So, I wasn't actually a big fan of Little House on the Prairie.
Weird, right?
I was all over Nancy Drew and Anne of Green Gables and Little Women, so you would think Laura Ingalls Wilder would have been right up my alley. Totally wasn't, though.
Anywho, I nonetheless find the idea of this cookbook intriguing.
(More nerdery?) I just love how books are snapshots of how lives were lived. For example, the clothes Jessica and Elizabeth wore in the original Sweet Valley High series tell us a lot about what was cool in the 1980s. Or, Judy Blume's adult novels highlight times when hippie-chic was chic....
Showing posts with label Little Women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Little Women. Show all posts
2010-01-21
2008-11-22
cougars, chick lit and Christmas
Okay.... You know when you see a cougar at a bar?
(Yes, I know this is mean.)
Anyway, cougar at a bar. Sorry, two cougars at a bar, because cougars rarely travel alone. They are wearing something painfully horrifying, like white jeans and a vest as a shirt. You feel bad for them while hoping you are not going to become one. You take a quick look down to make sure your waist flab is covered by your shirt and jeans, not out there for the world to see. Anyway, besides the point. The point is, you see the cougars flirting with guys who are way younger, who are often blinded by drink, and the whole thing is just icky and embarrassing for all present. Also, reason enough to never let tequila pass your lips again.
On that note, I offer you this, which I assume happened sans tequila, but shouldn't have:
On the likelihood YouTube has wrested this video from its site, simply know Tyra Banks made the star of Twilight bite her neck. On daytime television. Yick.
Moving on.
Somehow, my blog was excluded from this list. Perhaps I should be happy, as this is sort of confirmation my blog is not all about chick lit. Or, I should be less self-centred for three seconds and recognize these here words are not an international cultural phenomenon in the making.
Um.... moving on again.
Today was a beautiful day in Edmonton. I'm not sure who needs to know this on the record, but it really was. It was the kind of day that made you feel good about winter (probably because it was like 7C), and a little excited about Christmas (even though Christmas decorations seem to be throwing up everywhere).
To me, one of the most fascinating aspects of Christmas is its romance -- not like sexual/love romance, but historic/times lost romance. I'm thinking of the way Anne describes a snow fall on Prince Edward Island over a hundred years ago, a snow fall completely unsullied by exhaust fumes and the constant background music of cars going past your apartment windows.
So, I offer this review, because nothing makes Christmas like Little Women.
(Yes, I know this is mean.)
Anyway, cougar at a bar. Sorry, two cougars at a bar, because cougars rarely travel alone. They are wearing something painfully horrifying, like white jeans and a vest as a shirt. You feel bad for them while hoping you are not going to become one. You take a quick look down to make sure your waist flab is covered by your shirt and jeans, not out there for the world to see. Anyway, besides the point. The point is, you see the cougars flirting with guys who are way younger, who are often blinded by drink, and the whole thing is just icky and embarrassing for all present. Also, reason enough to never let tequila pass your lips again.
On that note, I offer you this, which I assume happened sans tequila, but shouldn't have:
On the likelihood YouTube has wrested this video from its site, simply know Tyra Banks made the star of Twilight bite her neck. On daytime television. Yick.
Moving on.
Somehow, my blog was excluded from this list. Perhaps I should be happy, as this is sort of confirmation my blog is not all about chick lit. Or, I should be less self-centred for three seconds and recognize these here words are not an international cultural phenomenon in the making.
Um.... moving on again.
Today was a beautiful day in Edmonton. I'm not sure who needs to know this on the record, but it really was. It was the kind of day that made you feel good about winter (probably because it was like 7C), and a little excited about Christmas (even though Christmas decorations seem to be throwing up everywhere).
To me, one of the most fascinating aspects of Christmas is its romance -- not like sexual/love romance, but historic/times lost romance. I'm thinking of the way Anne describes a snow fall on Prince Edward Island over a hundred years ago, a snow fall completely unsullied by exhaust fumes and the constant background music of cars going past your apartment windows.
So, I offer this review, because nothing makes Christmas like Little Women.
2007-07-18
something easy
There's something about summer. The heat sends you back in time to nights at the drive-in, the sun setting slowly over the mountains, and some really bad music blaring over the car stereo.
I'm listening to Offspring's Pretty Fly for a White Guy right now, sending me right back in time to Grade 11 or 12. Around the same time my best friends and I used to to be in love with a guy that worked at the Dairy Queen. Is there anything better than ice cream and crushes? Well, we weren't all in love with him, just one of the girls was, but I'm fairly certain we helped his ego along as a group.
Anyway. Summer is a tough time to concentrate on anything, let alone blogging or excellent novels or well-written books examining important issues.
Half the time, summer is really when I start re-reading all the "classics" on my bookshelves.
Like this gem, described as "a jaunty tale of love and murder" by Publishers Weekly. No concentration needed at all for a slightly naughty, always hilarious book of one woman's perfect life reduced to a cheating husband who is murdered, the lusty return of her high school crush, and gentle battles with her eight-year-old daughter. I love Crusie for the women she creates, who don't need to be saved and don't want to be married, who embrace themselves before all others.
For those who long to travel at this time of year, I offer up Sarah Smith's Chasing Shakespeares, an adventure in Shakespeare and academia. I know, sounds a little dry. But the dialogue's quicker and wittier than A.S. Byatt's Possession, and it's more a romp than a love story. And who doesn't want to romp when it's this hot? Besides, it makes one imagine a time when London would have been all muddy and dirty and 1600s-ish.
Last of all, for my friend Erin, I submit Louisa May Alcott's Little Women, a touching story that frankly makes me think more of snow and winter boots than summer (thanks to the movie, really), but is perhaps the best of all romps. Yes, a comment on the American Civil War. But also a tale of love and decision-making and doing what's right for you, not what people expect you to do. Who did not want to be Jo? I wished my brother would dress up with me and play out the ridiculous stories I created. (My brother wished that I would participate in his band. We met halfway by turning the fridge box into a newspaper office.) I loved her pre-feminism feminist mom. And I wished for Laurie -- especially when I realized he looked like Christian Bale. I cried and cried at the end.
What to read now? Something cheap and paperbacky....
I'm listening to Offspring's Pretty Fly for a White Guy right now, sending me right back in time to Grade 11 or 12. Around the same time my best friends and I used to to be in love with a guy that worked at the Dairy Queen. Is there anything better than ice cream and crushes? Well, we weren't all in love with him, just one of the girls was, but I'm fairly certain we helped his ego along as a group.
Anyway. Summer is a tough time to concentrate on anything, let alone blogging or excellent novels or well-written books examining important issues.
Half the time, summer is really when I start re-reading all the "classics" on my bookshelves.
Like this gem, described as "a jaunty tale of love and murder" by Publishers Weekly. No concentration needed at all for a slightly naughty, always hilarious book of one woman's perfect life reduced to a cheating husband who is murdered, the lusty return of her high school crush, and gentle battles with her eight-year-old daughter. I love Crusie for the women she creates, who don't need to be saved and don't want to be married, who embrace themselves before all others.
For those who long to travel at this time of year, I offer up Sarah Smith's Chasing Shakespeares, an adventure in Shakespeare and academia. I know, sounds a little dry. But the dialogue's quicker and wittier than A.S. Byatt's Possession, and it's more a romp than a love story. And who doesn't want to romp when it's this hot? Besides, it makes one imagine a time when London would have been all muddy and dirty and 1600s-ish.
Last of all, for my friend Erin, I submit Louisa May Alcott's Little Women, a touching story that frankly makes me think more of snow and winter boots than summer (thanks to the movie, really), but is perhaps the best of all romps. Yes, a comment on the American Civil War. But also a tale of love and decision-making and doing what's right for you, not what people expect you to do. Who did not want to be Jo? I wished my brother would dress up with me and play out the ridiculous stories I created. (My brother wished that I would participate in his band. We met halfway by turning the fridge box into a newspaper office.) I loved her pre-feminism feminist mom. And I wished for Laurie -- especially when I realized he looked like Christian Bale. I cried and cried at the end.
What to read now? Something cheap and paperbacky....
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