know, I
had awesome books that were super inspiring to review. I talked to my
three children on the phone. I finally figured out what I can give
Eugene for Christmas.
But when I watched Grease while I was finishing Adam's scarfzilla I
felt like a bird in a cage. I'd danced drag to some of the songs and
used every bit of the stage. Now I don't have the space I need. I'm
going to get some potential drag songs on my iPod by spring. Then
even if it isn't safe to do shows I am going to practice outside
everywhere I can. I'm not gonna lose my edge. (Jules)
If you can afford to adopt a companion animal there are so many cats
(oh, yeah, and dogs) whose Christmas wish is a home and family. Like
me last year. (Tobago)
A great big shout goes out to Barnett and Johnson for their very
important literary contributions.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Sunday, December 13, 2020
Re: Blueberry cake
Looks delicious!
Anna
Sent from my iPhone
> On Dec 12, 2020, at 1:45 PM, Julia Hathaway <beaniebabylover@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> 1/4 cup shortning/cooking oil
> 1 cup sugar
> 1 well beaten egg
> 1 tsp cinnamon
> 1/4 tsp. Nutmeg
> 1 1/2 cup flour
> 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
> 1/2 cup milk
> 1 cup (or more) blueberries
> Whipped cream or topping
> Cream shortning and sugar. Add egg. Sift dry ingredients and add them and milk. Fold in berries. Put in 8x8" or 8x9" pan and sprinkle on some sugar. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 30-35 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. Top with whipped cream or topping. Good for supper dessert, snack, or breakfast. The spices give it a really seasonal flavor and fragrance. I baked one up last night just so I could include a picture...and have some for breakfast.
>
> <photo.jpg>
>
>
>
> Sent from my iPod
Anna
Sent from my iPhone
> On Dec 12, 2020, at 1:45 PM, Julia Hathaway <beaniebabylover@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> 1/4 cup shortning/cooking oil
> 1 cup sugar
> 1 well beaten egg
> 1 tsp cinnamon
> 1/4 tsp. Nutmeg
> 1 1/2 cup flour
> 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
> 1/2 cup milk
> 1 cup (or more) blueberries
> Whipped cream or topping
> Cream shortning and sugar. Add egg. Sift dry ingredients and add them and milk. Fold in berries. Put in 8x8" or 8x9" pan and sprinkle on some sugar. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 30-35 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. Top with whipped cream or topping. Good for supper dessert, snack, or breakfast. The spices give it a really seasonal flavor and fragrance. I baked one up last night just so I could include a picture...and have some for breakfast.
>
> <photo.jpg>
>
>
>
> Sent from my iPod
A Knock At Midnight
A Knock At Midnight
Adult nonfiction
I have a back log of about twenty reviews. It's so that if I
get appendicitis or this COVID thing you'll still get your content
while I recuperate. So normally when I read a book I write the review
at the back of my notebook and it inches its way forward...
But when I read Brittany K. Barnett's A Knock At Midnight I
found myself thinking, Hell no! I have to get that review out this
very minute. The night before last a man was put to death for a crime
he committed when he was a teen. That's just not right. There is so
much messed up with our judicial system. Barnett schools readers on
one of the many ways it destroys lives.
When Barnett was a child her hard working mother became a
statistic in the war on drugs, a war that put a very disproportionate
number of Blacks behind bars. Her mom became addicted and
increasingly out of control. Instead of the treatment she needed she
was put in prison.
"The news stunned our family. Any semblance of normalcy was
stripped from us in that one judgement. It was so obvious that Mama's
problem was drugs. The only crime she committed was against her own
body..."
Stop reading this review a moment and try to imagine, as a child
or teen, visiting a parent in prison or, as a parent, having your
children visit you there. Imagine being punished rather than treated
for a disease.
Despite the challenges she faced in her early years Barnett
graduated from college and was admitted into law school. She was on a
fast track to the corporate law life. Then, doing research for a
class project, she encountered a woman who reminded her of the pain
she'd suffered as the child of a prison inmate. Sharanda Jones was
serving a life sentence for drugs. Sharanda Jones was a mother.
"I think it probable that just learning about Sharanda would
have been enough to make me intent on helping her some way, any way.
But there was something else, too. The thin line between us, a
proximity born of circumstances beyond our control. I just could not
go."
Sharanda Jones was only the first inmate with a drug related
life sentence she helped gain freedom.
In A Knock At Midnight Barnett schools us on the many ways the
judicial system has to deal out draconian sentences to primarily Black
defendents in drug cases...often life without possibility of parole.
(Can you imagine knowing that as long as you're breathing you'll be
locked up?) You'll be outraged when you read about some of them.
And you'll be even more outraged when you read about some of the
people serving those sentences. For some dealing was the only way to
not starve. Sharonda's quadriplegic (because of a car accident)
mother died prematurely in prison because of gross medical
negligence. I can't imagine anyone in their right mind imagining a
woman who needed help with basic bodily functions as any kind of
menace to society.
And then there's Chris who drew a life sentence because of prior
busts with drug amounts weighing less than three pennies. Chris
suffered from the excrutiating pain of largely untreated sickle cell
disease. When he was ten he saw his role model cousin bleeding to
death from a gunshot wound. When he was a teen his beloved only
brother committed suicide. And then there was the grinding poverty
and lack of legit opportunity to earn enough to put food on the table.
If you haven't yet come up with a New Years resolution, let me
suggest one. Read A Knock At Midnight and really let it speak to you.
Most of us lead relatively normal (as normal as possible in a
pandemic) lives because of the random chance elements surrounding our
births such as landing somewhere where our needs could be met and/or
being born white. While we're going about our lives--going to school,
working, parenting, doing whatever retired people do--other just as
worthwhile people are being warehoused in conditions we wouldn't want
our cats and dogs in.
And this warehousing is obscenely costly. I read somewhere that
a year in prison costs the same as a year at Harvard. What if instead
of fearing and giving up on our fellow human beings and constantly
building more prisons we invested that money in rehab, quality
education for all children, restorative rather than punitive justice,
job training, locating companies in impoverished neighborhoods, and an
adequate housing/food/medical care safety net? Maybe we could become
a nation with liberty and justice for all.
If you are getting ready to celebrate Christmas remember this.
The Babe in the manger, the Prince of Peace, the one whose birth we
celebrate grew up to be the man who reminded people of their need to
help the folks lacking basic necessities and prisoners.
We can't all be lawyers like Barnett. But there is a lot we can
do. Read the book. Share what you learn. Write letters. Sign
petitions. As for me I plan, as a reviewer, to seek out all the
similar books I can find and use my blog to spread awareness of them.
Be thinking this little light of mine. All our little lights
together can shine big time.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
I have a back log of about twenty reviews. It's so that if I
get appendicitis or this COVID thing you'll still get your content
while I recuperate. So normally when I read a book I write the review
at the back of my notebook and it inches its way forward...
But when I read Brittany K. Barnett's A Knock At Midnight I
found myself thinking, Hell no! I have to get that review out this
very minute. The night before last a man was put to death for a crime
he committed when he was a teen. That's just not right. There is so
much messed up with our judicial system. Barnett schools readers on
one of the many ways it destroys lives.
When Barnett was a child her hard working mother became a
statistic in the war on drugs, a war that put a very disproportionate
number of Blacks behind bars. Her mom became addicted and
increasingly out of control. Instead of the treatment she needed she
was put in prison.
"The news stunned our family. Any semblance of normalcy was
stripped from us in that one judgement. It was so obvious that Mama's
problem was drugs. The only crime she committed was against her own
body..."
Stop reading this review a moment and try to imagine, as a child
or teen, visiting a parent in prison or, as a parent, having your
children visit you there. Imagine being punished rather than treated
for a disease.
Despite the challenges she faced in her early years Barnett
graduated from college and was admitted into law school. She was on a
fast track to the corporate law life. Then, doing research for a
class project, she encountered a woman who reminded her of the pain
she'd suffered as the child of a prison inmate. Sharanda Jones was
serving a life sentence for drugs. Sharanda Jones was a mother.
"I think it probable that just learning about Sharanda would
have been enough to make me intent on helping her some way, any way.
But there was something else, too. The thin line between us, a
proximity born of circumstances beyond our control. I just could not
go."
Sharanda Jones was only the first inmate with a drug related
life sentence she helped gain freedom.
In A Knock At Midnight Barnett schools us on the many ways the
judicial system has to deal out draconian sentences to primarily Black
defendents in drug cases...often life without possibility of parole.
(Can you imagine knowing that as long as you're breathing you'll be
locked up?) You'll be outraged when you read about some of them.
And you'll be even more outraged when you read about some of the
people serving those sentences. For some dealing was the only way to
not starve. Sharonda's quadriplegic (because of a car accident)
mother died prematurely in prison because of gross medical
negligence. I can't imagine anyone in their right mind imagining a
woman who needed help with basic bodily functions as any kind of
menace to society.
And then there's Chris who drew a life sentence because of prior
busts with drug amounts weighing less than three pennies. Chris
suffered from the excrutiating pain of largely untreated sickle cell
disease. When he was ten he saw his role model cousin bleeding to
death from a gunshot wound. When he was a teen his beloved only
brother committed suicide. And then there was the grinding poverty
and lack of legit opportunity to earn enough to put food on the table.
If you haven't yet come up with a New Years resolution, let me
suggest one. Read A Knock At Midnight and really let it speak to you.
Most of us lead relatively normal (as normal as possible in a
pandemic) lives because of the random chance elements surrounding our
births such as landing somewhere where our needs could be met and/or
being born white. While we're going about our lives--going to school,
working, parenting, doing whatever retired people do--other just as
worthwhile people are being warehoused in conditions we wouldn't want
our cats and dogs in.
And this warehousing is obscenely costly. I read somewhere that
a year in prison costs the same as a year at Harvard. What if instead
of fearing and giving up on our fellow human beings and constantly
building more prisons we invested that money in rehab, quality
education for all children, restorative rather than punitive justice,
job training, locating companies in impoverished neighborhoods, and an
adequate housing/food/medical care safety net? Maybe we could become
a nation with liberty and justice for all.
If you are getting ready to celebrate Christmas remember this.
The Babe in the manger, the Prince of Peace, the one whose birth we
celebrate grew up to be the man who reminded people of their need to
help the folks lacking basic necessities and prisoners.
We can't all be lawyers like Barnett. But there is a lot we can
do. Read the book. Share what you learn. Write letters. Sign
petitions. As for me I plan, as a reviewer, to seek out all the
similar books I can find and use my blog to spread awareness of them.
Be thinking this little light of mine. All our little lights
together can shine big time.
Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Saturday, December 12, 2020
Blueberry cake
1 cup sugar
1 well beaten egg
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp. Nutmeg
1 1/2 cup flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 cup milk
1 cup (or more) blueberries
Whipped cream or topping
Cream shortning and sugar. Add egg. Sift dry ingredients and add
them and milk. Fold in berries. Put in 8x8" or 8x9" pan and sprinkle
on some sugar. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 30-35 minutes or until
toothpick comes out clean. Top with whipped cream or topping. Good
for supper dessert, snack, or breakfast. The spices give it a really
seasonal flavor and fragrance. I baked one up last night just so I
could include a picture...and have some for breakfast.
Friday, December 11, 2020
Suspicion Nation
Suspicion Nation
Adult nonfiction
Of all the recent killings of Blacks in our nation, the shooting
of Trayvon Martin by George Zimmerman shook me up the most. What he'd
done that resulted in a bullet to his heart was exactly what my white
then teen age son had done that same evening: gone to a local store
for Skittles and a cold drink. When I heard the news from Florida I
immediately imagined how I would have been devastated if I'd been
greeted, not by my beautiful boy returning home, but by a uniformed
police officer requesting me to identify his body.
For awhile it didn't look like the incident would be officially
looked into. All kinds of stalls went on. At first there wasn't even
an arrest. It took a lot of protesting to get the wheels of "justice"
turning.
When there finally was a trial Zimmerman was acquitted of all
charges. We were supposed to believe that an adult male packing heat
was so afraid of a teen carrying only candy, a drink, and a cell phone
that he felt that shooting this kid was the only way to save his own
life? What the hell?
In Suspicion Nation legal analyst Lisa Bloom, who was in the
courtroom from beginning to end and interviewed a number of the
participants, tells us what the hell. The prosecution botched what
she considers a winnable case.
"A prosecution team was assembled to try a case that virtually
no one in law enforcement wanted to take to trial. The passion and
mandate had come from the outside, not within. Police and prosecutors
had believed Zimmerman's self defense story, and neither the outside
agitators nor the Special Prosecutor had changed their hearts and
minds. And that made all the difference. Because the overlooked
evidence, lack of witness preparation, and poor strategic choices made
by the state's attorneys were nothing short of astonishing."
In addition to thoroughly analyzing this controversial case,
Bloom sets it in its larger context: a far from post racial (despite
the election of a Black president) America in which implicit bias
permeates all aspects of life, Whites are much too fearful of Blacks,
and education and the "justice" system are separate and far from equal
for people of different races. She also discusses the role America's
wild wild west gun laws play in so many preventable tragedies.
Suspicion Nation is a must read for anyone who believes that
Black lives need to matter a lot more than they do in twenty-first
century America.
On a purrrsonal note, it has been quite a week. Wednesday was my last
stats class before break. I'll be watching class tapes to avoid
statistics slump between now and spring term. I want to repeat my
this semester's success and learn much much more.
Hey, that can be a New Years resolution. Another can be that my chum,
Connie, and I are thinking of a January blood donating date.
I have trouble making New Years resolutions because if I want to make
a change for the better I do it when I think of it. Heading toward
the end of December I've usually picked off the low hanging fruit.
Like I started my exercise program in October.
I've been crafting and distributing gifts and cards. The tree is
looking fine.
Tobago gave me a scare today. I saw an awesome sunrise and slipped on
my boots to go out and get pictures. I still was in pajamas, no
coat. While I was out there she got out--luckily no further than
under the stairs.
I just pulled a blueberry cake out of the oven and the kitchen is
fragrant with nutmeg. (Jules)
The world out there is cold. But I am curious about what is out
there. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all adapting holiday celebrations to
the new normal.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult nonfiction
Of all the recent killings of Blacks in our nation, the shooting
of Trayvon Martin by George Zimmerman shook me up the most. What he'd
done that resulted in a bullet to his heart was exactly what my white
then teen age son had done that same evening: gone to a local store
for Skittles and a cold drink. When I heard the news from Florida I
immediately imagined how I would have been devastated if I'd been
greeted, not by my beautiful boy returning home, but by a uniformed
police officer requesting me to identify his body.
For awhile it didn't look like the incident would be officially
looked into. All kinds of stalls went on. At first there wasn't even
an arrest. It took a lot of protesting to get the wheels of "justice"
turning.
When there finally was a trial Zimmerman was acquitted of all
charges. We were supposed to believe that an adult male packing heat
was so afraid of a teen carrying only candy, a drink, and a cell phone
that he felt that shooting this kid was the only way to save his own
life? What the hell?
In Suspicion Nation legal analyst Lisa Bloom, who was in the
courtroom from beginning to end and interviewed a number of the
participants, tells us what the hell. The prosecution botched what
she considers a winnable case.
"A prosecution team was assembled to try a case that virtually
no one in law enforcement wanted to take to trial. The passion and
mandate had come from the outside, not within. Police and prosecutors
had believed Zimmerman's self defense story, and neither the outside
agitators nor the Special Prosecutor had changed their hearts and
minds. And that made all the difference. Because the overlooked
evidence, lack of witness preparation, and poor strategic choices made
by the state's attorneys were nothing short of astonishing."
In addition to thoroughly analyzing this controversial case,
Bloom sets it in its larger context: a far from post racial (despite
the election of a Black president) America in which implicit bias
permeates all aspects of life, Whites are much too fearful of Blacks,
and education and the "justice" system are separate and far from equal
for people of different races. She also discusses the role America's
wild wild west gun laws play in so many preventable tragedies.
Suspicion Nation is a must read for anyone who believes that
Black lives need to matter a lot more than they do in twenty-first
century America.
On a purrrsonal note, it has been quite a week. Wednesday was my last
stats class before break. I'll be watching class tapes to avoid
statistics slump between now and spring term. I want to repeat my
this semester's success and learn much much more.
Hey, that can be a New Years resolution. Another can be that my chum,
Connie, and I are thinking of a January blood donating date.
I have trouble making New Years resolutions because if I want to make
a change for the better I do it when I think of it. Heading toward
the end of December I've usually picked off the low hanging fruit.
Like I started my exercise program in October.
I've been crafting and distributing gifts and cards. The tree is
looking fine.
Tobago gave me a scare today. I saw an awesome sunrise and slipped on
my boots to go out and get pictures. I still was in pajamas, no
coat. While I was out there she got out--luckily no further than
under the stairs.
I just pulled a blueberry cake out of the oven and the kitchen is
fragrant with nutmeg. (Jules)
The world out there is cold. But I am curious about what is out
there. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all adapting holiday celebrations to
the new normal.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, December 9, 2020
re: Rank top 5 in the Google maps
hi there
Did you know that when someone is looking for a search term on their
phones, the Gmaps listings its what pop up first in the results?
Stop losing all that visibility and let us boost your G listing into the
tops for local terms
https://www.str8creative.co/product/1500-gmaps-citations/
thanks and regards
Mike
support@str8creative.co
Did you know that when someone is looking for a search term on their
phones, the Gmaps listings its what pop up first in the results?
Stop losing all that visibility and let us boost your G listing into the
tops for local terms
https://www.str8creative.co/product/1500-gmaps-citations/
thanks and regards
Mike
support@str8creative.co
Monday, December 7, 2020
Good Girls Lie
Good Girls Lie
Adult Mystery
"The girl's body dangles from the tall iron gates guarding the
school's entrance. A closer examination shows the ends of a red silk
tie peeking out like a cardinal on a winter branch, forcing her neck
into a brutal angle...The last tendrils of dawn's fog laze about her
legs, which are five feet from the ground."
The above excerpt from the very beginning of J. T. Ellison's
Good Girls Lie shows that it is not a book for people who scare
easily. Reading it is like riding the world's biggest roller coaster,
only blindfolded. You never know when the ground is going to drop out
from under you. Any predictions you make may be shattered pages later.
Ash Carlisle, a new student, has just lost her parents to a drug
overdose on her father's part and suicide on her mother's. Still
grieving and trying to move on, she is hiding the tragedy from her new
schoolmates, not wanting to be defined by it...
...Or could she have more sinister motives?
The Goode School, nestled in a small Virginia town, is all about
maintaining traditions and elite status while guiding the daughters of
the rich and powerful toward elite universities and glittering
futures...
...But what about its secret societies and the lengths they'll
go to to keep their practices covert?
Camille, Ash's pregnant roommate, jumps from the bell tower to
her death...
...Or could she have been pushed?
Rumi, who works on campus, is the innocent son of the man who
murdered a Goode student ten years earlier...
...or could he be following in Daddy Dearest's footsteps?
Not to mention how many secrets could Goode's reluctant dean,
Ford Julianne Westover, be hiding from those she is in charge of?
If you desire thrillers of the highest quality you're going to
find Good Girls Lie to be a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, it was quite a weekend.
The weather asserted itself. Saturday's wind and rain storm segued
over into a snow event in the wee hours of Sunday morning. Eugene had
to plow.
We have our tree. Eugene brought it in and put on the lights. I have
started the process of decorating it. One of my favorite yearly tasks.
And now I know it for sure. I have a solid A in statistics. That
class has been a bright shining star in the pandemic darkness. (Jules)
The tree is getting pretty pretty. I haz discovered fruitcake. It is
divine. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene and to my stats professor,
Craig.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult Mystery
"The girl's body dangles from the tall iron gates guarding the
school's entrance. A closer examination shows the ends of a red silk
tie peeking out like a cardinal on a winter branch, forcing her neck
into a brutal angle...The last tendrils of dawn's fog laze about her
legs, which are five feet from the ground."
The above excerpt from the very beginning of J. T. Ellison's
Good Girls Lie shows that it is not a book for people who scare
easily. Reading it is like riding the world's biggest roller coaster,
only blindfolded. You never know when the ground is going to drop out
from under you. Any predictions you make may be shattered pages later.
Ash Carlisle, a new student, has just lost her parents to a drug
overdose on her father's part and suicide on her mother's. Still
grieving and trying to move on, she is hiding the tragedy from her new
schoolmates, not wanting to be defined by it...
...Or could she have more sinister motives?
The Goode School, nestled in a small Virginia town, is all about
maintaining traditions and elite status while guiding the daughters of
the rich and powerful toward elite universities and glittering
futures...
...But what about its secret societies and the lengths they'll
go to to keep their practices covert?
Camille, Ash's pregnant roommate, jumps from the bell tower to
her death...
...Or could she have been pushed?
Rumi, who works on campus, is the innocent son of the man who
murdered a Goode student ten years earlier...
...or could he be following in Daddy Dearest's footsteps?
Not to mention how many secrets could Goode's reluctant dean,
Ford Julianne Westover, be hiding from those she is in charge of?
If you desire thrillers of the highest quality you're going to
find Good Girls Lie to be a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, it was quite a weekend.
The weather asserted itself. Saturday's wind and rain storm segued
over into a snow event in the wee hours of Sunday morning. Eugene had
to plow.
We have our tree. Eugene brought it in and put on the lights. I have
started the process of decorating it. One of my favorite yearly tasks.
And now I know it for sure. I have a solid A in statistics. That
class has been a bright shining star in the pandemic darkness. (Jules)
The tree is getting pretty pretty. I haz discovered fruitcake. It is
divine. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene and to my stats professor,
Craig.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Friday, December 4, 2020
23, 2019 to be exact. Anna gave me a ride to Waterville Humane
Society and waited patiently while my new little friend chose me. In
addition to it being two days before Christmas it was Tobago's third
birthday. I think we both got what we wanted the most.
I'll Meet You There
I'll Meet You There
YA fiction
"...I imagine him sitting at home by himself and seeing shit
that isn't really there and just wondering what the point of things
is. I can picture him trying to mow the lawn or fill his gas tank
because the milk in the fridge is expired and him thinking, Why the
hell am I doing this? He's tired and the nightmares won't stop and
nobody understands, they just want him to be like he was before he
left but he can't be, he can't ever go back because you can't unsee
what you saw..."
Josh, quoted above, is contemplating the suicide of his boss'
son, a veteran who had seen too much on a tour of duty. He has
returned from overseas minus a leg, plus a serious case of PTSD, and
carrying a major guilt secret. He's unsure what kind of life he can
have and exhausted from the pressure to morph back into his popular
high self.
"Why is it that some people in the world get to wake up in
beautiful houses with fairly normal parents and enough food in the
fridge while the rest of us have to get by on the scraps the universe
throws us?..."
When Skylar was very young her father died. She's had to take
on a lot of the adult responsibilities of her grief stricken mother.
Fear of mom being unable to manage without her has shadowed her
passionate desire to go away to college. The summer before her escape
things go from bad to worse. Mom loses her job and, instead of
looking for another, starts drinking way too much and cultivating a
relationship with a guy who is bad news.
Josh and Skylar, protagonists of Heather Demetrios' I'll Meet
You There, are working at the same run down motel. Could this
unlikely pair somehow provide salvation for one another?
Read the book and see.
A key topic of this book, returning, traumatized soldiers, is a
very personal one for Demetrios. She comes from a military family.
When she was a child her father served in the Persian Gulf and came
home. "...He was only thirty-one, but he'd lost most of his hair, his
teeth, his weight, and his hearing. He drank too much. Started doing
drugs. He was sad..."
Demetrios wrote I'll Meet You There for her father and other
wounded warriors and for the kids like Skylar who are pushed by life
circumstances into growing up much too fast.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a good week. I did. Actually it
was an eventful week. Eugene went to camp Wednesday morning. He just
got back and went on an errand. Tobago and I partied while he was
out. Statistics was good. I'm gonna miss it over break. I got a
visit from my manager and super cool friend, Anna. (Recall she was
the kind person who brought Tobago and me together last year?) It was
wonderful to have a chance to talk to her. Taking precautions of
course. Then yesterday I got lost in the forest. After awhile it got
scary when I recalled that Eugene wasn't due home for one more night.
Recent bear sightings among other things. To a fattening up for
hibernation bear I might look mmm mmm good. I was so happy to
rediscover the path. A usually 1 hour walk stretched out to nearly
3. I hope you have a great weekend. I know I will Emily just
brought me over a full dozen awesome looking books from Orono Public
Library. Mmm mmm good. (Jules)
My boy hooman is home!!! Finally!!! I missed him. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene, Anna, Emily, and the
wonderful Orono Public Library staff.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA fiction
"...I imagine him sitting at home by himself and seeing shit
that isn't really there and just wondering what the point of things
is. I can picture him trying to mow the lawn or fill his gas tank
because the milk in the fridge is expired and him thinking, Why the
hell am I doing this? He's tired and the nightmares won't stop and
nobody understands, they just want him to be like he was before he
left but he can't be, he can't ever go back because you can't unsee
what you saw..."
Josh, quoted above, is contemplating the suicide of his boss'
son, a veteran who had seen too much on a tour of duty. He has
returned from overseas minus a leg, plus a serious case of PTSD, and
carrying a major guilt secret. He's unsure what kind of life he can
have and exhausted from the pressure to morph back into his popular
high self.
"Why is it that some people in the world get to wake up in
beautiful houses with fairly normal parents and enough food in the
fridge while the rest of us have to get by on the scraps the universe
throws us?..."
When Skylar was very young her father died. She's had to take
on a lot of the adult responsibilities of her grief stricken mother.
Fear of mom being unable to manage without her has shadowed her
passionate desire to go away to college. The summer before her escape
things go from bad to worse. Mom loses her job and, instead of
looking for another, starts drinking way too much and cultivating a
relationship with a guy who is bad news.
Josh and Skylar, protagonists of Heather Demetrios' I'll Meet
You There, are working at the same run down motel. Could this
unlikely pair somehow provide salvation for one another?
Read the book and see.
A key topic of this book, returning, traumatized soldiers, is a
very personal one for Demetrios. She comes from a military family.
When she was a child her father served in the Persian Gulf and came
home. "...He was only thirty-one, but he'd lost most of his hair, his
teeth, his weight, and his hearing. He drank too much. Started doing
drugs. He was sad..."
Demetrios wrote I'll Meet You There for her father and other
wounded warriors and for the kids like Skylar who are pushed by life
circumstances into growing up much too fast.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a good week. I did. Actually it
was an eventful week. Eugene went to camp Wednesday morning. He just
got back and went on an errand. Tobago and I partied while he was
out. Statistics was good. I'm gonna miss it over break. I got a
visit from my manager and super cool friend, Anna. (Recall she was
the kind person who brought Tobago and me together last year?) It was
wonderful to have a chance to talk to her. Taking precautions of
course. Then yesterday I got lost in the forest. After awhile it got
scary when I recalled that Eugene wasn't due home for one more night.
Recent bear sightings among other things. To a fattening up for
hibernation bear I might look mmm mmm good. I was so happy to
rediscover the path. A usually 1 hour walk stretched out to nearly
3. I hope you have a great weekend. I know I will Emily just
brought me over a full dozen awesome looking books from Orono Public
Library. Mmm mmm good. (Jules)
My boy hooman is home!!! Finally!!! I missed him. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Eugene, Anna, Emily, and the
wonderful Orono Public Library staff.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my iPod
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