The sun is shining today, though it is diffused by clouds that make the sky appear to be gray and white, as if suddenly we were living in a black and white movie. Or at least such is the case at this moment as I view the world outside through the picture window of my living room.
From here, wrapped up in an afghan to ward off the perpetual chill that afflicts this room of the house, I can almost delude myself into thinking that spring has arrived. Squirrels scamper about in the yard, song birds twitter, their happy tunes reaching me despite the absence of an open window, and daffodils have sprouted in a long neglected planter.
And yet, I know it is not spring. It is still winter. This thought saddens me, although the sun is brighter now. The warm white light makes me long for prisms to hang in the window so that rainbows can dance all over the room and tease my dog. And once again clouds obscure the sun, washing out the landscape.
Time has slipped away from me, and I must leave for work. The view from the window has already changed, as a patch of blue appears above the tree line. But my melancholy lingers, as it does every January. I wonder how long it will last.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
A new year on the shelves
I'm cheating a bit today. Ordinarily I would have blogged much sooner about the new year and left my book recommendation for the month to a separate post but as my free time has been consumed by stage managing duties and household chores and work has been hectic with the start of a new semester this will be a two-fer. (And my god but that was a run on sentence! Eh.....cringe away English professors!)
The one saving grace of the month of January is the potential for snow days, and joys of joys we had one yesterday. I spent the day doing what you should do on a snow day: curling up with a good book and a cuddly dog under a blanket and only paying attention to the clock when I was looking for a specific television program. But snow days are a rare thing here and everything is virtually melted now. There are rumors that more winter precipitation will materialize tomorrow but I'm not holding my breath, although I will swing by the store and pick up a few needed items. I don't need to stock up on books as I have an ever growing stack waiting for me as it is.
One of the things I had been looking forward to in January was the publication of the second book in a delightful new series I discovered, but in a cruel and yet delightful twist of fate the book was published in December and I promptly devoured it. I now will have to wait until the end of the year for the third installment (crosses fingers that it will arrive by then). I only hope to find others books on my list to serve as appropriate diversions. What series is this that has inspired such anticipation? The Lady Julie Gray mysteries by Deanna Raybourn.
The first book in the series is Silent in the Grave and it contains what is probably the best opening lines of a book ever. "To say I met Nicholas Brisbane over my husband's dead body is not entirely accurate. Edward, it should be noted, was still twitching upon the floor." After reading the book I had to share that line with just about everyone and have thus committed it to memory. The second book in the series, Silent in the Sanctuary was every bit as good as the first, if not better. Set during the 1880's in London the star of the novels is the aforementioned Lady Julia Gray. She is not a professional investigator, nor a super-genius, although she is smart and inquisitive. This allows her to retain an air of believability and makes her much easy to relate to. The mistakes she makes when she is thrust into the world of murder investigation are the mistakes a real person would make, and the frustrations she faces while dealing with the stubborn and dashing Nicholas Brisbane are all too real as well. Both books are filled with witty dialogue, vibrant and interesting characters (both primary and secondary) with nary a whiff of a cipher, well paced plots that never override character development, oodles of details peppered throughout, and final reveals that make you say "oh my god of course!!! How did I not see that?!" I highly recommend both, but you must read them in order or else the mysteries in the first will be spoiled.
It is rare for me to find books for adults that are filled with characters that I would not only like to meet, but also who I would like to be friends with. I dearly wish that I could be friends with Lady Julia and her wonderfully eccentric family, The Marches. Granted, I might encounter some unpleasantness if I was friends with them, but I would never ever be bored.
The one saving grace of the month of January is the potential for snow days, and joys of joys we had one yesterday. I spent the day doing what you should do on a snow day: curling up with a good book and a cuddly dog under a blanket and only paying attention to the clock when I was looking for a specific television program. But snow days are a rare thing here and everything is virtually melted now. There are rumors that more winter precipitation will materialize tomorrow but I'm not holding my breath, although I will swing by the store and pick up a few needed items. I don't need to stock up on books as I have an ever growing stack waiting for me as it is.
One of the things I had been looking forward to in January was the publication of the second book in a delightful new series I discovered, but in a cruel and yet delightful twist of fate the book was published in December and I promptly devoured it. I now will have to wait until the end of the year for the third installment (crosses fingers that it will arrive by then). I only hope to find others books on my list to serve as appropriate diversions. What series is this that has inspired such anticipation? The Lady Julie Gray mysteries by Deanna Raybourn.
The first book in the series is Silent in the Grave and it contains what is probably the best opening lines of a book ever. "To say I met Nicholas Brisbane over my husband's dead body is not entirely accurate. Edward, it should be noted, was still twitching upon the floor." After reading the book I had to share that line with just about everyone and have thus committed it to memory. The second book in the series, Silent in the Sanctuary was every bit as good as the first, if not better. Set during the 1880's in London the star of the novels is the aforementioned Lady Julia Gray. She is not a professional investigator, nor a super-genius, although she is smart and inquisitive. This allows her to retain an air of believability and makes her much easy to relate to. The mistakes she makes when she is thrust into the world of murder investigation are the mistakes a real person would make, and the frustrations she faces while dealing with the stubborn and dashing Nicholas Brisbane are all too real as well. Both books are filled with witty dialogue, vibrant and interesting characters (both primary and secondary) with nary a whiff of a cipher, well paced plots that never override character development, oodles of details peppered throughout, and final reveals that make you say "oh my god of course!!! How did I not see that?!" I highly recommend both, but you must read them in order or else the mysteries in the first will be spoiled.
It is rare for me to find books for adults that are filled with characters that I would not only like to meet, but also who I would like to be friends with. I dearly wish that I could be friends with Lady Julia and her wonderfully eccentric family, The Marches. Granted, I might encounter some unpleasantness if I was friends with them, but I would never ever be bored.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
A year on the nightstand
Here is a list of all of the new books I've read over this year, with a short reaction for each.
1. The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield (fun gothic mystery)
2. She Walks These Hills by Sharyn McCrumb (eh)
3. A Fool's Gold by Bill Merritt (hard to believe it is non-ficiton)
4. The Stupidest Angel by Christopher Moore (hysterical)
5. You Suck by Christopher Moore (my favorite of all the Moore books so far)
6. Bloodsucking Fiends by Christopher Moore (funny, but not as good as it's sequel)
7. Island of the Sequined Love Nun by Christopher Moore (the author is demented)
8. A Bell for Adano by John Hersey (touching and maddening)
9. A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore (I laughed, I cried, it was better than Cats)
10. The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie (great little action/suspense novel)
11. Who's Afraid of Beowulf? by Tom Holt (a Christopher Moore recommendation)
12. Puss 'n Cahoots by Rita Mae Brown (murder mystery where you can't tell the villain)
13. American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang (great graphic novel on a complex issue)
14. Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey (good but not great)
15. The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (absurd and badly written)
16. Plum Lovin by Janet Evanovich (fun bit of fluff)
17. Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards (one of those melodrama novels about dysfunctional people that women seem to eat up)
18. The Higher Power of Lucky by Susan Patron (cute children's book)
19. There's a (slight) chance I might be going to hell by Laurie Notaro (okay)
20. A murder for her majesty by Beth Hilgartner (great historical mystery)
21. Pleasing the Ghost by Sharon Creech. (children's fluff)
22. The Big Over Easy by Jasper Fforde (nobody twists fiction like Fforde)
23. Nicky Deuce: Welcome to the Family by Steve Schirripa and Charles Fleming (entertaining diversion)
24. Grayson by Lynne Cox (would have made a nice magazine article)
25. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card (great read, slightly disturbing)
26. Lean Mean Thirteen by Janet Evanovich. (a series that stays strong)
27. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows by J.K. Rowling (the middle lagged and the epilogue left me most unsatisfied but overall a strong finish)
28. The Silver Pigs by Lindsey Davis (interesting but not captivating)
29. Homesick: My Own Story by Jean Fritz (loved it!)
30. Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris (love finding a new series!)
31. We're Just Like You, Only Prettier by Celia Rivenbark (not quite what I was expecting)
32. The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (would have benefited from an tighter edit, it was like she wanted to show off all she knew)
33. The Color of Water by James McBride (fascinating)
34. Sex with Kings by Eleanor Herman (a bit repetitive, but interesting)
35. Sex With the Queen by Eleanor Herman (makes me relieved to live in the present)
36. Bones to Pick by Carolyn Haines (another strong showing in a fun series)
37. Living Dead in Dallas by Charlaine Harris (I'm beginning to develop a thing for one of the characters)
38. First Among Sequels by Jaspar Fforde (don't read without reading the first four books!)
39. Permanent Rose by Hilary McKay (I want to be friends with the characters in this series)
40. The Lady and the Panda by Vicki Croke (mind boggling-the story itself, not the book)
41. Marvel 1602 by Neil Gaiman (great example of an author re-imagining established characters)
42. Club Dead by Charlaine Harris (yes, I do have a thing for Eric)
43. I am the Messenger by Markus Zasuk (I really liked, until the end)
44. Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris (it is a brave man who skewers himself as completely as Sedaris)
45. Marley and Me by John Grogan (read with a box of tissues nearby)
46. West with the Night by Beryl Markham. (Highly recommended)
47. Villain's Guide to Better Living by Neil Zawacki (a satire that actually has good advice)
48. Silent in the Grave by Deanna Raybourn (read a borrowed hardback and want to purchase it)
49. Dead to the World by Charlaine Harris (can you tell I enjoyed this series?)
50. Dead as a Doornail by Charlaine Harris (the author does a great job of interpreting the vampire myths to her own world)
51. Definitely Dead by Charlaine Harris (I just love Eric)
52. Silent in the Sanctuary by Deanna Raybourn (you know how when a book ends and you are sad to leave the characters behind? Well the Lady Julia Grey mysteries are like that. The next one isn't due out until December 08 or January 09. God's teeth! I can't wait that long!)
53. The Penderwicks by Jeanne Birdsall (I hope she writes a sequel)
54. Looking Glass Wars by Frank Beddor (first in a trilogy. I enjoyed it, but I think it will be a bit of a stretch to flush it out into three books)
55. Vesuvius Club by Mark Gatiss (disappointing)
56. Caddy Ever After by Hilary McKay (please don't stop with the Casson family stories!)
For those who have paid attention some of the books that appeared in the "on my nightstand" section (including the one on there now) are not on this list. It is because I haven't finished them. Some I will go back to, others not.
1. The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield (fun gothic mystery)
2. She Walks These Hills by Sharyn McCrumb (eh)
3. A Fool's Gold by Bill Merritt (hard to believe it is non-ficiton)
4. The Stupidest Angel by Christopher Moore (hysterical)
5. You Suck by Christopher Moore (my favorite of all the Moore books so far)
6. Bloodsucking Fiends by Christopher Moore (funny, but not as good as it's sequel)
7. Island of the Sequined Love Nun by Christopher Moore (the author is demented)
8. A Bell for Adano by John Hersey (touching and maddening)
9. A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore (I laughed, I cried, it was better than Cats)
10. The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie (great little action/suspense novel)
11. Who's Afraid of Beowulf? by Tom Holt (a Christopher Moore recommendation)
12. Puss 'n Cahoots by Rita Mae Brown (murder mystery where you can't tell the villain)
13. American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang (great graphic novel on a complex issue)
14. Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey (good but not great)
15. The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty (absurd and badly written)
16. Plum Lovin by Janet Evanovich (fun bit of fluff)
17. Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards (one of those melodrama novels about dysfunctional people that women seem to eat up)
18. The Higher Power of Lucky by Susan Patron (cute children's book)
19. There's a (slight) chance I might be going to hell by Laurie Notaro (okay)
20. A murder for her majesty by Beth Hilgartner (great historical mystery)
21. Pleasing the Ghost by Sharon Creech. (children's fluff)
22. The Big Over Easy by Jasper Fforde (nobody twists fiction like Fforde)
23. Nicky Deuce: Welcome to the Family by Steve Schirripa and Charles Fleming (entertaining diversion)
24. Grayson by Lynne Cox (would have made a nice magazine article)
25. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card (great read, slightly disturbing)
26. Lean Mean Thirteen by Janet Evanovich. (a series that stays strong)
27. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows by J.K. Rowling (the middle lagged and the epilogue left me most unsatisfied but overall a strong finish)
28. The Silver Pigs by Lindsey Davis (interesting but not captivating)
29. Homesick: My Own Story by Jean Fritz (loved it!)
30. Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris (love finding a new series!)
31. We're Just Like You, Only Prettier by Celia Rivenbark (not quite what I was expecting)
32. The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (would have benefited from an tighter edit, it was like she wanted to show off all she knew)
33. The Color of Water by James McBride (fascinating)
34. Sex with Kings by Eleanor Herman (a bit repetitive, but interesting)
35. Sex With the Queen by Eleanor Herman (makes me relieved to live in the present)
36. Bones to Pick by Carolyn Haines (another strong showing in a fun series)
37. Living Dead in Dallas by Charlaine Harris (I'm beginning to develop a thing for one of the characters)
38. First Among Sequels by Jaspar Fforde (don't read without reading the first four books!)
39. Permanent Rose by Hilary McKay (I want to be friends with the characters in this series)
40. The Lady and the Panda by Vicki Croke (mind boggling-the story itself, not the book)
41. Marvel 1602 by Neil Gaiman (great example of an author re-imagining established characters)
42. Club Dead by Charlaine Harris (yes, I do have a thing for Eric)
43. I am the Messenger by Markus Zasuk (I really liked, until the end)
44. Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris (it is a brave man who skewers himself as completely as Sedaris)
45. Marley and Me by John Grogan (read with a box of tissues nearby)
46. West with the Night by Beryl Markham. (Highly recommended)
47. Villain's Guide to Better Living by Neil Zawacki (a satire that actually has good advice)
48. Silent in the Grave by Deanna Raybourn (read a borrowed hardback and want to purchase it)
49. Dead to the World by Charlaine Harris (can you tell I enjoyed this series?)
50. Dead as a Doornail by Charlaine Harris (the author does a great job of interpreting the vampire myths to her own world)
51. Definitely Dead by Charlaine Harris (I just love Eric)
52. Silent in the Sanctuary by Deanna Raybourn (you know how when a book ends and you are sad to leave the characters behind? Well the Lady Julia Grey mysteries are like that. The next one isn't due out until December 08 or January 09. God's teeth! I can't wait that long!)
53. The Penderwicks by Jeanne Birdsall (I hope she writes a sequel)
54. Looking Glass Wars by Frank Beddor (first in a trilogy. I enjoyed it, but I think it will be a bit of a stretch to flush it out into three books)
55. Vesuvius Club by Mark Gatiss (disappointing)
56. Caddy Ever After by Hilary McKay (please don't stop with the Casson family stories!)
For those who have paid attention some of the books that appeared in the "on my nightstand" section (including the one on there now) are not on this list. It is because I haven't finished them. Some I will go back to, others not.
Monday, December 10, 2007
From the Shelves 7
It is well into the month of December and soon we will be overloaded with saccharine sentimentality and the cloying treacle that is most holiday entertainment. That is why I offer up this antidote, The Stupidest Angel by Christopher Moore. Read it now as a preemptive strike or read later as a palate cleanser, but above all read it. It is a hysterically irreverent novel, complete with a twisted yet touching version of The Gift of the Magi, lessons about love and community unity, granting wishes for children, and oh yes, zombies. It sounds absurd, and in some ways it is, but it is wildly entertaining and funny.
A few caveats though. Do not read this in public. You will laugh out loud starting with the author's note and keep right on laughing throughout the book. For some reason other people find the sight of someone reading and laughing hysterically to be disturbing. Moore's books are filled with quotable dialogue. If your friends will look askance on you for saying things like "he no likea the light," then perhaps you should give it a pass. The Stupidest Angel features many of the characters from previous Moore books so in one way it spoils some of the suspense of some of his other novels, but that is a trifling concern.
But if you are already sick of the maudlin pap that is heaped upon us during the Christmas season, and/or A Christmas Story is one of your favorite movies then you will thoroughly enjoy The Stupidest Angel. Read up!
A few caveats though. Do not read this in public. You will laugh out loud starting with the author's note and keep right on laughing throughout the book. For some reason other people find the sight of someone reading and laughing hysterically to be disturbing. Moore's books are filled with quotable dialogue. If your friends will look askance on you for saying things like "he no likea the light," then perhaps you should give it a pass. The Stupidest Angel features many of the characters from previous Moore books so in one way it spoils some of the suspense of some of his other novels, but that is a trifling concern.
But if you are already sick of the maudlin pap that is heaped upon us during the Christmas season, and/or A Christmas Story is one of your favorite movies then you will thoroughly enjoy The Stupidest Angel. Read up!
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
sometimes......
Observations, no matter how nicely stated, still come across as criticism.
You leave the house and you just know it is going to be a rough day.
It just might actually kill you to smile.
You feel like a freak for no discernible reason at all.
White noise is actually really loud.
Nothing is better than a warm chocolate chip cookie and a glass of milk.
You wonder just what on earth you have gotten yourself into.
Sometimes, all these things are true.
You leave the house and you just know it is going to be a rough day.
It just might actually kill you to smile.
You feel like a freak for no discernible reason at all.
White noise is actually really loud.
Nothing is better than a warm chocolate chip cookie and a glass of milk.
You wonder just what on earth you have gotten yourself into.
Sometimes, all these things are true.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
collection of random observations
My mother is amazing. Every year my parents host Thanksgiving and every year, mainly because of her hard work, the meal is a roaring success. This year was a small Thanksgiving for us, only thirteen people, but we had enough food for twenty-four. My sister has already nominated me to take over the actual turkey and gravy preparation when the time comes when Mom flat out refuses to do it. I find this an intimidating prospect.
Family traditions are funny things. Sometimes something becomes a tradition without anyone meaning for it to become one. Like, my cousins and I always watched Clue over the Thanksgiving holiday when we lived in Virginia. That "tradition" was one that ran its course though. Not having Thanksgiving with my cousins because they live too far away now on the other hand, that is a much more bitter pill to take.
Speaking of bitter, why is it that so many of the things that are good for you taste so nasty? I'm talking green vegetables here people! Sure you can make them palatable by pouring dressing or butter or cheese on them but doesn't that defeat the purpose?
I wish I didn't have such a sweet tooth. I've been working on limiting it, but with the Kingdom of Sweets (aka Christmas) looming on the horizon it's hard to do. I need to work on selecting the best thing. Much better to get those fat and sugar grams from something truly worth while than a bunch of middling desserts.
I was really hoping to go and see a live performance of The Nutcracker this holiday season, but time got away from me. Apparently the tickets have been on sale since August and other commitments have gobbled up the month. I guess I will have to get my fix by popping in my trusty video of American Ballet Theatre's production with Mikhail Barishnikov.
I really wish I could speak Russian.
Russian tea is one of my absolute favorite beverages in the whole world. I can't wait for it to get cold enough to make some. Maybe I can convince my mother to make some. She is really the only one who has a pot big enough. It makes the whole house smell of Christmas when it is simmering.
Is it just me or have they started airing the classic Christmas specials really early this year? Already A Christmas Story, A Charlie Brown Christmas and How the Grinch Stole Christmas have aired. What gives? It isn't even December. Show those programs when they aren't competing with first run t.v. episodes! What with the strike and all it will only be another week before they've all aired. If all the good Christmas shows have aired too then we will be in a vast wasteland of television programming. Or course, it could be argued that we already are in one, what with all of the reality t.v. and all.
One reality t.v. program that I really enjoy is Project Runway. The best thing about it is that the contestants actually have to do something that requires skill, not just a cast iron stomach and a weak gag reflex. However, sometimes the judges say things that really annoy me. Well, more precisely, Michael Kors says things that annoy me. Honestly, he is the most inconsistent man. If you criticize one designer for something, don't praise the exact same thing in someone else's work. Duh.
Tail-gaters also annoy me. As do drivers who come to a complete stop when making a right hand turn (when there isn't a stop sign or stop light).
Stoplights remind me of that song lyric in Silver Bells "even stoplights blink of bright red and green." They sort of are in perpetual Christmas mode.
Doing Christmas cards for your co-workers is a lot like doing Valentines at school was. Maybe you don't want to give one to everyone, but you feel like you should. Sigh.
Family traditions are funny things. Sometimes something becomes a tradition without anyone meaning for it to become one. Like, my cousins and I always watched Clue over the Thanksgiving holiday when we lived in Virginia. That "tradition" was one that ran its course though. Not having Thanksgiving with my cousins because they live too far away now on the other hand, that is a much more bitter pill to take.
Speaking of bitter, why is it that so many of the things that are good for you taste so nasty? I'm talking green vegetables here people! Sure you can make them palatable by pouring dressing or butter or cheese on them but doesn't that defeat the purpose?
I wish I didn't have such a sweet tooth. I've been working on limiting it, but with the Kingdom of Sweets (aka Christmas) looming on the horizon it's hard to do. I need to work on selecting the best thing. Much better to get those fat and sugar grams from something truly worth while than a bunch of middling desserts.
I was really hoping to go and see a live performance of The Nutcracker this holiday season, but time got away from me. Apparently the tickets have been on sale since August and other commitments have gobbled up the month. I guess I will have to get my fix by popping in my trusty video of American Ballet Theatre's production with Mikhail Barishnikov.
I really wish I could speak Russian.
Russian tea is one of my absolute favorite beverages in the whole world. I can't wait for it to get cold enough to make some. Maybe I can convince my mother to make some. She is really the only one who has a pot big enough. It makes the whole house smell of Christmas when it is simmering.
Is it just me or have they started airing the classic Christmas specials really early this year? Already A Christmas Story, A Charlie Brown Christmas and How the Grinch Stole Christmas have aired. What gives? It isn't even December. Show those programs when they aren't competing with first run t.v. episodes! What with the strike and all it will only be another week before they've all aired. If all the good Christmas shows have aired too then we will be in a vast wasteland of television programming. Or course, it could be argued that we already are in one, what with all of the reality t.v. and all.
One reality t.v. program that I really enjoy is Project Runway. The best thing about it is that the contestants actually have to do something that requires skill, not just a cast iron stomach and a weak gag reflex. However, sometimes the judges say things that really annoy me. Well, more precisely, Michael Kors says things that annoy me. Honestly, he is the most inconsistent man. If you criticize one designer for something, don't praise the exact same thing in someone else's work. Duh.
Tail-gaters also annoy me. As do drivers who come to a complete stop when making a right hand turn (when there isn't a stop sign or stop light).
Stoplights remind me of that song lyric in Silver Bells "even stoplights blink of bright red and green." They sort of are in perpetual Christmas mode.
Doing Christmas cards for your co-workers is a lot like doing Valentines at school was. Maybe you don't want to give one to everyone, but you feel like you should. Sigh.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
A Long Line of Sass
It occurred to me that I frequently mention that if you spent time with my family you would understand me more completely, but I also realize that this is not necessarily a feasible thing for everyone. So, in keeping with my whole November=family thing started yesterday with my book review, I thought I would share some information about my family. But where to begin?
I come by many of my personality characteristics quite honestly. The competitiveness, the smart-ass wit, the stubbornness, the sweet tooth, the dramatic flair, the slightly skewed sense of humor, the independent thinking, and yes, the temper, have all been thoroughly documented on both sides of my family tree. In both the men and the women. (Really, there was no hope at all for me to be a sweet, demure little thing). But it is the women I'm going to talk about today.
The first recorded example of the long line of sassy women is with Eleanor of Aquitaine. I know that it is very popular to claim royal connections, and it is quite possible that I am not descended from her, but as it cannot also be disproved I'm going with it. Eleanor of Aquitaine was a formidable woman who went on Crusade, was highly educated, managed to get her first marriage to the King of France annulled, remarried a man eleven years her junior, became queen of England, owned more of France than the king did, and gave birth to ten children, two of which became kings of England.
Moving right along to her great-granddaughter, Joan of Acre. Joan of Acre was the daughter of Edward I and was married twice, the second time in defiance of her father's wishes, and to a man not of noble rank. Considering that Edward I's nickname was the Hammer of the Scots I would say that was pretty nervy. But what do you expect of a child born while her parents were both on Crusade in Palestine? Supposedly I am descended from a child from each of her marriages. Best not to dwell on that too much.
Of more concrete proof is my descent on my mother's side from Priscilla Mullins, the wife of John Alden. Both John and Priscilla arrived in New England on the Mayflower, and after the first winter both of Priscilla's parents and her brother were dead. Young, alone and in a very foreign country, Priscilla withstood it all. And when John Alden came to speak on behalf of his friend Miles Standish for her hand in marriage, Priscilla told him to speak for himself. A smart man, John did and the two were married and had "many children."
I'm sure that over the years there were more sassy women on my family tree, but the record does not show it. However, once we get into living memory the tree is jam packed.
On my father's side we have:
Charlotte Cope (my fourth great-grandmother) who was a member of the landed gentry in England and married a shoemaker. Considering the time period this was just scandalous. How did they meet? Upper class women were very sheltered and protected at that time, and strange men didn't just start chatting them up.
Her daughter in-law was Anna-Maria Higgins, a woman who was born just shortly after her parents landed in New York from Ireland. She married an English Episcopalian shoemaker and went on to have seventeen (yes, that's right seventeen) children. Imagine telling your Irish father that you not only wished to marry a Protestant but an Englishman to boot? She outlived her husband and eight of her children, and wasn't disowned by her father.
Her oldest child was Marcella Agnes Collinson. Nana, as we call her, was born in 1857 and died in 1953. She outlived all three of her husbands, all but three of her brothers and sisters, and one of her grandchildren. She lived through the Civil War, the outbreak of the Spanish Influenza, World War I and II, the flu epidemic of 1918, the assassination of two presidents, the Great Depression, and the Great Blizzard of 1888. Her first husband died sometime in the 1880s, and she remarried in 1891 to Charles Conover, a man who was almost thirteen years her junior, and they had one daughter, my great grandmother, Isabelle Katherine Conover. Then in around 1901 she divorced Charles, retained custody of their daughter, and stayed on speaking terms with his entire family. I can only imagine that Charles had done something horrid, and perhaps one day I will get up the nerve to write New Jersey and get the divorce papers.
Isabelle (aka Gam) and her daughter Barbara (aka Meme) were less overtly sassy. Gam loved dirty jokes, had hands that could span an entire octave on a piano, and was married twice, both times to a man named Frank. My memories of her are few as I was slightly intimated by her regal bearing and posture, even more so because of her penchant for flashy jewelery (un-beknownst to me it was mostly paste) and fur coats. Gam broke her hip when I was in the third grade, and upon learning, when she came round after surgery, that she had had to have a blood transfusion she quipped "God I hope they didn't give me AIDS." Sadly, she suffered a stroke while still in the hospital.
Meme told me once when I was in the fourth grade that "sometimes you just have to say damn it, it makes you feel better." She loved scary movies and got a bit of a perverse pleasure out of telling me the plot synopsis of each one. It took a lot to make Meme mad, but look out if you did. One of my favorite stories is how she retaliated against her oldest son when he was an intractable teenager. Dennis did not want to be awakened in the morning and one time he swatted his mother in a groggy and grumpy state. The next morning when he didn't wake up when she called his name she slapped his rump with her hand, a hand that had a straight pin between two fingers. Dennis never had to be called twice to wake up in the morning again.
On my mother's side:
Amanda Jane Covington, my great-great grandmother, was widowed and remarried. She spent a week with her new husband, found him not to her liking, packed up her belongings and went home.
Sarah Elsie Gold (aka Mammy), my great grandmother, and Amanda's daughter in law, gave my mother a cast-iron skillet when she graduated from college. She told my mother, and I quote "that if a man ever hits you he has to go to sleep sometime." One time her husband had over indulged in alcohol and as he laid in the bed groaning she presented all four of their children to him and said "see what happens when you drink?" Mammy could spin a story better than anyone I have ever met, and loved telling her grandchildren and great grandchildren scary ones. "Riger, riger marow! I want my big toe!"
Margaret Falls (aka Grandma Warlick) my other great grandmother, survived a car accident in the 1930s that broke her pelvis and killed her husband. The doctors had told her there was a chance she wouldn't walk again. However, when the time came to leave the hospital she laced up her corset and went out under her own power. I never met Grandma, but all of the pictures and stories make me think of a girded iron vessel. She also married outside of her religion (Baptist and Methodist in this case-hey it was a big deal to her!) on the condition that any girls they had would go with her to church, while the boys would go with their father. Perhaps my favorite of all the Grandma stories is the night the chimney caught fire because it features two other sassy women in my family. Grandma was in bed nursing her youngest child, and sent my grandmother, the second youngest to fetch their father who was upstairs. She warned Gammy not to tell her father why she wanted him because Grandma knew that it would cause panic. Being only about four, Gammy held out for as long as she could and blurted out that the house was on fire. Grandpa yelled out "Lordy the house is on fire!" causing all sorts of turmoil. Grandpa sent his son Lester to fetch the neighbors but Lester didn't want to run through the woods at night by himself so Gammy, little four year old Gammy, went with him. By the time they had returned the fire was out because the oldest child, Vera, had done the smartest and simplest thing, which was to pour the water from her washstand through the grate of the upstairs fireplace, dousing the flames that had ignited the chimney column.
Another sassy woman, who I'm not descended from was my great Aunt Edna. One day she was watching a basketball game that her brother, my grandfather, was refereeing. Some woman in the crowd disliked the way he was calling the game and was heckling him. Edna stood if for as long as she could and then got in the woman's face. "My brother's a gentleman and he won't hit you, but I will!"
So as you can see, the women in my family tree didn't put up with a lot of crap.
I come by many of my personality characteristics quite honestly. The competitiveness, the smart-ass wit, the stubbornness, the sweet tooth, the dramatic flair, the slightly skewed sense of humor, the independent thinking, and yes, the temper, have all been thoroughly documented on both sides of my family tree. In both the men and the women. (Really, there was no hope at all for me to be a sweet, demure little thing). But it is the women I'm going to talk about today.
The first recorded example of the long line of sassy women is with Eleanor of Aquitaine. I know that it is very popular to claim royal connections, and it is quite possible that I am not descended from her, but as it cannot also be disproved I'm going with it. Eleanor of Aquitaine was a formidable woman who went on Crusade, was highly educated, managed to get her first marriage to the King of France annulled, remarried a man eleven years her junior, became queen of England, owned more of France than the king did, and gave birth to ten children, two of which became kings of England.
Moving right along to her great-granddaughter, Joan of Acre. Joan of Acre was the daughter of Edward I and was married twice, the second time in defiance of her father's wishes, and to a man not of noble rank. Considering that Edward I's nickname was the Hammer of the Scots I would say that was pretty nervy. But what do you expect of a child born while her parents were both on Crusade in Palestine? Supposedly I am descended from a child from each of her marriages. Best not to dwell on that too much.
Of more concrete proof is my descent on my mother's side from Priscilla Mullins, the wife of John Alden. Both John and Priscilla arrived in New England on the Mayflower, and after the first winter both of Priscilla's parents and her brother were dead. Young, alone and in a very foreign country, Priscilla withstood it all. And when John Alden came to speak on behalf of his friend Miles Standish for her hand in marriage, Priscilla told him to speak for himself. A smart man, John did and the two were married and had "many children."
I'm sure that over the years there were more sassy women on my family tree, but the record does not show it. However, once we get into living memory the tree is jam packed.
On my father's side we have:
Charlotte Cope (my fourth great-grandmother) who was a member of the landed gentry in England and married a shoemaker. Considering the time period this was just scandalous. How did they meet? Upper class women were very sheltered and protected at that time, and strange men didn't just start chatting them up.
Her daughter in-law was Anna-Maria Higgins, a woman who was born just shortly after her parents landed in New York from Ireland. She married an English Episcopalian shoemaker and went on to have seventeen (yes, that's right seventeen) children. Imagine telling your Irish father that you not only wished to marry a Protestant but an Englishman to boot? She outlived her husband and eight of her children, and wasn't disowned by her father.
Her oldest child was Marcella Agnes Collinson. Nana, as we call her, was born in 1857 and died in 1953. She outlived all three of her husbands, all but three of her brothers and sisters, and one of her grandchildren. She lived through the Civil War, the outbreak of the Spanish Influenza, World War I and II, the flu epidemic of 1918, the assassination of two presidents, the Great Depression, and the Great Blizzard of 1888. Her first husband died sometime in the 1880s, and she remarried in 1891 to Charles Conover, a man who was almost thirteen years her junior, and they had one daughter, my great grandmother, Isabelle Katherine Conover. Then in around 1901 she divorced Charles, retained custody of their daughter, and stayed on speaking terms with his entire family. I can only imagine that Charles had done something horrid, and perhaps one day I will get up the nerve to write New Jersey and get the divorce papers.
Isabelle (aka Gam) and her daughter Barbara (aka Meme) were less overtly sassy. Gam loved dirty jokes, had hands that could span an entire octave on a piano, and was married twice, both times to a man named Frank. My memories of her are few as I was slightly intimated by her regal bearing and posture, even more so because of her penchant for flashy jewelery (un-beknownst to me it was mostly paste) and fur coats. Gam broke her hip when I was in the third grade, and upon learning, when she came round after surgery, that she had had to have a blood transfusion she quipped "God I hope they didn't give me AIDS." Sadly, she suffered a stroke while still in the hospital.
Meme told me once when I was in the fourth grade that "sometimes you just have to say damn it, it makes you feel better." She loved scary movies and got a bit of a perverse pleasure out of telling me the plot synopsis of each one. It took a lot to make Meme mad, but look out if you did. One of my favorite stories is how she retaliated against her oldest son when he was an intractable teenager. Dennis did not want to be awakened in the morning and one time he swatted his mother in a groggy and grumpy state. The next morning when he didn't wake up when she called his name she slapped his rump with her hand, a hand that had a straight pin between two fingers. Dennis never had to be called twice to wake up in the morning again.
On my mother's side:
Amanda Jane Covington, my great-great grandmother, was widowed and remarried. She spent a week with her new husband, found him not to her liking, packed up her belongings and went home.
Sarah Elsie Gold (aka Mammy), my great grandmother, and Amanda's daughter in law, gave my mother a cast-iron skillet when she graduated from college. She told my mother, and I quote "that if a man ever hits you he has to go to sleep sometime." One time her husband had over indulged in alcohol and as he laid in the bed groaning she presented all four of their children to him and said "see what happens when you drink?" Mammy could spin a story better than anyone I have ever met, and loved telling her grandchildren and great grandchildren scary ones. "Riger, riger marow! I want my big toe!"
Margaret Falls (aka Grandma Warlick) my other great grandmother, survived a car accident in the 1930s that broke her pelvis and killed her husband. The doctors had told her there was a chance she wouldn't walk again. However, when the time came to leave the hospital she laced up her corset and went out under her own power. I never met Grandma, but all of the pictures and stories make me think of a girded iron vessel. She also married outside of her religion (Baptist and Methodist in this case-hey it was a big deal to her!) on the condition that any girls they had would go with her to church, while the boys would go with their father. Perhaps my favorite of all the Grandma stories is the night the chimney caught fire because it features two other sassy women in my family. Grandma was in bed nursing her youngest child, and sent my grandmother, the second youngest to fetch their father who was upstairs. She warned Gammy not to tell her father why she wanted him because Grandma knew that it would cause panic. Being only about four, Gammy held out for as long as she could and blurted out that the house was on fire. Grandpa yelled out "Lordy the house is on fire!" causing all sorts of turmoil. Grandpa sent his son Lester to fetch the neighbors but Lester didn't want to run through the woods at night by himself so Gammy, little four year old Gammy, went with him. By the time they had returned the fire was out because the oldest child, Vera, had done the smartest and simplest thing, which was to pour the water from her washstand through the grate of the upstairs fireplace, dousing the flames that had ignited the chimney column.
Another sassy woman, who I'm not descended from was my great Aunt Edna. One day she was watching a basketball game that her brother, my grandfather, was refereeing. Some woman in the crowd disliked the way he was calling the game and was heckling him. Edna stood if for as long as she could and then got in the woman's face. "My brother's a gentleman and he won't hit you, but I will!"
So as you can see, the women in my family tree didn't put up with a lot of crap.
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