In Defense of Decorating

Although the question remains whether I am good at it or not (a question whose answer is subjective, anyhow), I love decorating. From my binders and lockers throughout middle school and high school to my dorm rooms in college to my apartment and office cubicle, I have always made it a priority to make a space my own. It seems trivial and—to use a cringe-worthy buzzword—"privileged" to place such value on making a room (or desk, locker, whatever) look pretty. 

But obviously, decorating means a lot to a large percentage of the population—otherwise things like design magazines, HGTV, and Pinterest wouldn't be nearly as popular. Rather than cynically observe that we are all just shallow and selfish, I have chosen to believe that decor and pretty things have a rightful place in our lives and in good mental health (paging Dr. Frasier Crane!).

Throughout the past several months, our apartment community has been replacing the siding on all of the buildings throughout the complex. Last month, we got a notice that it was our turn, and that in preparation, everything would need to be taken off ALL walls (interior included, presumably) and our balcony cleared of all items.Even though I kept reminding myself I was being all "first world problem" about it, I was pissed. I had just spent a lovely Saturday to myself cleaning and sprucing up some spots in the apartment and especially my bedroom. It had been a big boost to my mood, and now I had to take all my hard work down? And live in an apartment with plain, ugly cream-colored walls for God knows how long?

It ended up being a few weeks (the slowness of the contractors and the order in which they worked on things is another story for another day). And even though they've been done for nearly two weeks now, not everything is back up yet inside due to many things keeping my sis and me busy: work, social outings, a visit to our parents' house, and this week, a sick kitty (Lucy is on the mend, though, praise God!)... But bit by bit, we have begun getting most of our items back on the walls, and soon it will be time to get our balcony thriving with plants.

It feels so nice to look around and see color on the walls and treasured trinkets on shelves. Things like that make a place home. Yeah, if I had to, I could survive in a much less beautiful space. I do realize that the most important things in my life aren't things, they're my family, my cat, my friends, my health...but I'm not ashamed to admit that having my home look nice around me brings a touch of normalcy, a touch of calm.

And without calm, life (for me) is a little less joyful. So embrace your decorating desires, friends. It's good for you!

Honoring Alan Rickman

Alan Rickman died today. It was shocking and heartbreaking. Apparently, he had been fighting cancer, but no matter how expected or unexpected his death is, it doesn't change the fact that the world lost an amazing man today.

I "discovered" Alan when I went to see Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone with my mom and sister back in 2001. I had not read the Harry Potter books yet (I know, I know), but I was fascinated by this Professor Snape character. Obviously there was more to him and his story than him being a jerk of a teacher and person who may or may not be a good guy.

Sometime within the next year or so, I came across a picture of Alan Rickman, the talented actor who played Snape, in an issue of People. It turned out to be an outdated picture, but I just couldn't believe that this gorgeous man was the same guy who had transformed into the greasy-haired, menacing Hogwarts teacher.

Thus began my obsession.

In high school, I found my people on an awesome (and sadly, now-defunct—although it may be returning in the coming months, fingers crossed) Harry Potter fan site, HPANA (which stood for the Harry Potter Automatic News Aggregator; I always pronounced the abbreviation "aitch-panna."). My appreciation for Snape and Alan had proved unpopular amongst my peers (no wonder; I was a teenager and he was a man older than my parents, and I found him attractive?), but here was a group of folks, young and old, who supported Snape the character and also loved Alan the actor. I explored what I could of Alan's movies and looked forward to new releases. I hung pictures of Alan in my locker and quoted his movies when the opportunities lent themselves. I defended Snape the character any chance I could.

Snape and Alan are not the same person, and there are myriad other characters he has played throughout the years. Ones I love (Colonel Brandon in Sense and Sensibility, Alexander Dane/Dr. Lazarus in Galaxy Quest) and ones I love to hate (Judge Turpin in Sweeney Todd, Hans Gruber in Die Hard—although, honestly, I was rooting for him a little bit). However, Snape is how I came to "know" Alan, and the gloomy professor and the kind, humble, exquisitely talented actor will always be linked.

What has given me comfort on this sad day is how loved Alan was, by the acting community, by his co-stars in the Harry Potter movies and beyond, and by his fans. It is so wonderful to hear how generous and kind he was, a truth that is not always the case in the entertainment industry. 

I will leave this post with my own tribute to Alan. In high school and college, I drew a series of comics about the Harry Potter universe (and other topics, but usually HP), most of them starring Snape. I am saddened yet honored to create a new drawing for one of my favorite actors, the kindest and gentlest of men, who will live in my heart...always.

The "Shoulds"

Note: It was not my intention to abandon this blog for four months. Whoops. Many apologies to my imaginary readers.

Most of us don't like being told what to do. It's human nature, right? That's probably why it's so hard to train small children into well-behaved adults (and, in some cases, adult children into less-childlike adults).

I don't like being told what to do, either. Oh, I can follow directions, and when I'm utterly clueless about a topic or am unsure about my abilities, I do want clear instruction from someone else. But I also have an independent streak, one that I'm not ashamed to have. When I was in fourth grade, I participated in the Mark Twain reading program. This is a Missouri program that basically provides a list of award-winning books in various categories, and then students read as many titles as they can until they meet a specified reading goal. If you complete the program, you probably got a certificate or something. We also got to go on a field trip and see some authors speak/get autographs, etc.

It may come as no surprise to you that I LOVE to read. Sadly, I read less now than I used to as a child and teenager, when I would crank out multiple books a week—and I'm not talking picture books or even "chapter" books like The Bailey School Kids that probably clocked in at around 50 pages. I mean regular-sized books.

However, it turned out that I HATED the Mark Twain reading program. Most of the books on the list, at that time at least, were older and didn't appeal to my fourth-grade mind. The books I liked to pick out to read were usually about teenage girls (hey, I was an already-pubescent 10-year-old, and who didn't want to be the cool girl in high school with the cute boyfriend?), who usually starred in fluffy genres that hadn't won any prestigious awards and hadn't made the Mark Twain cut. My school librarian would turn up her nose at any book I checked out that wasn't on the list. (At least she didn't go so far as to actually prevent me from checking out the more fun books, although I wouldn't have put it past her.) I struggled through the list as well as I could, but I stopped as soon as I met the minimum page count required to complete the program. Some of my peers kept going and won special honors (literally, their name being read at a school ceremony and probably another certificate) for the number of extra pages they read, but not me. I was one of the top students if not the top student in my grade, an avid reader who had to sneak her books in the couch cushions when my mother grounded me from reading—yes, seriously!—and yet I elected to not participate in the Mark Twain reading program my fifth grade year. I wanted to read what I wanted to read, dammit, and so that's what I did.

My mother, teachers, librarian, and other students explained this away with "Amy doesn't like being told what to read." It's still true today. And it turns out I really don't like people telling me what I should like. A-ha, there's that word: should.

I really, really dislike the word "should." Like any word, there are times when it is appropriate. But for some reason, it really raises my hackles when someone says to me, "Oh, you should ______." I first became conscious of this pet peeve a few years ago. My university's football team was playing their annual Fall Classic at the Chiefs' Arrowhead Stadium, and a friend from college (we were both alums at this point) texted me and said "We should go to the Arrowhead game together."

Immediately, my hackles were raised. This was due to a combination of reasons:
1. I wasn't in the mood to hang out with this particular friend.
2. I didn't like football. At all. I still don't. (Fun fact: The one and only time I attended this Arrowhead game, I fell asleep. Literally, I took a nap in the bleachers.)
3. She didn't ask, "Hey, do you want to go to the Arrowhead game with me?" She said, "We should go to the Arrowhead game together."

Maybe No. 3 is nitpicking (and maybe No. 1 makes me sound like an asshole). But the words we choose to use hold a lot of power. It's one of my cheesy beliefs as a writer, a reader, and a human being. We should? You should? There's a difference in saying "You should not murder someone" and "You should watch 'Mad Men.'" Why can't it be enough to say "I really like the show 'Mad Men,' and I think you would, too. I recommend it!" instead of the whole "You should watch it"? Can't you understand that maybe I have no interest? That I think Jon Hamm is overrated? That I don't have HBO? That I don't want to pay for Netflix or Amazon Prime or Hulu or whatever the new streaming service is this week? That I think football is stupid but I don't want you to think that I think you're stupid for liking it, because we all have our interests, but I simply don't want to watch/go to the damn game?

Basically, "should" comes off as self-righteous, as judgmental, as pretentious. And sometimes those things (especially the judging aspect—yeah, it's not OK to murder someone, and it's totally OK to use "should" in that example) are appropriate.

But the everyday "shoulds"? They should disappear.

It's Fall, Y'all (Not Ya'll)

Fall is my favorite season. I'm warm-blooded by nature, so the weather turns just crisp enough for me to enjoy cozy scarves and sweaters without getting hot, sweaty, and gross. Another bonus? Layers. My favorite and most flattering fashion trend.

Lately (and by "lately," I mean during the last couple of years), I have found decorating to be really soothing. I don't even have to be the one decorating—just reading decorating blogs and looking at pretty pictures on Pinterest give me a calm feeling, plus it also energizes my mind and makes me want to get my butt in gear and make my home look clean and pretty. I would assume this is true for a lot of people; otherwise, why would HGTV and all these pretty little blogs be so popular?

So, second to the cooler weather (which hasn't quite hit us yet, but a quick glance at my iPhone weather app tells me temps are expected to drop starting on Tuesday—yahoo!), my favorite thing about fall is adding autumnal elements to my home: rustic colors and patterns, cozy throws, candles, and eventually...CHRISTMAS DECOR!!! (Which technically "falls"—heh heh—in winter, but honestly, fall decorating is just a warm-up for the holidays, isn't it?)

Here are some fall goodies my home is sporting right now:

My sister (and roommate) picked up this green Day of the Dead votive holder the other day at Target. She loves sugar skulls, whereas I often find them creepy (I know they're not supposed to be), but I have to admit this decoration is really, really cute. These also come in dark teal and magenta. I paired the skull with this cute little pumpkin I saw at the grocery store. I love its twisty stem!

I bought this votive holder yesterday at Tuesday Morning. When I saw it, I knew I had the perfect candle for it—this green votive that a friend gave me. I think it is from 5B & Co Brookside, but I'm not 100% sure because the label is no longer on it. Therefore, I also can't remember the exact scent, but it smells a little like pears (a fragrance that doesn't seem to be available on their website anymore, so all of this remains a mystery, really).

I rearranged some things on our mantel and put these tall vases (handmade by a friend of a friend of my sister's) in the corner with the little jack-o'-lantern in front. 

OK, this is my new favorite thing. I actually saw it at Hy-Vee of all places. I am usually not THAT into Halloween, especially spooky stuff, but the cute stuff I can handle. Like this adorable light-up ghostie with the mostie.

I told you I liked cute things. Target had little birds like this last year for Christmas, and I (of course) bought one. They have new Christmas ones out this year (yes, already) and several fall-ish ones, including this little fella with the newsboy cap and an orange bow tie. So sweet!

And speaking of sweet, every holiday/season can be easily decorated for with candy. I'm not a huge fan of candy corn (although I will eat it—it is sugar, after all), but I have always loved these mellowcreme pumpkins. They are just too damn cute. I love the way they taste, too, but they're so sweet that I can only eat two or three at a time. Which is actually a good thing. 

I liked Mason jars before they were cool (plus, my grandma has Mason jar drinking glasses from God knows how many years ago that we still use when we have dinner at her house, so there!). In my opinion, they will always be practical and beautiful. I mean, what else can make mellowcreme Halloween pumpkins look so classy?

And finally, another convenient accessory for fall is what we call Lucy's "orange toy." (Clever, huh?) A friend of my sister's gave two of these to us because her cat enjoys them. We are really not sure what they are supposed to be...our best guess is they are rings from milk or juice bottles. 

We leave one of the orange toys out at all times, because Lucy LOVES it. She uses it as a hockey puck through her scratching post "cave," she bats it around the legs of our table and chairs, she throws it up in the air so she can pounce on it (seriously), she carries it into my bedroom so she can play by herself while I'm getting ready in the morning, and she will even come up onto my bed with it while I'm still asleep so she can tell me "Mama, it's time to play!" Recently she has even started bringing it to us so we can throw it for her. Basically, she is a genius.

And on that note, happy fall, y'all! Grammar Quick Tip: Note the apostrophe in "y'all," which is a contraction of "you all." The apostrophe stands in place of the missing letters "o" and "u." Some people will spell this word as "ya'll," which TECHNICALLY could be correct if the original phrase was "ya all." But again, TECHNICALLY, "ya" is slang/an accent for "you," so the REAL original phrase is still "you all." Hence "y'all," not "ya'll." 

Don't you feel ready to celebrate fall properly now that you know that?

Why I RSVP "No" to Your Pity Party

It's not my intention to only post once a month, but that seems to be the pattern so far. Let's guess the reasons for this:
A. I'm lazy.
B. I don't have that many interesting topics to write about.
C. I'm lazy.
D. I'm boring and lazy.

Given that I'm too lazy to come up with other choices besides "I'm lazy" (although I'm hoping I don't have to spell out the fact that I also did that purposely for comic effect!), it's pretty obvious what the answer is. LAZINESS!

It's OK to be a little lazy. We all need that sometimes. I saw a poster on Pinterest lately that I found amusing:


(For sale at Zazzle.)

But seriously, I'm not here to mock laziness. I love sleeping in, sitting, and watching TV and/or surfing the Internet for hours. Garfield the cat is my spirit animal. Side note: Have you played the Garfield: Survival of the Fattest iPhone game yet? It's the follow-up to my FarmVille-loving days that I never knew I always wanted. (Bonus points if you get that Fools Rush In reference.)

Anyway, it may seem from my funny little quiz up there that I was maybe fishing for compliments, maybe throwing myself a little pity party. "Oh, my life is so boring and blah. I'm so lazy and worthless. No one wants to hang out with me."

Look. We all have issues. No matter how confident someone is (or appears to be), we each have moments of self-doubt. Narcissists may be an exception, but narcissism isn't really something to aspire to, you know? So that's OK.

However, there's a difference between knowing you're not perfect and letting everyone know you're not perfect all the damn time. I do not mean you should pretend you're perfect and that your shit don't stink. But the flipside, by being down on yourself all the time and always, ALWAYS acknowledging your flaws, is just as annoying.

Now, I will freely admit that I have fished for compliments. I think most people have—sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. And sometimes we do need to have a heart-to-heart with a close friend, relative, counselor, whomever, and just say, "I'm not feeling good about myself lately. Here's why." Or "I'm sorry I did _____. That was wrong of me." Or ask questions like "Do I look OK in this shirt?" (Although, again, if that is happening EVERY DAY, keep in mind you might be annoying your friends by asking them to approve your appearance.)

Getting other people's opinions is important, yes. But you are not going to please everybody. And you shouldn't please everybody. Like many fellow Pinners, I have a board designated for inspirational quotes (don't laugh, OK?!). One of my favorites says this: "If everybody likes what you are doing, you're doing it wrong." (A bit of Googling reveals the source of the quote to be artist Jen Bekman.)

Then there's this one: "Waiting for someone else to make you happy is the best way to be sad." I was—yes!—lazy with my Googling of this one, and I couldn't find an obvious source within the first couple of pages. But regardless of who originally said these words, they are some of the most encouraging words I've ever read. It especially speaks to me as a single person, because it reminds me that I am a complete, whole, worthy person without having a partner right now (or ever! You never know.).

Others can certainly make us happy. My parents, sister, grandparents, other family members, friends, and my cat all make me happy. This is more than OK; this is healthy. Just remember that when there's someone you can't please, someone you can't make happy and certainly isn't making you happy, this doesn't mean your worth is diminished.

And also remember—we all have flaws. Embrace them, yes. But advertising them, especially when you're using them as an explanation (read: crutch) as to why "bad" things are happening to you or why your life is not what you thought it'd be like right now, is not going to help you gain sympathy. Pity parties are best attended by only one person: you. A good place to have them is the shower, or maybe in the dim glow of the open refrigerator as you eat a spoonful of chocolate syrup. Keeping a (private) journal is another good choice.

Pity parties do serve a purpose. But please don't invite me to yours. I will not come, and I will not bring a gift.

A Defense of the Selfie + A Tip on Reflexive Pronouns

"Selfies" have a bad reputation. And let's face it (har har, FACE it? Pun originally not intended, but I love it!), it's kind of a stupid word.

Back in the day (about seven to eight years ago), I distinctly remember taking pictures of myself with my digital camera in my dorm room so I could have a semi-flattering profile picture for my fairly new Facebook page. I thought to myself, "Thank God for digital cameras." Because, you see, I could take dozens of pictures of myself—without wasting any film—in order to get that perfect pose.

One of my favorite inventions is the front-facing camera option on smartphones. It makes taking those flattering pictures of oneself so much easier. These cameras have a purpose beyond vanity—you can make sure you and your friend are both in the frame without one of you having half of your face cut off. You can preserve a memory of yourself in front of the Eiffel Tower without asking a friend (or stranger) a million times to try it again because your eyes looked manic or your third chin was showing. (OK, I admit that's a little vain.) You can even use it to take a picture of your cat if she's facing away from you.

OK...it may not be the best picture ever of your cat (probably because it was also taken at dusk). But you get the point.

(P.S. This cat is Eppie, and I will talk more about her later. She is no longer on this Earth, but she was a very special kitty.)

There's another way that the self-facing camera—and, therefore, the selfie!—is helpful.

We employ proofreaders at the company I work for (that's actually how I got my start there), and sometimes I come up with grammar tips and reminders for them. One month I was asked to teach them the correct way to use "myself." Customers were submitting articles with sentences such as "If you have any questions, please come see myself or another team member." Don't you just cringe when you read that sentence?

"Myself" is a reflexive pronoun. Other reflexive pronouns include: yourself, himself, herself, ourselves, themselves, etc. A reflexive pronoun reflects the subject of the sentence. (Hence, reflexive.) 

Examples:

I made myself a peanut butter sandwich.

The reflexive pronoun "myself" is correct in this case because it refers to the subject "I." I didn't make that peanut butter sandwich for anyone else. It is MINE, BITCHES.

It's a little easier to understand when using "himself" or "herself."

After the birthday party last weekend, James doesn't trust himself around cake anymore.

Using "himself" instead of "him" makes it clear that James doesn't trust James (himself!). Maybe Tony also gorged himself on cake, and so James doesn't trust Tony either. In that case, we'd say "James doesn't trust him anymore." Hopefully we would have made it clear in a previous sentence or introductory phrase that the "him" refers to Tony. But we at least know it doesn't refer to James. Because if it did, we would use "himself." Get it?

So what does this have to do with selfies?

What do you use to take a selfie? A mirror. Your front-facing camera is a mirror. (Another brilliant use of the front-facing camera, by the way!) Or you may go the old-fashioned route and actually stand in front of a mirror to take your selfie. What does a mirror do? It reflects.

A pronoun using the word "self" (or "selves," if plural) is a reflexive pronoun. This is easy to remember because a selfie is easier to take when you can see your reflection in a mirror. 

The mirror also helps you remember to check to make sure you're using a reflexive pronoun correctly. The reflexive pronoun (the "self" word) should reflect the subject.

I looked at myself is correct. You have both "I" and "myself." They are reflecting each other. The incorrect example above of Please come see myself is wrong, wrong, wrong. Remember that in a sentence like this that is asking something—"please come see"—the "you" is implied. ("Hey, you! Come here!") "You" is the subject of the sentence. Does "myself" reflect "You"? Absolutely not! So this is wrong.

I'm not saying that people should post daily selfies on Facebook, Instagram, and the like. I mean, if you're trying to measure some milestone—pregnancy, weight loss, whatever—by all means, take your selfies, but think twice before posting every one. And I don't think that Kim Kardashian's selfie book is great art, but then again, I haven't looked at it, so I guess I can't say that with 100% certainty.

But selfies DO serve a purpose. And not just to help us avoid the dreaded double/triple chin. (Tip: To eliminate chin issues, dip your head down and forward just slightly.) Maybe selfies are helping us be a little more vain, but they can also help us improve our grammar, and that's never a bad thing.

For more selfies (but mostly cat pictures), check out my Instagram!

A Journey in Rereading

Some people don't believe in reading the same book more than once. Maybe they think it's a waste of time, or that the experience can never be the same after the first reading. But do these people never watch the same movie more than once either? I doubt it. I think they just haven't found the right book to love that much (or they don't really love reading that much in the first place).

My family and I went on a vacation recently that involved a two-day drive to Florida (and back again at the end of the week). I brought three books with me. I honestly thought this would be more than enough. I am a fast reader, and I truly love to read, but things like smartphones (and along with it, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and Candy Crush—just to name a few distractions) have affected my attention span enough in recent years that I don't read as much as I used to. I do make a conscious effort to go to the library, keeping one or two fresh books on hand to read during my lunch break at work and occasionally before bed (although I'm usually playing Candy Crush, I have to admit). This is still pretty sad, considering that in my preteen and teen years, I would check out, say, eight books at a time from the library, and they would last me about a week (two at the most).

Back to our vacation. I hadn't made time lately to get to the library, and by the time I thought about taking a new book or two with me on our trip, it was too late to request a specific title—a method I've had more luck with lately than simply randomly picking one off the shelves. I've definitely gotten pickier since my teenage reading years.

But those years were also when I read some of my all-time favorite books. Yes, those included Young Adult novels, a genre that has (in my opinion) suffered a bad reputation due to the Twilight series and its imitators. I don't read much YA now, but my favorite YA books from way back when still hold up marvelously, and I don't think it's just nostalgia talking.

Two out of the three books I took with me on vacation were YA novels. I had decided to just grab a few of my favorites to take with me since I knew I would enjoy them, and it sucks to be stuck with a boring, stupid, and/or poorly written book on a trip. Somewhat surprisingly, I actually didn't read anything on the first day—and this was riding in a minivan for nine hours! (Give or take.) Am I the only one who sometimes puts off reading (or watching a movie, or listening to a song) because I'm just not ready or in the mood to handle an emotional experience—whether happy or sad? Whoa. That's a little deep. Maybe we shouldn't go there in this post!

But on the second day, I started the first of my three books, and by the morning of our last day of the journey (on our way home at this point), I had run out of books and was kicking myself for not bringing at least one more.

There's just something so good about reading a book you have read before, especially when it's one you love (obviously). It's familiar, and the characters are like old friends, but you'll also notice new details each time you read it, even if it's the thousandth time. That's because you're at a different stage of your life during each reading, so certain plot twists, characters, and even phrases will speak to you in a different way.

I'll use examples from my three vacation books.

• The Raging Quiet by Sherryl Jordan. This book was published when I was in middle school, so I was probably around 11 or 12 when I first read it. It takes place in medieval times, but its language is so easy to understand while remaining achingly beautiful. Lest this become a Goodreads review (if you're interested in those, check out my profile), I'll just focus on what I got out of this recent rereading. First of all, Jordan's writing and characterization is so good. I could learn a lot from her, and I need to read more of her books. As much as I love this one, I have never read anything else she's written. Secondly, the romantic subplot—which at times is also the main plot; it's hard to describe—struck a more profound chord with me this time than I remembered it had in the past. That's funny to me because I've become much less romantic as I grow up and realize that dating is really hard (especially in this increasingly tech-savvy world—but that's a story for a different post) and discover that I'm not really sure what I want in life. But the characters who fall in love in this story don't do it in some cheesy, romance novel way (which I do enjoy in a book from time to time, as long as I know what I'm getting into). Even though this is a book for teens (I guess), its message about love is very refreshing and mature.
• Goose Chase by Patrice Kindl. A very popular sub-genre of YA fiction when I was a teenager was the retold fairy tale. Updated spins on the classic Cinderella story were everywhere (my favorites being Ella Enchanted—read it, and don't watch the movie!—and Just Ella), but my favorite fractured fairy tale was Goose Chase by Patrice Kindl. It mixes elements of several fairy tales, including Grimm tales "Goose Girl," "The Six Swans," and "Rapunzel." I think I loved this book so much because of the magical elements, especially the main character's magical hair (it glows when she sings! OK, it doesn't, but it does shed gold dust when she brushes it). This book is also very funny. I think some of the humor slipped by me in my first few readings. Another thing I noticed with this last rereading is that the narrator is much more unreliable than I probably originally noticed, and also a bit of a brat...but still likable. I don't think the book is as clever as I originally thought—perhaps because it's much shorter than I remembered, so it didn't seem to hold as much weight as I remember Ella Enchanted having. Which means I just need to reread that one next.
• The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver. This is not a YA book! I discovered Barbara Kingsolver about five years ago when I bought Animal Dreams at a used book sale—I'm into American Indians, and the font used on the book cover as well as the blurb on the back piqued my interest. I loved the book—and it just gets better each time I read it! But that's another post for yet another day—so I sought out more of her stuff. I consider The Bean Trees my favorite, although Animal Dreams is a close second. I could write an entire post (and then some) about my love for Kingsolver, so I'll stick with what I love about this particular novel: It's simply refreshing that the main character falls in love with a married man (who appears to return her feelings somewhat), but.......SPOILER.......nothing happens. Too often, authors go that route because it's "romantic," but that's usually when I lose too much respect for the characters to enjoy the rest of the book. On the other hand, I gain so much respect—for the characters and for the author, too—in situations such as the end of The Bean Trees. Even when it's not even the point of the book. The Bean Trees is about so much more. So what did I notice on this recent reread? Kingsolver's details are amazing. In some of her novels (such as Flight Behavior), her writing can be too detailed and flowery, but in The Bean Trees her writing is pretty close to perfection. She's another one who I can—and have—learned a lot from.

I can't come up with a better way to end this post than with this cheesy thought: The books we read—the ones we love and the ones we don't—shape who we are, whether we are writers or not. So reread the ones you love. They're a part of you now.