7 Quick Takes, 6/1/12: Anna Karenina Goes Crazy, But I Do Not

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I finished Anna Karenina Thursday.

Count Tolstoy, his wife, their son, and the dog. (Credit: WikiCommons)

Immediate thoughts, in no particular order:

a) This book makes much more sense as an adult woman, a wife, and a mother than it did as a high school senior.

b)  Anna, after stripping herself of everything else except Vronksy, has no personal resources beyond him and therefore devolves into a self-centered, needy mess.  Tolstoy sees this as the tragedy it is.  (Ahem, Stephanie Meyer…)

c) That being said, that it manifested in her jealousy of other women strikes me as false.  Her jealousy of his time and his outside pursuits seemed more true-to-life.

d) I have no patience for political discussion in literature. Levin and I are BFFs on this one.

e) Tolstoy is a genius when it comes to descriptive detail.  The man knows how to use an adjective.

f)  Want to study narratorial viewpoint?  I recommend reading Anna Karenina!

g) I liked the story.  Simple to say, but, really, how often do we like the stories we read?  I even teared up at a few Kitty and Levin scenes.  Tolstoy the Storyteller did his job.



—–{2}—–

This week, seven-and-a-half years after our wedding, we received our last wedding present:

My dad built this bed for us.  Isn’t it awesome?  He finished the posts years ago but did not have the wood to complete the headboard.  Not only did he lose his supplier, but it’s just hard to find a piece of black walnut large enough for a solid headboard.  This piece has “character” (his words), but, honestly, we like it that way.  Thanks, Dad!


—–{3}—–

In case you were wondering… our moving plans are coming along.  Thanks for asking.

We should close on our house at the beginning of July.  Then the contractor comes in and takes care of the wood floors, the windows, random odds and ends, like pulling out the ghetto shower stall in the corner of the middle bedroom.  Yeah.

My sister, in the meantime, will give birth to my little nephew and godson.  We’ll have a baptism.  And then… move!  We should be in Michigan the first week of August.


—–{4}—–

You know what book is just awesome?  The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats.

It’s good that I think it’s so awesome, because a certain little boy likes to read this book while sitting in a certain place training to do a certain thing.  (Hint:  it involves Big Boy Underwear.)  I read The Snowy Day, on average, eight times a sitting.  And I haven’t gone crazy yet.

Keats writes with a wonderful cadence:

“Crunch, crunch, crunch, his feet sank into the snow.  He walked with his toes pointing out, like this:
He walked with his toes pointing in, like that:
Then he dragged his feet s-l-o-w-l-y to make tracks.”

“A stick that was just right for smacking a snow-covered tree.”

“And he thought and he thought and he thought about them.”

Writing a good children’s book is an art akin to poetry, I think.

(Sitting here in my favorite coffee shop, I quoted those lines from The Snowy Day from memory.  Like I said, I haven’t gone crazy yet.  Yet.)


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Question:  How do you manage social media? 

I find that I simply can’t keep up with everything and still keep my mind clear and free and easy for writing (especially working on the novel).  Both Twitter and the blogosphere are something of a rabbit hole.  And then I want to get involved with discussion boards at the Catholic Writers Guild, but… media overload. There’s good stuff out there that I want to read and follow, but, how to prioritize?

How do you do it?  What are your tricks?


—–{6}—–

I suspect that, for me, my social media issues are ones of temperament.  Though I can be loquacious among friends, by nature I’m an introverted melancholic. “Social” anything tends to stress me out at a quicker rate many others, I suspect.

That’s why I spend Fridays and most of Sunday almost entirely off-line.  I need to recuperate!  The imagination needs some happy space!  I need to read something in book form!


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Read this and other Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.  Thanks for hosting, Jen!

Why I Love My Morning Routine

Credit: Deviant Art

If my house isn’t clean, I can’t function properly.

The optimist in me says that I’m highly aesthetic and that, being sensitive to order and beauty, I thrive in a clean house.

The pessimist in me says that I’m a crazy perfectionist control freak and that everything has to be “just so” before I can begin the business of living life.

Both are perfectly true.  I work hard at keeping our home comfortably clean while actively reminding myself to “let go” of messes here and there.  Because I’m both highly aesthetic and completely crazy.

My morning routine has done much to make this possible.  But, let’s be honest – my morning routine works for me because it’s my morning routine.  I’m not the Fly Lady, and I don’t clean my sink every day.  However, the following does get done:

Wake up, then:

1)  Pray
2)  Write (i.e. the novel.  And no going online!)

When my son wakes up, I:

3) Shower and dress while my husband feeds Ben his breakfast (20 minutes)
4) Take Ben upstairs and dress him (5 minutes)

And then, the morning cleaning:

5) Make beds (5 minutes)
6) Put clothes away (5 minutes)
7) Take out the bathroom garbage (3 minutes)
8) Deal with diapers (5 minutes)
9) Pick one item in the bathroom (sink, mirror, toilet, etc.) and clean it (5 minutes)

Downstairs, I then:

10) Do the morning dishes (10 minutes)
11) Run a load of laundry (3 minutes)

Whew!  It looks like a lot -  items #3 – #11 amount to just over an hour of work – but this hour of work is my lifesaver.  I feel free to do whatever else when I’ve completed the morning routine.  The nagging, guilty thought that I left the bed unmade or The diapers are stinking up the bathroom just isn’t there.

Everything is set and ready to go.  Completing the morning routine helps me to relax and focus on Ben and on my writing.  It works for me!

How about you?  What does your morning routine look like?  What task is your everyday “must-do”?

“Deep calls on deep”

Credit: WikiCommons

This line from Psalm 42 continues to strike me:

Deep calleth on deep, at the noise of thy flood-gates. All thy heights and thy billows have passed over me. (Douay-Rheims)

or,

Deep calls to deep at the thunder of thy cataracts; all thy waves and thy billows have gone over me. (RSV)

Today we celebrate the Mystery of the Mary’s Visitation to Elizabeth.  She, in the deep silence following the angel’s announcement, meets Elizabeth, hidden and quiet for five months. The babe leaps; the Spirit speaks.

Deep calls unto deep.

Je suis très excitée!

Credit: WikiCommons

My article is up over at CatholicMom.com:

Oddly enough, it was postpartum haziness that inspired my renewed interest in language study. I had Baby Blues and Mommy Brain and I realized that mental exercise was what I craved the most. I had my French for Reading Knowledge textbook from college, and I thought, “Why not?” French interested me, though I had forgotten most of it. I began sitting down every day during Benedict’s morning nap, prayed for purity of intention, and worked the exercises. The laundry would wait.

Check it out!

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