Author Archives: Jennie

Saturday Linky Love

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First of all, I’d like to say thank you to all who read and commented this week. Apparently most of you like the new format, and I like it too, so I think it stays. I’m still looking for someone to help me with some customization and domain hosting issues. If you know a blog designer in the Chicago area who works with WordPress, please give me their contact information.

I’m going to miss those fluorescent tulips, though. Here’s one more look before they are gone forever.

This week I was determined to do some cross-promotion and it really worked. I had more visits from Mama Kat’s Losin’ It and Vanderbilt Wife that I have had since I posted Grandma Lill’s spaghetti sauce. I’d like to send out a big thanks to those ladies for their continued support of the blogging community.

Just in case you missed one of them, here’s a few links to bloggers that crossed my radar this week. Besides having very creative titles to their blogs, they also have thoughtful and funny stories to share. Please spread the comment love around!

Damsel and Family
A Thankful Heart
These Days of Mine
Rubber Chicken Madness
Mommy’s Nest
The Psycho Babbles
My Time As A Mom
On My Mind
Resonance
Dishwater Dreams
Farewell, Stranger
What Were We Thinking?
Open-Eyed Sneeze

Here’s wishing you a beautiful and restful weekend. If you’re cooking, do it with a glass of something relaxing in your hand and remember that you can always order pizza.

Why I…Don’t Tweet

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I am old. I don’t tweet. That’s basically it.

I can’t continually look at my smart phone. It’s locked in my teacher desk, while I maintain desperate hope that I’ve remembered to turn off the ringer. I can’t even imagine how embarrassing it would be if I forgot and my phone was tweeting all day. I’m so old I probably couldn’t hear it. Not to mention bad for my street cred as a disciplinarian and buster of illicit phones in classrooms.

Didn’t Al Gore create the Internet so that I could look anything up that I needed to know? And then Mark Zuckerberg made it even easier for me to ask ALL of my friends for help. Why do I need Twitter?

I know more about my grown-up kids than both my parents combined and all of their friends ever knew about me. I like that, but do they? I don’t think they want me to have access to their Twitter lives as well. Facebook is enough disclosure.

Blogger Arik Hanson says that Twitter is a time-sucking black hole. That’s the last thing I need in my life.

If you think I’m missing something, please let me know. It has been known to happen that I’m the clueless one in the bunch.

This post is linked up to the Why I… carnival at Vanderbilt Wife. After reading and commenting on my post, go visit the Wife and read what others have to say!

Why I...

If My Mom Were A Blogger

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Today’s post is linked up to Mama Kat’s Writers’ Workshop. After reading and commenting on my post, stop by Mama Kat’s site and check out some other writers’ work!Mama’s Losin’ It


If my mom were a blogger she would be able to convince you that romance novels don’t need overt sex. She always preferred Regency novels that led the reader to the brink but never crossed over. Sorry, Mom, but I just couldn’t resist the photo.

Image via camillereads.com

If my mom were a blogger she would be writing about her beloved Ohio State and its sports teams — and also the Cincinnati Reds. She used to let me stay home from school on opening day to watch the game on television with her (but don’t tell anyone).

Image via nationalsportsbeat.com

If my mom were a blogger she would have had to fight with my dad to get computer time. Once he discovered the magic of the internet, there was no chance for her.

If my mom were a blogger, there would be a healthy competition with the blogs of her daughter and her granddaughter. She is so full of wisdom with a pinch of spice that there would probably be little chance for Jessie or me to win. 🙂 But she would be really proud of both of us (and she still is).

Image via vanderbiltwife.com

If my mom were a blogger, it would probably have led to a book. Before she got sick, she had everything it takes to publish. I wish that she had gotten around to writing the novel about our immigrant family that she always intended to write.

If my mom were a blogger, I would devour every single word she wrote as if it might be her last.

Book Review: A Good Year

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Tonight’s guilty pleasure is going to be to write about a wonderful book and and its not quite wonderful movie. I should be grading papers…

I have a love/hate relationship with Peter Mayle. I’ve read practically everything he has written and I regularly check out the delightful A Year in Provence video from the library, but sometimes I get tired of his similar plot lines. They are really “all about him” — or perhaps what he wishes he were.

After last year’s immersion in books about France, I’m pretty sure I don’t have what it takes to chuck it all and live in the French countryside, but I still love reading about those who do, and Mayle is a master at telling us about what it’s like to be a foreigner in the strange land that is France. That’s why I keep reading; maybe someday I’ll actually be brave enough (and fluent enough in French) to take the plunge into the Luberon.

Image via fantasticfiction.co.uk

I remembered with a certain fondness the movie A Good Year, starring Russell Crowe. I hadn’t watched it for a while and I started thinking about the whole Netflix thing; maybe I could instantly get it without actually having to go to the library…

That didn’t work out and I still don’t have Netflix hooked up, but I did decide to read the book first. Somehow, I had never read it during my Peter Mayle fixation.  The protagonist, Max Skinner, inherits his uncle’s estate in Provence where he spent his childhood summers. While trying to decide whether or not to sell the property and return to his life as a stockbroker in London, he falls in love again with the lifestyle of southern France. Along the way, he learns that his vineyard has been hijacked by nefarious wine merchants. It was a grand little mystery with stereotyped English, French, and American characters and lots of wine thrown in. What’s not to like?

Then I watched the movie. Although it’s a delightful little piece of Provencal love-story fluff directed by Ridley Scott, the full-bodied mystery was lost and the host of quirky characters were diluted to a pale white zinfandel. Russell Crowe is lovely to look at, and young Freddie Highmore is adorable as the young Max Skinner. If you’re not a reader, by all means watch the movie; you’ll enjoy it, but the book is better.

Isn’t the book always better?

Why I … Still Watch American Idol

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This post is linked up to the Why I… carnival at Vanderbilt Wife. After reading and commenting on my post, go visit the Wife and read what others have to say!

Why I...

I have been watching American Idol religiously since the second season. I missed the Justin/Kelly drama, but I was there for Ruben v. Clay and Adam v. everyone. I groaned when Jennifer Hudson was voted off early and I applauded when Carrie Underwood went all the way. I really thought about going to the racetrack to see Lee DeWyze in his “coming home” concert. I’m a fan, and I’m proud to say it.

Most of my faithful Idol-watching friends have fallen off the Idol bandwagon. The lunchroom doesn’t vibrate with the next-day post mortem. I don’t get those emergency text messages expressing shock, amazement, or disgust about Idol performances and results. It’s all ho-hum. Or is it?

As a performing musician myself, I fully realize that there are a hundred equally good or better singers out there in the real world for every contestant on American Idol. That doesn’t take away from the outright miracle that is happening for THESE musicians. We should wish them our best and support their endeavors. They got their chance to make it big, and I don’t begrudge them a single minute on television or a single dollar they will earn. Every musician who makes a living performing live music because of his American Idol connection means that other musicians will continue to be employed, and we know that American Idol has given hundreds of musicians an opportunity that they would never have had without it. Even William Hung is still making money from American Idol.

American Idol has been charged with fixing results, and the cartoon character behavior in the judging booth over the last few seasons has diminished the credibility of the process. This season is different; the diversity of the contestants and their artistry is keeping it interesting. I have enjoyed the chemistry among Randy, Steven, and the luminous Jennifer Lopez. It’s pretty impressive when the singer with the current number one hit on the pop charts tells a performer that his or her song gave her chills. I don’t always agree with the judges, but I feel like there is balance and compassion. Ryan has grown with the franchise and is now a seasoned host who knows how to handle the talent effectively.

The first decade of American Idol has been worth watching and has been good for the music business. It seems impossible that there might be a second decade, but I’m likely to be there for that, too. It’s reality TV that is actually real; all of those contestants actually have to learn a new song every week and then perform it in front of millions of people knowing that immediately following, they are going to be critiqued. There’s not much on television that has real-life stakes as high as that.

An Ode to the Camisole

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I have discovered the beauty of the camisole. Perhaps to some of you, that’s old news, but I am a latecomer to this particular fashion trend. It’s probably on its way out now; that’s usually the case when I finally latch onto something even remotely trendy.

I’m a teacher. I must not display the contents of my shelf in public, especially as the aforementioned shelf is beginning to get that old-lady, finely wrinkled skin look. Yuck. Yet many of the cute shirts I buy have a “deep V” to elongate my short torso, per my instructions from Clinton and Stacey. Deep V equals cleavage display. It was a conundrum until my breakthrough discovery.

The longer camisoles that are currently popular allowed the miracle of the camisole to continue in another way. Not only does this handy little stretch garment cover up inappropriate display of the girls, it also manages to bridge the gap between my shirts and that awkward bump of fat that I still have twenty-five years after my second Cesarean section. Even in a relatively slim trouser or jean, the camisole helps to hide that nasty line of demarcation. I could kick myself for spending hours and hours searching for the right-fitting trousers when all I needed was a six-dollar camisole on sale at Lane Bryant.

Photo via Zappos.com

So, my friends, if you haven’t gotten on this particular bandwagon, run to the store to buy some of these fashion lifesavers. The horizontal lace-trimmed ones provide more girl-coverage, but the V-neck lace camisoles are pretty nice, too. Surprisingly, for a person who is on the flip side of youth and sometimes gets those awkward flashes of heat, the added layer of the camisole doesn’t seem to make me hotter.

Or maybe knowing that I have that little sexy thang on under my staid teacher shirt makes me hot after all. Either way, it’s still a miracle.

P.S. Thanks for hanging in there with me. It’s been a dry spot for writing, but I’ve returned from my spring vacation full of new ideas that hopefully will transfer into something worth reading!

P.P.S. Don’t tell anyone that I bought eight new camisoles. It seems a little obsessive, but I couldn’t resist all those pretty colors.

Book Review: Me, Myself and Why?

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I can reliably say that I have never read a book quite like Me, Myself and Why?. That’s saying quite a bit, since I have read thousands of books in my lifetime. Maybe even thousands and thousands.

Photo via goodreads.com

Apparently MaryJanice Davidson normally writes in the “vampire chick-lit genre.” I suppose that puts her in the category of Twilight‘s Stephenie Meyers. It makes me cringe to think that there’s officially a vampire chick-lit genre that we gullible readers are actually buying to make MaryJanice a New York Times Best Selling Author. Gag.

That being said, Me, Myself and Why? was quite entertaining if you’re not afraid of reading-while-politically-incorrect, and it’s not about vampires. Davidson’s heroine, Candace Jones, has multiple personality disorder, stemming from a traumatic incident in her childhood. She works for a secret FBI division based in Minneapolis and all of the agents are recruited because of their “issues’ such as kleptomania and OCD. Candace and her “sisters” Shiro and Adrienne come in and out to play as they try to find a serial killer.

Each sister-personality has her own style, both of behavior and speaking, and the reader is introduced to the different takes on the crime-solving through shifting chapters in each voice. Several reviewers found it confusing, but I thought it made a somewhat obvious plot more interesting. There’s the reliable best friend, the red-herring, and then the obvious under-your-nose killer, but with a twist. I was disappointed with the abrupt ending; it felt as though Davidson ran out of steam, but apparently this was her attempt to set us up for a trilogy starring Candace and her two sisters.

If you’re interested but just not sure you want to invest time or money on this one, link up here. Amazon.com is offering a free prequel to introduce you to the characters. I don’t have Kindle set up yet (I know, I’m a loser but I like the real thing) so I’m not sure how this works. Just sharing…

Just looking back at the sentences above gives me the creeps. I’m sure you figured out that her name is not a typo; that’s how she spaces it on the book. Given my predilection for typo hunting, I probably would not have used MaryJanice incorrectly more than once. Gag again. What happened to naming one’s child something simple?

But that’s a post for another day.

Keep reading; it will keep you sane and sexy.

Linky Love: Possibly the Ugliest and Most Tasteless Shoe I Have Ever Seen

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Are you Too Hot to Trot? This link was too good not to share. My daughter found it and I thought it needed to be passed on. Don’t you want this fashion statement in your closet?

via Small World News Service

P.S. All the proceeds for the sale of these boots at the Cheltenham (England) Festival horse race go to charity. Just don’t give the boots to charity; they may not want them.

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