(Audio) Book Review: Educated by Tara Westover

 When I opted to borrow this audio book, I was not aware that it was a memoir.  Not that I have anything against memoirs; but they are not what I usually gravitate toward when looking for something to read (or listen to).

Tara was born to survivalists in the mountains of Idaho.  Well, she says survivalists, I say cult, but whatever.  There was no formal education, they were fairly isolated from mainstream society.  There were no doctor's visits, no dental visits.  Instead the family relied on the mother's (a herbalist) remedies - even for the most horrific injuries.  There was unspeakable violence in the family usually caused by one brother - and though it wasn't voiced, it made me think other horrific things may have also happened (this is pure speculation on my part though but based on one conversation with her sister I did have to wonder).

It was only after one other brother got himself into college, did Tara begin to wonder if there might be another life out in the world for her.  This brother encouraged her and at the age of 17, Tara found herself in a classroom for the first time.  And the world unfolded in front of her.  She was able to travel the globe and meet a multitude of people and her eyes were opened to how her life might be now that she was free.

I found this to be a haunting book - one that I am still thinking about days and days later.  Definitely would recommend.  

So what about you?  Do you gravitate toward memoirs or no?  Nicole, I already know your answer! ;-)

Cleaning the Oven

 I haven't posted since JANUARY?!  Well, what can I say - without any office nonsense added to the fact I rarely leave the house these days there isn't very much to talk about.  Well, at least not anything anyone would want to hear about.

At any rate, I came here to announce that my oven is clean!

It seems like such an insignificant announcement.  But it's really not because we have never, ever in the entirety of our marriage used the self-cleaning feature on any of our ovens.  Why?  Because The Husband, also known as The Resident Nervous Nellie, once read a post about someone who used it and it ruined her oven.

So, because of this I'd put off cleaning the oven (counter-intuitive, I know) until it was so gross that I couldn't stand it.  And I'd spend hours on my knees with my head in the oven scouring.  And even at that, it never got completely clean.

When I made some muffins the other day, I noticed that the oven had once again reached an unacceptable level of grime.  And tried to drum up the fortitude and determination to get it cleaned.

And the mere thought of it exhausted me.  So, I made an executive decision and announced that I was going to use the self-cleaning feature.  The Husband was aghast.  So, I asked him if he had it in him to clean it.  The answer, of course, was no.  He once again brought up the poor woman whose oven was ruined.  And I pointed out that these features have to be safe or they wouldn't be allowed to be features and that most likely, that woman's oven was either a lemon or she did something she shouldn't have.

So I started the self-cleaning feature - I knew that the oven would get extremely hot and that there would most likely be fumes from all the gunk getting burnt off (there was) but what I did not expect was that it would take 4 hours!  Had I known that, I would have timed it better (say, after lunch.  Needless to say, our lunch that day was delayed by about two hours).

Considering how grimy that oven was, I wasn't expecting much when I opened the oven to wipe everything up after it had cooled down.  However, while it's not completely perfect the oven is almost pristine.  So much so, that every time I walk in the kitchen I take a little peek just to admire the cleanliness.  It's the little things in life, y'all.  You can bet that I will never find myself on my knees scrubbing that oven again.

Now, if I could just figure out a way to clean between the glass on the door without having to take the whole door apart.  

Book Review: The Mad Wife by Meagan Church

They called it hysteria. She called it survival.

This book is centered on Lulu Mayfield, a woman trying to mold herself into the perfect 1950s housewife.

Based on that sentence alone, we kind of know where this story is headed.  What woman can be "the" perfect housewife?

When a new neighbor, Bitsy, moves in Lulu suspects something darker lurks behind the woman's constant smile.  And perhaps it does, but maybe that's not her fault, could her husband have had something to do with the distant smile?

As the story progresses Lulu's so-called perfect facade starts to crack.  And others, including her husband are beginning to notice.  And Lulu begins to worry what her husband might do to her to "fix" her.

Hysteria was actually a common medical diagnosis for women in the 1950s and the treatments could be as simple as drugging the woman or they could involve more invasive and inhuman treatments.  A real concern for some women at the time.

This book, billed as a domestic drama, was so heart wrenching and the writing so evocative.  And I think it will resonate with a good majority of women (particularly) mothers, as we have all experienced the "expectations" of us - whether or not we give a damn about the expectations - we know they are there.  And those "expectations" back in the 1950s were far higher than they are today.

Occasionally, I am a Ditz

 Y'all...I am a logical person, a rational person, a generally sane person (oh hush, I have my moments) and a fairly intelligent person.

And then there are moments, like last week, when I am reminded that occasionally I am a ditzy person.

As most of you know, I like to do jigsaw puzzles. I generally have one going most of the time.  I buy my puzzles based on the picture - not necessarily by the brand which, as you may remember, has caused a problem on at least one occasion.  Thank goodness, that issue has reoccurred...yet.

At any rate, one day last week as I was sifting through the pieces of my puzzle my eye was caught by the letters on the back of the pieces.  This is nothing new as I've noticed letters on the back of other puzzle pieces before - but never thought much about it.  Maybe I thought they just spelled the brand of the puzzle or maybe the name of the puzzle.  I don't know.

But on that day, something "clicked" and I looked more closely at those letters.

It was only then that it dawned on me.  Those letters signfy the sections of the puzzle.  A is the top left section and so on.  Which turns out to be REALLY helpful when there are repeating themes/colors in the entire puzzle.

Why am I admitting this ditziness publicly on the internet...where it will be a testament to my sheer inability to notice what is right in front of me FOREVER?

Because, I can't be the only one.  Right?!