Working dining sorta limits first day of school outfit creativity.  For health and safety reasons it's all jeans with no holes, non skid shoes, only studs for earrings.  But we can decide what tee shirt we get to wear under the chef's jacket.  I picked this classic one Eugene bought me on Ebay.  

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Some lovely flowers from the community garden.  

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Here's Tobago napping with her new ball from the credit union.

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Here is the book. 

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Ace Of Spades

Ace Of Spades

YA Mystery/thriller
Have I got a read for you!!! It's as sizzling as those heat
waves we've been sweating our way through recently, only in an
invigorating rather than oppressive way. Faridah Abiki-Iyimidi's Ace
Of Spades is one of those YA works that beats anything being put out
for adult adults. If you like a fast paced chiller with twists and
turns in nearly every chapter with an added element of social justice
relevence, and might (at least secretly) enjoy the revelation of rot
in a pricey, exclusive, snobby private school you will find the book
to be the literary equivalent of dark chocolate with sea salt caramel.
Of all the books I binge read this summer it's the one that
grabbed me the most and wouldn't let go, the one that I enjoyed more
than any other.
It's the fall semester first day of school at Niveus Academy.
Devon Richards is announced as one of four senior prefects and
Chiamaka Adebayo, as senior head prefect, is at the pinacle of the
student hierarchy. Other than being the only two Black students at
the school, they seem to have little in common. Chiamaka is totally
goal oriented, willing to do what it takes to get to and stay at the
top, unwilling to let anything stand in her way. On the people
considered to be her best friends she says:
"Our relationship is a transaction. I need a close, attractive
circle. Small, because the smaller your group, the less people know
about you--and the more they want to know. And, in return, Ava and
Ruby like how powerful the three of us are together."
Devon is a scholarship student whose mother makes huge
sacrifices to give him the opportunities Niveus can provide. Getting
through Niveus by flying under the radar, considering himself nearly
invisible, he's stunned by the announcement.
"At first I think he's made a mistake. My name never gets
called out at assemblies. Mostly because these assemblies are usually
dedicated to people the student body knows and cares about, and if
Niveus was the setting for a movie, I'd probably be a nameless
background character."
Both quickly get trapped in a worst nightmare for high school
students come true situation. Some person or persons going by the
cryptic name of Aces has started sending pictures and insinuations
that show them in the worst possible light to all their schoolmates,
an increasing number of whom are believing what they're told.
Some of the accusations are lies. Chiamaka has no need to steal
candy. But each of them has a skeleton in their closet. In
Chiamaka's case we're talking literal skeleton. But Devon has done
things that would not endear him to law enforcement to help his mother
out when there's no other way to get the money his family needs to
survive.
More than their reputation with their peers is at stake. Devon
and Chiamaka start getting in trouble at school in a way they never
have before. Perhaps they won't even graduate, never mind achieving
their dreams.
Out of desperation they form an unlikely alliance only to
discover that Aces' plot is a lot more sinister and involves more
people in high places than they'd ever imagined. And Aces is
everywhere, somehow compromising the safety of even their most
intimate spaces.
If this was all there was to the book, it would be more than
enough. But insights into racism, classism, and homophobia are
integrally woven into the plot.
So if you want a sizzling and thought provoking read to cap off
your summer or start a super fall...
...you couldn't do better!
On a purrrsonal note, yesterday was a great gardening day. We had so
many beautiful veggies to share! I brought back lettuce, tomatoes,
green beams, cucumbers, and an onion. Today Eugene went grocery
shopping. So Tobago and I went to zoom church. I was glad we did.
There was a blessing of the backpacks and masks. Pastor Malcolm
showed a picture of the backpacks I distributed and reminded everyone
of the project. It made me so happy! In the afternoon I've been
getting all organized because a new semester unlike any I've ever
before experienced before starts tomorrow. I'm so glad I won't have
to set an alarm clock. (Jules)
I iz her alarm clock. I do an excellent job. (Tobago)
A great big shout goes out to everyone starting a new semester tomorrow!
Tobago and Jules Hathaway





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Can you find the pollinator busy working this green bean patch?

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There are the sunflowers that tower over me.

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Some of the flowers at community garden.

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This is my back to school backpack.  My son and his fiancee fiancee gave it to me the Mothers' Day before oh, snap, pandemic!  It reminds me of there confidence that I can handle all the challenges of grad school.  

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Here is one of the books.  I forgot to take a picture of the other.  Sorry.

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Two Historical Fictions

Two Historical Fictions

Lay That Trumpet In Our Hands (YA)
"'But, Daddy,' I say, 'Marvin's dead.'
'Can't you call the Sheriff, or one of the County
Commissioners?' Doto demands.
'The Sheriff, the Commisioner, the Opalakee chief of police,
they're all Klan members. Even goddamn Governor Fuller Warren is one
of them.'"
When most people think of KKK violence and obstruction of
justice their minds leap to states like Mississippi and Alabama.
Florida tends to fly under the radar. But history shows that they had
more than their share of Klan infiltration and malevolent dominance.
Carol McCarthy's Lay That Trumpet In Our Hands, based on real life
events, brings this hidden truth to life for younger readers.
It's the wee hours of the morning. A knock at the door rouses
Reesa (12), McCarthy's protagonist. The unexpected visitor is Luther,
a Black friend of the family. His son, Marvin (19), hasn't returned
home hours after he'd promised to. His wife, Armetta, is worried
sick. He needs Reesa's dad to help him find Marvin.
When the truck finally returns Reesa's father calls for towels
and blankets. She looks in the truck bed. Marvin lies there,
bleeding, dying, obviously the victim of a violent crime. The doctor
is unable to save his life.
Reesa is devastated by the fact that Marvin won't ever be coming
back. She's known him all her life. In fact he's been like a big
brother to her: giving her nicknames, telling her stories, and
teaching her skills like steering a go-cart.
"Oh, Marvin...Remember when I wasn't looking forward to teenage
dances because I didn't know how; and you said, 'Don't worry, Li'l
Rooster, Ah'll teach yuh t' Car'lina shag with the best of 'em.' Who's
going to teach me now?"
Armetta had been housekeeper for a white family. She decides to
look for another job. She can no longer work for a Klan family. When
Miz Lucy begs her to come back, claiming that Reed (her husband) had
nothing to do with Marvin's Murder she replies,
"No, Ma'am, I can't know that. Ah'm not saying Mistuh Reed
pulled the trigger, or nothing like that. But ah knows it was the
Klan that kilt mah Marvin and that Mistah Reed's a member."
In more official places the Klan isn't being blamed. Maybe they
were all that in the past. But now they've been considerably tamed.
Now it's just a bunch of "overgrown boys" getting away from wives and
responsibities to play poker. Reesa's white citrus grower father, a
northern transplant disagrees.
"Like Doto says, we are strangers in a strange land. The Klan's
been around here for years--stupid stuff mostly, burning crosses,
pestering couples parking in the dark, picking on Negroes they thought
were getting uppity, whatever that means. But this week, they crossed
the line."
That isn't the only line they're willing to cross, secure in
their knowledge that police and politicians have robes in their
closets. Lay That Trumpet In Our Hands shows younger readers the dark
side of the 1950's Florida that was being heavily promoted as a
paradise for out of state vacationers.

The Book Of Lost Friends (adult)
"Every chance there is, Mama says them words in my ear--who's
been carried away from us, and what's the name of the buyers that took
them from the auction block and where they gone to. We start with
Aunt Jenny, her three oldest girls, oldest to youngest..."
It's 1875. The Civil War has been over for a decade. Teenage
Hannie, who, as a child, witnessed her family being sold away from her
one by one, is a sharecropper working land near where her family was
enslaved. Her former master goes missing. When his daughter and his
biracial daughter by a mistress set off to find him she disguises as a
boy so she can drive the carriage for them. It's a perilous journey.
But maybe, just maybe, she cab locate some of her lost loved ones.
"Across the hall, a substitute teacher screams incessantly
during my readings as she attempts to control science room chaos. The
science teacher who started the year with me has already given up and
claimed she had to go home because of a flare-up in her mother's
lupus. She's gone. Just like that."
Fast forward to 1987. For Benny, a newly minted teacher, her
first school is in a small Southern town. Her students and their
families are mired in a kind of poverty she's never known before
existed. It's unlikely they'll ever escape it. Resources are very
unevenly divided between her school and the one reserved for the more
well off kids. She doesn't even have enough textbooks. Many of her
colleagues are burned out, satisfied with keeping their students
coralled in the classroom.
Benny believes the students deserve better. But how can she
find a meaningful way of engaging kids the rest of the world seems to
have given up on?
The narratives are interspersed beautifully. Lisa Wingate is
pitch perfect at switching voices whenever one episode comes to a real
cliffhanger. But the book is much more than the sum of its two
stories. Bit by bit their rich interconnections are revealed.
Lost Friends columns are placed between chapters. They're
letters that were run on a regular basis by a newspaper, the
Southwestern, in the years after the Civil War, written by Blacks
desperately seeking any word of lost loved ones. Pastors read these
letters from their pulpits to their congregations. It was knowledge
of these letters that inspired the book. The character of Hannie was
partly based on one of the writers.
If you're a lover of rich, vivid historical fiction, especially
if you enjoyed Julie Kibbler's Home For Erring And Outcast Girls,
you'll find The Book Of Lost Friends to be a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, the last two weekday days were incredible.
Thursday I was supposed to help lead a campus tour. I left the
Memorial Union in plenty of time to get to the grad school building
under normal circumstances. These were not normal circumstances. The
students are back on campus. I didn't realize how many would be
excited to see me and eager to know what I've been up to. I'm still
popular after 18 months away. How cool is that? Anyway by the time I
got to the meeting place that tour had sailed. (I did mail an apology
which was accepted). So Friday I gave myself plenty of time before my
shift started at work (my first since oh, snap, pandemic became our
greatest nightmare come to life). Then when I got to work you would
have thought I was a rock star. The classified (non student) workers
were screaming like they were at a concert. Everyone was just so
thrilled to have me back. It was the outside president's dinner we
hold on the mall. So I saw all the supers and managers from all over
campus and their bosses who were also thrilled to have me back. Plus
more of my student friends. I worked 5 1/2 hours serving and then
scrubbing pans. I slept like a cat. All that fresh air and exercise.
Now I'm at community garden waiting for everyone else to arrive. (Jules)
I like her perfume. Eau de dining services. This time it was chicken
underlaid with a hint of something spicy. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all our friends back on campus.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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And this is another.

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A friend of the community garden has given us colorful metal decorations.  This is one.

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I've just started a new journal.  I picked this one out of my stash because the words on the cover seem like the purrrfect mantra for my first back on campus semester.  I love writing and putting stickers and pictures and stuff in my journals.  And they're so much fun to read later.  I highly recommend journaling.  Start with just 3 sentences a day.  Try this for 30 days which research shows is enough to start a habit.  Splurge a little on journals and pens you enjoy using.  Consider this an investment in memory preservation.

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Here are all the backpacks before Savannah and I started giving them out.  It made me feel proud to see how many we'd filled.

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This is the book.

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What You Did

What You Did

Adult mystery
"...She had bare feet, and there was grass in her hair and
pressed into her face, leaving small indentations in her skin. Her
eyes were open and a smear of blood was red across her cheek. And
then, of course she said what she said, and nothing was ever the same
again. 'He raped me. He raped me.'"
A quarter of a century after graduating from the university
where they were best friends Ali, Mike, Jodi, Callum, Bill, and Karen,
the cast of Claire McGowan's What You Did, are getting together at Ali
and Mike's house for a reunion. Usually on such an occassion people
don't commit worse indiscretions than drinking too much. But the
first night of the reunion Karen staggers into the kitchen claiming
that Mike has assaulted her. She presses charges. Mike pleads not
guilty.
Ali has a terrible choice to make. Should she believe her
husband or her best friend?
Mike has been carrying on a consensual long term affair with
Karen. He may very well be the father of her teenage son Jake. But
he's in no position to defend himself. He's in the hospital in a
coma, possibly in need of a liver transplant. Jake assaulted him
after hearing his mother's story.
But the alleged crime and the act of vengeance are only the tip
of the iceberg. During the group's college years a classmate was
murdered. Perhaps her killer and Karen's rapist are one and the same.
Can you solve the mysteries before the end of the book?
On a purrrsonal note, last night was amazing. My friend Savannah and
I started distributing the backpacks. We were able to give out a
lot. People were so happy and excited! It made my heart sing! I'm
really proud that something I started last year has evolved into a
program and a tradition.
There were some families who weren't at home. We'll revisit them.
And a couple of kids had their supplies. Next year we'll make the
deliveries a couple of weeks sooner. Today I'll be helping with
orientation for new UMaine grad students by helping lead a campus
tour. That's a first for me. And tomorrow is my first day back on
the job after nearly 18 months. Wish me luck. Even though the
logical part of my brain is reminding me I did just fine before and
haven't forgotten everything the part of my brain that ignores logic
brain is nervous. (Jules)
She will do fine. If I live to be 20 I will never completely
understand hoomans. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Savannah with best wishes for a
great year at Veazie Community School.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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Or this one?  Seriously.

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Or this one?

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I bought it for the irresistible cat pictures.  Could you resist this sweet little face?

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This book is 65 years old.  They sold it to me at the thrift shop for a quarter.

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Two new pairs of cat socks for me.

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These are some of the backpacks I bought today.  Can you believe only $1 each?  I was over the moon.

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This is the book.

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Tangled Up In Blue

Tangled Up In Blue

Adult nonfiction
"We're caught in a vicious spiral: as American cities and states
slash funding for education, health care, rehabilitation programs, and
other social services, the resulting poverty and hopelessness fuel
more crime and dysfunction, which leads to calls for more police and
higher law enforcement budgets--but the more we spend on enforcement,
the less we have available to spend on the vital social services that,
in the long run, help reduce crime..."
Rosa Brooks, author of Tangled Up In Blue: Policing The American
City, was married with the proverbial husband, two children, and dog.
She was a tenured law professor at a prestigious university at a time
when colleges are increasingly axing tenure tracks in favor of using
adjuncts. In many people's minds (including mine) she was living her
best life.
Maybe the security and routine felt a tad stifling. Maybe she
wanted one more challenge while she still felt capable of taking it.
She found a very big one. She applied to the Washington DC police
department to undergo rigorous training and become a fully armed
police officer.
The people in Brooks' life were far from supportive of her
decision. Colleagues who had researched topics like police brutality
and systemic racism in law enforcement feared that she was going over
to the dark side. Not to mention that her mother is a long time
activist and investigative journalist who, at that point considered
police officers to be the enemy of the people.
Brooks was not deterred. She applied and received her
acceptance letter in 2016. In Tangled Up In Blue she candidly shares
her experiences of training and placement in one of DC's desperately
poorest precincts, candidly including her mistakes and shortcomings.
That in itself makes for fascinating reading.
The book is, however, greatly enhanced by her often sobering
observations. Some of her most cogent concern the ways in which
arresting people and putting them in prison for far from violent
crimes, sometimes necessitated by factors such as dire poverty, can
set them on dire trajectories which it will be impossible to escape.
Brooks presents readers with the need for widespread reform. In
a speech she makes to college people and law enforcement personnel she
exhorts:
"And here's the challenge: it's up to us--and particularly, to
those of you who are young--to find a better way forward. We need to
acknowledge the very real threats we face, but at the same time, we
need to develop new legal and institutional safeguards to keep America
from becoming a society that's obsessed with security at the expense
of both liberty and justice. I have a few ideas about how to do this--
but I know that you will have better ones."
On a purrrsonal note, I am in serious countdown mode. Emily and I had
a productive shopping trip. Now all 25 backpacks are ready to go. I
plan for tonight. Meanwhile when I went to Orono Thrift Shop I found
a bin of awesome brand new children's backpacks for $1 each. Can you
believe that? I snapped up 11 to get ready for kids who move into the
park and probably next fall. I have money to snap up bargains like
that. I volunteered at the library for the last time until my next
vacation. Grad school gets pretty hectic. (Jules)
I am glad that cats don't go to grad school. We don't need to. We
are purrrfection incarnate. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all who contributed to the backpack
project and will continue to do so in the future. It is now a
tradition!
Tobago and Jules Hathaway



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But the greatest summer treat has to be a fresh garden salad.  A real treat in states like Maine with short growing seasons.

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One of the joys of summer--bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches.  That narrow window when local tomatoes are in season is the only time I let myself have bacon.

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This is what one backpack is filled with.  I keep extra supplies in my shed for when kids run out of something.

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These are just of a few of the donated backpacks.

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This is the book.

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Fighting Words

Fighting Words

Juvenile fiction
"Anyway, Mama and whoever were in the bathroom, cooking meth,
and Suki and I were sitting on the far bed away from the bathroom
door, on this ugly weird slippery orange bedspread, watching
cartoons. Mickey Mouse. Suddenly Mama yelled something and ran out
of the bathroom, and so did the other person, and then the whole
bathroom blew up. Flames shot out right around Mama, like in the
movies, but she didn't catch fire."
This very colorful early memory is the only one Della,
protagonist of Kimberly Brubaker Bradley's Fighting Words, has of her
mother who is doing serious time in prison. But even before her
arrest Mommy Dearest, a meth addict herself, hadn't been a fit
parent. Big sister Suki had been the one to parent and protect Della
while they lived with a mom focussed on where to get her next fix and,
after her arrest, her far from suitable boyfriend, Clifton. She was
the one who intervened when Clifton tried to molest Della. Now that
they're in foster care she's working an after school job, trying to
save up enough money to become her little sister's guardian.
But there are signs that Suki needs help herself. Maybe she's
had to grow up too fast. Maybe Della wasn't Clifton's only victim.
Bradley herself was sexually abused as a child. It was a long
time before she was able to talk about this very painful aspect of her
life.
"Eventually I found my words. I wrote this book hoping it would
help readers find theirs."
Fighting Words is a must acquire for school and public libraries.
On a purrrsonal note, we're doing great on the backpacks. In fact
we're filling 25--3 extras in case anyone has been overlooked of new
kids move into the trailer park. My church came through big time.
Eugene did more shopping. He's been getting supplies all summer.
(One of the many reasons I'm still madly in love with him after
decades of marriage). Later I'll be doing the last minute shopping
and spending quality time with Emily. Tomorrow is DDay. (Jules)
The house is one big production line. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to our church, Eugene, and Emily.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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And here she is telling me I need a study break.  This was spring semester.  I hope you enjoyed my take on Sunrise, Sunset.

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I'd never before seen a cat who loves belly rubs as much as baby girl.  Even in the wee hours of the morning.

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Although this mouse was meant to be a prey toy Tobago treats it more like a baby.  This is from her second Christmas with us.

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Nothing that happens in our studio escapes Tobago's notice.

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Tobago in her very own loft.  I don't have the heart to tell her it's a top bunk.

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In honor of fearless felines we're going to look back at some early pictures of Tobago.  This is from her first Christmas as a Hathaway.  2019.  She was just turned three, newly arrived, and already owning the place.

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This is the book in all its awesomeness.

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Fearless Felines

Fearless Felines

Juvenile nonfiction
"Cats are adventurers and born survivors. Many have led
incredible, inspiring, and interesting lives, yet have been forgotten
or overlooked by history. Not fair, right?
This book will set the record straight with tales of more than
thirty real-life kitties that are the heroes of their own stories."
When I saw Kimberlie Hamilton's Fearless Felines: 30 True Tales
Of Courageous Cats in the Orono Public Library's children's wing you'd
better believe I did my happy dance! Now I've got nothing against
dogs. But they get more than their share of publicity. About time
there's a tribute to the fabulousness and ferocity of felis
domesticus!!!
The cat heroes (and sheroes) are amazing. Readers will get to
meet fantastic felines such as:
*Towser, the World Mousing Champion who is said to have slain 28,899
rodents;
*Stubbs, who was mayor of a town in Alaska;
*Felicette, the first cat in outer space;
*and, of course, the famous library cat, Dewey.
The pictures, done by a group of artists, are fittingly fabulous.
But the book goes well beyond the biographies. Interspersed
among them are a variety of themed fact collections. You can learn
about spooky cats, cat superstitions, ways to tell if your cat loves
you (Tobago sure does!), mystical cats, cats' healing powers... One
of the most important lists is ten ways kids and adults can help cats
in need.
I was really excited to learn that although the cat doesn't
appear in the Chinese zodiac it does in the Vietnamese version. And I
was born in the year of the cat.
I do have a courageous cat story too. It happened way back a
little after I got out of high school. I knew a guy who was thinking
he'd be better off dead. I managed to talk him out of that line of
thought. Only then he became attracted to me in a way that was not
mutual. One day he was trying to get his way (He was a lot bigger
than me) when my grey kitten jumped on him hissing, spitting, and
clawing, drawing blood, scaring him away.
Anyway if you're a feline fancier like me you'll find Fearless
Felines to be a must read.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a great weekend. I sure did!
Eugene went up to camp with his best friend while Tobago (fearless
feline in residence) and I chilled at home. Saturday I volunteered at
community garden. We harvested and gave away a wealth of veggies. I
was able to take home lettuce, beet greens, cucumbers, green peppers,
and (Finally!) tomatoes. In fact since I didn't have to cook for
Eugene I cooked up bacon and had BLTs for three meals. What a treat!
Sunday was my church's blessing of the animals which included a poem I
wrote.
Right now I'm focussed on getting the backpacks filled with school
supplies for kids in the trailer park. I have 5 packs filled with
very special supplies Amber contributed. I have the stash I've been
building at home organized by category. Later this afternoon Steffi
will bring the supplies the church has collected to my house.
Tomorrow my chum, Emily, will chauffeur me for a shopping trip to buy
what we still need with money people have donated. If all goes well
delivery will be Wednesday. Pretty exciting, huh? I'll keep you in
the loop every step of the way. (Jules).
I iz blessed! YASSS!!! (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to Abby who contributed so many of the
backpacks, Amber, Steffi, Emily, and all the others who are making
this project truly something special.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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I bought this for me at Hannaford because we have something to celebrate.  This book I just reviewed is my 1,900th for this blog.  Another milestone.  You can't say I don't provide enough content.

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This is what adds urgency to my scrapbooking project--all those pictures and school starts in nine days.

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This is what I mean by simple.  You slip in pictures and write instead of grouping and cropping and adding stickers and stuff.

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This is the scrapbook I bought at Goodwill.  My daughter, Amber, does scrapbooks with amazing pages.  Like what you see in books and magazines.  When the pandemic began I was going to try that.  I felt intimidated.  I decided I'd start with simple ones and made 2.  Then I never got to a fancy one.  Only my other daughter, Katie, came by this summer.  She loved my simple scrapbooks and told her boyfriend, Jacob, the stories behind them.

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This is the book.

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Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Boy

Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Boy

YA nonfiction
"Back in those days, I didn't have the language or the courage
to talk about Blackness or Whiteness. And there were no adults
talking to me about it either. Consider this book my attempt to be
one of the adults who broaches those difficult conversations about
race. Life is already hard enough as a young person trying to figure
everything else out; the last thing we need is to make life any
harder, to expect you to untangle racial issues and racial tensions
America had handed you all on your own."
In Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Boy Emmanual Acho is
giving today's children and teens the book he probably wanted when he
was a Black kid who stuck out both at his predominantly white private
school and his predominantly Black church and only felt comfortable
playing sports. It's a book that's still very much needed. A
lot of people think racism is a thing of the past. I don't see color;
I see people. Didn't we elect a Black president already? A lot of
whites feel threatened by a zero sum logic that has any Black gains
translate to white losses or by the idea of becoming the numerical
minority. A lot of adults would like the whole issue to go away
already or are afraid to say the wrong thing. And then this whole
pandemic is making every aspect of life a whole lot more complicated.
This is the book I wish had been around when my son, Adam, was
in middle school. I would have given it to him. Acho writes directly
and candidly to his audience, discussing both personal and systemic
racism, and taking on today's hot button topics, such as white
privilege, implicit bias, and cultural appropriation.
Acho's voice is personal and conversational. In fact he sees
conversation at being at the heart of his book.
"Let me tell you why there's no White History Month. There's no
White History Month because we celebrate the accomplishments of white
people Every.Single.Day..."
He combines history and scholarship with vignettes from his own life
to create a truly reader friendly narrative.
Acho gives today's youngest generation a lot of advice on how to
be real allies. And he also has something to say to moms and dads.
"If you are raising white kids, please, please talk to them
about race. We must all see color to see racism. Plus, color,
ethnicity is part of what makes people human, and to deny any of us
our particularity is to deny our humanity..."
Truly words to live by!
On a purrrsonal note, I wasn't planning on doing a post today. But I
was the recipient of an act of kindness. On the premise that in these
scary times we need all the sunshine we can get I'm sharing this story
with you. A ray of sunshine to start your weekend off right. I was
transferring buses in Bangor. In between I sat in a three sided
shelter talking to people. I didn't realize I left my smart phone
(which I'd be lost without) there. A woman in the group tracked me
down to return it before I got on my next bus. That just made my
day. (Jules).
All those gorgeous pictures of me on it. It's a good thing she
returned the phone. (Tobago).
A great big shout goes out to all the people who go out of their way
to do the right thing when they're the only one who would know if they
didn't.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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And here's Effie Mae, our good garden dog.

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Here are some of our gardeners getting the produce ready for the people who we'll hook up with it.

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How many sun gold tomatoes can you find in the picture?

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And another picture of Tobago because she is simply irresistible.

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Here's Tobago showing off the book.

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The Stars Are Fire

The Stars Are Fire

Adult fiction
"Sparks and embers swirl around Grace. There's chaos in the
streets. She hears cars moving, women screaming. Balls of flame seem
to leap from treetop to treetop, giving the fire a frightening
momentum. A tree catches fire at the top, and the fire races down the
trunk and into a house below. The fire turns tree after tree into
tall torches."
In 1947 coastal Maine had a rainy spring followed by a summer
drought. Plants withered. Dust coated laundry hung outside. Fire
prevention safety directives were issued. There were rumors of
underground fires. People began to plan for a possible evacuation.
Then in October all Hell broke loose. One of the most beautiful,
scenic parts of Maine became a fiery inferno, flames voraciously
devouring everything in sight.
Grace, protagonist of Anita Shreve's The Stars Are Fire, is home
with her very young children that fateful night. Her husband, Eugene,
has gone to the fire line to try to help protect their community. As
darkness falls the western horizon begins to glow. When the
conflagration gets a lot closer Eugene is still missing. Grace flees
with her children, sparks and embers falling around them.
When Grace and her children are rescued the next morning they're
homeless and destitute. Grace is able to hold her family, now
including her mother, together. She secures shelter, learns to drive,
and finds a job. Again life is good.
Unfortunately Grace is about to about to meet a challenge that
will make the ones she's conquered look minor in comparison.
On a purrrsonal note, despite some mugginess the weather has been
fine. I earned myself a Goodwill run (probs Friday) by seeing a
doctor for a consult on getting a cyst removed. As I work on
overcoming my iatrophobia (Latin for fear of doctors) I reward myself
for every step forward. I volunteered at the community garden where
we're enjoying and abundance of riches and anticipating tomatoes. It
was my next to last week for volunteering at the library until vaca
because once school starts my life will be more hectic. Right now my
focus is on getting the backpacks for the kids in the park filled so I
can distribute them next week. (Jules)
I'll miss her when she's in school. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to all who are getting ready for fall
semester.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


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Eugene pulled over at a scenic view place so I could get this picture.

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He also bought me a brand new set of 24 gel pens (glitter, neon, and metallic).  Gel pens and special diaries make journaling so much fun!

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This is a dear little teddy bear Eugene bought me at a yard sale.

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Another view of the picnic area.

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This is the gazebo Eugene and I had lunch at.  The air was cool and crisp.  The rain had gone from downpour to mist.

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This is the book.

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We Hear Voices

We Hear Voices

Adult dystopia
"Billy was so pale his face was a bluish green color. His hair
was slicked back with sweat. His temperature soared while he
shivered. She waited for the next breath. When it didn't come, she
pulled him tighter, trying to use her heart to jump start his."
The world Evie Green portrays in We Hear Voices is a truly
horrific one. Poverty and misery are widespread. The Earth has
become so environmentally downgraded that plans are underway to
colonize another planet. A novel virus with a 20% kill rate and no
vaccine is raging.
Six-year-old Billy becomes deathly ill with the virus, so ill
his mother invites his divorced father to don her quarantine suit and
say goodbye to his son. Amazingly, after he seems to stop breathing,
he gains consciousness and begins to mend.
Although Billy recovers physically he isn't the same. He claims
to hear a voice in his head, a female presence he calls Delfy. At
first she seems to be a benign presence, an imaginary friend perhaps
created to ease the boredom of bed rest. But then Delfy begins to
order Billy to commit horrific acts he doesn't want to do that
escalate until he kills his grandmother.
Billy isn't the only one. In a juvenile psychiatric ward hidden
underground there are children from whom society must be protected,
children who recovered from the virus only to become controlled by
malevolent voices. And they are the tip of the iceberg, the ones
whose families can afford the prohibitively expensive institutional
upkeep.
Although We Hear Voices is billed as horror or thriller I
classify it as dystopia. The only thing more chilling than itse plot
is its plausibility in a not all that distant future.
On a purrrsonal note, I hope you had a great weekend. I did.
Saturday Eugene and I went on a road trip. We were up north so close
to the Canadian border some of the radio stations were in French. We
got subs for lunch which meant I didn't have to cook supper. We ate
at a park in a cute gazebo. While we were driving there was a big
storm with thunder and lightning and torrential rain. It took the
temperature down from high 80's to mid 70's which was quite
refreshing. Sunday Tobago and I went to zoom church. Right before
the service started Pastor Malcolm asked if I wanted to talk to the
congregation about the backpack project. That was so much fun. I
can't wait to see what people put in the box. (Jules)
It is getting a little cooler. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to our Eugene!
Tobago and Jules Hathaway


Sent from my iPod

This is the garden the school finally got around to establishing.

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