Braeden for president

OK, they don't still look like this, but they should.

Yesterday morning at 5:30 AM our older two went to youth conference.  It was to be a pioneer trek and they were outfitted in pioneer clothes.  They were excited and looking forward to finding out which "family" they were going to be assigned.  They definitely had preferences.

We went about our merry way without them and late last night, we saw we had messages on the phone--we hadn't heard any of the phones ring--from Braeden.  He said, "Emma is sick," then another message, "We are coming home."  We tried to call back the number on our cell phones but to no avail.

We had a lot of questions.

Finally at midnight, Braeden called to say they were 3 1/2 hours away.  Emma had heat stroke and was doing better in the air conditioned car.  We hung up the phone and prayed for them and for the man driving them.  I sort of went back to sleep but woke up a lot and Adam went downstairs to hold vigil.

They stumbled in at 3:30, having not slept in the twenty-two hours since they left home.  They were exhausted and not too communicative but here's what I surmised:

It was hot.  110 degrees.  Emma was fine and trying to drink a lot of water but towards the end of their day's walk, she felt sick.  She had a terrible head-ache.  A leader went to find Braeden because Emma was unresponsive to his questions.  Braeden had her lie down and he stroked her head and talked to her.  She was given Tylenol.  Janet came by and hugged Emma.  Braeden's eyes filled with tears and he said, "I need a hug too."  So Janet gave him one too.

Braeden loves his sister but he also loves Janet.  All our children do.  I think having her there and knowing we're moving to a place without ready access to Janet, brought emotions to the surface.  This isn't the first time I've been grateful to her for stepping in to mother them on my behalf.

They were taking the sick people--Emma wasn't the only one--to the base camp.  Emma didn't want to go.  She didn't want to be weak.  Braeden, hoping it would help her, convinced her to go.  He said, "Will you go if I go with you?"

She said yes.

He went to get his things and then Emma started throwing up.  Braeden held her hand while they rode in the back of a bumpy pickup truck.  He stayed with her and convinced well meaning women who were trying to get her to eat that she really didn't feel like eating.  I'm not sure everything that transpired--and they are still fast asleep so I can't get details--but a man was driving back home because he needed to work.  It was determined that Emma could ride home with him if Braeden came too (for the sake of propriety and just good sense).  Braeden readily agreed.

Last night, Emma cried.  She felt bad about coming home.  I reminded her of the preparation she had taken.  She'd done the prescribed practice walks, she'd diligently tried to drink lots of water in preparation.  Give Emma a specific assignment and she'll do it.  My heart ached for my sweet girl.  Sometimes our human frailties just get in the way.  After she had gone to bed and I was plying Braeden for information.  I said, "Were you unhappy to come home?"

He said, "No.  She was really sick, Mom.  I was worried about her."

I said, "But are you disappointed?"

"Yeah, a little.  But she needed me."

Earlier in the day I had grumped about Braeden.  In our house, that is supposed to be remaining perfect so we can sell it (Ha ha, I know.  Good luck.), he had left for youth conference with his clothes scattered on the floor of his bedroom.

Sitting next to my tenderhearted boy last night and recognizing all over again that the soul housed in his big, accident prone body is finer than probably any of us deserve, I marveled at the loving Heavenly Father who gave me the gift of this son.

He can leave his clothes on the floor whenever he wants.

(Not really.)

Vacuuming the school room

We've been working like maniacs trying to get our house ready to list.  It's exhausting and overwhelming work but the upside is that it effectively kept my brain busy so I didn't have time to think too much.

The school room was the last room we cleaned because it was a holding area for stuff from every other room that needed to be dealt with.

When we were finally done and I was vacuuming the school room, I started to think.

I taught my children to read, add and subtract numbers, and to love history in that room.  I comforted Braeden when he wailed because he had to learn the intricacies of English grammar.  I comforted Emma when she couldn't form her letters more perfectly than humanly possible.  I comforted Mark when he had to...have school.

I cajoled them to do their best, I applauded their efforts, I snapped at them impatiently when they weren't paying attention, I read to them, I saw lights go on in their minds when they grasped concepts.  It all happened in that room.

I felt like I was vacuuming sacred ground.

We will have a school room in our new house.  It is just a tiny bedroom down a hallway.  It won't be the centerpiece and heart and soul of the new house.  The other two go to public school now and Mark is almost done being homeschooled so we don't need a room like that anymore.

Life's about changing.

I will remember that school room though.  It was the backdrop for the refiner's fire of my mothering.  I taught my children there but I know I learned more than they did.



P.S.  I added some pictures Braeden took on his hike with friends if you want to scroll down and look at yesterday's post.  The pictures put a lump in my throat...

The don't fall in holes talk

Yesterday Braeden and a flock of his friends--a diverse group, friends from school, church and Denmark--went to the ice caves for a hike.  They were completely autonomous (besides borrowing my van--I warned them I like my van more than I like Braeden.  They all sort of laughed like they knew I was joking but looked at me carefully like, "Is she joking?").  They stopped at the store for food on the way; they stopped at the ranger's station to buy themselves a pass to park in the state park.

I'm trying to strike a balance between letting our kids soak up time and experiences with their friends before we go and getting them to help me.  Because they're big.  Especially Braeden.  That kid makes short work of all things heavy that need to be carried.

Before the boys left, I gave them individually and collectively a lecture on staying away from the ice caves so they don't die if the ice caves happen to collapse.  Jadon said, "Oh!  A don't fall in holes talk," as if that explained everything.

I said, "I don't know what that is."

He said, "It's when you give a lecture to someone that they should be smart enough to figure out anyway but you still give it."

I said, "Welcome to motherhood."

Don't fall in holes talks are my life.

The boys left, a boisterous and buoyant group.  They were happy to be together and happy to be heading out sans mothers and their lectures.  I'm glad they have each other and a day in the sunshine.  I'm glad they all came home unscathed.

I'm really going to miss those boys.

Stole some pictures off Braeden's phone: the long arm selfie...

...and some gorgeous scenery.

Writing about something

I think most (all?) of the people that read my blog may already know this, but we are moving!

We are moving.

To Utah.

It became official about a week ago and I think it still doesn't seem 100% real.

For at least a year, I've been praying that Adam's situation at work would improve.  He hasn't had the best situation and there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it except pray.  So I did.

(This isn't really what I had in mind.)

In an unrelated matter, we also decided to look for a different house.  We wanted something with a bigger kitchen and more family gathering spaces.  More garage space too.  We looked and found a house that fit the bill.  On the day we were set to make an offer on the new house, things really went south for Adam's job and he heard (again) from a former boss that had moved to Utah and wanted Adam to work for him.  We decided to put the house hunting on hold and look at everything.  I had been praying to know if buying that house was the right thing to do.

(This isn't really what I had in mind.)

It feels like a whole series of things fell into place to make moving to Utah a reality.  It was nothing we sought but it's almost like it sought us.

Some people take vacations and go on roller coasters.  We have had our own stay-cation emotional roller coaster this summer.  Conflicted emotions have abounded.  I can't speak for everyone, although I can see the distress on their faces at times and the excitement shining in their eyes at other times, but as for me, I've been all over the place.

I love our home.  We've been very happy here.  We have a 13+ year store of memories and traditions and living among tall trees and seeing green everywhere we look.  We have family here and fabulous friends.  We have organizations we're a part of (my writing group! my book club!) and there are just people who know us.

This weekend I was at the grocery store and saw a lady who knows Adam's mom.  She greeted me warmly and said, "I thought I saw your handsome sons!"  (Braeden and Mark had walked ahead of me.)

It's nice to live somewhere where random and vague acquaintances know who your handsome sons are.

Perhaps the most heart-rending part of all of it is that it is Braeden's.  Senior.  Year.  Who takes their son away on the cusp of his senior year?  Witnessing my children telling their friends we're moving and their friends' faces reflecting back sadness all around pretty much breaks my heart.

On the other hand, when I hear Adam, who has been discouraged about work lately, talk with excitement and interest about his new job prospect, I feel really happy.  I feel like my prayers were answered.

And then did I mention my family?

We are going to live ten minutes from Ammon and Melanee.

Ten.

Minutes.

Tabor and Katie are four hours from our new home.

My parents and the rest of my siblings are four hours away in a different direction.  It's going to be amazing.  I haven't lived in any sort of proximity to my family for seventeen years.

I am looking forward to being within an hour of my dear grandma.  I hope to visit her and help her regularly.  I owe her for a lifetime of being one wonderful grandma.

So there it is.  Writing about it makes it more real.  So I'd better go get to work.

Dressing for success

There are big changes happening around here.  I'm not quite ready to write all about it yet but soon enough I will be (and then I probably won't be able to stop).

Mark is a happy go lucky youngest child 90% of the time and then he gets a stomach ache and declares himself stressed.  He enumerates all the changes on his horizon all the way up to Braeden going on a mission (which won't happen for a year).

At such times I do my best to talk him down.  I told him that the weather changes all the time and there's nothing we can do to stop it.  We have to adapt and wear clothes that are right for the unavoidable changes in the weather.   I have heard there is a Norwegian saying, "There is no bad weather, only bad clothes."  I told Mark, "You don't want to wear shorts and t-shirts all the time just because you don't want the weather to change.  It won't help.  Sometimes you need to wear a coat."  I promised him we can adapt to changes.  He threw his arms around me in a tight hug and then started talking about the sonic screwdriver he wants to buy with his allowance money.

The following conversation took place in the last few days:

Mark: There will be durassic changes.

Emma: You mean drastic?

Me: Yeah, not Jurassic, there won’t be dinosaurs.

Mark: There won’t NOT be dinosaurs.

So we'll adjust to the dinosaurs.  What do you wear in the case of dinosaurs?

Keeping the habit

Here's me, still trying not to fall off the blogging wagon.  I love to blog.  I love to write.  I want to keep the habit.

Sometimes I have a lot to say and sometimes I don't.  Well, I always have a lot to say, just sometimes I don't know how to say it.

In the meantime, here are some things to be grateful for.  When in doubt, if I'm grateful, I feel better.

This will be a memorable summer for big and small reasons.  Today I celebrate the small.  I like the way Braeden climbs in bed next to us when he gets home late from a social engagement.  He makes me scoot over to make room for him so he can tell us about his adventures.  I'll always make room for him.  I like the small cleverness Emma adds to everything.  She is a thinker with a quick wit and that's a dazzling combination.  I like the way Mark is always making a scheme, mostly involving things he wants to buy.  (I just nod and say "that's interesting.")  I like how he is increasingly able to hold his own amongst his siblings with his own clever wit.  I like giving him problems to solve and sitting back and watching him go.

I like Adam too.  A whole lot.  Last night he showed us a clip of an 18 year old boy with cystic fibrosis who was able to play in the Sounders soccer game because of the Make A Wish foundation.  Adam's eyes got teary when the stadium of over 60,000 people were cheering for the boy.  I love that about him.

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

Marcel Proust

Sometimes boys are awesome

On Tuesday night Adam and two other leaders took a bunch of boys on a bike ride.  They're preparing for their scout high adventure activity next month where they'll ride their bikes a long distance.  I've been told the distance but I can't remember.  It's longer than I would want to go, I know that much.

My job was to drop Adam and a few boys off at the church and then pick them up later at the park.  They were joining the older boys and their leader at the park to play frisbee hockey.  In the time I had between venues I went to the pool to watch Braeden finish up his swim lessons.  (Then buy him dinner.)  I love watching Braeden teach swim lessons.  He's always having a fabulous time.  He was teaching a little preschool group.  They were singing "The Wheels on the Bus" with abandon.  Braeden was singing his loudest.  He got a yellow floating tube and called it a banana and they had to swim with "big monkey arms" to the banana.  Then they all pretended to chomp on the tube which is sort of gross but they were all having a fine time.  He got a hula hoop which was a "ring of fire" they had to swim through.  The girl instructors next to Braeden were doing the same sort of things, but quieter.  I remembered the times we'd had boy babysitters when our kids were small.  It was loud and messy but the kids had a lot of fun.

We went to the park.  Of the four adult leaders there, no one had a frisbee.  Who was supposed to bring it anyway?  Nobody seemed to care.  They boys joined some other kids playing soccer.  One of the wives showed up with a frisbee and a game of Ultimate Frisbee ensued.  The men and a few boys were on one team against the rest of the boys.  There was no coddling, there was fierce competition.  The men were ahead and rubbing it in.  I couldn't help but contrast the difference between that activity and how women and girls would have been instead.

For one thing, someone would have had a frisbee.  Possibly a back up frisbee too.  There would have been refreshments (probably a tablecloth) and structure, structure, structure.  They would have made sure all the girls were feeling included and not getting their feelings hurt.  I'm glad to be a girl; I like the way we do things.  (I like refreshments.)  I had to admire the boys too though.  Without exception every man and boy had an enormous grin on their face.

Men and women are different and I think that's wonderful.  We need each other.  

Swamped

The other day Mark said to me:  I have people to see, places to go.  I am a busy guy.  I'm surprised I have had time for this conversation.

Sometimes I don't know what to say.

Princess Potter

Last summer Emma tried to read all seven Harry Potter books in seven days. 3,674 pages.  She finished at 1:20 a.m. on the eighth day so she considered that a failure.  (I tried to convince her it wasn't because she didn't start at midnight on the first day.  She didn't believe me.)  When you make up your own challenge, you make up your own rules.

Last week she tried again.  She finished at 7:30 on Saturday evening, well within her desired time frame.  I visited her several times during her reading to check her progress, I'd call her Princess Potter and try to get her to do something else with her eyes.  She still had to help a little around the house but she mostly read and read and read.

She said she still saw words when she closed her eyes.

At the end she cried.  She said things made her cry throughout that she'd never cried at before--like when Mrs. Malfoy loved Draco more than she feared Voldemort.  Emma didn't know why she cried.

I do.

Because she has a mother heart.  Someday she'll love her own children.  Even more than she fears Voldemort or any other scary thing.  Watch out if you get between a mother and her babies!

I'm glad Emma's back from her reading.  If for no other reason, I missed her texts:

 

Reading can make you tired...

Braeden and a half

In the morning when Braeden was at work, Emma and Mark were weeding in the flower beds with me.  I made them promise they'd never be 17 1/2.

Braeden is and it's too much.

He worked a lot of the day but in the time he was home, mid-day, we went to lunch at Alfy's.  I ordered three pizzas to accommodate his favorites.  He told me I made him feel really special and then I had him refill my soda because I didn't want him to feel that special.

This week he broke our couch by flopping his six foot three inch body on it and he left his clean laundry around one too many times so he is now the master of his own laundry domain.

He's not perfect.

He is pretty great though.

I love how friendly and happy and loyal Braeden is.  He can be counted on to rise to the occasion when it matters most.  He has a ready (and loud) laugh.  He's kind to children and he is witty and bright and a creative speller.

And he's my boy.

For dinner he wanted to have the Jorgensens over.  David came home from his mission to Taiwan this week which was a thrill around here.  Here's maybe one of the best pictures I've ever seen, stolen from Facebook.  It's Janet and David at the airport:

I cry every time I see this picture of my beautiful friend and her boy.  It's a picture that captures a story.  It's a story of a good and strong mother who loved her boy and let him go.  She watched him soar then welcomed him back with gratitude and relief and a whole lot of love.

It's my favorite kind of story.

I had to convince my boys it was not OK to go visit David the afternoon he got home.  Mark went anyway, under the guise of a bike ride.  Just like Janet is my hero, David is theirs and how can I fault them for that?  If my boys are going to want to emulate someone, David's a good choice.

When I saw David, I told him he was a sight for sore eyes.  He was.  I first met him on the day we moved in our house over ten years ago.  He was there with his dad to help us.  You've got to love someone who shows up to help you move.

We had a lovely dinner, chatting and laughing and just enjoying.  As changeable as things can get, the Jorgensens and us, that won't change.

By the time Braeden and Leif returned from work, things got louder.  It was the tall tan boys with their music and stories and laughter taking over the world.  I loved it.

We sang happy birthday (and the Jorgensens' harmony classed us up a bit):

I should have taken more pictures.  This one fills me up with joy though.

Happy half Birthday dear Braeden.  I love you, even though you insist on growing up...

Amidst the moth balls

Olivia wondered why I haven't been writing and I said my mind was moth eaten.

I kind of doubt that's technically true...I hope that's not technically true.

Here's something for you Olivia:

I am trying to put random stuff in a random scrapbook and I came upon a pile of things from the trip we took to London.  Emma was just barely nine.  And sassy.

I found this note she apparently gave me on the trip:

Dear Mom,

I need to write this or you'll get yelliosuss.  (I am guessing that's her version of thinking I'd yell at her.  Which I would never do.  Since I'm a perfect mother...)

I don't think you get the whole point of gift shops or you wouldn't disgustedly say, "What would you even do with it?"  Well, do you see how it's "gift-shop" and not "extremely useful thing-shop"?  You must not, or you might let us get stuff, (especially things we buy for others!) with our own money.

Sincerely,

Emma

I started laughing when I found it this afternoon and I went to show Emma.  She laughed too and then she said, "I'm sorry, Mom.  I'm really sorry."

And it's OK.  Because I'd rather have my Emma just the way she is than any other sort of Emma.

Here are my babies on the trip. 

climbing on the lion at Trafalgar Square

They were so little and cute.  Maybe I should have let them buy what they wanted.

What I've been thinking about

My friend Heather posted this on facebook:

I can't stop thinking about it.  I love the message of relying on your capabilities rather than your circumstances.

My mind takes it a step further too.  I can't help thinking that its message is to rely on the Lord.  I don't just have to rely on these wimpy wings of mine.

Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.

Isaiah 41:10

Living deep

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life...

 Henry David Thoreau

Our nephew Jackson got tickets to a Mariner's game from his dentist.  Good seats!  Adam volunteered to take him.  Mark and Jackson could sit in Jackson's seats and Adam would buy tickets for him and me.  We debated the cheap seats vs. close proximity to the boys.

In the end, I'd like to say that it was all about wanting to take good care of our charges, but I think it was just us, wanting to soak it all in and enjoy some Seattle.

Adam bought us seats on the 6th row.

And he paid to park in the garage.

I asked him who he was and what he'd done with my husband.

I loved the seats though.  Here's the first pitch:

 

It was one of those perfect Seattle summer nights.  The temperature was sublime, the garlic fries were sublime, the crazy people in front of us were entertaining.  (I surreptitiously snapped a picture of them on my phone and sent it to Braeden...because who wears a kimono to a baseball game?  And chants, "We want a pitcher, not a belly itcher!"  Also, the guy got a little racist when he'd had a few beers but the crowd shut him down pretty effectively.)

I loved being next to Adam.  We held hands and he explained stuff to me.  He told me about a player on the Twins who'd left Seattle because the player thought he was worth more money than Seattle would pay.  When the player was up to bat, I heard men all around us explaining to the women they were with why everyone was booing.  Good thing those guys listen to sports radio so we don't have to.

Mark and Jackson were several rows behind us.  Occasionally we'd turn around to make sure they were still around.  Eventually, sometime after Mark broke a tooth on some kettle corn (!), they came down and joined us.  (Coincidentally, Mark has a dentist appointment tomorrow.  Also the broken tooth doesn't hurt.  We're waiting til tomorrow...)

Mark and Jackson were hilarious.  On the drive there, we were listening to music and commenting on the pathetic nature of Bruno Mars' songs.  They started talking and eventually I had to ask them what was so funny.  Jackson told a scenario about driving along and saying to your girlfriend, "That's where my ex lives."

The girlfriend would say, "Hey, that's my house."

Then you'd say, "Exactly.  Get out."

These boys.

Seattle ended up winning which was icing on the cake.  Even if they'd lost, I'd have felt like I'd won though.  Because I was with these guys.

Braeden

this is Braeden eating pita chips and I had to take a picture of him because I wanted to show him how green his eyes looked

We left Braeden behind at Banks Lake to ride back to Everett with his uncle because Braeden had to work.  It was traumatic for various reasons.  One of them was because I didn't want to leave Braeden behind.  We're not us without him.  We need him.  I need him.  And he's growing up.

Waaaaaaaaaaah.

I don't want him to stay home forever and never progress.

I don't want him to leave me.

I don't want to get used to him being apart from us.

I don't want to be devastated all my life.

I'm a lot of fun to be around.

Throughout our trip, when I would talk to Braeden he was upbeat.  He was happy.  He was supportive.  He was all the wonderful things that make him Braeden.  He watered everything growing while we were gone, he mowed the lawn and checked the mail.  I was proud of his responsible, helpful and willing Braeden-ness.

On the morning of the 4th of July, he texted us this:

It's what he wore to our ward's 4th of July breakfast.  It was at a park and I'm pretty sure he was the only person wearing a tie.  I also love that the dishwasher was open.  We got home that day and I'm pretty sure there was some deathbed repentance/cleaning the house going on.

Emma texted him back this picture (from our hotel room):

 

Braeden answered with this (which is from awhile ago and I can't explain it):

Then Emma sent this:

As long as those two have cell phones and include me on the group texts, I'll be OK.

The happiest of happy

All of my siblings, my parents, my grandma and some more family and friends all went to the Jordan River Temple.  Marianne and Robert have adopted Morgan, who I would say is in the running for cutest kid in the universe.  They were sealed to him in the temple.  He's part of the family forever and we couldn't be happier.

Sitting in the temple, I realized that I'm never happier than when I'm there.  The peace and perspective and just joy of the place are incredible.  I loved being there with all my people.  We passed the Kleenex; we all have excess water in our heads apparently.

Here they are:  some of the best people I know.

Below, they're pictured with Rebecca as well.  She is the darling dark haired girl and she lives with Marianne and Robert too.  (I mean, wouldn't you?)  She and Emma babysat 14 little ones while the rest of us were at the temple.  They're pretty much heroes.

Robert doesn't normally sport a beard...it's because they're going to be in the Nauvoo pageant and it makes him look legit.

I loved sitting around and talking with everyone.  I loved shopping with my sweet nieces.  I loved being related to the cutest kids in the universe.

I haven't been great at taking pictures but here are Savannah and Marcos when we celebrated her birthday.

Is it even legal to be that cute?

Some of the stuff

My blogging may be hit and miss in the next little while.  A lot is going on.

A lot.

Here is some of the stuff that's been happening.

We left home and drove over the mountains.  It was gorgeous.

snapshot out front windshield

I love driving with Adam.  I love talking and laughing and listening to music.  He told me all about soccer which led us to talk about the soccer player that is a biter.  (?) followed by (!) and then a little more (?)

That led to me telling him about when I was in second grade and a boy with some disabilities bit my back while we were playing kissing tag at recess because he didn't understand.  Adam said, "Kissing tag?"

I said, "Yeah.  Kissing tag.  Didn't you ever play kissing tag?"

Apparently not.

I explained to him about how the boys chased the girls and if they caught them they kissed them.  The next year I remember playing kissing tag and some of the boys brought ropes and would rope the girls then kiss them.  This was all a little astounding to Adam and I guess looking through grown up eyes it is.  He made a comment about gender roles in my school.  Yeah. 

In the defense of Wells Elementary School, the teachers did put a stop to the rope thing...

We went to Banks Lake which is by the Grand Coulee Dam.  The Grand Coulee Dam pretty much knocked my socks off.  (Although I didn't take socks and I had to borrow Adam's when my feet got cold and they looked funny and saggy on my feet.)

It was huge and impressive and did I mention huge?  It's hard to grasp how big.  It's as tall as the Space Needle though.  Also, you could take the concrete from it and make a four foot wide sidewalk that would circle the world twice.  So yeah, it's big.

To give an idea of size, I pointed out where the people are in the picture:

Adam's family was all at the lake too.

It must be said that I am a square peg in the Davis family of round holes.  I am not a good swimmer and I don't particularly like water or boats or wave runners.  Misfit city and I'm the mayor.  They are all very kind to me about it though.

I wasn't going to get involved at all but was convinced to go on the pontoon boat.   It was more fun than I had anticipated.  After a few hours I was ready for terra firma though.  Adam shuttled me back to shore on the back of a wave runner.  Wave runners sort of terrify me but I tried to be brave. I drove to a small park and found cell phone service and spent some nice time catching up with my sisters.  After that I stationed myself all dry and warm to read my book.  Adam came by on the wave runner and convinced me to hop on and go a little ways down the lake to where the rest of the family was.

It didn't matter to him that I'd changed into my jeans and was dry and warm.  I finally relented and rolled up my jeans and went with him.  As a bonus, my get-up managed to entertain everyone immensely.

I stole this picture from Whitney...she'd put it on Facebook. 

Doesn't everyone need that one weird relative that wears jeans on a wave runner?  Notice, Adam is also carrying my chair.  Maybe it was the first time someone rode a wave runner carrying a camp chair.

Maybe not though.

Books I read in June 2014

After a little hiatus from blogging, I have all sorts of things I could write and I'll eventually get to some of them.

First, what I read in June:

 Edenbrooke by Julianne Donaldson ***

On one of my days that I was sitting in the Snohomish library, writing, my friend Amy walked past.  She showed me this book and said, "Have you read this?" I said no.  She put it in my hands.  So I did the smart thing and checked it out.  Then it was picked as the book club book.   I enjoyed it.  It's set in the same time period as Jane Austen novels--regency?  It was no Jane Austen, a little lightweight and the characters weren't always true feeling.  It was overall entertaining though and that's why I read.

Crossing Caleb by Geraldine Brooks ***

This book was fascinating.  It's based on a native American man called Caleb who lived on Martha's Vineyard in the 1600s.  He was befriended and educated by Puritans also living on the island and eventually educated at Harvard.  The historical aspects of it were very interesting to me and so were the characters.  I had in mind a completely different ending but I guess you can't just change the story too much if you're writing about a real person.

B by Sarah Kay ***

This book is a poem and I read it in about 3 minutes.  It's a message to a daughter so after I read it, I handed it to Emma and she read it.  We both liked it.  It's nothing earth shattering but we liked it.