Only Book Club With People You Love

So you joined a book club.  And it's your turn to pick.  Your ideal title?  One that's not too serious but not too light, right in the sweet spot of what you'd enjoy and what you think others would enjoy too.  You search and search, but it isn't easy.  You've read this one, the others wouldn't like that one, and this one is about aliens.  Wait, what's this?  A New York Times bestseller and, oh look, the 2021 book club pick of the summer!  Plus, it's by an author you already know and love.  You click Add to Cart, feeling virtuous and even a little smug about what a good choice you've made.  But then again, you know books.  You've been a reader all your life.  You brought books to the playground, you majored in English.  You've got this.

And then one of the other book club members starts reading the book and tells you that there's something in it that'll upset another member.  And you're suddenly feeling all of the things, none of them good.  Your confidence in your ability to recognize quality literature has been shaken.  What's more, now you know how the others felt when you were so put off by The Guest List that you couldn't even finish it.  

Obviously, the "you" in this story is me, and the person who couldn't read my book was my mom or sister.  I'm not going to tell you which, nor will I reveal the title of my bad apple pick.  Partly because I don't want to open that door, but mostly because I protect the privacy of my nearest and dearest better than my own.  When I told the husband what happened, he said that 1) (without any prompting) I know good books (I knew I married him for a reason!), and 2) unless all we read is comics, this is going to keep happening.  He is, of course, right.  As was I when I said that reading is a very personal thing in last year's hard-hitting My Book Club, My Boyfriend.  

Nevertheless, this experience has forced me to grow.  There was a time when I'd cringe even after picking a movie that the other person didn't like.  So if nothing else, then being in a book club has ripped the Band-Aid right off that nonsense.  It also reminds me that other people have nonnegotiables and triggers too, and that we all need to be sensitive to each other's needs.  Still, I don't think I could be in a book club with anyone who isn't family.  Because although my mom and sister and I may sometimes disagree, there's no malice under it.  They're a safe space because they're my people.  And if I'm going to discuss books -- and all the baggage and emotions that come with that -- then I want to do it with people I love.        

That said, I'll still read my slush pile selection.  

I'll just keep it between me, myself, and I -- a.k.a. my book club of one.    

A Key West Christmas, Christmas isn't Over Until Mrs. Claus Sings, and Other Random Holiday Things

Sweater: Kohl's

Fabulous Felt Pink Palm Tree Barrette

The Christmas palm tree is finally ablaze!  And January 2 or not, I couldn't help but snap a pic next to it in last year's flamingo sweater.

My New Year's Eve ensemble was quieter.  Unless you count the uncorked pop of my champagne bottle purse.  (Speaking of which, there was a fizzy, noisy mess when the husband opened the sparkling cider.  Perhaps the grocery delivery people enjoyed a game of catch -- or just pulled a prank -- with it.)  To celebrate, my parents came over.  We had takeout, took in a Jim Gaffigan special, and then turned on New Year's Rockin' Eve to watch the ball drop.  Also, there were hats.  

Sweater: Macy's

Go for the Golden Girl Necklace

As for my old Go for the Golden Girl Necklace, I'd planned to wear it even before I heard about Betty White's passing.  Which turned out to be weird but fitting.

And that, dear readers, is a wrap on the holiday season.  

At least until the carnival-level revelry of Groundhog Day.  

Tree Hug Mug

Boots: 2 Lips Too, Zulily

Tan Folksy Fringe Barrette

Blue bangle and rings: Mixit, JCPenney; Bag: JCPenney; Sunglasses: Party City; Yellow bangles: B Fabulous

Dress: Lily Rose, Kohl's

Best West Necklace

Camisole: Planet Gold, Macy's

Brown bracelet: B Fabulous; Mustard necklace: Cloud Nine, Ocean City; Wristlet: Betsey Johnson, Marshalls; Ring: Boscov's; Beaded necklace: Francesca's; Sunglasses: Zulily; Beaded bracelet: Hallmark; Bird bracelets: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Boots: Penny Loves Kenny, Amazon

Bag: Amerileather, Zulily; Scarf: Echo, Macy's; Flower brooch: Mixit, JCPeneny; Ring: Mixit, JCPenney; Floral bangle: JCPenney; Maroon bangle: Iris Apfel for INC, Macy's; Red bangle: B Fabulous; Teal necklace: Macy's

Top: Polly & Esther, Macy's

Lady Love Bug Necklace

Jeans: Candie's, Kohl's

If I Dreamed a Desert Barrette Brooch

Boots: Penny Loves Kenny, Amazon

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's; Yellow bracelet: So, Kohl's; Fally bracelet: Walmart; Bag: T-Shirt & Jeans, Amazon; Belt: Steve Madden, Zulily; Ring: Charlotte Russe; Charm bracelet: Strawbridge & Clothier

Dress: Lily Rose, Kohl's

Fall is a fine time to honor the trees.  Even if 1) Arbor Day is in April and 2) Jim Gaffigan says that looking at the fall foliage is like crashing the trees' hospice (this is real; Google it).  So that's why I'm smirking at a tree trunk, dressed like a hippie, in outfit pic number two.  

That said, the leaves are late in turning this year.  Probably because of global warming.  But I can fix that.  Not global warming -- I'm not Al Gore -- but the lack of forest finery.  Or, if not fix, then craft a semi-suitable stand-in.      

That's right.  Felt -- if not help -- is on the way.  So stay tuned, if not pruned, until next time. 

Toilet Paper Caper

These days, caper doesn't mean what it used to.  Just as excitement over toilet paper no longer means "decorating" your neighbor's house.  Now it's all about snagging some Charmin before your next bathroom incident.  And everyone's in on the search and the success stories.  On a recent episode of "Jimmy Kimmel Live!," Kimmel's three-year-old son burst through a fortress of heard-won rolls.  On Jim Gaffigan's YouTube channel, Gaffigan's head pops up from a sea of two-ply.  Finally, my Pinterest feed is, ahem, clogged with products boasting "I survived the toilet paper crisis of 2020!".  Well, I'm not Jimmy Kimmel or Jim Gaffigan.  But I am a person.  And I'm thrilled to share my own tp coup (while, for some reason, dressed like backwoods Barbie).  This is how it unraveled. 

I was trolling Walmart.com for essentials (i.e. another half dozen boxes of Nature Valley almond butter bars), when I pessimistically typed "toilet paper" into the search box.  I was expecting to see the usual toilet paper roll stands (such a tease!).  So, when Northern appeared on my screen, I couldn't believe it.  Northern, a brand I never even buy, suddenly seemed like the most beautiful word in the world.  It made me think of idyllic Scandinavian fishing villages, the northern lights, and, of course, not having to delve into my party paper napkin supply for intimate use.  I wasted no time adding two 12-packs to my cart; I'd been foiled before by waiting even a minute too long on the likes of Target.com.  Yet even after I completed the order, I had my doubts.  In this age of mass shortages, it was entirely possible that I'd get one of those sorry-not-sorry emails informing me that my Northern order had, well, gone south.  I'd been there before, you see (I'm talking to you Target), and like a jilted lover, I'd hardened my heart.  But no such email arrived and then, just two days after the estimated delivery date, the Northern landed on my doorstep with all the unlikely magic of a unicorn. 

More than anything, this hysteria over toilet paper shows that the COVID-19 pandemic has been something of an equalizer.  When even celebrities are clamoring to maintain personal hygiene normalcy, it makes you realize that we really are all in this together.  And that we all put our pants on one leg at a time.

And now, thanks to Northern (and Walmart!), my legs can be blessedly clean.

I'm So Hungry I Could Eat a Horse . . .

 Plucky Poultry Necklace

 Cheery Double Cheeseburger Change Purse

Dress: Zulily

Sweater: Macy's

Shoes: B.A.I.T., Zulily

Bag: Apt. 9., Kohl's

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

. . . should've been the name of Jim Gaffigan's tour instead of Fixer Upper.  The husband and I have long been fans of the pasty Midwestern food comedian and were psyched to snag tickets to his show in Atlantic City a couple of Saturdays ago.  I loved his books, and we both watched The Jim Gaffigan Show on TV Land.  So, we were all set for an evening of monologues on McDonald's and Krispy Kreme.  You can imagine our consternation, then, when Jim launched into a bit about . . . horses.  Horse races, jockeys, horse owners who seem like they've never met their cash cows in those blue ribbon photos.  The inhumane nature of horseshoes.  The idiocy of the phrase horseback riding because, where, other than the back, are you going to ride?  He even said that no one in the audience would know if he was lying about any of it or not because we were all from Philly and had probably never even seen a horse (and no, he didn't make a pun about Philly and fillies, although I don't know why the hay not).  It was kind of weird.  But also kind of awesome.  You know, in its weirdness.  (The husband really liked it and said he thought that there weren't enough horse jokes.)  He did sign off on a Hot Pockets note, though, so all was right with the fun-with-food world.

Horse or no horse, I can't do a Jim Gaffigan post without fashion featuring food.  So, order up on this Cheery Double Cheeseburger Change Purse and Plucky Poultry Necklace.  To echo the sentiments of fellow funnyman Joel McHale's The Soup, Chat Stew segment, So meaty!

Here's a not-so-short-story about Plucky Poultry.  The pendant is a dollhouse miniature, and when I first saw it, I thought that it was a lobster instead of a chicken.  And I thought, oh, that's perfect, because: 1) Whenever I'm working on something that involves glue and I leave it to dry, I keep checking on it to make sure that the glue's doing its thing, and when I do this, I (silently) refer to it as "checking the lobster pots."  Why, I don't know.  Maybe because it's folksy and strange and makes me feel like I'm doing something as high stakes as battling sharks for my dinner.  (Similarly, whenever I publish a post, I think of it as "releasing the doves."  Like at the wedding of a pesticide heiress or the funeral of a B-list pop star.)  2) Lobster makes me think of Maine and summertime fish fries.  Which makes me think of that part in Legally Blonde where Elle Woods gets to Harvard and asks for her calendar of social events and the preppy orientation guy glares at her, and she says you know, clambakes, trips to the Cape? before giving up and asking where she can find Warner Huntington III, at which point Preppy cracks, try the lido deck.  3) And finally, this crustacean-that-wasn't made me think of Jim's hatred of seafood, or, as he refers to it in Food: A Love Story, "seabugs."  (Which checks out, I guess, Indiana not being known for its shrimp cocktail.).  But this faux food charmer isn't a lobster.  It's a chicken.  Which has nothing to do with summer, Legally Blonde, or Jim Gaffigan's disgust of bottom feeders.  If anything, it's a distant cousin of Thanksgiving.  Which, come to think of it, is right in Jim's wheelhouse (elastic waist pants, Middle America fare in economy-size quantities, naps).  Which means that we've come full circle.

Just like a pumpkin pie . . . or Kentucky Derby wreath.

Movie Moment: (Kicking Off the Fall Movie Line-up With) Going the Distance

It was a beautiful, sunny Labor Day weekend Sunday - which meant, of course, that I wanted to go to the movies. I hadn't been for the last couple of weekends and was feeling the void. So, on our way home from my sister's apartment (the bf and I had stayed there last night after attending our friend's [her best friend's] wedding), we stopped off to see Going the Distance, which had opened Friday. Undoubtedly, you've seen the commercials. Distance stars real-life couple Drew Barrymore and Justin Long. (They're an on-again/off-again kind of duo, but according to my most recent Google update, they're currently "on.") Drew Barrymore plays Erin, a Stanford journalism student spending the summer in New York doing a newspaper internship, and Justin Long plays Garrett, a New Yorker working for a soulless record label. Garrett has a history of misunderstanding women and has never been in love, and Erin once dropped out of grad school for a guy who broke her heart (this explains why she's a 31-year-old intern). They meet at a bar (where Flight of the Conchords stalker Kristen Schaal pours the drinks) and get together for a fling. Six weeks later, when it's time for Erin to return to San Francisco, they realize they're in love. So, they try the long distance thing. Heartache peppered with raunchiness ensues, with Garrett's buddies (Charlie Day and Jason Sudeikis) trying to drown his sorrows in pitchers of beer and Erin's sister (Christina Applegate) unabashedly dispensing tough love advice.

So, was it what I expected? Not really. It was more serious than the trailers let on, and not a little wrenching. But I liked that about it, appreciating its commitment to keeping things real. I could especially identify with Erin, a writer looking for a job in a world where print journalism is dying. She tries to get a permanent position at the New York newspaper where she interned to no avail and meets with the same rejection at every other publication in the city. Finally, she's offered a job with a San Francisco paper. Garrett is less than pleased, they fight, and he ends up asking her to move in with him, in New York. Touched, she accepts, planning to continue waitressing until a writing job opens up. Her brother-in-law (Jim Gaffigan) suggests she start a blog. (She doesn't).

At the last minute, Garrett steps in and tells her she can't throw her life away and needs to take the job. She does. At the risk of sounding like a cliché, their breakup is very sad, a classic case of two people wanting different things. They each go on with their lives, but of course it's not the same. Then Erin receives tickets to see the band that she and Garrett first saw together. She goes, and of course he's there. He's ditched his dreaded job, become the band's manager, and now lives in Los Angeles, which is only an hour's plane ride away.

For a minute there, I thought it might be one of those movies where they don't get back together. Kind of like The Break-Up, or 500 Days of Summer. So, I was relieved that that wasn't the case. But I was also left thinking that San Francisco and Los Angeles are still kind of far away for maintaining a healthy relationship. (That's the cynic in me showing its colors). Anyway, at least it was a more realistic ending than if Garrett had, say, landed a job in San Francisco. I gave myself more closure by deciding that the ending was trying to say that successful relationships thrive on never-ending compromise. (Although the movie delivered the message in a much less cheesy way than I just did.)

Overall, I think Going the Distance was good and undeserving of its bad reviews. But that's just this humble viewer's opinion.