Bits and pieces

Three things I'm loving right now:

1. The idea of hot-cross buns in the morning. Did you know hot-cross buns are a traditional Good Friday food? I did not know, and we're not having any (!), but don't these look good?

2. This book by one of my new favorite authors. Also this one, which a friend recommended, and this, which for some reason I put off reading but then couldn't put down.

3. These Chicago White Sox players wearing 'Boston Strong' T-shirts in their game against the Red Sox gave me a lump in my throat. We'll be in our usual spot on Monday cheering loudly for the runners in this year's marathon, and without a doubt I'll have another lump in my throat as they go by.

I hope you have a very happy (long) weekend.

(Photos by londonbakes for Food52 and AP photo/Charles Rex Arbogast)

Bits and pieces

Five things I'm loving right now:

1. I am not much of a cook or a foodie, but I'm loving the website Food52. Have you seen it or, even better, do you get it as a daily email? I love the clean, stark photography and its simple presentation. To be honest, I have yet to buy any of the kitchen items for sale or try a recipe, but I look forward to reading it every day.

2. The Husband's Secret by Liane Moriarty. A good beach reach while it's still very much winter here.

3. My current Facebook obsession is Susie's Senior Dogs, spotlighting elderly dogs around the country that have been abandoned and desperately need homes. Thousands of people are seeing this page and, best of all, adopting these sweet, gray-faced pups.

4. An opinion piece in Sunday's New York Times about what people learn in their 40s. My very favorite: "There are no grown-ups. We suspect this when we are younger, but can confirm it only once we are the ones writing books and attending parent-teacher conferences. Everyone is winging it, some just do it more confidently."

5. Ellen DeGeneres as Oscar host. She may have gotten some mixed reviews, but I loved everything about her performance, from her opening monologue to her Glenda the Good Witch costume change to ordering pizza without money to pay the delivery guy. She made me stay up hours later than I had planned.

(All photos from Food52.)

Love story

I have a friend who's always reading and who, when she says she loved a book, I know I will as well. Her latest recommendation was eleanor & park, one of the most moving love stories I've read in a long time.

Eleanor and Park are two 16-year-olds - a redheaded girl and an Asian boy - who are forced to sit together on the school bus. Neither of them fit in in their 1980s high school in a working-class neighborhood in Omaha, Nebraska. But they slowly realize they share a love of comics and music and, most important, a sense of humor, and their friendship becomes something more.

eleanor & park falls under the category of "young adult," but I'd hope anyone reading would be at least an "old young adult." The language is harsh, and Eleanor's home life, particularly her relationship with her alcoholic and abusive stepfather, is disturbing, to say the least. Yet the relationship between these two teens is innocent and tender and so true, and I was rooting for them from the minute they met until the last page.

"Nothing before you counts," he said. "And I can't even imagine an after."
She shook her head. "Don't."
"What?"
"Don't talk about after."
"I just meant that ... I want to be the last person who ever kisses you, too ... That sounds bad, like a death threat or something. What I'm trying to say is, you're it. This is it for me."
"Don't." She didn't want him to talk like this. She'd meant to push him, but not this far.
"Eleanor ..."
"I don't want to talk about an after."
"That's what I'm saying, maybe there won't be one."
"Of course there will." She put her hands on his chest, so that she could push him away if she had to. "I mean ... God, of course there will. It's not like we're getting married, Park."
"Not now."
"Stop." She tried to roll her eyes, but it hurt.
"I'm not proposing," he said. "I'm just saying ... I love you. And I can't imagine stopping."

Have a happy weekend.

A Book (or Four)

The books I've read most recently have ranged from memoir to a compilation of advice columns (not what I would typically pick, but one of the most moving books I've read), from fiction to a children's book (by one of my all-time favorite authors, Patricia MacLachlan). What have you been reading? I'd love to hear.

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail (Cheryl Strayed)

'The thing about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, the thing that was so profound to me that summer - and yet, also, like most things, so very simple - was how few choices I had and how often I had to do the thing I least wanted to do. How there was no escape or denial.... As I clung to the chaparral that day, attempting to patch up my bleeding finger, terrified by every sound that the bull was coming back, I considered my options. There were only two and they were essentially the same. I could go back in the direction I had come from, or I could go forward in the direction I intended to go. The bull, I acknowledged grimly, could be in either direction, since I hadn't seen where he'd run once I closed my eyes. I could only choose between the bull that would take me back and the bull that would take me forward. And so I walked on.'

Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar (Cheryl Strayed)

'I do know one thing. When it comes to our children, we do not have the luxury of despair. If we rise, they will rise with us every time, no matter how many times we've fallen before. I hope you remember that the next time you fail. I hope I will too. Remembering that is the most important work as parents we can possibly do.'

The Good House (Ann Leary)

'I show homes to a lot of important people - politicians, doctors, lawyers, even the occasional celebrity - but the first time I saw Rebecca, the day I showed her the Barlow place, I have to admit, I was a little at a loss for words. A line from a poem that I had helped one of my daughters memorize for school, many years before, came to mind. I knew a woman, lovely in her bones.'

White Fur Flying (Patricia MacLachlan)

' "He doesn't speak?" asked Alice.
"No," I said.
"Why?" asked Alice.
I shrugged.
"Okay," said Alice. "I can talk."
I smiled.
"You sure can," I said. "You and Lena."
"He doesn't have to talk," said Alice.
"That's what Mama said."
But why didn't he talk? Was he afraid? Was he sad? He must have talked once, maybe when he was a baby. When he was little? Maybe he talked last week. Why not now?'

Good things online

Two new-to-me Web sites I'm loving, plus one not-as-new but always good:

A group of bloggers - writers, photographers, stylists - recently got together and started Clementine Daily. I love it for its name but also because it's like getting a favorite magazines in the mail - or email - every day. House tours, interviews, fashion, food, and a daily quote that I like most of all.

Have you heard of Tradesy? It's a site where you can sell clothing items - jackets, handbags, sweaters, etc. - you no longer need or want, and Tradesy will do all the work, including sending you a pre-paid shipping box once an item sells. You can go there to shop, too, of course, and I just spent more time than I should have looking through an assortment of size 10 shoes.

I've been reading Sweet Paul Magazine for some time now but always get excited when a new issue comes out - and a new issue just came out. The photography is gorgeous, and there's always something good - from recipes (salmon stir-fry for dogs!) to travel (Stockholm) to interesting kitchen finds. I think you'll enjoy.

Finding the way there

A friend dropped a book off on my doorstep yesterday morning with a note saying how much she liked it. My computer was moving slowly, so as I sat and waited, I read the author's note at the beginning of the book. And there I came across a perfect description of my life, right down to the detail about the author's sister:

"A hopeless navigator, I regularly got lost trying to find birthday parties and doctors' offices, exiting the highway at the wrong place and driving around for ten minutes without recognizing anything. After a while my children would begin shouting from the backseat, 'You're lost, aren't you? You're lost again! Call Aunt Bridget!' My sister, Bridget, would navigate me back to our town after I called her on my cellphone, my heart pounding with the stress of being late, being a wretched driver, risking a citation, being lost."

This is me. I remember driving a carful of girls to a birthday party and becoming utterly lost with no idea where to go next. The GPS was no help because apparently - as I remember - there there two streets with the same name in the same town. I called my sister, trying to sound calm for the listening ears in the backseat, and sure enough, she got us there.

I love the author's description of this state of being - being late, being a wretched driver, being lost. I once told my children I don't panic when I'm lost because I'm so accustomed to it, but that's not true. Being lost in a car is a terrible feeling. The GPS (usually) helps, to be sure. And of course my sister.

The book, by the way, is Paris in Love by Eloisa James. It's about the author's decision to take a sabbatical from her job, sell her house, and move with her family to Paris, where she continues to get lost, but this time on foot and - most important - with much greater pleasure.

Home from the library

I haven't yet come up with a perfect system for reading (or, rather, for buying or borrowing books). Typically, it goes like this: I'll be at the computer late at night and realize I have a list of books in my head or written down somewhere that I'd like to read. I'll skim through reviews on Amazon and then order them all at once from the online site our public library maintains. Because of this, they usually come in and need to be picked up all at once. But I can read them only one at a time, which means I rarely get through the stack before they're due back, which in turn leads to another flurry of emails and inevitable library fines. There must be a better way, or at least I need to read much faster.

With that said, this is the stack I've just picked up (and as I write, I realize there's a common theme running through all of these):

Reconstructing Amelia by Kimberly McCreight. A single mother searches for the truth about her daughter's tragic death.

Seating Arrangements by Maggie Shipstead. A father prepares for the wedding of his daughter at his family's New England summer home.

Where'd You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple. A fed-up mother disappears, and her daughter sifts through clues to find her.

She Left Me The Gun: My Mother's Life Before Me by Emma Brockes. A daughter travels to South Africa to try to unravel her mother's mysterious past.

So here I go. Trying not to panic.

To watch and to read

I'm terrible about making time to go to the movies - ironic, because I love them and think each time I go that it's the very best I've ever seen. "The Hunger Games" was perhaps the last in-the-movie-theater movie I saw, which tells you something. But the film that's going to get me in my car is most definitely "What Maisie Knew," based on the Henry James novel, about the breakup of a marriage told from a child's perspective. In a review, Time Magazine says it's difficult to watch but is "the most provocative movie about parenting ... since 'The Kids Are All Right.'"

Speaking of parenting, I'm waiting for my library-reserved copy of What My Mother Gave Me: Thirty-One Women on the Gifts That Mattered Most. In these essays, women writers tell about gifts from their mothers that impacted their lives in profound and often unexpected ways. One writes of leopard-print shoes; another of a horse; and a third about a year of sobriety before her mother died of alcoholism.

One box of Kleenex for the movies; one for my bedside table.

Celebrity

Jenna Lyons, executive creative director and president of J. Crew, is everywhere. A profile in Fast Company. Glamour Magazine's Woman of the Year. One of Time Magazine's 100 most influential people in the world. The subject of a New York Times article, "Jenna Lyons, the Woman Who Dresses America."

My favorite Jenna Lyons piece, though, is the April Harper's Bazaar "My List" column, in which she describes a typical 24 hours of her life and, in the process, describes herself. Reading it was like reading US Magazine's celebrity feature called "They're just like us!," with photos of famous people doing ordinary things such as grocery shopping and tying their shoes. As I read the Harper's Bazaar column, I thought, "She's just like me!" For example, she says, "I try to get my coffee to taste as close to coffee ice cream as I can." I do too. "One of my assistants gave me a T-shirt that says Sorry I'm Late." I don't have an assistant, but I'm always late. "My preferred mode of communication is silence!" Me too. "I check my Instagram far too much." I do as well. "I'll go for a year eating the same thing and then I'll switch. Right now I'm eating Cobb salad; last year it was tomato soup." I do the same. "I like to go out with just a few people at a time. I'm not good in giant group situations." I do too, and I'm not either. "I love looking at magazines. I get every possible one.... It's a problem." I do too, and yes, it is.

So, not too shabby being like the very lovely creative head of J. Crew.

Meanwhile, love, love, love the cover of the May issue of Harper's Bazaar. Partly it's because I like Gwyneth Paltrow, partly it's the colors - white, pale blue, pale pink, and grey - and partly it's something else I can't quite figure out. It feels both old-fashioned and very modern. It has an almost other-worldly feel to it. Just so pretty.

(Photo by Daniel Jackson for Harper's Bazaar)

Thoughts

To go on a family vacation and be able to read a book (or two) all the way through is a wonderful thing. I had been looking forward to both "Autobiography of Us" by Aria Beth Sloss and "Frances and Bernard" by Carlene Bauer, and I liked the first but loved the latter. One reviewer said he thought the ending was a bit of a letdown, but I disagree. I've gone back several times to reread the last page.

The elementary school that two of my children go to is celebrating National Poetry Month with what it calls "Poem in a Pocket Day." Every child is to write or find a poem that takes no longer than 30 seconds to read or recite and keep that poem in his or her pocket, ready to share if someone asks. While I won't name names, one of us was a little more enthusiastic about this project than the other, but both ended up with poems I think are "very them" folded (or stuffed) in their pockets. This is what I might choose if someone asked me to put a poem in my pocket.

I enjoyed this article in The New York Times Sunday Styles section (from a couple weeks back - still catching up) on conflict resolution in families, i.e. how to manage arguments and end up happier. The article includes several tips such as sitting in comfortable seats when discussing uncomfortable subjects; avoiding the word "you" in any discussion, such as "You never do this..."; and my personal favorite, the three-minute rule, which recognizes that the most important points can be made in the opening minutes. "After that, people repeat themselves at higher and higher decibels," the author says. For me, that's a hard one but a good one.

A little background on the photograph below, which is this month's Boston Magazine cover. According to the magazine, the original May cover was almost ready to go to print when the editors learned of the bombings in Boston. They quickly started over and came up with the idea of a heart composed of shoes worn in the marathon. They sent out posts on Facebook and Twitter asking runners if they would be willing to donate their shoes and to be interviewed about their experiences. Staffers also talked to friends and friends-of-friends until they had the 120 shoes you see below. I love this story, and I love this beautiful and touching cover.

Happy weekend.

(Photograph by Mitch Feinberg for Boston Magazine)

Lean In

I haven't yet read Sheryl Sandberg's book, Lean In, so it's a little funny that I'd be writing a post about it. In my defense, I'm really writing about Real Simple managing editor Kristin van Ogtrop's response to Sandberg, the chief operating officer of Facebook, and Sandberg's hugely successful and widely discussed new book.

Once, long ago, I read something van Ogtrop wrote in an anthology on motherhood. It was before I had children, but her essay struck me as the most honest and daring of the collection. Ever since then, I've looked forward to reading her monthly "editor's note" in Real Simple. She's funny and smart and, just as she was in that first essay, always honest.

In her most recent "editor's note" (an expanded version was published in The Huffington Post), van Ogtrop says, "Here's the thing: I don't want to be striving for bigger/better/higher/more every minute of every day. I don't always want to have a larger goal. That just sounds exhausting and, worst of all, completely joyless."

Obviously, as editor of a successful lifestyle magazine, van Ogtrop has achieved the kind of success I think Sandberg's talking about (but remember, I haven't read the book!). And she makes a point of saying how much she loves her job. But to me, that makes her argument more compelling, not less. This is the part that moved me most: "... I can tell you with certainty that, when I'm lying on my deathbed, I'm not going to be thinking about career wins. I'm going to be thinking about my parents and two sisters who greeted every new life situation like it was another chapter in a long, hilarious narrative; my steadfast husband, who gave me love and a true north; and finally, the three children who made me take life both more and less seriously, and whose faces are the only thing I see when I close my eyes."

The second best part of van Ogtrop's essay is the last few sentences. I've given away too much already, so I'll let you read it for yourself. I'd love to hear what you think.

(The photo above - of the mantle in my living room - was taken by my good friend and fabulous photographer Jennifer Green.)

Good reads

I read this and this recently. They're so different but both good. I can't wait to read this. And I read this a few years ago, which I really loved and which turned me on to author Elizabeth Strout.

One of my favorite things in the world is requesting books online from the town library and then getting an email saying they're being held for me. It's like buying something new for free, and there's never any guilt. That's how I read Woman in the Mirror, a beautiful book by Richard Avedon of his photographs of women - some previously published, some not - from 1946 through 2004, the year he died. I like the earlier images best, particularly from the 1950s and '60s, but it's fascinating to see how his work changed, getting edgier and edgier as the years passed. My only disappointment with this book is having to give it back.

(All photographs from Woman in the Mirror by Richard Avedon)

Record-keeper

I read a short profile the other day of Jaume Tapies, the chairman of Relais & Chateaux, a luxury hotel group. He travels the world checking on hundreds of properties and searching for new ones. What stood out to me about him is the fact that every single night he writes in a journal, recording what he did that day and who he met. "One day I'll look back and be able to trace this incredible history," he said, "but it also helps me remember where I've been."

Right after reading about Mr. Tapies, I read an article in Martha Stewart Living by David Neibart. Neibart is a dad who one day realized his children had nothing tangible to look at, the way he had a box of photos when he was little. His family's thousands of photographs were stored on the computer and rarely looked at. So he bought some journals and began to fill them with pictures and stories about what his kids did or funny things they said. His children look at the books all the time now, and if there ever was a fire, he said, these journals would be the first things he would grab.

I've always wished I was better about writing things down when they happen. I didn't finish a baby book for any of my children, and I never even started one for my youngest. Fortunately, my sister has made books for them, and I'm so grateful, but she lives across the country and (sadly!) misses the day-to-day stuff. Neibert said keeping his journals made him realize how much he otherwise would forget. I don't want to forget. So though I can't guarantee I'll stick with it, my resolution for spring is to be a better record-keeper, to remember where we've been.

What would you do differently?

I was a little under the weather last week and, because of that, I'm behind on almost everything, with one exception. Being in bed gave me a chance to go through the very tall stack of magazines on my bedside table.

Last night I got to Real Simple, where I read the winning essay of the magazine's 2013 Life Lessons contest. Each time I read one of these essays, I cry. This time the writer was asked, "If you could change one decision in the past, what would it be?" Adrienne Starr tells of her decision to stop singing after years of going on auditions and finding a measure of success as a professional opera singer.

I loved her writing and her message, but I also was touched by one small detail. Starr talks about quitting so completely that she no longer even sings in the shower. But there's an exception, and that's her infant niece, Daphne. Daphne is the only one she'll sing to, and when Starr becomes ill and loses her voice during treatment, it's Daphne she practices with.

"Daphne had always been the perfect audience," she writes. "She would look me directly in the eye as I sang song after song. If I stopped, she would wave at me with her tiny hand, urging me to go on." I have a giant soft spot for aunts and nieces, and I loved that this baby girl played a role in helping Starr do just that - to go on.

You can read the essay here, if you'd like.

Photo by Thuss + Farrell

The Language of Flowers

I promise that there are books I read that I don't write about, and some I don't like enough even to finish. I just happen to have read three recently that I've loved. First there was this, and then this, and I've just finished The Language of Flowers, by Vanessa Diffenbaugh.

Because of the subject matter, it's not an easy book to read, and the main character, Victoria Jones, is not always easy to like. The book begins on her 18th birthday, when she becomes "emancipated" from the foster-care system. She is completely alone (and thinks she likes it that way), with little hope of finding a way to support herself. She has one thing working in her favor, though, and that's her gift with flowers. She once had a foster mother who loved her and wanted to adopt her, and this woman, Elizabeth, taught her what each flower stands for - for example, Lavender, mistrust; Magnolia, dignity; Myrtle, love.

Victoria does find a job and, with it, a purpose, but the past haunts her. She makes terrible choices, and you want to shake her even as you root for her. At the center of it all is the long-ago relationship between Victoria and Elizabeth, which unfolds over the course of the book. Their connection is poignant and heartbreaking, like the few other relationships Victoria tentatively forms. There are ups and downs until the very end, but it's so worth reading to get there.

A good response

I imagine there have been hundreds of articles written on the subject of people being rude online. In Sunday's New York Times, for instance, there was an opinion piece about how "nasty" comments by readers affect how other readers interpret a story.

I'd been thinking a bit about reader comments, even before I read the Times article. One of the blogs I read regularly is written by a husband and wife renovating a home. I also follow them on Instagram, and most of the photos they post there are related to their house project.

Twice recently, after this couple posted photos, someone said something unkind. Not the sort of nastiness the Times was talking about, but not very nice. And each time, other readers jumped to the bloggers' defense. They didn't like what was said and seemed to feel protective of the bloggers.

The comments went on and on, back and forth. And then, both times - and this is the whole reason for this story; you knew I'd get there eventually! - the bloggers responded, but rather than being even the slightest bit defensive, they defused the situation by being funny, gracious, and kind. If they were offended by any of it, they didn't let on. And that was that.

I thought about how easy it would have been for this couple to react, even just a little bit, or perhaps make a point by staying silent. But that's not what they did, and that made all the difference. A good reminder for this mother, brand new blogger, wife, friend, neighbor, and sometimes reactor.

Photo by Jennifer Green

The Secret Keeper

If you haven't yet read The Secret Keeper by Kate Morton, you must. I've been known to exaggerate how good a book is, but this one really is. When I was a little more than halfway through, I told a friend who had read it that I wasn't sure I wanted to continue. It was at a perfect point in the story, and I was feeling panicky it would end badly. She told me to keep reading.

"The Secret Keeper" is about three friends in London during World War II and then later in the 1960s and again in 2011. It's historical fiction, a murder mystery, and a love story. But it's also about family, friendship, marriage, and the secrets people carry. As you read, you may find yourself going back to reread certain sections. Possibly the entire book.

Good book for a long weekend

I finished The Light Between Oceans a few nights ago, but I'm still thinking about it today. I often don't want to get to the end of a good book simply because I don't want it to be over. This was different. There are so many emotional ups and downs in this book that I hoped the end would offer some relief! I won't tell you if it did or not, but it's worth reading to find out.

Quick summary: An Australian couple lives on a remote island where he works as a lighthouse keeper. She's desperate for children after two miscarriages and a stillbirth. She thinks it's her imagination when, one day, she hears a baby crying. A boat has washed up carrying a dead man and a living baby. The woman convinces her husband to let her keep the tiny girl. But when they return to the mainland for a visit, they're reminded, as the front cover says, "that there are other people in the world [and] their choice has devastated one of them."

Warning: A friend read this for her book club and thought it was all too much. Too painful to the very end. Most of the other book clubbers loved it. I did, too.

(Photo by Oliver Hammond via Flickr)

Ride

I don't spend much time on my bike beyond riding on nearby paths to run the dog, so maybe that's why I was so interested in a New York Times article about people commuting from far-flung suburbs into the city. It's the hour - some at 4:45 a.m. - they leave; it's the conditions - dark, ice - they ride in; and it's the distances - 40 or so miles one way - that got me. I pride myself on getting out of bed at 7:00 each morning and walking my youngest daughter to school a quarter of a mile in 40 degree weather. Ha! What about the group that leaves from Ridgewood, NJ, at 5:30, with a shift at 6:30 "for the lazy people"? And the commuter who starts off alone in Chappaqua, NY, and is met in Hawthorne by a family of coyotes that trots alongside his bike? No complaining tomorrow morning or ever again when my alarm goes off.

Photo by Mikael Colville-Andersen via Flickr

Fabulous and funky

The Sartorialist: Closer

It was still bitter cold and gray on Saturday, so the bookstore seemed like a good outing with my daughter Kate, who's 13. Kate's a shopper and lover of anything fashion, so I knew exactly the aisle she'd head for. She also had a gift card with her.

I thought for sure she would choose kate spade new york: things we love, and she was awfully tempted. But in the end, she made a different choice. Earlier this fall, we were supposed to go to a book signing but had to change plans at the last minute because one child wasn't feeling well or another needed to be picked up - I don't remember now. I just know that street photographer and blogger Scott Schuman was in town to read from his new book, The Sartorialist: Closer, and Kate was mad she missed it. So she bought the book, and last night when she was sleeping, I took it for myself.

I didn't expect to like it as much as I did. It's a little quirky, with commentary on bullfighting, cowboy boots, and even a Mennonite girl on Route 45 in Pennsylvania. But that's what's best about it, I think. It's not just about fabulously and funk-ily dressed people on the streets of New York and Milan, though there's that, too. In the introduction, Schuman says he now wants to understand the people he shoots more than he once did, and for this book he tried to photograph a greater variety of people. That's why, he says, there are pictures of house painters, bartenders, fashionistas, and nomads "just to name a few."

More than what they're wearing, I love the faces of the people in this book. There's one photograph of two girls sitting on a sidewalk in Paris. Their arms are crossed over their legs, and they're leaning forward. They're smiling, and I feel like I know them. They're probably 17 or 18, but they remind me of a certain 13-year-old.