O.K., so I've plowed through several books in recent times--most of them pretty good. Here are a few, reviewed briefly. (All titles were borrowed from the library.)
1. Jane by April Linder--This is a modern-day (young adult) retelling of Jane Eyre. Full disclosure: I did not enjoy Jane Eyre when I had to read it for high school. It was a drag and the relationships (and much of the events) made no sense. So while Jane is a very good tribute to the original, I wound up not enjoying it for the same reasons I didn't enjoy the original.
But after saying all that, as I have been taking more of an in-depth look at introversion for my own personal insight, it has been said that Jane Eyre (the original character) was an introvert. Lindner definitely writes that aspect of Jane Moore (the modern-day character) marvelously well. (I even found myself identifying with some of the things she said she experienced!) Actually, I have to admit that Lindner's wordcraft in general really impressed and pleased me as a reader.
I read this in anticipation of a Twitter Book Club. . . that I wound up missing! But I don't regret having read it. I do look forward to reading her future work. Even if I'm forced to rehash everything I read for high school.
2. The Girl Is Murder by Kathryn Miller Haines--I forget where I read about this book and felt compelled to request it from the library. [Update 07/24/2012: I remembered that Bri reviewed the next installment, The Girl Is Trouble, recently. I honestly didn't remember that as I was reading the book and writing this post, so my apologies if my post notes similar things!] It's pretty well-written YA (definitely for teens and not younger) set during the WWII era. It was almost like crossing Meet Molly (yes, I had a Molly doll, a major indulgence from my generous parents) with Veronica Mars and making a novel: teen girl with mom gone helps disgraced dad (lost his leg while serving in the military) with his detective agency. She goes rogue in an attempt to find out what happened to a classmate of hers and discovers a new sense of self, as well as ways to relate to her dad and others, along the way. Definitely a good novel for mystery lovers.
The only thing that really turned me off at times was the attempt at authenticity sometimes tripped me up: too much lingo, not enough contextual clues. It seemed gratuitous. I found myself wishing for a glossary to which I could flip for help sometimes. [07/24/2012: And it appears that Bri enjoyed the things I didn't really like, so. . . that's different tastes for you! The second book does sound a bit more substantial, though.]
3. The Cheshire Cheese Cat: A Dickens of a Tale by Carmen Agra Deedy & Randall Wright--I read this one on audio. This is a middle-grade book, so it's not a million CDs long. And what a wild story it was! Skilley the cat won't eat mice; he likes cheese. He manages to get himself a job at a cheese shop and pub--a very odd place where he makes friends with the mice (and particularly the clever Pip) and is studied by pub patron Charles Dickens who comes in to work on his writing, as do several of his contemporaries.
Conflict comes mainly in the feline person of Pinch, a cat with several scores to settle. It sounds like a story that is too far-fetched, but all the characters are really well-drawn (and oh, the Dickensian names!) and the action flows. Bonus: Pip is well-read and loves using numerous "fifty cent words," often to Skilley's puzzlement but always for his edification. I would love to see teachers use this remarkable story to teach vocabulary.
Double bonus: The illustrations are by Barry Moser, whose cat illustrations I recognized because our family loves Telling Time with Big Mama Cat.
It's a great read and would be a really fun travel audiobook, because the production is done with such animation (intelligible British accents included).
Monday, July 23, 2012
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Coming off Hiatus
Well, the book club leader moved out of town, and the half the club seems to be on summer vacation, so it remains to be seen if and when the next selection will be announced and a date set. The next meeting, if it happens, might not take place until September. And of course my participation is dependent on both the selection and the date. (For all I know, I will have joined or started a new book club by then!)
In the meantime, I've been reading. A LOT. And I'm eager to share what I've read.
To that end, I'll be putting up posts discussing titles I've read. The posts will be labeled "independent reading." The things I read will vary in genre and reading level but will be not "younger" than Middle Grade (pretty good explanation here). I'm in the middle of two pretty good--and very different--books at the moment.
Is anyone reading anything good for the summer? Feel free to share in the combox.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Hiatus
As my few followers might have guessed, this blog is going (has been) on hiatus. There are several reasons:
The titles/types of books preferred by the majority of the club members just don't appeal to me. I tried suggesting things, but nobody else was into them. And the one time I did suggest something, the book was so savaged at the next meeting that--while I didn't take it personally--it certainly left me feeling that my preferences didn't fit it too well with the rest of the group.
The last meeting I went to was so poorly attended, mostly because people hadn't read the book (although most of the few who did attend had not read it, either!), that I felt I had wasted my time both reading the book and coming to the meeting. What's the point?
It's not so much that book clubs aren't for me; really, it's about finding the book club that is for me. That could involve starting my own club.
I will update and/or change formats if and when I get the new club going (or join a new one.). Thanks for reading--and keep on reading!
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Book Club Meeting Minutes
Considering the fact that I just got an e-mail reminder about this month's book club meeting--which is this coming Monday (yikes, need to do that reading)--I figured I'd better get in the minutes from last month's (i.e. September's) meeting.
Meeting: September
Book: Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese
This meeting, as mentioned previously, was hosted at my mom's house. Summer finally was starting to make its exit, so she decided to make warm spiced cider and serve donut holes and candy corn (yum). Also some praline-topped baked brie. No booze. I guess she didn't want any alcohol-related brawls--in vino veritas and all that.
Had I read the book? Well, "skimmed" is more like it. I just have a hard time getting into stories where it reads like a series of bad things happening to characters that don't really give me a reason to root for them (or maybe even just plain feel sorry for them)--or is it that I'm supposed to feel something for them by the mere occurrence of bad things happening to them all the time? I don't know. But in any event, I knew enough to get by in the discussion if not the "discussion questions" (more on those later).
There definitely were more people at this meeting than last time, I think about a dozen people. What a difference five people can make. Everyone seemed to like the cider and the food, and even though the praline sauce hardened a bit too quickly, it all got eaten up. I for one cannot comment on items with cheese as I am allergic, but in general I think when one goes to the extra effort of making something, odds are it will be well-received, as it was at this meeting, especially when people were in the mood for something seasonal.
The most anticipated and/or feared part of the meeting followed right after the greeting and eating: The Format Talk.
Our group organizer--let's call her "Brooke" for ease of reference--had brought a notepad with her to jot down our decisions, I guess. She sat in a chair that was in front of the fireplace. To her left (well, not her immediate left because the landing for the steps is there) sat Leona.
"So, I just wanted to check in with everybody to see if they had any thoughts about the format of the book club, if there was anything we wanted to change," said Brooke.
Nobody responded immediately, but eventually someone said she was O.K. with it and most people agreed.
Then Leona started in about how everybody should get a chance to talk, and how she had brought discussion question with her this time. You know, because she had already read this book for two other book clubs. So she started pushing for having a moderator for each meeting. Nobody really responded right away to that, and it was borderline uncomfortable silence. I think people might have been torn between encouraging Leona (and possibly making her the moderator) by agreeing and getting on her bad side by disagreeing. As a result, the discussion circled back to the duties of the organizer, and while Brooke said she had no intention of leaving her post as organizer, she suggested that the hostess for each particular meeting be the moderator.
Nobody objected, at least aloud. I kept quiet, although--my take? I think having a moderator, especially for a group as small as ours, interferes with the organic development of the book discussion. This idea of "everyone must talk" and answering prepared questions (as opposed to someone's posing a question that had arisen during her reading or in response to the reading) just goes against everything I believe in as an educator and just generally a person who recognizes that everyone's different and not all people have something to say at every single meeting. It might be a classic extrovert/introvert misunderstanding.
So, why did I not speak up? I often think I'm in the minority, especially as someone who feels on the fringes of this club--more of an auditor, if you will--so I'm not going to introduce an idea that's going to be met with that uncomfortable silence because no one wants to hurt my feelings. Also, honestly, as much as I wasn't looking forward to talking about the book, I wanted this part of the meeting to end as quickly as possible.
Which it did, with the declaration that this change in format would occur the next time around.
This time, Leona did the leading, question printouts in hand. Actually, she was fairly pleasant as the moderator, probably because it suits her, and also her extreme familiarity with the book contributed.
The discussion got unpleasant at times because it ventured into discussions of fistulas (ugh but the medical people in our group were into it), abortions, and FGM (double ugh). My question was my curiosity regarding the audience: Did those among our group who liked this book also enjoy medical dramas/melodramas on TV, like "Grey's Anatomy"? Interestingly, the answer was no. That result surprised me, and ultimately I still did not understand why the majority of the group enjoyed the book so much.
And yes, I did voice my opinion that I didn't enjoy the book, but I merely said it wasn't my cup of tea. It was just too sad and I'm still not crazy about reading medical stuff because my cat has cancer. I don't personally find books full of tragedy and angst all that moving--not that I'm saying a book has to be full of sunshine and good news, but this idea that life is just a series of bad things that fall on hapless humanity is just so. . . I don't know, nihilistic or something.
Anyway, the good news--sort of--was that our next meeting would be around Halloween time, and the hostess for that meeting said she wanted a scary-ish read. I had something in mind, but I couldn't remember the full title and wasn't able to describe it well enough, so off I went to my parents' computer upstairs (in what was once my bedroom for a few years after my brother moved out).
And of course while I was waiting for the slow-moving dinosaur desktop computer to get me the information I wanted, the conversation continued downstairs and a decision was made. They were repeating the details when I was walking down the steps.
Oh, well. They tend not to like my suggestions, anyway. As a side note, after the meeting, the group got an e-mail from Brooke saying that someone had given the "great" idea of e-mailing around future book selection suggestions ahead of the next meeting, the point being that people could "research" them in advance. Yeah. . . nobody did that this time around. I do have an idea and I might send it around, just to see if anyone pans it outright. Or if they'll wait until the meeting.
So, next meeting's reading is The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, which definitely sounds like something you read in the dark to scare yourself. I have been woefully behind with everything on my to-read list--to the point of owing $3.00 in fines on overdue books! Even librarians miss due dates! We work hard!--so I haven't gotten to it yet. I guess I'd better do that soon.
Mom and I were joking about dressing up in goth outfits to please our hostess. Hmm, I should check with her to see if she still wants to do that. Those costume stores might still be open with their clearance sales. Maybe we can find some gothic wigs.
Our gung-ho participation might just win us votes for the next book selection.
Meeting: September
Book: Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese
This meeting, as mentioned previously, was hosted at my mom's house. Summer finally was starting to make its exit, so she decided to make warm spiced cider and serve donut holes and candy corn (yum). Also some praline-topped baked brie. No booze. I guess she didn't want any alcohol-related brawls--in vino veritas and all that.
Had I read the book? Well, "skimmed" is more like it. I just have a hard time getting into stories where it reads like a series of bad things happening to characters that don't really give me a reason to root for them (or maybe even just plain feel sorry for them)--or is it that I'm supposed to feel something for them by the mere occurrence of bad things happening to them all the time? I don't know. But in any event, I knew enough to get by in the discussion if not the "discussion questions" (more on those later).
There definitely were more people at this meeting than last time, I think about a dozen people. What a difference five people can make. Everyone seemed to like the cider and the food, and even though the praline sauce hardened a bit too quickly, it all got eaten up. I for one cannot comment on items with cheese as I am allergic, but in general I think when one goes to the extra effort of making something, odds are it will be well-received, as it was at this meeting, especially when people were in the mood for something seasonal.
The most anticipated and/or feared part of the meeting followed right after the greeting and eating: The Format Talk.
Our group organizer--let's call her "Brooke" for ease of reference--had brought a notepad with her to jot down our decisions, I guess. She sat in a chair that was in front of the fireplace. To her left (well, not her immediate left because the landing for the steps is there) sat Leona.
"So, I just wanted to check in with everybody to see if they had any thoughts about the format of the book club, if there was anything we wanted to change," said Brooke.
Nobody responded immediately, but eventually someone said she was O.K. with it and most people agreed.
Then Leona started in about how everybody should get a chance to talk, and how she had brought discussion question with her this time. You know, because she had already read this book for two other book clubs. So she started pushing for having a moderator for each meeting. Nobody really responded right away to that, and it was borderline uncomfortable silence. I think people might have been torn between encouraging Leona (and possibly making her the moderator) by agreeing and getting on her bad side by disagreeing. As a result, the discussion circled back to the duties of the organizer, and while Brooke said she had no intention of leaving her post as organizer, she suggested that the hostess for each particular meeting be the moderator.
Nobody objected, at least aloud. I kept quiet, although--my take? I think having a moderator, especially for a group as small as ours, interferes with the organic development of the book discussion. This idea of "everyone must talk" and answering prepared questions (as opposed to someone's posing a question that had arisen during her reading or in response to the reading) just goes against everything I believe in as an educator and just generally a person who recognizes that everyone's different and not all people have something to say at every single meeting. It might be a classic extrovert/introvert misunderstanding.
So, why did I not speak up? I often think I'm in the minority, especially as someone who feels on the fringes of this club--more of an auditor, if you will--so I'm not going to introduce an idea that's going to be met with that uncomfortable silence because no one wants to hurt my feelings. Also, honestly, as much as I wasn't looking forward to talking about the book, I wanted this part of the meeting to end as quickly as possible.
Which it did, with the declaration that this change in format would occur the next time around.
This time, Leona did the leading, question printouts in hand. Actually, she was fairly pleasant as the moderator, probably because it suits her, and also her extreme familiarity with the book contributed.
The discussion got unpleasant at times because it ventured into discussions of fistulas (ugh but the medical people in our group were into it), abortions, and FGM (double ugh). My question was my curiosity regarding the audience: Did those among our group who liked this book also enjoy medical dramas/melodramas on TV, like "Grey's Anatomy"? Interestingly, the answer was no. That result surprised me, and ultimately I still did not understand why the majority of the group enjoyed the book so much.
And yes, I did voice my opinion that I didn't enjoy the book, but I merely said it wasn't my cup of tea. It was just too sad and I'm still not crazy about reading medical stuff because my cat has cancer. I don't personally find books full of tragedy and angst all that moving--not that I'm saying a book has to be full of sunshine and good news, but this idea that life is just a series of bad things that fall on hapless humanity is just so. . . I don't know, nihilistic or something.
Anyway, the good news--sort of--was that our next meeting would be around Halloween time, and the hostess for that meeting said she wanted a scary-ish read. I had something in mind, but I couldn't remember the full title and wasn't able to describe it well enough, so off I went to my parents' computer upstairs (in what was once my bedroom for a few years after my brother moved out).
And of course while I was waiting for the slow-moving dinosaur desktop computer to get me the information I wanted, the conversation continued downstairs and a decision was made. They were repeating the details when I was walking down the steps.
Oh, well. They tend not to like my suggestions, anyway. As a side note, after the meeting, the group got an e-mail from Brooke saying that someone had given the "great" idea of e-mailing around future book selection suggestions ahead of the next meeting, the point being that people could "research" them in advance. Yeah. . . nobody did that this time around. I do have an idea and I might send it around, just to see if anyone pans it outright. Or if they'll wait until the meeting.
So, next meeting's reading is The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, which definitely sounds like something you read in the dark to scare yourself. I have been woefully behind with everything on my to-read list--to the point of owing $3.00 in fines on overdue books! Even librarians miss due dates! We work hard!--so I haven't gotten to it yet. I guess I'd better do that soon.
Mom and I were joking about dressing up in goth outfits to please our hostess. Hmm, I should check with her to see if she still wants to do that. Those costume stores might still be open with their clearance sales. Maybe we can find some gothic wigs.
Our gung-ho participation might just win us votes for the next book selection.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
And Further Confusion
Ultimately, the club organizer sent out a message declaring the book club meeting postponed to September 19. I did not see any further correspondence about it, and I assumed that every member had agreed. You know, without hitting "Reply All."
Last Monday, the original date of the meeting, I had joined my parents for dinner at their house to visit a while with my oldest nephew, whom Mom had taken shopping for back-to-school clothes. "There's someone at the door," he told me shortly after we'd cleared the table and Mom was finishing up in the kitchen. I went to the door and saw one of the book club members who lived across the street and down from Mom and Dad. I realized at the same time that it was seven o'clock and that the dreaded book was in her hands.
"Book club is tonight, isn't it?" she asked as I opened the door. I could see the confusion in her eyes as she scanned the living room and found it empty. Not to mention only half-painted a lovely blue on the side where the piano resided.
"Actually, it got moved to next month--September 19th," I said. "Did you see the e-mail?"
Shaking her head with a bit of a sheepish laugh, she replied, "No, I never read my e-mail." Facebook has killed e-mail, I thought to myself, but I couldn't figure out how else she would know what was going on with the group, unless she talked to other neighbor-members--something less likely to happen recently as a lot of people go on vacation at the end of August.
Honestly, I felt bad she had made arrangements to be there that night, and the thought of her turning right around and going right home to dissolve her "night out" seemed unfair. So I grabbed Mom and we stood on the front porch chatting for a bit about the book. She said she liked it, and cared for it far more than the book she had been reading for another group, A Visit from the Goon Squad. (I looked at it in Target last Friday while browsing books until my sister and my cousin were ready to go; I see how the changing perspectives could annoy readers.) After a few minutes, I excused myself to spend a little more time with my nephew.
So I guess we will see her again on the 19th. . . at which point in time I will have read the club's selection. I can't put it off for much longer- Ooh! What's that? Another cat mystery?
How did I get hooked on those?
Last Monday, the original date of the meeting, I had joined my parents for dinner at their house to visit a while with my oldest nephew, whom Mom had taken shopping for back-to-school clothes. "There's someone at the door," he told me shortly after we'd cleared the table and Mom was finishing up in the kitchen. I went to the door and saw one of the book club members who lived across the street and down from Mom and Dad. I realized at the same time that it was seven o'clock and that the dreaded book was in her hands.
"Book club is tonight, isn't it?" she asked as I opened the door. I could see the confusion in her eyes as she scanned the living room and found it empty. Not to mention only half-painted a lovely blue on the side where the piano resided.
"Actually, it got moved to next month--September 19th," I said. "Did you see the e-mail?"
Shaking her head with a bit of a sheepish laugh, she replied, "No, I never read my e-mail." Facebook has killed e-mail, I thought to myself, but I couldn't figure out how else she would know what was going on with the group, unless she talked to other neighbor-members--something less likely to happen recently as a lot of people go on vacation at the end of August.
Honestly, I felt bad she had made arrangements to be there that night, and the thought of her turning right around and going right home to dissolve her "night out" seemed unfair. So I grabbed Mom and we stood on the front porch chatting for a bit about the book. She said she liked it, and cared for it far more than the book she had been reading for another group, A Visit from the Goon Squad. (I looked at it in Target last Friday while browsing books until my sister and my cousin were ready to go; I see how the changing perspectives could annoy readers.) After a few minutes, I excused myself to spend a little more time with my nephew.
So I guess we will see her again on the 19th. . . at which point in time I will have read the club's selection. I can't put it off for much longer- Ooh! What's that? Another cat mystery?
How did I get hooked on those?
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Mass Confusion = Reprieve?
Well, well, well. All of a sudden, talk of postponing next week's meeting has popped up.
Maybe people were enjoying their summer too much to haul around the ol' required reading. Me, I was just avoiding it.
The tiny but lovely readership of this blog may recall that my mom offered to host. The poor dear actually rushed to paint the downstairs ahead of some family obligations that commenced mid-month, and while unfortunately the walls were not cooperative, it gives that nice added conversation piece of a work in progress. Now that there is talk of postponement into September, the club will have to face the fact that Mom already made plans with certain days--like days the painters are coming--some of which happen to be Mondays.
Our club organizer sent an e-mail asking for members to reply with availability. Enter the flurry of responses via the dreaded "Reply All" button. (Yeah, I know some members want to know what everyone says; me, I'd rather you just collect the responses and tell me what the new date is.)
One of the non "Reply All" users hit reply to the response my mom sent as future hostess explaining her limited availability in September. Mom forwarded it to me because it was a bit puzzling.
Guess the mysterious author of the reply. I'll give you a hint. Her response included the phrases: "Great to talk to you," "you'll be ok [sic]," and "love you!"
I was a little puzzled, too, if that helps you any.
Maybe people were enjoying their summer too much to haul around the ol' required reading. Me, I was just avoiding it.
The tiny but lovely readership of this blog may recall that my mom offered to host. The poor dear actually rushed to paint the downstairs ahead of some family obligations that commenced mid-month, and while unfortunately the walls were not cooperative, it gives that nice added conversation piece of a work in progress. Now that there is talk of postponement into September, the club will have to face the fact that Mom already made plans with certain days--like days the painters are coming--some of which happen to be Mondays.
Our club organizer sent an e-mail asking for members to reply with availability. Enter the flurry of responses via the dreaded "Reply All" button. (Yeah, I know some members want to know what everyone says; me, I'd rather you just collect the responses and tell me what the new date is.)
One of the non "Reply All" users hit reply to the response my mom sent as future hostess explaining her limited availability in September. Mom forwarded it to me because it was a bit puzzling.
Guess the mysterious author of the reply. I'll give you a hint. Her response included the phrases: "Great to talk to you," "you'll be ok [sic]," and "love you!"
I was a little puzzled, too, if that helps you any.
Monday, August 15, 2011
I Joined a Book Club and All I Got Was Drama, Part II
(Be sure to read Part I before continuing to read here.)
Already on the phone, she had hemmed and hawed about my "price" for computer tutoring, to the point where I said, "I don't care, bake me a pie, bartering works for me." Lady, don't say you don't know where to set a price, then make me give you an idea (what I earned as a tutor at school), and then start babbling as if I'd asked for a million bucks.
It was all for naught, anyway, because I realized two things: One, I'd skipped over this version of Office as I went from job to job; two, Jolene's idea of "helping her with her computer" and my idea did not quite match.
And that was red flag #2, after she had taken issue with my use of the word "purge" with respect to cleaning up old e-mail. I'll let you guess what got overshared there. (Sometimes, I really wish my embarrassment would make me run rather than stay.)
I think she really had no intention of learning any more about the program, and wanted me to "fix" whatever was bothering her and set things up the way she wanted them. I wish she had spelled that out from the beginning, but then again, I never would have said yes, would I?
Then there was a whole e-mail archiving fiasco because, as I tried to tell her, I was not really familiar with this version of Office. We ran a search for e-mail more than about six months old, her choosing, not mine. I could see from the location labels that the majority were actually in her Deleted Items file, but apparently the file had never been emptied. EVER. Due to some bug in the system, our attempt to move all the old e-mail into a newly created folder wound up placing them all as attachments in a new e-mail. I still have no idea why, but stupid me canceled the e-mail with what I thought were copy attachments. . .
They weren't, according to every forum I searched. Oooops. And while I struggled to get them back, Jolene was making smoothies in a blender and of course offering some to me. When I asked if there was dairy in it, she snorted a laugh. That pissed me off, frankly. Then came the question that always annoys me: "Oh, are you lactose intolerant, too?" "No, I'm actually allergic," I responded. She assures me it's "just strawberries." Still, I politely declined, saying I just had lunch at Mom and Dad's and water is fine. She sets a glass down next to me, anyway. It's pink with flecks of green in it. Again, being polite and going against my better judgment, I took a sip. Between my mixed feelings about strawberries and both the texture and the taste of the green bits, one sip was more than enough.
At that point, I was ready to go home, or at least back to my parents'. I decided to try the honest route, secretly hoping it would enrage her that I'd lost all those e-mails and she'd show me the door.
"Well, can you call Microsoft?" she demanded, somewhat naively. I did not think so, but I had to make a show of actually doing it while she sat outside eating her lunch. I was starting to get a headache, and I thought it was from stress and frustration. When she came back in, she asked me if I'd tried the smoothie, and I told her I'd taken a sip but it really wasn't for me. That's when she told me she put parsley and protein powder in it. The minute she said "protein powder" my heart sank, because there are a lot of protein powders out there sans lactose but still containing milk. Ugh. My headache sharpened, and I still had no answer Jolene would accept that would make her release me.
Next, I had to call the nice computer guy at the place where I had taken my defunct laptop the day before--he looked up the same answers I did. Then, Jolene put me on the phone with her son, who lives in another part of the state and probably picked up his work phone only because his grandma was in the hospital. Other than a shared laugh at his crack that "those e-mails probably needed to 'go to God' ages ago," we still came up with nothing.
So at last, she accepted that the e-mails were gone, but she still wouldn't let me go. I was feeling awful--in retrospect, I realize it was an allergic reaction--but in the moment all I knew was that I couldn't stop feeling bad and I wanted to cry. And that's when Jolene got under my skin and made some comment about my summer, and I was like, "Everything's wrong, my cat's sick, I've put on grief weight, and I have a million things to do before school starts."
While I might have been mad at myself for letting that slip out, I was even madder when she responded, "You sound depressed." I hate sidewalk psychiatry. It always seems as if people who have been through whatever feel they have ability to see the same things wrong with other people, when in truth a lot of times it's just imposition in the attempt to have something in common and be friends. It's the companion to oversharing.
Somehow, I was able to start the discussion about my departure. I started to tell her that I was willing to waive my fee for the day because I'd made the mistake. . . and then she interrupts me, saying that I really didn't tutor her anyway and that she expected to have some real tutoring next time. At which point I underscored my ineligibility to tutor her, because I did not know enough about the applications, but she just brushed that aside oddly by saying that the only other tutor she had found who could do it was charging $60. (She didn't even want to pay me half that!) With even more frustration making my head boil, I managed to wrap up the conversation by telling her just to call me if she wanted to set anything else up. (I figured that gave her time to get distracted and forget.)
I left the house, but not before helping her push the leaves in her dining room table back in place. As soon as I got back to my parents', I grabbed two aspirin and some iced tea. I spared my mom most of the details, but I said, "Never again." I wound up going home for some antihistamines and sleeping for an hour to shake off the headache and whatever else had hit me.
Friday, an e-mail shows up from her. She wants to drop off a check but doesn't know my address.
First reaction: What!?
Second reaction: No!!!
The remainder of the e-mail is thanking me for being so "open" and she wants to help with my "big D." The only "D" I mentioned was "Diverticulitis" but I'm afraid she means "Depression." There's a doc attached to the e-mail and it's labeled her "story," which I'm guessing she uh, shares in order to sell her supplements.
Already on the phone, she had hemmed and hawed about my "price" for computer tutoring, to the point where I said, "I don't care, bake me a pie, bartering works for me." Lady, don't say you don't know where to set a price, then make me give you an idea (what I earned as a tutor at school), and then start babbling as if I'd asked for a million bucks.
It was all for naught, anyway, because I realized two things: One, I'd skipped over this version of Office as I went from job to job; two, Jolene's idea of "helping her with her computer" and my idea did not quite match.
Me: So if you want to clean up your mailbox, just go to "Tools" in the menu bar and-
Jolene: [shaking her head and throwing up her hands] Wait, wait, wait!
Me: ?
Jolene: You have to give me more time. I'm not getting it. [sighs, keeps shaking her head and cringing]
Me: ? [to myself: Um, should I not have assumed she has a basic understanding of the program she uses to get her e-mail every single day?]
And that was red flag #2, after she had taken issue with my use of the word "purge" with respect to cleaning up old e-mail. I'll let you guess what got overshared there. (Sometimes, I really wish my embarrassment would make me run rather than stay.)
I think she really had no intention of learning any more about the program, and wanted me to "fix" whatever was bothering her and set things up the way she wanted them. I wish she had spelled that out from the beginning, but then again, I never would have said yes, would I?
Then there was a whole e-mail archiving fiasco because, as I tried to tell her, I was not really familiar with this version of Office. We ran a search for e-mail more than about six months old, her choosing, not mine. I could see from the location labels that the majority were actually in her Deleted Items file, but apparently the file had never been emptied. EVER. Due to some bug in the system, our attempt to move all the old e-mail into a newly created folder wound up placing them all as attachments in a new e-mail. I still have no idea why, but stupid me canceled the e-mail with what I thought were copy attachments. . .
They weren't, according to every forum I searched. Oooops. And while I struggled to get them back, Jolene was making smoothies in a blender and of course offering some to me. When I asked if there was dairy in it, she snorted a laugh. That pissed me off, frankly. Then came the question that always annoys me: "Oh, are you lactose intolerant, too?" "No, I'm actually allergic," I responded. She assures me it's "just strawberries." Still, I politely declined, saying I just had lunch at Mom and Dad's and water is fine. She sets a glass down next to me, anyway. It's pink with flecks of green in it. Again, being polite and going against my better judgment, I took a sip. Between my mixed feelings about strawberries and both the texture and the taste of the green bits, one sip was more than enough.
At that point, I was ready to go home, or at least back to my parents'. I decided to try the honest route, secretly hoping it would enrage her that I'd lost all those e-mails and she'd show me the door.
"Well, can you call Microsoft?" she demanded, somewhat naively. I did not think so, but I had to make a show of actually doing it while she sat outside eating her lunch. I was starting to get a headache, and I thought it was from stress and frustration. When she came back in, she asked me if I'd tried the smoothie, and I told her I'd taken a sip but it really wasn't for me. That's when she told me she put parsley and protein powder in it. The minute she said "protein powder" my heart sank, because there are a lot of protein powders out there sans lactose but still containing milk. Ugh. My headache sharpened, and I still had no answer Jolene would accept that would make her release me.
Next, I had to call the nice computer guy at the place where I had taken my defunct laptop the day before--he looked up the same answers I did. Then, Jolene put me on the phone with her son, who lives in another part of the state and probably picked up his work phone only because his grandma was in the hospital. Other than a shared laugh at his crack that "those e-mails probably needed to 'go to God' ages ago," we still came up with nothing.
So at last, she accepted that the e-mails were gone, but she still wouldn't let me go. I was feeling awful--in retrospect, I realize it was an allergic reaction--but in the moment all I knew was that I couldn't stop feeling bad and I wanted to cry. And that's when Jolene got under my skin and made some comment about my summer, and I was like, "Everything's wrong, my cat's sick, I've put on grief weight, and I have a million things to do before school starts."
While I might have been mad at myself for letting that slip out, I was even madder when she responded, "You sound depressed." I hate sidewalk psychiatry. It always seems as if people who have been through whatever feel they have ability to see the same things wrong with other people, when in truth a lot of times it's just imposition in the attempt to have something in common and be friends. It's the companion to oversharing.
Somehow, I was able to start the discussion about my departure. I started to tell her that I was willing to waive my fee for the day because I'd made the mistake. . . and then she interrupts me, saying that I really didn't tutor her anyway and that she expected to have some real tutoring next time. At which point I underscored my ineligibility to tutor her, because I did not know enough about the applications, but she just brushed that aside oddly by saying that the only other tutor she had found who could do it was charging $60. (She didn't even want to pay me half that!) With even more frustration making my head boil, I managed to wrap up the conversation by telling her just to call me if she wanted to set anything else up. (I figured that gave her time to get distracted and forget.)
I left the house, but not before helping her push the leaves in her dining room table back in place. As soon as I got back to my parents', I grabbed two aspirin and some iced tea. I spared my mom most of the details, but I said, "Never again." I wound up going home for some antihistamines and sleeping for an hour to shake off the headache and whatever else had hit me.
Friday, an e-mail shows up from her. She wants to drop off a check but doesn't know my address.
First reaction: What!?
Second reaction: No!!!
The remainder of the e-mail is thanking me for being so "open" and she wants to help with my "big D." The only "D" I mentioned was "Diverticulitis" but I'm afraid she means "Depression." There's a doc attached to the e-mail and it's labeled her "story," which I'm guessing she uh, shares in order to sell her supplements.
You hear that sucking noise?
I'm running the other way.
I responded by saying that no payment was necessary. I did not say anything else. I haven't gotten a response yet. I'm almost hoping to keep her at bay via e-mail. But if she shows up at the next book club meeting, I'm trapped.
Or maybe Leona will create a diversion.
I'm running the other way.
I responded by saying that no payment was necessary. I did not say anything else. I haven't gotten a response yet. I'm almost hoping to keep her at bay via e-mail. But if she shows up at the next book club meeting, I'm trapped.
Or maybe Leona will create a diversion.
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