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?



 

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.


  

The Book Has Not Moved from the Passenger Seat of My Car

Mom blew through Cutting for Stone in a weekend (650 pages!) because she "wanted to get it over with." Whereupon Monday she handed it back to me.

I have absolutely no desire to crack it open.

Maybe I'm dreading the next meeting; definitely the premise of the book is not speaking to me.

Our previous meeting's hostess just sent around a photo of the new baby, prompting a lot of addressees to hit "Reply All" (ugh) and (1) coo over the baby (all right, but really do we all need to hear 20 people say "Congratulations!" to someone else?) and (2) offer some comment about the book. Most recent was a gushing "loved it, can't put it down, may reread before we meet" reply-all.

I gagged.

Mom said it was the perfect comment because then that person could do all the (more than four or five sentences) talking.


Heh.

From the Living Room to the Schoolyard

So, late in the evening on the day after our book club met, an e-mail appeared in my in-box. It was from someone in the book club group, somebody I really do not know well--she came into the group via someone else, and is not a "neighborhood" resident although her home is pretty close to the 'hood--but is a pretty easy character to read, at least in my opinion. I'll call her "Leona" for ease of reference.

Don't get me wrong: Leona is smart, she loves her kids and provides well for them. She must be likeable in some way, because she's friends with someone else in the group.

But OH MY GOSH the attitude.

The "I'm in two other book groups" attitude. The "I work in medicine so I know a lot" attitude. The "I know a lot so no one should debate me" attitude. The "I don't want to hear from you if you don't agree with me" attitude.

The one that made her eyes shoot daggers at my mom when Mom got a little caught up in what Leona was saying and wanted to dialogue but accidentally interrupted her (because she was not done what she was going on about).

Yeah, that one.

Therefore, I knew that the real subject line should have read "Warning! Drama Enclosed" but I read it anyway.

It was too good not to share. My comments in bold.

[...G]ood seeing you last night. Thx for bringing your book ideas [that really don't coincide with anything anybody else wants to read].

I am reaching out to you in confidence [yeah, right--the first rule of book club is that there are no secrets in book club] because we [I'm sorry--where did "we" come from all of a suddent? I saw no cc's on this e-mail, and BTW who died and made you club president?] wanted to ask your help in guiding your mom a bit during the book club. [Say what?] Your mom is so smart [yeah, shockingly so for a homemaker, huh?] and we all love her [again, who is this "we" and why do I sense a "BUT" coming on?] and she has a lot to say, which is important.

But [Aha!] it is hard for all of us to have a discussion because she ends up dominating most conversations [Excuse me--"most"? You weren't even here last time!] and continues to have more [have more what? crackers?] when others are sharing. Last night it became uncomfortable for most. [Again, who? Was there a secret follow-up meeting?] That's why I called on people later. [Yeah, being put on the spot is SO not uncomfortable at all!]

Is there any way that you [ME!?] could advise her to be mindful of this. Usually the first 4-5 sentences are perfect, meaningful, insightful-but she goes on and on after that. [Wait, wait, wait--you are counting her SENTENCES? Is there a limit I don't know about?] Should we give her a 1 minute hour glass [!!! (I have no words)] or can you nudge her [WTF? You mean I have to sit next to her and assault her at every freaking meeting from now on?] after a few sentences?

Please let me know your thoughts and if I am off base. [Oh, absolutely, because you'd take that so well.]

My blood was boiling a bit after I read that. Fortunately, my first reaction was a good one: I closed it and walked away.

I still have not answered it, as I have been mulling over my options.

Option 1: Say nothing. I do not want to dignify this whacko e-mail with a response.

Option 2: Tell her that she's putting me in an awkward position and to leave me out of it.
I mean, how would she like it if I walked up to her daughter and said, "Kid, I don't like the way your mom talks to people; would you tell her to back off? Oh, but that didn't come from me"?

Option 3: Play completely dumb.
"Gee, Leona, if there's a problem with people talking too long, maybe you could talk to [the club coordinator who I think is the friend who brought her in] about establishing a moderator for each meeting, and maybe the group should propose and agree on some rules."

Option 4: Tell her she is "off base" and immature for singling out one person and then not having the huevos to tell that person directly that she has a problem with that person.
After which I would declare, "I quit!" because I don't have time for passing notes in the schoolyard.



Our next meeting is not until the end of August, but here's the most fabulous twist ever:



My mom volunteered to host it.



I guess Leona would just want her to stay in the kitchen where she belongs, then.