No's the Answer

A number of evenings ago I read an enjoyable account of Beth Wareham, a woman who learned to say ‘no’. She says no in every imaginable arena and over every possible situation. And her point is that she’s happier and more productive than ever.

Glorious. I essentially told the Seattle Public Library ‘no’ in order to keep The Power of No; How to Keep Blowhards and Bozos at Bay in my possession long enough to read it (about a month past return date). It didn’t take long to read, it was just finding the time to sit with a book, which I find incredibly challenging in the height of summer. Of course, now it’s no longer the height and saying no to other exploits kept me home reading just long enough to learn how it’s done.

Wareham broke saying ‘no’ into various entertaining chapters. How to say ‘no’ to a boyfriend, a colleague, a boss, a friend, a stranger, a parent, a spouse, and a sibling are all just different enough to necessitate varied tactics. They might even require altogether different vocabulary. I myself remember a certain boss who yelled at me, “Don’t tell me ‘no’!” which I will admit having done…. I laughed then, and the situation was ludicrous enough that I still laugh about it now. Wareham doesn’t recommend my approach. Even I haven’t used it much since then. J

I was super surprised that she did recommend what I consider ‘playing games’ in relationships. Don’t answer phone calls, wait to return texts, etc. I hate that. Of course, I’m not in a relationship…. Oh well, apparently what I call considerate, Wareham calls too yessy.

Finally, after all outside influences have been slayed and silenced, Wareham focuses on how to say ‘no’ to oneself. It appears a straight-forward, you’re-not-fooling-anyone-here routine is the correct style. You don’t need peanut M&M’s or a new sun-dress were her clever and ubiquitous examples which, on my own level (ice cream and shoes), I rather understand.

When all is said and done it appears I have a handy familiarity with saying ‘no,’ and even though I employ many of the varied methods of communicating ‘no’ I’m not sure they’re at all equal. Wareham’s discussion has definitely brought choice new ways to say ‘no’ to my attention. Wonderful!

Good to be Great

I picked up The Curse of the Good Girl: Raising Authentic Girls with Courage and Confidence for three reasons: perfect cover design, excellent ‘advance praise’ on the back cover, and the author, Rachel Simmons, started what looked like an interesting program for girls and writes about her passion. There really is a fourth reason. I have nieces and teach girls in Sunday School, and I want to be prepared to give my girls the best possible encouragement.

The introduction, I realized was the author explaining in her own words the importance of the French phrase, etre bien dans sa peaux, which I have grown to love. Literally it means ‘to be well in your skin’ but what you want to get from it is a sense of ‘it’s my own self in my own body, and I like it.’ Simmons doesn’t go into French idioms, but she certainly supports the idea!

Now that I’ve read the book, however, I realize that Simmons’ main objective for someone who teaches girls or leads girls or mothers girls is that said woman herself est bien dans sa peaux. Yes, Simmons thinks the healthiest way for girls to become great, rather than just ‘good,’ is to be around people who are modeling how to be oneself. This reminds me of the Jewish rabbi who discovered that God was not asking him to be Moses, but to be himself. What a beautiful way of life to embrace.

Using an immense number of girls’ interactions that she documents from her summer programs, Simmons illustrates many essential communication rituals among girls which assure them that they are being good. Of course, with every example, she explains that it is impossible to actually be good, therefore the girls incessantly set themselves up for failure. And that is not good.

Good Girls don’t fight, so if a girl is in a fight with a friend, she’s not good. Good Girls don’t promote themselves, so if a girl asserts her abilities, she’s not good. Good Girls don’t make mistakes, so if a girl gets negative feedback from a coach, teacher, etc, she’s not good. These end up being strangle holds on girls, keeping them from really learning how to grow all the way up.

Simmons rightly differentiates between girls being social together and girls in relation to authority. She also identifies that girls themselves do not always properly draw that line between the girls and the adults. I have seen this particular issue with older girls who are about to be adults, but aren’t actually there yet.

Ultimately, Simmons’ goal is to encourage girls to become great, and leave good alone. The only way to be great is to discover who you are, to take risks, to have courage. Raise your hand even if you’re not sure about the answer. Be challenged and mobilized by change, not defeated. Be honest about your feelings. Pursue risk and adventure, for these, not the worry of failure, may “yield exhilarating leaps in growth.” (p90) Sounds good to me.

Le Cordon Bleu, hoo, hoo, hoo

Feeling blue? Well, ‘Ms Fleen’ might advise sharpening your knives. Or is that how it really works? Maybe I didn’t get it quite right.

I read Kathleen Flinn’s account of her academic year at Le Cordon Bleu, Paris, where she sought a degree in the culinary arts. I met Kathleen last summer at the University Farmer’s Market when I picked up my CSA box. She was a guest chef at the market and was promoting her book. I believe she was going to be making something with mushrooms. I know I stopped at one chef demo to look at mushrooms….

We had a conversation about the joys and rigors of a French culinary program. She gave me a postcard, I gave her a wave. Then, last week, my roommate comes home with a book she’d picked up at her friends’ (they were moving and chucking books). She saw The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry and thought I’d like it.

I was excited to read it and not have to pay for it. I was happy to be thought of by my roommate. I also still had the postcard, so it was an incredibly matched up book/postcard reading event. I liked that. You’d think this was going to be the greatest story with such a setup.

My inability to really pin down why it wasn’t the greatest is disappointing. I really ought to. Maybe since I essentially believe my program was more difficult, my life in Lyon more fascinating, and my love life less to brag about (I couldn’t take even one of my marriage proposals seriously that year) it just comes down to my not being that impressed. Perhaps Flinn’s journalistic training made it all too much like compiled notes rather than a great journey.

Without a stitch of training at the Cordon Bleu I defiantly deboned and stuffed a chicken tonight. Maybe someone will mention that in my obituary? It was delicious. Hmm, and now I’ve written a blog entry my life is, perhaps, complete?

Depression is Contagious

The Seattle Public Library, as ever, has the most incredible looking books on display. Depression Is Contagious is probably one that makes great sense in rainy, often dreary, Seattle. The cover was excellent, the quoted reviews glowing, and the stated premise one I often really wonder about.

I guess I’m about to enter touchy areas. I don’t take medication. I don’t think I’m depressed. Why would I read a book about how to combat depression while avoiding medication? There’s more to it than a good cover design, surely?

Yes, in the last few years I’ve met more and more people who talk openly or semi-openly about their bouts of depression. Most of them have at least tried anti-depressants. Every one of them acknowledges the significant mind altering effects of such medications. I wonder if I should qualify this by explaining that not all of them used these drugs under a doctor’s care….

Despite my personal ‘non-situation’ (thou doth protesteth too much)I found that there were things in this book that gave me a whole new perspective on mental health. Really fascinating exercises, questions, and scenarios. I know, I thought it would be more academic, and it ended up rather ‘self-help’ but in a good way.

I found that there were some serious loopholes in my interpersonal interactions which from time to time have knocked me out. I hadn’t identified them on my own, but can see a way to strengthen myself which can only lead to less emotional trouble down the road. I guess that’s a worthwhile read!

Meat Spectacular

A meat thermometer. I need one. I made meat loaf the other day, based loosely on Alton Brown’s online meatloaf recipe, and couldn’t even be sure of the internal temperature of my meat. Stuffing one’s finger into a meat loaf to check whether something’s cooked isn’t exactly the ideal, but I guess it has to pass.

Anyhow, it was pretty decent meat loaf. Alton adds lots of spices to his meat loaf, and I was happy to head that way, although I did tone down the cayenne pepper a little. So it had a little more heat than most meat loafs. It wasn’t so sweet as some, and it was fairly dense. I wonder if it shouldn’t have been a touch crumblier. But it sliced as easily as pate, which was a great advantage considering it went into sandwiches.

Where I really off-roaded on this recipe was with the meat. Yes it was meat, but Alton goes for a blend of ground chuck and sirloin. I used half ground beef, but then also had 25% each of ground pork and lamb. This makes the whole thing take on another aspect, which I was assured meant this was not merely meat loaf, it was meat spectacular.

Palace Walk

Based on the title and picture on the book cover, I was excited to read Naguib Mahfouz’ Palace Walk. On the third chapter, p18 of 500, I had reevaluated my feeling. By p49 the book discussion night came and that was that.

For reading, anyhow. The reality was that I could follow the discussion of the rest of the book without needing to even read it. None of it surprised me. It was all set up in the first few chapters.

Mainly we questioned what it was in 1980 that earned Mahfouz the recognition of becoming a Nobel Laureate in Literature based on this work. We do not know. The cover was very good, though.

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle

The Christmas before last I received a very large novel from my sister. I admired her taste in choosing a hip new story as well as the lovely cover, generally highly recommended author, and fine subject matter. She doesn’t realize this, of course, since it’s been sitting on my shelf for over a year. But, somehow, the books I own don’t feel as pressing to read. I don’t have to renew them. They’re here as long as I like them to be (with the sad, infrequent exception of books I lend out and never see again).

So, this year I resolved to read The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski before another season passed. This is a story with a fantastic title, a fantastic Prologue, a fantastic premise, and a fantastic execution. This made Christmas of 2008 good twice, first when I opened the present, and again when I read the story.

But it is long. It is one of those stories that take so many things into account, so that you feel filled up by it. I sat night after night with a cup of hot tea and my book for dessert. It is a rare treat, to find a story full and long and engaging enough to think about from time to time throughout the day in anticipation.

Beyond the telling, long and intricate of a boy, dogs, and family, the setting was stunning. I have visited Wisconsin and realize how that countryside is truly amazing. The added pleasure of scenery, with seasons, and action during the summer, even seemed to keep my toes toasty! My connection with the storytelling was so profound that I was traveling alongside Edgar and began to imagine knowing those roads and lakes as well as he.

Feeling enormous awe, as he communicated each command, each question, to the dogs, I admired Edgar Sawtelle’s coming of age. Without saying a word, his story is told, and as the end comes into sight it becomes clear why, at last, Stephen King would give this book such grand acclaim. Read, enjoy, cry, but certainly don’t let this book just sit on your shelf.