Books!

So.  I promised to review the books I took on holiday …

Uncle_fred

Uncle Fred in the Springtime, by P.G. Wodehouse.  If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times – you can’t go wrong with P.G. Wodehouse.  Unless, of course, you are not enamored with British humor; in which case, you will want to back slowly away – pity.  P.G. Wodehouse is most known for his Jeeves and Wooster stories, as well as those of Blandings Castle and Uncle Fred.  Uncle Fred in the Sprintime combines characters from all three – making it especially fun for Wodehouse fans.  It’s a light, easy read – perfect for a lazy summer afternoon. 

Here’s the story:  Pongo Twistleon and his Uncle Fred pay a visit to Blandings Castle as Sir Roderick Glossip and his secretary.  Polly Pott – daughter to private investigator Mustard Pott – joins them in the role of Sir Roderick’s daughter.  Their lofty goal is to prevent the Duke of Dunstable from stealing the Empress of Blandings – Lord Emsworth’s prize pig – and right the wrongs of young lovers.  Love lost, mistaken identities, Persian Monarchs, mickeys-slipped-in-drinks, egg-throwing, and whistling of The Bonny Bonny Banks of Lock Lomand add to the mayhem – and the hilarity.  You have only to sit back and see how Uncle Fred proves, “there are no limits, literally none, to what I can achieve in the sprintime.” 

Ilium, by Dan Simmons.  Yeah, I’ve got nothin’ for ya.  But don’t hold it against Dan Simmons.  This was all me.  Most of the time available to read was in Gothenburg.  Our hotel was on the water.  We’d open the window and settle in for a long evening’s read.  And there lies the rub – I would start to read the book, then I would hear the water lapping against the pier, the seagulls, and all I could think was Hornblower.  As in, Horatio Hornblower.  It was the PERFECT setting to re-read a book from the series.  Why, oh why, didn’t I bring one?  I was actually a bit pouty about the whole scenario.   Pitiful, but there it is.  I will say that the few pages I managed to read seemed well written.  But that would be the height of my review.  At this time.

Nightmare on 5th Street

nightmare copy

I have a dear friend whose fiancé “inherited” a home.  For the weeks leading up to their wedding, they worked to make the place liveable.  I once asked if she had taken “before” pictures so people could truly value the fruit of her labors.  She said no.  There was no way to capture the horror.  Now I understand.   

Saturday, her sister and a friend rounded up a few of us to help clean up a bit before the two lovebirds returned from their honeymoon. 

There simply are no words.

To give you a glimpse at the task before us – a crew of 8, in two-hours time, gathered enough stuff to fill two truck-and-trailer loads, with overflow.  And I do mean stuff.  There were body parts (those of dolls mind you, but just as creepy), wigs, rotten mats, bronze coal buckets (pee pots, spittoons, what have you), metal signs, wooden signs, a wood splinter wrapped with twine at the end of which hung a shoe,  an electric blanket, a vacuum hose – IN THE YARD!   

Other than dodging hornets (they were all a dither that we would even think of trespassing on their property) we kept our hands to the grindstone.  Every once in awhile someone would utter a coheriant sentence.  Here are a few things overheard… 

Where’s Mandy?

Oh, she’s in the shed.

Yeah, um, that’s actually a part of the house.

This is wrong; this is very wrong … so very, very wrong …

These guys are going to go ahead and make up some hazmat suits so we can safely enter.

I just needed to come out here for a bit so I did’t throw up.

Is that a head in the grass?

We found what appears to be either a mouse or a corndog. 

And the comment that pretty much sums it all up:

Oh dear God!

Now, lest you be shocked and appalled that I would use the Lord’s name in vain, let me assure you – that was nothing short of a heart-rendering prayer.  A prayer that we got the wrong house, that people could not possibly live this way … that we would make it out alive. 

But we did (and, apparently, they do).  While I would love to say we cleared out all the crap, tore down the creepy sheds, trimmed all the juniper bushes, hauled it all away, sprayed decades worth of weeds and bugs, planted grass and flowers, and otherwise started from scratch … we still accomplished quite a lot.  Further, there’s something to be said for working hard, in the heat of summer, to surprise someone you love.   You feel a certain affinity for those you work alongside – as if you could say “Come here you!”, pull ’em in, and give ’em a good dutch rub – or maybe hold hands and sing kumbaya.

Instead, I will simply say this: Mandi, Julie, Jared, Tim, Kayla, David, Brent, Aimee, Colby – and my mum – you rock!

It’s my day people!!!

 Not to brag or anything, but …

flying_pie

If you’ve read this here blog for any amount of time, you know the answer to this question is yes, yes I have.  We, actually.  My mum and I; and since it was her co-workers who drew attention to the fact that is was, indeed, our day, I let her do the honors.  I played the role of paparazzi.  [which, now would probably be a good time to mention the pics were not the best.  I’ve been back a week – is it too late to blame jet lag?!]

After the washing-of-the-hands and putting-of-the-hat ceremony, she received her pie-throwing instruction …

how_to_throw_a_pie

Here would be the pupil in action (In all fairness, I was fiddling with the the controls on my camera, trying to find the indoor setting, when I realized she was mid-throw.  I nearly broke my neck trying to get the shot.  That’s just how dedicated I am.) …

action_shot

Here is her impersonation of the evil-pie-thrower-troll.  She insists she was just intent on the instruction, but I think we all know the truth …

evil_pie_thrower

She was, however, a quick study.  Look!  She can carry on a conversation AND dress a pie …

makin_a_pie

The end product:  olive oil, smoked gouda cheese – which was so, so gooda (sorry, it couldn’t be helped), ham, wee bit of roasted garlic, zucchini, black olives, ‘shrooms, one jalepeneo smack dab in the middle, and a sprinkling of Mrs. Dash. 

pie_maker_extraordinaire

Topped with fresh tomats, I might add – proper placement of which was very serious business.  Obviously … 

eating_pizza

It was so tasty, it actually brought a tear to my eye.  Pretty sure.  

If you live in or near Boise – good news – you too can have your own day.  The thrill!  The EXCITEMENT!  I know.   Check their website for your name (or group on Wednesdays).   If you don’t live in or near Boise, sorry about your luck.  Thankfully, you just never know what the future holds.  And one must always have something to aspire to …

Home

I’m home, by the way.  Landed safe – and at least somewhat sound – late Wednesday night.   

Our long road home began with a ride to the bus station at 2:25 a.m. Swedish time.  Our taxi driver asked where we were from.  Idaho, we told him.  He shook his head and shrugged.  We laughed and told him he wasn’t alone – there are people in the United States who do not even know where Idaho is located.  He asked if it was out East.  No, we replied, West.  The wild, wild West.  He nodded and laughed.  We asked where he was from.  Iran, he said.  Do you like Sweden?  We asked.  No, he replied.  So you plan to go back someday?  Yes, he said, he hoped to … he paused, shook his head, shrugged … but he doesn’t know. 

I’ve thought a lot about that taxi driver in the last few days.  He opened my eyes to just how lucky I am.  Despite the flights, the layovers, the annoying flight attendant, the rude TSA agents, the dirty airports, the hoardes of people, the exhaustion, and the sadness, I was coming home.  I was coming home to family and friends – to my house, my garden, my kits – to a peaceful existance. 

And yes, I realize that human nature dictates there will always be the haves and the have nots.  There will always be those who take advantage of the weak and disadvantaged – and those who must fight to subdue them.  But it will not stop me from hoping – and praying – for that elusive world peace.  After all, everyone deserves the right to come home …