My rating: 4 of 5 stars
SPOILER ALERT:

I’m reluctant to pick up a Nicholas Sparks book, sometimes I like his work and sometimes I don’t. Dear John I liked very much but I was sorry that the story ended without resolution for John. I think the book buys into the notion of “the one and only” except not entirely. Whereas the story showed Savannah’s ability to genuinely love 2 men, though slightly differently, I was sorry that John never moved on and found love with someone he could be with.

What was most striking to me about this book was Spark’s depiction of John’s father. I knew John’s father had Aspberger’s Syndrome before the story disclosed that bit of information. John’s father structured his life by sets of routines and pattern’s; an echo that mirrored my life with my 28 year old son.

Sparks put language to parts of my life that have been so routine that I’ve never thought about them. Like John and his father, my son doesn’t ask about my day and I don’t need him to. My son doesn’t tell me about his day unless I ask him to. Like John and his father collecting coins, my son and I connect through our garden, and like the story, its enough for my son to share the same room without sharing interactions.

The story reminded me that my life permeates the lives of my two other children where, with my oldest son we seem echo off of one another, almost imperceptibly. Like John’s father, the phone rarely rings for my son and I was moved by how adeptly Sparks captured, not only a small segment of the Autism spectrum, but a very real part of my everyday life.

Each growing season I’ve watched my son nurture and care for all plants, even sickly sprouts with no hope of growing strong or producing fruit and I’ve often wondered if it isn’t a metaphor, if he doesn’t see some small part of himself. His actions say to me…”it matters just because its here.”

Sparks ability to resonate the unfathomable loneliness of Asperger’s Syndrome was both deeply personal and piercing.

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Naturally she’s over come with silent excitement and enthusiasm over his split-second hand gestures; like he just spent a year learning to speak perfect Chinese.  Seriously, she’s hearing impaired not stupid… although her boyfriend might be since signing 2 words appears to be a difficult and complicated feat for him.

Let me just say…barf.

The one I hate the second most is yet another diamond commercial. Mom rocking baby in the middle of the night, Dad gets up in his t-shirt and gives her a diamond.  I imagine her saying, “Oh, honey I can’t wait to see what it looks like on my hand cleaning a dirty diaper!”

Seriously, she doesn’t want a diamond, she wants him to take the baby and say go get some sleep.

The third most hated Christmas commercial is the perfume commercial with a couple ice skating to I’ve Got You Babe. Naturally she can skate well and he keeps falling down, but he is sincerely trying to meet her in her world. It’s about as stupid and trite as that scene in New Moon where the writer wanted to depict a happy future for Bella and Edward by dressing them in white and showing them running through a meadow. It’s vampire fiction not a Julie Andrews film.

Once again, let me just say…barf.

Here’s a commercial I did like! Anyone whose raised a daughter over the last decade knows this commercial is pitch perfect. From the beat, to the dance to the gestures…its all girl.

And another that made my Holiday Like List:

I’ve heard that women going through menopause experience changes in their hormone levels that cause mood swings. Since I’m a recent inductee to this club I can say from my own personal experience that this is rubbish. It isn’t the hormone levels that cause us to be crabby, we’re just pissed off because  we dressed and undressed all night long…on the hour, every hour and we don’t have any new clothes to show for it.

***I’ve nixed the automatic link that appeared below my post… skip going to the doctor, skip the prescription for hormones instead try increasing your soy intake. Asian women don’t experience hot-flashes and the reason is thought to be dietary. For other natural cures visit my favorite online resource at www.earthclinic.com

Years later I met Claire online on the Goodread.com website. Our conversation started after Claire visited my online journal and read some of my writing. At the time I had just written “I Forgot that Sunflower’s Die,” which was just a few lines that touched upon the death of my daughter’s father. Claire had also lost a parent as a child and she shared her story which had recently been published in Good Housekeeping magazine.

Since then Claire’s periodically sends a note cheering on my writing, and with each book she writes I’m reminded that it’s never to late to follow your heart.

Whether you find yourself writing at a child’s swim practice or in the humid, hum of a bustling laundry mat, remember to love what you have and to bloom where your planted.

Here is Claire Cook’s interview on the Today Show…well done, girl:)

well

Wife seeks divorce after husband poops in cooking pots

Kansas couple’s trash bin tryst takes wrong turn

Police in Papua New Guinea are hunting the leader of a sex cult who promised villagers a bumper banana harvest if they had sex in public.

Maybe the Kansas couple should take up residence in Papua New Guinea.

I’ve embedded the follow Youtube clip to illustrate how easy it is to make:

Today was my first day  without a Match.com account, as of yesterday I officially let my 30 day membership expire. Instead of investing time into flirting with complete strangers I woke up, made a To-Do List for the next month, texted a flirt from my phone, returned a pair of shoes to a department store then purchased 2 more…damn!

Gnocchi with roasted tomato sauce anyone?

(Italian food in honor of the Italian inspired Volkswagen Karmann Ghia I saw today…for sale on the side of the road…sigh. Cheers to the styling concept created for Ghia by Luigi Segre. Karmann Ghia…meow!)

Today I roasted about 300 tomatoes and I was finally completely satisfied with my recipe.

Here is how I prepared them.

Slice Roma’s in half, lengthwise. Drizzle with olive oil, added salt, pepper, a hand full of garlic ( I prefer fresh but used loads of minced and it was excellent) oregano and finely chopped basil.

Mix well so all tomatoes are well coated.

Place face down on a baking sheet and roast at 350 degrees until skin start to pucker. Different baking surfaces will cause  the length of time vary.

Remove from oven and scoop into a blender or food processor, buzz for about 10 seconds.

Pour into a food mill or a potato ricer.

Process all tomatoes, add fresh basil to taste, simmer sauce to desired consistency and enjoy!

The last person to shamelessly flirt with me in public was a young man in his early twenties. He was working in a shop and smiled at me, I smiled warmly back because he was very good looking and I felt very safe that he wasn’t hitting on me due to his age as well as mine, I was sorry my daughter wasn’t with me.

When he passed by me a second time, I wondered…when he moved to the check out counter with me, I really wondered. I had purchased an item in a large box and the young man grabbed the box as I paid for it. I told him I could carry it and he said, “I’m carrying it,” and walked to the door.  After he loaded it into my car, I thanked him and he looked back at me from over his shoulder swept a glance from my shoes, over my skirt and up to my face then said, “come back sometime,” and walked away. It was the emotional equivalent of having a 6’2 twenty year old slap me on the bottom and my mouth fell open.

After joining the ranks of the tragic, dating singletons for the past 30 days I can say with with complete confidence that men of all ages make me feel old.

Men who are my age talk about dating women in their 30′s, always a blond Pilates instructor which leaves me wanting to squint my eyes across the table and say something like, “shut up, Daniel Cleaver” with a British accent, or toss my napkin across the table and say, “sod off.” On the opposite end invitations from men in their twenties  makes me queasy because it would he like dating my son’s friends, a notion I find repellent. Which brings me to the subject of  35 year old men which I am in a quandary over. Even with many things in common I don’t want to be 12 years older because he undoubtedly, not only knows the blond, thirty-something Pilates instructor he also knows the Llama-eyed, 24 year old Yoga Master, with pink hair and a perky tush. It may make Anna Nicole Smith‘s husband feel young to date a younger women but dating a younger man would just remind me how much older I am.  It would remind me that I was playing spin the bottle when he was  backstroking in amniotic fluid still tethered to his Mother.

This means my only other option is older men but as I grow older that prospect becomes increasingly frightening, even if I were to kick the tires I simply couldn’t bring myself to look under the hood.  I’d rather die old, alone and half eaten by wild dogs.

Nicholas was certified and hired by the community college to tutor in all achedemic areas including chemistry and physics.

Benjamin and Rachel leased a new home:)