Sky High: Altitude Attitude

Ballroom Butterfly Necklace 

Dress: Zulily

Top: Kohl's

Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily

Bag: City Streets, J. C. Penney's

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Mustard bracelet: Cloud 9

Lavender bangle: Don't Ask, Zulily

Sunglasses: Target

"Butterfly in the sky, I can fly twice as high," is a song that every '80s kid knows.  Ah, LeVar Burton, "Reading Rainbow," and the wonder of books: good times and good memories!  That said, this post is about 1) a butterfly necklace (which, it seems, is a rainbow connection I've made before) and 2) a book about high-flying women.  For yes, we have lift-off with Fannie Flagg's The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion.  

"Huh?" you may be thinking.  "What does a gas station have to do with lady pilots?"  I know, I know, the title is misleading.  When I first read it, I imagined a nostalgia-fueled saga about a close-knit group of grease monkey gal pals reliving their glory days.  (By the way, when I was a toddler, I told my parents that I wanted to be a gas station attendant.  These days I won't even pump my own gas.  So much for dreams.)  But this novel isn't that.  Although it is super nostalgic.  It turns out that these gas pump-wielding women are sisters and WASPs.  No, not bees or White Anglo Saxon Protestants, but Women Airforce Service Pilots, an entity I never even knew existed until I cracked this book.  During World War II, these brave broads flew planes to "ferry" them to flight schools and deliver military supplies all over the United States.  They went through the same rigorous training as the male combat pilots but faced ridicule and discrimination.  As if this wasn't bad enough, flying was dangerous work, and some of them lost their lives.  Unfortunately, unlike their male counterparts, the WASPs received no recognition for their heroism, nor veteran benefits for their families.  In fact, they were forced to disband when male flight instructors convinced Congress that they were stealing their jobs.  Now, I have no desire to conquer the cockpit.  But the women who did deserved the chance to do so fairly.  Flagg does them justice, deftly and sensitively serving this slice of American history through the trials and tribulations of the Jurdabralinski sisters.  When their father becomes ill and their brother goes to war, they take over their family's filling station.  Then, they take to the skies.  The ringleader, Fritzi, gets her start as an airplane wing dancer.  As someone who's not too keen on flying in the first place, I find this mind-boggling.  How did she not fall off?!  

Still, this book isn't all life and death drama.  There's another side to the story.  And that's the side where it starts, in present-dayish, small town Alabama where housewife Sookie Poole lives.  When we meet Sookie, she's recovering from throwing four weddings as well as dealing with the everyday antics of her larger-than-life mother, Lenore.  A paradox of die-hard propriety and madcap rebellion, Lenore is a southern belle gone batty (although not in the clinical sense, unlike her loony bin-dwelling relatives).  Sookie is as cautious as her mother is brazen.  She worries about everyone's feelings and welfare, including that of the little birds in her yard whose food is usurped by blue jays.  A gentle soul to the core, she leads a quiet life.  This is why it comes as such a shock when she finds out that she's adopted.  And I do mean shock -- a southern lady through and through, Sookie faints upon reading the news in, of all things, a piece of mail.  Yet with the help of her husband and a kindly therapist, she puts aside her fears and decides to search for her birth mother.  And she discovers that she just may have the DNA of a WASP, showing her -- and us -- that women past and present are capable of all kinds of courage.  

Funny and poignant, The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion is a real page-turner, delivering all the warm-hearted and introspective feels that Flagg fans love.  It's these qualities that make the WASPs pop, humanizing an unsung and scary chapter in America's story.  That said, it's not surprising that The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion is also about family -- and protecting the people you love.  I think that's one of the things that most draws me to Flagg's books -- they offer a benevolent worldview and almost everyone in them is good, just like the Luke Bryan song says.  They remind you that the world can be kind and that happiness is possible. 

I was sad when this one ended.

The Nature of Reading and Rainbows

 Happy Hues Necklace

Cheerful Charm Necklace

Top: Macy's

Skirt: Vanilla Star, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag:  Uniquely Different, Etsy

Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Michaels

Barrette: The Tote Trove

When I woke up this morning, I wasn't sure what to post about yet.  Then I checked my emails and saw that there was a new post from Samantha at The Big Hair Diaries.  It was about nature and, as always, fun and insightful.  So much so that it inspired me to go with the nature theme I'd been kicking around.  Which kind of involves a book that's sort of about nature too.

A few weeks ago, I read a novel by a new (to me) author, Jenny Colgan, called The Bookshop on the Corner.  If I haven't said so already, one of my favorite things ever is curling up with a good book -- or even a not-so-good book. Truth be told, I read lots of so-so books that I never blog about. But that's okay. Because I don't read to learn something earth-shattering, or even to be amused or moved. If the book is that special, then it's a bonus. I read because I need to. It's my way of unplugging from and connecting to the world.  And that's something I can get from even the most mundane plots and basic bitch characters.

Anyway, The Bookshop on the Corner is about a librarian named Nina who lives in Birmingham, (England, not Alabama) and is on the verge of losing her job.  She's amazing at what she does -- she always knows just which book to recommend to each person, and she has so many books in her apartment that they're threatening to break through the ceiling -- but the thing is, people don't need libraries anymore.  At least not city people.  So, she stumbles through an interview for a media specialist position even though she has no idea what that is and predictably loses out to a slicker candidate.  Then her roommate, who's had enough of Nina's literary hoarding, kicks her out.  So Nina digs deep and asks herself what she wants to do with her life.

And the answer is . . . run a bookshop.  When she sees an ad for an old van for sale in Scotland, she thinks, why not a mobile bookshop?  She goes up there.  It's scary.  The challenge of doing something new, that is, not the place.  The place is bucolic and calming.  And in many ways, the situation is serendipitous.  The locals, who are farmers with little in the way of stores and entertainment, are eager to have Nina, and she needs a place to live.  One life-defining van accident later (you didn't see that coming, did you?), Nina is comfortably installed in a surprisingly sumptuous guest house apartment, driving her newly christened The Little Shop of Happy Ever After to swap meets and craft fairs to the delight of everyone she encounters.  Sure, there a few bad apples, but for the most part, her customers are nice, and Nina wants to get to know them.  As a result, she soon becomes enmeshed in the town and its dramas, transforming her from a mousy spectator into a, if not mouthy, then self-assured star.  Scotland's peaceful, green countryside (not to mention its farm fresh bacon and eggs) is the antidote to Birmingham's harsh hustle and bustle, and being surrounded by nature invigorates Nina in way that the concrete jungle never could.  She looks up at the sky and wonders how she could ever have lived in a city or limited her dreams to its claustrophobic skyscrapers.

In the end, it is this cleansing power of nature, as well as the love of a gruff-but-kind dude (did I mention that there's a dude?) that leads Nina to -- spoiler alert -- just what she's looking for.  Which is, of course, lovely.  That said, I was struck by Colgan's reflective summation:               

"She had started with a van.  But somehow it had opened her up to so much more.  And now she wanted that real life that she felt she had been missing out on, that she felt other people got a shot at while she sat quietly in a corner being nice." (295)

  

The Bookshop on the Corner is a good story.  Simple and sweet and afghany.  Overall, I enjoyed it because it's about country life, new beginnings, and, most importantly, people who love books.  I look forward to checking out the rest of Colgan's canon.           

Like Nina (and Samantha), I believe that nature has an other-worldly and energizing-yet-soothing effect, encouraging us to open our minds.  Which is why I like to preserve it in pictures.  Here's one I took last fall of the Atlantic City skyline from Brigantine:  

And here's one of a dew-spangled spider web on my own front lawn just last week:

I don't have a picture of a rainbow.  But "rainbow" was a good way to round out the "r" in "reading" in this post title -- and to give a shout-out to LeVar Burton.

Also, I made these rainbow-y necklaces.

Zulily Zoo Singhs a Song for You

Dress: Zulily
Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's
Bag: Betsey Johnson, ROSS Dress for Less
Sunglasses: Target

When I was a kid, there was a show called "Zoobilee Zoo."  It came on after "Reading Rainbow," I think, but wasn't even half as good.  It was kind of scary, actually, with grown people running around in animal suits and weird makeup.  But then, real zoos aren't my thing either, even if I did visit one last August.  (Nothing says good times like the smell of monkey poo wafting over the cart where they sell the corn dogs).  No, no reptile pavilion for me; I'm into sales, not scales -- unless they're on a pair of stilettos.  And when it comes to bargain hunting, Zulily is the zoo for me.  I'm growing increasingly obsessed with this online retailer, which offers limited time deals on name brand goodies, and, yes, some already cheap stuff, too.

My last take netted me a boatload (okay, dinghy) of Amrita Singh costume jewelry.  A fixture of the Bollywood stage, Singh designs colorful and ornate pieces as vibrant as any New Delhi production number.  Fun, affordable (at least on Zu), and easy to wear, these theatrical treats are the fast food equivalent of accessories.  (And no, that's not a slam, because deep down, who doesn't love Mickey D's?).  What's more, the product name of the cobalt blue and magenta bib necklace is Tracy, spelled the same way and everything.  No small feat in a world insistent on inserting that superfluous "e".

Finally, my Zulily shipment included a free sample of a Teddy Graham soft bake cookie.  The side of the box says "Meet Teddy," which is disturbing because you're supposed to eat Teddy.  But I guess there's no accounting for sensitivity in advertising.

Or, for that matter, in zoos.

I Can Bead a Rainbow

 Rainbow Ostriches Necklace

Top: Material Girl, Macy's

Skirt: Modcloth

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Gifted

Sunglasses: Cloud Nine, Ocean City

 Rain-bow Necklace

Tee: Marshalls

Skirt: Marshalls

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Marshalls

Sunglasses: Cloud Nine, Ocean City 

 Red, Yellow, Blue, and Orange Bow Necklace

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt: H&M

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Pink, Orange, Yellow, and Lime Bow Necklace

Top: JCPenney

Jeans: City Streets, JCPenney

Shoes: Guess, DSW

Bag: DSW

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Puns get enough of a bad rap without having to bear the indignity of being explained.  So, I wish I could say that "I can bead a rainbow" comes from "I can read a rainbow" from the well-known and much-loved children's program "Reading Rainbow" instead of from "I can sing a rainbow," which is a song I learned in preschool.  A preschool, incidentally, that was called READ.  But things are seldom that simple.  Nevertheless, my love for jewelry making and staging is so strong that no pun or wordplay is too precious.  Not unlike Lauren Shockey's love of cooking as relayed in her memoir Four Kitchens.  Although maybe minus the precious, professional kitchens being mostly macho.

It's a tale as old as time, really.  Office worker on the fast track to carpal tunnel syndrome (her words, not mine) chucks it all to cook her way around the world as an indentured servant.  But not before horrifying her parents and making a $40,000 pit stop at Soho's French Culinary Institute.  As this is a true story and not a sitcom or rom com, one can't help but wonder: Why?  For the same reason all those made-up heroines do it: to follow her heart (insert retching at the sound of my own schmaltziness.)  Just listen as she waxes poetic about a carrot:

"I wanted to cook because of the calmness that washes over me when I peel the ruddy outer layer of a carrot.  As the blade emits soft grating sounds and then strips of nearly translucent flesh fall into the garbage can, I contemplate the range of possibilities at hand.  I can shred the carrot and transform it into a salad; I can chop it in chunks and boil it in salted water; I can leave it whole, rubbed in Moroccan spices, and grill it until carmelized; I can cut it in pieces, dip it and saute it in a wok with sesame oil; or I can eat it plain and simple.  I can follow any number of carrot recipes, or I can invent my own recipe on the spot.  With cooking, the opportunities for creativity are boundless." (2-3)

Although I'm far from a foodie, I instantly understood what Shockey (so formal, this use of the last name -- we're all friends here, so let's stick with Lauren) meant.  Because it's the same way I feel about fashion.  She's talking about the energy, excitement, and rush that come from infinitely mixing a bunch of cool stuff -- regardless of the medium -- to come up with something even cooler.  So, it was in this spirit that I joined her on her journey.  She became an apprentice (or, to be more accurate, and indeed, more French, "stagiare") at some of the finest restaurants in her native New York City, Hanoi, Tel Aviv, and Paris.  Her experiences in each city are different but universally grueling.  She works fourteen-hour days deshelling crates of crabs and cross-hatching endive and washing floors, all for no pay and often under the watchful and critical eye of a snarky superior.  Although it's something I'd never do, her grit and enthusiasm are infectious, making me (vicariously) care about perfectly plating trout threads and crispy cream cheese (a dish that sounds, if not tasty, then exotically beautiful).  It's one of those stories about (at the risk of more retching) self exploration and discovery.  So, definitely not a romantic comedy.  Although there are a couple of contenders for the role of boyfriend, none ever flourish like her foie gras, a sure marker of nonfiction if ever there was one.  That is, Four Kitchens manipulates no plot lines into contriving a conventional two-by-two happy ending.  No, this time the only love affair is with the food.  Lauren sacrifices more for it than many women would for a lover -- financial security, familiarity, free time, and, to an extent, personal safety.  But, like most affairs, it's destined to come to an end.  

SPOILER ALERT!  

Although I don't flatter myself that this blurb is so good that you simply must order your copy of Four Kitchens from Amazon this very minute, manners are manners.  For those of you soldiering on, Lauren decides not to work in a restaurant after all.  Not because she's soured out on cooking, but because she's lukewarm about preparing food for a living.  She cares about cooking too much to allow it to become compromised by the baser motive of turning a profit.  She wants to savor the culinary experience, not rush through it; she wants to watch people enjoying her meals instead of being tucked away in an anonymous kitchen:  

"Although restaurant cooking is great for learning how to perfect dishes and to maximize speed and efficiency, the repetition of professional cooking can be, well, repetitive.  What I loved about cooking was discovering new ingredients and combining flavors.  Home cooking brings spontaneity and whimsy and the freedom to cook according to your own desires . . . So what if it took going around the world to realize I wanted to end up at home, in my own kitchen?  I discovered what I loved; cooking for my friends and family and sharing the bounty of the table together.  And the friends I made along the way taught me that home can be anywhere, and so can your home kitchen.  It's those you share it with who really matter." (328-331)

Aw.  Now, that does sound like the look-what-I-learned voice-over narrating the final scene of an indie flick.  Which tastes just about right to me.  What can I say?  Pass the popcorn.   

Etsy Favorites: Butterfly in the Sky . . .

 Digital Butterfly JPEG, Pixel Twister

 Butterfly Stockings, Banana and Cherries

 Paper Butterfly Fantasy Necklace, Nurit Spiegel

 Monarch Butterflies With Velma, Schin

Rainbow Butterfly Quilted Paper Pendant, Filigree Delights

". . . I can go twice as high.  Take a look, it's in a book, a reading rainbow."

How great was that show?  Not to mention that song.  You know, it wasn't until "Reading Rainbow" host LeVar Burton guest starred on "Community" that I realized he was also that guy with the glasses (who I now know to be Geordi La Forge) on "Star Trek: Next Generation."  

Now that that recollection is out of the way, we can move on to our winged ones.  Let's face it, the butterfly tattoo is a cliché for a reason.  People love butterflies.  And why not?  They flit through the sky on gossamer wings, inspiring us with their beauty and freedom.  This week's Etsy pieces capture this spirit with equal parts charm and edge, challenging us to spread our wings and take flight.  (Metaphorically, that is.  I'm in no way advocating taking to the skies without the aid of an airplane.)