First of all, thank you for all of your book ideas. (If you are looking for something to read, check out the comments section of that post.) I am bringing the list to book club tonight to help us choose.
Fair’s fair, and since I asked what your favorite novel of all times is, I feel as if I should share mine. But wow, that’s a hard question to answer.
I have a long list of favorite books and authors, but I guess if I had to pick one book it would be Barbara Kingsolver’s “The Bean Trees”. I’ve read it several times- but not for years now- and discovering that little book opened up a whole new world of books and authors for me. Plus, I must have been about 19 or 20 when I first read it, so the “coming of age” aspect really hit home. I should read it again and see if it still holds that same magic…
Other authors/books I love: Wally Lamb, Richard Russo, all of Barbara Kingsolver’s books, Anne Lamott, Ruth Reichl, The Red Tent, A Million Little Pieces, Memoirs of a Geisha, Little Bee, Three Cups of Tea, and Water for Elephants.
I guess I wouldn’t say that’s my ultimate, lifetime-of-favorites list… more like things I’ve read in the last 10 years that I’ve loved the most. Actually, more like what-I-can-think-of-off-the-top-of-my-head.
Also, nearly every book I pick up is because someone I know (or someone I read) recommends it. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever just walked into a book store and browsed books and chosen one that I’d never heard of.
(It’s not too late to tell me about the books you love! That’s basically what I’m saying!)
Anyway, other things around here have been more-or-less the same. Kate is still crying every morning before school, still refusing breakfast. She’s sleeping better, and the intensity of her anxiety has waned a bit, I think, but no major improvements there.
I am feeling better (and more at peace) about the whole Breast Diabolical. It still worries me, and I’m still having a little insomnia and days without appetite. Overall, though, I’m just willing to ride this out. Whether or not that “thicken area” is cancer or pre-cancer is already drawn out in the cards, so worrying myself sick about it isn’t going to help. I’ll continue to be proactive and stay on top of it, but I can’t control the outcome. Ya know?
Oh, but hey. I did realize something about myself the other day. I STILL- after 34 trips around the sun- have trouble asking for and receiving help. With Kate, for example: I feel SO indebted to her teacher, to the school counselor, etc for having to “deal” with Kate and with me, for the time extra time it takes for them to email me etc. I just feel sooooo guilty for “taking up their time”.
What the hell is THAT all about? I mean, I know it’s their JOB, a job they get paid for… and yet.
(Please feel free to psychoanalyze me in the comments section.)
I am sitting on my screened porch on a really idyllic summer morning, typing all of this out. I feel happy. Content. Peaceful. Grateful. Calm.
In the moment, it seems as if a post about books, breasts, anxiety, asking for help, and a beautiful summer day makes perfect sense.
Funny how life is woven together like that.