Book cover snobbery

Which is worse: buying a copy of Love in the Time of Cholera that has a scene from the motion picture on the cover or buying a copy of the aforementioned book that has a "normal" cover but "Oprah's Book Club" emblazoned on the front?

This was my dilemma as I stood in Borders Bookstore today.

I wouldn't call myself an avid reader, but I do enjoy a good book from time to time, more often than most people, I would imagine. Somehow, I feel my better than average book habit gives me the right to be a snob about the novels I read, or at least their covers.

Buying a book whose cover is closely associated with its movie gives the impression that I am reading the book because it has now become the "in" thing to d0. On the other hand, I fear that reading a novel with Oprah's Book Club emblem on the front might say that I can't think for myself and therefore must rely upon the wisdom of a talk show host.

It's a no win situation.

I chose the copy of Love in the Time of Cholera that had Oprah's endorsement on the front. In the end, I decided that the book club emblem was much less noticeable than the movie scene, which took up the entire cover, and I would be more apt to escape judgement.

Clearly, I put way too much stock in public opinion.

Other books I bought were: Stephen King's On Writing and A is for Alibi by Sue Grafton (Alan said my writing style reminded him of Sue Grafton so I had to get it.)

I think I have enough reading material to keep me occupied on the plane ride to see The Boyfriend this weekend. (For the second year in a row, we will ring in the New Year together, fulfilling a vow we made to each other early in our relationship.) The books will also be my companions while The Boyfriend goes to work on Monday. Cozying up on the couch with a good read sounds like the perfect way to spend an afternoon.

Besides, I'll need something to break up all the snooping I'll be doing in The Boyfriend's medicine cabinet and dresser drawers.

A stolen meme

I stole this from Zandria, who stole it from someone else, who stole it from someone else.

It's fitting, no?

What kind of soap is in your bathtub right now?

Dove for Sensitive Skin. I use it for everything - body and face. I used to buy an expensive facial soap from Clinique before I discovered that Dove for Sensitive Skin made my skin feel exactly the same.

Do you have any watermelon in your refrigerator?

No, this isn't exactly the season for watermelon. Plus I find those seeds annoying.

What would you change about your living room?

I'd put a mirror or a picture above the couch (I've lived in my house for 2 years and I have yet to fully decorate it to my satisfaction.) I would also replace the my front door with one that didn't have a window because sunlight is overrated.

Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty?

Dirty. I just took out the clean dishes so I could put more dirty ones in.

What is in your fridge?

It's the day before Christmas. Have you got a minute? Last night's leftovers: burgundy beef tips, rice, peas, carrots, and peach cobbler; tomorrow's dinner compliments of Holiday Ham & Deli: a half of a honey baked turkey breast, cornbread dressing, green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole (I asked for a baked potato casserole but they gave me the sweet potato casserole by mistake); milk, soda, orange juice, homemade merlot (a gift from a co-worker), half and half, whipping cream, sandwich meat, pepper jack cheese, Swiss cheese, Parmesan Reggiano cheese, Gorgonzola cheese, cheddar cheese, cream cheese, Velvetta -- I like cheese, okay? -- plus a plethora of condiments that are long past their "use by" dates.

White or wheat bread?

Normally, I like the taste of white, but lately, I've fallen in love with Sara Lee's 100% Whole Wheat Bread.

What is on top of your refrigerator?

A pastry board that is marked with various diameters for pie crusts (a gift from my mom) and some decorative metal bread baskets (a gift from my friend, Lisa.)

What color or design is on your shower curtain?

I LOVE my shower curtain! It's a floral design filled with deep, rich colors like burgundy, gold, and green. It's gorgeous.

How many plants are in your home?

One -- a Peace Lily that was a housewarming gift from the woman I babysit for. I'm not a plant person so it should feel lucky to be alive.

Is your bed made right now?

Hell no. What's the point. I'm just gonna mess it up again later anyway.

Is your closet organized?

If by organized you mean that dirty clothes cover the floor of my walk-in closet, then yes.

Do you drink out of glass or plastic most of the time at home?

Glass. I'm very civilized.

Do you have iced tea made in a pitcher right now?

Of course! What kind of Southerner would I be if I didn't have a pitcher of sweet iced tea in the fridge?

If you have a garage, is it cluttered?

No garage. But if I had one, it probably would not be cluttered. I don't like cluttered garages.

Curtains or blinds?

Blinds. I prefer plantation shutters but I can't afford those. I wouldn't mind an attractive valance though.

How many pillows do you sleep with?

Four -- 3 to prop up my head and one to prop up my feet. When The Boyfriend is in town, I let him have 2 of the pillows. I'm very generous.

Do you sleep with any lights on at night?

Absolutely not! My neighbor leaves his outside light on and it shines through my bedroom window. I am this close to throwing a brick at it.

How often do you vacuum?

Let's see. What figure can I come up with that will accurately reflect my disdain for cleaning but won't paint me as a total slob? How about. . .once a month. That's it! Once a month.

Standard toothbrush or electric?

Standard. I need the exercise.

Do you have a welcome mat on your front porch?

No! That's another thing I have been meaning to buy but haven't gotten around to it.

What is in your oven right now?

Two oven racks. I bake quite often, so using my oven as a storage device is not an option for me.

Is there anything under your bed?

No. This is another one of my quirky habits. I don't like cluttered garages and I don't like storing things under the bed. It's makes me feel like I have too much stuff.

Chore you hate doing the most?

Yard work.

What retro items are in your home?

My computer, an antique twin sleigh bed, and a set of vomit green Tupperware storage containers (circa 1976) that I absolutely adore.

Do you have a separate room that you use as an office?

I have a second bedroom that serves as a guest room and an office.

How many mirrors are in your home?

Three -- a mirror over both bathroom vanities and one over my dresser.

What color are your walls?

A light Khaki color. The wall color is one of the reasons I bought this house.

Do you keep any kind of protection weapons in your home?

No. I'd just find a way to hurt myself with them.

What does your home smell like right now?

Clean air that is free from allergens. I just changed the filter on my furnace.

Favorite candle scent?

Roses, I guess.

Ever been on your roof?

Why on earth would I do that?

How many TVs do you have?

Three -- one in each bedroom and one in the living room.

How many house phones?

None. I use my cell phone.

Do you have a housekeeper?

I wish.

What style do you decorate in?

My style leans toward the traditional, but I also love cottage style.

Do you like solid colors in furniture or prints?

Either one depending on how it's executed. A combination of the two in different pieces (solid couch with a floral chair) can be quite attractive.

Is there a smoke detector in your home?

Yes, but it's disconnected right now because it keeps beeping inexplicably. Changing the battery doesn't seem to help. I'd buy a new one but they discountinued making the kind I have and its replacement has a different mounting bracket. I'm not mechanically inclined enough to install something like that.

In case of fire, what are the items in your house which you’d grab if you only could make one quick trip?

My purse.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, PEOPLE!

The Wedding - Revised (with teacher's comments)

I'm finally getting around to posting The Wedding piece that originally appeared on this blog and that I submitted as my final project for my writing class. It's basically the same piece except for the last two paragraphs. I was not happy with the way those two paragraphs flowed so I rewrote them a bit. Once I got the paragraphs to read the way I wanted them to, I found that my piece was 738 words long -- 238 words over the specified limit. At that point, I didn't want to mess with it anymore and submitted it anyway, hoping the teacher wouldn't notice. My plan backfired. She did notice. And the very paragraphs that I spent so much time perfecting ended up hardly being reviewed by my teacher.

C'est la vie.

What I was really disappointed about was that my teacher gave no indication in her comments that The Wedding might be the most intriguing thing she's read since War and Peace. Or at least since Sex and the City. Hell, I would have been happy if she said I was more compelling than the cereal box she read that morning. You see, I was looking for validation, some sort of sign that my pursuit of writing isn't a complete and utter waste of time. I got bupkus.

That's not entirely true. I did get encouragement to continue writing, but she encouraged everyone to do that. She would have said the same thing to Jethro Bodine had he been taking her writing class. Surely, I can put words together better than a Beverly Hillbilly.

I don't have to be told that I'm the next Ernest Hemingway but I would like to know that I don't suck. Is that too much to ask?

The Boyfriend had a different take on the situation. He thought the teacher's comments were encouraging and served as proof of my talent. And he may be right but what kind of writer would I be if I were not insecure and overly sensitive?

The instructor did mention that my final project was a little too detailed. I fault that on having just finished the lesson on descriptive writing when I wrote The Wedding and I was taking my skills for a test drive. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of falling in love with the sound of my own words when I should have been deleting paragraphs to create a stronger piece.

Anywho, here is my final project. The teacher's comments are in bold and interspersed throughout the piece. You can read the whole thing or you can skip right to her final analysis at the bottom.

GrizzBabe,

I like to comment right in the piece as I read, giving you a running commentary on my reactions as a typical reader and also as your instructor. It's a good way for you to see the effect of your words on readers as the piece unfolds. It allows me to make suggestions too.

It's been a pleasure working with you. Keep writing!

All my best,
Ann

The Wedding

Thirty minutes after I had put on a brand new pair of black satin dress pumps, my feet started to hurt. (good opening) The heel was just a bit higher than I was used to wearing, causing my feet to slide forward, jamming my toes into the pointy tip. As I stared at my shoes in the floor-length mirror, I wondered how other women (did) do this on a daily basis. Wearing heels higher than 1.5 inches felt (take out "so") so unnatural not to mention uncomfortable(,) but I decided to tough it out because sometimes it is better to look good than to feel good. (interesting thought for us) And look good I did in my wispy(,) long, (no comma) black evening skirt worn with a sparkly black, square-necked blouse. I didn't feel as put together as I would have liked because I didn't have time to wash and curl my hair so I twisted my limp mane into a bun and secured it with jeweled chopsticks. Not my best look(,) but it would have to do.

The ballroom where the wedding and reception were held (was) is located in one of downtown's most historic locations. The trey ceilings boasted intricate moldings and supported several large, crystal chandeliers. Huge(vague) columns adorned in gold fleur de leaf (spelling) flanked the wedding area while shimmering champagne-hued drapery hung between the columns serving as a visual wall and creating a chapel-like atmosphere. (good choice of details)

Although the setting was gorgeous, the seating was very uncomfortable. The small, dainty chairs were crammed so close together that my shoulders frequently rubbed against my neighbor(,) and the tightly constructed rows ensured that my knees stayed planted in the backside of the woman in front of me for the duration of the ceremony. (that's funny)

The large collection of bridesmaids looked elegant as they paraded down the aisle one-by-one. Their chocolate satin gowns complimented the decor of the ballroom perfectly. The bride wore an antique white strapless dress that fit snugly along the bodice and hips before gradually flaring out into a short, chapel-length train. (I'm starting to get just a tad impatient. Nothing has happened to arouse my interest. It's all description. You'll want to get to the story/conflict very soon.)

The bride and groom, although happy, were not overly sentimental. They recited their vows without any difficulty or visible signs of emotion. The wedding itself was short and sweet. There was no singing or music to draw out the ceremony. Almost as soon as the wedding had started, it was over.

After the procession, guests were asked to wait on the mezzanine level while the wedding area was transformed back into a ballroom filled with tables draped in crisp white linens and dotted with red rose petals. Those same uncomfortable chairs from the wedding were also used for the reception(,) and I stared longingly at them from above as my feet began to swell and throb with pain.

One large helping of dip and three million pictures later (not clear who's taking pictures of whom), we were finally allowed back into the ballroom (period, take out "where") where (G)guests quickly formed lines in order to be one of the first to fill their plates with dry chicken and rubbery shrimp.

As I sat at my table and watched the bride and groom perform their choreographed first dance, I couldn't help but wonder what The Boyfriend's and my wedding might be like. I tried to imagine what it would feel like to finally have our lives joined together permanently. (I'll stop here for word count, but I did read the rest. Final analysis below.) I daydreamed about our first dance and how I would rather do the funky chicken and the robot than pay to learn some stuffy dance moves that we would never use again. I picked at my food and hoped that our guests would compliment us on a menu that had been cooked to perfection. I fantasized about us engaging in the social busyness that a reception requires while occasionally exchanging knowing glances from across the room in anticipation of our wedding night. My mind became so consumed with these thoughts that by the end of the evening I found myself yearning for my own fairy-tale wedding.

Unfortunately, my wedding fantasies will have to remain unfulfilled for a while longer. The Boyfriend and I have vowed to take slow, deliberate steps toward the altar. Not until this time next year will we reevaluate our relationship to determine for sure if one of us wants to move across several states to be with the other. Most of the time I am okay with this wise and pragmatic plan. However, on occasion, my wedding-inspired girly dreams will team up with my growing hatred of long distances to create an impatience that sometimes overwhelms me.

(The core of your piece is the difference between your dreams and this reality. The way you begin to dramatize this is to contrast this flawless but dull wedding with your own fantasies about a more meaningful and fun occasion. You might consider pacing this a bit differently so that you can entertain your readers with the contrasts instead of going into so much detail about a wedding you didn't care for. Keep the funny parts, though. You could use the wedding above, but insert your own fantasies right along with each flawless detail above. Start with the shoes, add the setting, review the seating, toss in the food, compare the music and dancing and this should read well. Your ending about whether this would ever come about would wrap it up nicely. You have all the pieces here, GrizzBabe. See what you think about the idea of rearranging it a bit. Keep going! --Ann)

Don't sweat the small stuff.

Two seconds after I had walked through the front door of my house, I could tell The Boyfriend had been there. All day. Even if I had contracted amnesia and had forgotten that The Boyfriend had come to visit me, I would still have known that someone of the opposite sex had taken up residence in my house simply by surveying the premises. The place wasn't a mess by any means, but there were signs, man signs, that The Boyfriend had taken my advice and made himself at home.

In true bachelor fashion, my coffee table was decorated with empty soda cans and a hastily discarded candy bar wrapper. As I made my way down the hallway, I noticed that the folding doors on the laundry closet, doors that normally muffle the sounds of the washer when in a closed position, were pushed far apart causing the annoying chug of the washing machine to fill the house. In addition, the door to the dryer was standing wide open and the light inside illuminated the hallway.

I remarked to The Boyfriend that I could tell that a man had been here and offered the dryer door as proof.

"It's open so that it will be ready when my clothes are done," The Boyfriend said.

"But there is a very hard to reach light in the back of the dryer that, if it ever goes out, I'll have to call a repairman to replace it," I responded.

And so went our first argument. Only we weren't really arguing because the tone was lighthearted. Although, I can imagine a time (probably after I've closed my 1500th dryer door) when our words might carry a little more tension.

Admittedly, leaving doors open and a few cans littered about are minor infractions but they provided me with a glimpse into what life might be like when I get married. I can tell already that getting used to living with another human being is going to take a lot of work on both our parts. There are going to be many instances, like the one with the dryer, where our methods of doing things are going to clash. We'll even have to get used to our different housecleaning habits.

But if we want our future marriage to be a happy one, we have to be willing to compromise as we both search for the best way to combine our lives. Most importantly, we can't sweat the small stuff. We have to pick our battles and refrain from arguing about issues that are of no real consequence. Empty soda cans and candy wrappers are just not worth starting World War III over. Fighting energy should be saved for much more important matters. . .like dryer doors.