Graceling by Kristin Cashore

For Sherry: 8 out of 10. First half was terrific - a total 10 - but the second part didn't quite deliver for me.

I mentioned Graceling a few weeks ago and after having raved about it there, I definitely feel the need for a follow-up.

So, quick overview of the story. In Katsa's kingdom, some people are born with graces (special abilities ranging from very useful to flat out useless (being able to speak backwards, for instance)). Katsa has a killing grace and her uncle, the king, has recruited her to go out and kill or torture - publicly - anyone who defies him. She hates this, of course, and has startd an underground rebellion which is spreading throughout the seven kingdoms.

On one mission, she meets Po, a prince from another kingdom, whose grandfather has been kidnapped for unknown reasons and they become, slowly, friends. He has a fighting grace and Katsa is thrilled to have someone to fight with, especially someone who is at least somewhat of a challenge (she still has to hold back, since she really could kill him pretty easily).

He eventually convinces her to stand up to her uncle and she does and then the two of them take off to find out who kidnapped his grandfather and what possible reason they'd have for doing so.

It's a great story - high action, great romance, likable characters - but a few specific things kept me from wholeheartedly loving it.

First off, Katsa has sworn never to get married, but for reasons that are not very clearly defined and become even less believable as the story wears on it and she and Po develop a very strong (and sexual) relationship. I found it unbelievably distracting from the overall story and found myself wanting to Google Kristin Cashore and find out what her personal life and beliefs were like, since this part of the story seemed so forced into the overall flow.

Also, there's this one part where they go over a mountain pass and it sort of takes forever. I'm sorry, but I cannot read pages and pages of discussion about hiking through a blizzard (Gary Paulsen, this is why I can't really embrace your books, much as everyone else seems to like them).

Also, there is this major conflict that the book is building toward and then it resolves in a matter of three pages. On the one hand, I can kind of liked this because it does get tedious to watch a character pace their room for three chapters trying to decide how to deal with an issue, but on the other hand, it is jarring to have it tidied up so quickly and unexpectedly.

And finally the ending was just. . . well, it just sort of ended, with the characters scattering to the four winds. Hate. And, yes, there is a sequel coming out later this year (which I'm sure I'll read) but it's mostly about a different character.

I really am surprised when I see many book blogs proclaiming this the very best YA book of 2008. I mean, I certainly liked it, but it's not one I'd race out to recommend to everyone I know and it definitely isn't the best book I read from 2008.

It's no Hunger Games, is what I'm saying.

Shipping and Handling

Well, after you've all said such very nice things and said you'll read whatever I write, I think it's time to tell you about my dreams the other night.

Wait, where is everyone going?

(This post really isn't about my dreams, but I did have a totally random one where Bart and I were at a wedding reception and it was all lovely and fun except that every few minutes I had shooting pains in my thumbs).

Anyway, full-speed ahead with the swimsuit, although this post is less about the swimsuit and more about shipping and handling (I know, first it's not about the dreams and now it's not about the swimsuit. Am I TRYING to scare you all off?)

Here is the swimsuit, should you wish to check it out. I got the black one. Becca did too.

It will come as no surprise that it goes against my core beliefs to pay for shipping and handling. It doesn't matter how cheap something is if you then have to plunk down an extra $6-15 for shipping. Not gonna happen, friends.

Many moons ago, I'd ordered Bart a shirt from Lands' End and some message boards said that if you called Lands' End, they'd give you a free shipping code. I called; they handed over the code. Life went merrily on.

So I tried the same tactic on Monday. I called; no code was handed over. I was passed through several people all of whom were astonished that I'd previously received a free shipping code.

"We don't just have blanket codes; they are all only for specific customers, etc."

Right. It's hard to believe that when they'd given you a non-specific code only four months earlier.

I decided the swimsuit dreams must die. Twenty bucks was a good deal. Twenty seven felt too expensive. Especially if I should dislike the swimsuit and need to return it in which case I would simply be out seven nonrefundable dollars (every dollar is a precious and beloved child to me, in case you haven't noticed in the past forty trillion posts about how much I cherish my money).

Then, I remember that ages ago, I had subscribed to Lands' End's special little emailing list and then promptly filtered it to be automatically sent to the trash can. I knew I'd be able to search it still, since Gmail is an excellent product.

I searched. The results showed me an email that Lands' End had sent me a mere twelve hours earlier. An email that offered free shipping codes.

I laughed in the face of the witless employee who had sworn up and down that no shipping codes were available for the taking.

Dilemmas

It's been just over two years since I started this blog and sometimes I start to feel a little claustrophobic about how it's turned out. (Not going private, never fear. I would rather eat my own finger).

At first, I planned to write only book reviews and that was all well and good for around five whole posts after which I gave that notion up so I could write other pointless things like how I really loved Texas (have I mentioned that I really love Texas? Oh good).

And then, slowly, the book reviews fell by the wayside because they were easily my least popular posts and also, well, that would mean admitting that, yes, 90% of my reading is young adult and children's books.

Eventually, I decided I didn't actually care that all I read was aimed at people five to fifteen years younger than me, and I revived the reviews; their popularity has grown, at least slightly. I now manage to get at least a few comments on most of them (if you don't read them, no worries. Bart doesn't either (of course, he has the excuse that I make him listen to a page by page explanation WHILE I'm reading it)).

I write less and less about my day-to-day goings on because I fear they'll be boring ("today I went to the grocery store. I was happy that eggs were $1.19 a dozen, since last week they were $1.26. Milk still costs the same").

Whenever I write about The Way Things Were - how my parents dealt with Santa Claus or ear piercing or first kisses, I get a flood of response, some saying "awesome" and others being like "you are clearly destined for a sad soul-less life as a non-Santa believer."

I don't want to write just about books, and my childhood was not weird enough to generate post after post. And so I continue to silently freak out about what to talk about, and I write paragraphs about this party we went to over the weekend and how we stayed late trying to pick up plastic cups on the floor with our teeth while balancing on one leg and how I never ever would have been the kind of person to do those potentially-humiliating things as a teenager and now, married to a person far more social than I am, I find myself enjoying these kinds of things and being surprised that the mental narration has turned off and I can go about doing crazy things without feeling stupid. And then I declare it too boring, delete it all, and tear my hair out.

What in the world am I trying to write about here anyway? What fits and what doesn't? What does anyone even want to read?

In the interest of full-disclosure, this identity crisis is brought on by the fact that I bought a new swimsuit this week and I feel dumb posting a picture of it (and then rambling on about how it was 80% off).

Everyday Reading: Creating a crisis (and a lengthy post) out of absolutely everything.

The Unanswerable Question

As a serious reader (okay, okay, someone who reads a lot of young adult romances and the occasional classic), I get asked a lot what my favorite book is.

And I freeze.

I do not have a favorite book. I just cannot pick one book out as the best book I've ever read.

I thought maybe I could say that I have favorite books in various genres, but then I realized even that was impossible. If you asked what my favorite memoir was, how could I possibly choose between It's Not About the Bike by Lance Armstrong or Rocket Boys by Homer Hickman? I cannot.

Favorite classic, you ask? I cannot say I love Jane Eyre more than A Tale of Two Cities.

Favorite recent young adult book, then. Ooh, The Hunger Games versus The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks versus The Book Thief? Can't do it, sorry.

How about a fantasy novel? Ella Enchanted or Beauty. Do not make me choose, people.

Newbery winner: The View from Saturday? A Single Shard? The Giver?!

What about Science Fiction? Ender's Game, maybe? Little Brother?

Books I've loved forever and ever and will read to my children. Cheaper by the Dozen is almost unbeatable in my book. The Phantom Tollbooth is very clever.

Asking me to choose is a nightmare. Ask me for my favorite book recommendation and I'll probably just end up giving you a long list of things I love.

How can anyone really choose a favorite book? Or. . .do you have a favorite book? Am I completely alone in my absolute inability to select one single book?

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

I'd heard a lot about The Graveyard Book even before it won the Newbery since it's by Neil Gaiman, a man who inspires a following like few others.

And then, when it did win, it was heralded as the redeeming book for the Newbery award; it was considered proof that sometimes the Newbery committee doesn't pick obscure, heavy books, but instead ones that appeal to actual real children and that even boys would like (I know. . .a book boys will like. Who knew such a thing even existed?).

Of course, it still has dead parents in it, so it's not like it's strayed ALL that far from one of the time-and-Newbery-honored themes.

Anyway, it obviously meant I had high hopes for this book, expecting it to be fun reading. And when the book started out with a murderer named Jack creeping through a dark house, having murdered the parents and a sister and now ready to off the little baby boy, I assumed I was right.

But then it kind of slowed down for me. I kept thinking, "Hmm, what a very odd choice."

I continued to hear comparisons to the Jungle Book - a series of semi-related stories, rather than one long storyline - and this didn't thrill me at all. I don't really like that kind of thing - give me a novel over a short story every single day of the week (actually every single day of my life).

Fortunately, though, it really picked up in the second half and wow, by the end, I just wanted to weep a little, it was so lovely and poignant and also sweet and funny. The story comes together more tightly and cleverly than I'd expected, and I absolutely fell in love with Bod, the escaped baby boy who grows up in a graveyard, raised by ghosts and the mysterious non-ghost/non-human Silas.

It really was an excellent Newbery choice - you can't ask for much more in a book than this one offers.

Neil Gaiman, you came through.

In Defense of Bandwagons

I know some people do not like popular things, simply because they are popular. If it's popular, they don't want to read it, see it, listen to it, wear it, or eat it. I always think of the people who refuse to read Harry Potter not because it sounds boring or because they think it's of Satan, but because a massive amount of the world has had the audacity to like it and therefore it must be shunned.

Loudly shunned, actually. It's not enough to just not read it - you must tell people about how you are not reading it because you are not a hive mind and you are a forward thinking individual and . . . oh, what was that? Sorry, I dropped off in the midst of your long and tedious rant.

I'm sure there are other reasons to hate popular things (although I'm not really sure what they are), but when I see people turning up their noses at really awesome things to prove some sort of point, I can't help but think, "Do you have any idea what you're missing? It doesn't make me think you're awesome because you're too good for Harry Potter; it just makes me think you aren't trying something it's very likely you might enjoy."

Even more perplexing is when people stop liking things because other people have the gall to find out about it and like it too. "Oh, yes, I read the first Twilight book and I loved it, but then it became popular, so I haven't read any of the other books." Oh well, you sure showed them, didn't you?

Of course, this may be because I usually like the bandwagon, especially when it comes to books. If it's popular, I want to read it: The Hunger Games, Twilight, Harry Potter, Sarah Dessen, Georgia Nicolson. Show me the bandwagon and I'll start chasing it. If thousands or millions of people like it, it's likely there's a reason for that (Eat, Pray, Love being an obvious exception where my eyes nearly fell out from the eye-rolling it forced me to do, as you can see here), although obviously I'm not saying all popular things are good or that all unpopular things aren't.

Maybe this makes me insanely low-brow, but I don't really care. I don't want to have people ask me for book recommendations and to respond with some title that had a first-run of twelve whole copies and probably is only available from an international publisher for $178 plus shipping. It is one million times more likely that I'll steer you right toward something with a long hold list at the library.

I like liking things that other people like. I like going to a midnight showing of something or waiting in a long line to meet a popular author or see a famous sight. (I will generally not make a fool of myself and I will never throw my underwear on the stage, but I have no issues with being a groupie). I enjoy having interests in common with other people, being fascinated by the same TV shows, or having seen some famous location in Boston that millions of other people have seen too.

In fact, I feel so strongly about this, that I intend to make it part of my professional creed. I told Bart last night, "This clearly makes me a librarian for the people."

I like the sound of that.

These Are Little Known Facts

You know how in those dumb little "getting to know you" games (oh, how I loathe those), they always ask you to share some random fact about yourself?

I am lousy at thinking up those kinds of things. Ask me a question about Gilmore Girls or about the most recent book I've read or what I like to cook or where to eat in Austin, and I'll talk your ear right off. Ask me to share a random fact with you and prepare for a long and awkward silence.

Today, I decided on the one I'll use for the foreseeable future until I come up with something better:

When I write my name ("Janssen," for any of you who need catching up), I never ever ever put the top bar on the "J." It's always just the one single line. Whenever I see my name written with a J with a top bar, I do a little double-take; it almost doesn't look like my name.

What is your excellently random fact?

Monday Muffins

A few weeks ago, I posted some pictures of lemon poppyseed muffins and lemon curd. For those of you who asked, most notably my sister-in-law Megan, for the recipe, today must be your lucky day.

Beware, these are sort of time-consuming and many-dish-using. Despite this, they are worth it, I think.

Lemon-Poppy Seed Muffins
(from Williams-Sonoma Muffins cookbook)

1/2 cup butter, room temp
2/3 cup sugar
2 eggs, separated
1 1/3 cup flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
2 Tbsp poppy seeds
Zest from 2 lemons
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup buttermilk
2 Tbsp lemon juice
1 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 350. Grease muffin tin.

In Bowl 1, use a hand mixer to cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the egg yolks, one at a time, until well-mixed.

In Bowl 2, stir together flour, baking powder, baking soda, poppy seeds, lemon zest, and salt. Using the hand mixer on low, add the dry ingredients to the creamed mixture in two increments, alternating with the buttermilk, then the lemon juice and vanilla. Beat just until smooth.

In Bowl 3, using a hand mixer with "spotlessly clean" beaters on high speed, beat the egg whites until they form soft peaks. With a rubber spatula, fold the egg whites into the batter until just blended.

Spoon into muffin cups (recipe says it makes 10 - it makes 12 for me) and then sprinkle with sugar.

Bake until golden brown and springy to the touch, 20-25 minutes. Let cool in pan for 5 minutes and then let them cool completely on a wire rack.

Serve with lemon curd, which you should make while the muffins cook and while you ignore the giant pile of dishes you've now dirtied.

Lemon Curd

Zest of 2 lemons
1/2 cup lemon juice
3 large eggs
1/2 cup sugar
6 Tbsp melted butter

Combine zest, juice, eggs, and sugar in a blender/food processor and blend for 20 seconds. With the machine running, drizzle in melted butter. Pour mixture into a small saucepan and bring to low boil over medium heat. Immediately reduce heat to medium-low and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture is thick and coats the back of the spoon (about five minutes). Transfer to a bowl and let cool to room temperature. Stores, covered, in the fridge for up to 2 weeks. Makes 1 1/3 cups.

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne

This post will be 100% spoilers because I hated the ending of the book and thus I need to rant lengthily about it. Consider yourself warned.

First off, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is obviously trying really hard to keep it from you what the topic is (which I'm completely ruining by telling you, and I knew the general topic before I picked it up thanks to some reviews, so whatever). On the back it says some things about how it's hard to write a blurb without giving too much away, so just accept that it's about a little boy, Bruno, who finds a fence.

That's nice and all, but if you haven't figured out it is a Holocaust book in about two chapters, you probably aren't that bright. I mean, he lives in Berlin. It's 1943. They are going to live out "Out-With" after "the Fury" comes to dinner. And then at "Out-With" there is a huge farm with people wearing striped pajamas working on it. Except there doesn't appear to be actual farming going on.

After that introduction you get chapters and chapters of him being like "I just can't figure out why there are people in pajamas out there. Also, it's so mean that I can't go back to Berlin."

A few months go by, and Bruno goes exploring and a few miles from the house, he discovers a little boy in pajamas sitting on the other side of the fence and they become friends. Bruno comes to visit him almost every day, sometimes bringing him food, but generally eating it on the walk out there, because, you know, he's super hungry. Also, why is the little boy on the other side of the fence getting skinnier and skinnier?

And the little boy tells Bruno some really sad stories about how mean the soldiers are and how his father was in the camp but then suddenly disappeared and how he used to live in Poland but then they had to come here on a really packed train. And Bruno is all "That's nice. Now I need to go back to my hard life where my stupid sister sometimes teases me. So you can see why I can't be all that sympathetic about your hard life, right? Bye!"

Eventually, Bruno's mom grows tired of living out in the middle of nowhere and, despite her husband's arguments, arranges to return, with Bruno and his sister, to Berlin. The day before they go, Bruno goes to visit his friend behind the fence for the last time, and the little boy steals an extra pair of "pajamas" for Bruno to wear. Under the fence Bruno goes and they go exploring the camp, until suddenly soldiers show up and start barking for everyone to line up. And then they all get gassed. And no one ever knows what happens to Bruno.

Yes, seriously. That's the book.

I just couldn't deal with how DUMB Bruno is. He seems just intentionally dense, completely misunderstanding everything, no matter how many times they are explained to him.

Also, there are other things going on in the background of the story that were kind of miscellaneous. For instance, I'm pretty sure Bruno's mother was having an affair with the seventeen-year-old soldier who was stationed at Auschwitz. But, since you only see it through Bruno's (not very bright) eyes, there is no way to know for sure.

The thing is, there are so many moving, excellently-written Holocaust books (massive plug for The Book Thief here), while this one just annoyed me to no end. When the last track finished, I think I actually rolled my eyes.

It's hard to write negatively about a Holocaust book without seeming like a completely heartless jerk (and maybe I am), but I don't feel like that's why I didn't like the book. I just didn't like it because I felt like it wasn't very well-done, and I felt totally manipulated as a reader. And now I feel like I have to defend myself and say things like, "I really do believe the Holocaust happened! I swear!" and "I think what Hitler did was unconscionable! Promise!"

And really, that irritates me even more. Because all I want to do is point a finger at this book and say "You just aren't very good. And I won't recommend you."

"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing"

A few times, recently, people have said to me "Wow, you are so adventurous to be moving all over the country." I guess when you hear it all together - "I was born in Wisconsin, grew up in Vegas, went to college in Utah, now live in Texas, and will be moving to Boston in the fall" - it sounds kind of adventurous.

But I don't feel adventurous. I don't feel brave or have a wandering soul. It's just kind of worked out that way.

Moving to Utah didn't feel courageous to me at all - I had planned on going to BYU my whole life, I was extremely familiar with the campus and the state, and I never even considered staying at home (my dad half-seriously told one of his staff at his fiftieth birthday party last fall that their parenting motto for high school graduates is somewhere along the lines of "We love you. Now get out").

After we had been married a few months, we started seriously considering leaving Utah. I had no desire to stay in Utah (about two years ago I wrote a very long post detailing my issues with living in Utah and have returned to it again and again, tweaking and rewriting it, but I've never had the courage to actually post it because I fear the retaliation), and the more we looked at Austin, the more appealing it seemed, and Bart, despite having lived nearly his whole life in Utah and having the vast majority of his family living there, was also getting antsy to leave it behind (at least for the time being). But still, I don't know that I would have had the guts to actually pick up and move if Bart hadn't made it happen. Even when it was what I wanted, it still felt terrifying.

And now we're off to Boston in the fall. My heart aches whenever I think about leaving this state I've learned to love (watch out, I'll be the one in Boston with a Texas flag in my window), but I'm also extremely thrilled to be moving to the East Coast. I'm excited to meet a whole flock of new people, and discover a new city, and adjust to a new life. The opportunities seemed far greater for us at this point in Boston than they do in Austin and it was a surprisingly easy decision to make about leaving. It didn't feel brave, it just felt smart.

On the other hand, when I hear people say things about how they would never ever move or leave this city or state or live farther than this many miles from their parents, I always think how much different that is from how I feel. I'm not afraid of moving or changing my life. And maybe that lack of fear is all it takes to be adventurous.

Go Bananas

Those of you who are LDS or are familiar with the LDS culture may know about Girls Camp (for those of you who don't, its basically what it sounds like - a week long camp for girls 12-17).

I myself went for five years when I was growing up in Las Vegas and I loved it. A lot. I like to camp in general and to go with all your friends for a week every summer is pretty much the most thrilling thing ever.

On Sunday night, I got asked to be the leader over the 30 or so thirteen year old girls for Girls Camp this summer.

And I am so so so excited. Bring on the tents, the sunburn, and the s'mores. I'm in.

Valentine's Day

So, this weekend is Valentine's Day.

I have to admit, I prefer it when it falls on a weeknight, because it feels much more special to go out to dinner on a Wednesday than on a Saturday. On the other hand, I don't have children so I'm not looking for a babysitter, which means it doesn't really matter to me. We don't make a giant deal out of Valentine's Day anyway, so it is all kind of a moot point.

In my imaginary life, I make fabulous handmade cards and small gifts for everyone I know, both locally and across the United States. My house is cleverly and perfectly decorated, without looking like a box of Sweethearts (bleck, I hate those) exploded in it. I make the whole day - nay, the whole week - a romantic and special occasion for Bart. We go to an amazing restaurant and do the $200 per person tasting menu.

In my real life, I (some years) buy Bart a box of Junior Mints and we go out to dinner and spend a grand total of $20. It is vair romantic and sweet.

Clearly, there is a massive gap between my imaginary and real lives. What clever and fun things are you doing to celebrate? Can I steal them?

Very Bookish

Several months ago, the lovely RA sent out an email to a group of book-loving bloggers and asked if we wanted to start an online book club. Despite my deep trepidation of ever having to choose a book for others to have to read, I agreed. Because, well, an online book club! Other people to blather on endlessly about good books with - I couldn't say no.

Last month, the first month, was a big success with three different books and dozens of comments.

Then this month it was my turn to pick a book and write a weekly post about it. Terrifying.

I finally settled on Graceling at the very last possible moment because I'd heard nothing but awesome things about it. But oh, it was difficult to commit. To say to a dozen other people, "This book is worth your valuable time."

I read the first 120 pages over the weekend and wrote my first post. And then other people started saying they'd really liked the book too and my terror started to recede a bit.

And then I kept reading the book (I'm now about 300 pages in) and I stopped caring what anyone else thinks about the book because I'm just flat out loving it. It may be the best book I've read this year. And I've read some fairly good books already this year.

Anyway, you can go check it out here if you wish: Very Bookish.

Houston, We Have a Winner

Actually two of them.

For those of you who were wondering, you only got one ballot no matter how many times you commented.

Also, none of my family members won, so I'm not going to bother showing the random integer generator. You'll just have to have faith that it was legitimate.

So, the winners are:

Lisa and Lonica

It would appear that in order to win, you needed to have a name that starts with an L. Should I have mentioned that in the original post?

Anyway, if you are Lisa or Lonica, send me your mailing address (janssen.everyday @ gmail dot com) and your books will be on their way!

Thanks everyone else for commenting!

What You've Always Suspected About Me

So, here's the honest truth: I'm a 12-year-old girl at heart. I love young adult romances.

I'm afraid that makes it sound like I'm all about Harlequin Romance Juniors (are there such a thing? I have no inclination to Google that phrase, but you are more than welcome to do so), and that's not really true.

I just happen to really enjoy the romance aspect of any given YA novel. (There is no need for me to mention here that I love Twilight, right? I thought not).

Take Shannon Hale's The Goose Girl. A fantastic book which would be great without the romance, but is even better with it.

Or The Hunger Games. Why hello love triangle. Nice to see you here; thanks for joining us.

I heard a lot of good things about Graceling, but I was ultra-motivated to read it when the back cover informed me that, in addition to "elegant, evocative prose" and the creation of a "mesmerizing world" and "death-defying adventure" there was a "heart-racing romance." Sign me up, friends.

I just read my first Elizabeth Scott book this week (Perfect You), and I remembered how much I like a little first hand-holding. Or first date. Or first kiss.

Today, I found this blog - YA Romance Reviews - which I now pretty much love with all my heart and am forcing all my friends to go look at. Because I'm hoping they're also twelve. Needless to say, I'm looking up holdings for all the books mentioned on the "Top 20 Couples" page at all the library branches in the state.

You don't have to admit you love a little teen romance yourself, but I would love you forever if you did.

*******************************************************************

By the way, the giveaway for The Middle Place is still open here, if you're interested in winning a signed copy. Just pop over and comment!

First Ever Giveaway

You know how sometimes you get emails that are all "would your blog readers like to win a free case of Depends? Please click here to see how you can host this awesome giveaway?" I laugh a little. And then I delete the email. Because I'm fairly sure that very few of you need Depends. And if you do, I bet the last place you want to procure such a necessity is on a blog.

This giveaway is, thankfully, not for Depends, but for a book called The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan. It's number six on the New York Times Best Seller list right now, so you may already be familiar with it. It's a memoir about Kelly's experiences as a mother and her battle with cancer. I actually saw this book on the shelf at the library over the summer and almost picked it up, but as usual, I'd maxed my library card completely out (who can possibly stay under fifteen books at one time?!) and I had to pass it up.

The giveaway is being hosted by The Daily Grommet and they are hosting Kelly and her book, The Middle Place, today. You can go visit The Daily Grommet (there's a short video interview with her) or check out the comments section over there, which Kelly is participating in.

To win, all you need to do is leave me a comment. About the book or not about the book. I'm not picky.

On Thursday, I'll randomly select two people from the commenters and your book will be on its way. And then you'll have something to anticipate coming in the mail. Life doesn't get much better than that.

Married Without Kids

A few weeks ago a young couple moved into the area and started attending our church. Last night, we had them over for dinner and they mentioned that in the three weeks they'd been to our ward, multiple people had told them, "You definitely need to meet Bart and Janssen. They don't have any kids either." We joked last night with them that, with something like that in common, how could we not be terrific friends?

Fortunately, we turned out to have many more things in common with them than just the no children thing, and it was a lovely evening. I think we'll be good friends.

And yet, it is so funny that to many many of the people we know, our lack of children is our defining characteristic.

When we lived in Utah, all of our friends were childless; it was kind of a shock to move here and be basically the only people without children. We had to adjust our social strategies and it's worked out beautifully.

We call up our friends who have children and invite ourselves over (people laugh when we tell them this, but we're totally serious). They put their kids to bed and we stay up laughing, watching movies, playing games, and generally enjoying it. We babysit for other people's kids on occasion, we go to visit them and their new babies in the hospital, and we go camping. Sometimes we go out to dinner or to a movie. Our friendships are richer and livelier because of our friends' children, not despite them.

Someday we'll have kids too, and I hope that people who don't have kids don't feel like we are too different to be friends or that our kids make it impossible for us to hang out with them.

On the other hand, it was really really nice to be able to have someone come over to our house for a change last night.