Need a laugh? I found (more than) one for you

Up the Amazon Without a Paddle by Doug Lansky
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Absolutely hysterical.

Reminiscent of Bill Bryson, yes, but Doug Lansky has his own little special writing thing going on.

In addition to the fact that I laughed out loud during nearly every chapter of this book, what I really appreciated about this is that Lansky treats experiences as they actually are.

Let me explain this.

I studied abroad a long time ago, and to this day I get self conscious when people ask me about it, because they always seem more excited in their curiosity than I do in my telling of the story. I felt that my time abroad was worthwhile, educational, and at times fun, but there are also aggravations that come with international travel, feelings of personal insecurity and incompetency, and annoyance with those around you (be they natives of where you're visiting or fellow Americans/tourists you're traveling with). In other words, travel is in many ways an everyday experience -- you still eat, bathe, sleep, talk to people, etc. in France just as you would at home.

But I feel that so often it is regarded as this flawless thing -- all gelato and romance and vistas all the time.

Lansky, I felt, let an experience be what it really was. He didn't get too deep into some of the negative travel emotions I listed above, which kept the book lighthearted, which I loved. But he didn't make an experience out to be more or less than it actually was for him. When telling his story of fishing in Namibia*, he makes fun of himself for catching a bunch of kelp in the ocean. And for the rest of the essay, while making the reader laugh continually, if you look closely, all he does is tell the story, as it happened. Creatively and funnily, but without embellishment to alienate the less-traveled reader.

I tend to get jealous when I read the work of most travel writers (minus Bryson and now, Lansky), because it simply reminds me that I haven't been able to travel to that place where they have. I may be the only one who has this issue, and I admit I have jealousy things to work on in my life. But I also know that there is a way to include your reader, by inviting him or her to enjoy the same laugh you had, and Lansky achieves that.

I really enjoyed this book and will be looking for more Lansky material to read.

I often avoid travel writing (because of all the jealousy), but while waiting for my mom recently at the library, I actually pulled this off the shelf. I am so glad I checked it out and gave it a chance.

*Interestingly enough, the country where I studied abroad

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Home sweet home (says Dibbs)

Well, Dibbs was happy to arrive home after a long visit with Grammy and Grampy.

His tail was actually wagging shortly after I brought him inside.

I think he was happy

a) to be out of the car,

b) to finally eat after being restricted so he could travel without getting sick this time,

c) to be away from those kittens who eat his food, and

d) to be away from those kittens who think his tail is such a fun toy.

Did I mention he's happy to be away from the kittens? What can I say, he's a spoiled only cat. Whatever, he loves me and I'm totally okay with that, even if he doesn't play well with others.

Anyway, I miss Grammy and Grampy (aka Mom and Dad), and good old Kansas (who is about to turn 150!), and I will soon miss the leisure of, well, not reading and writing pretty much all the time save for time spent sleeping, sitting in class, and--if you're lucky--eating something that actually qualifies as a "meal" or getting in a work out.

I know what you're saying, "Bailey, you're a total nerd, you're always practically bragging about how you're an old lady who reads and cross stitches and pets her cat and wants to be a writer."

I know, friends, but I have limits. Limits with margins! (Are you reading this, Pastor Dan? That was the topic of his sermon today, about living fully, serving God and His people, but leaving breathing space (i.e., margins) so you're not snapping at people all the time and, ultimately, not really serving people or God with a happy heart which is God's whole point of asking us to bother to serve in the first place. Okay I totally just summarized and probably botched what Dan said,

anyway!

If you go to this here linky (and scroll down a bit once you arrive safely there) you can watch Andy Stanley--the guy whose original sermon series Pastor Dan is modeling--talk to you about limits and margins. And then eventually when it's posted you can go here and watch Dan put his own spin on it.)

Point being. I like to read, yes. I love to write, yes (actually I love more so when I have written something than the actual act itself, but we're not getting into that now). But I also like to color (yes), watch TV, work out, occasionally be social (gasp!) and go out with a friend or two or ten, and then talk way too much and make a couple of people wish they hadn't come out with me. Ha ha. :)

So yes. I am a little frightened of re-entering the study-intense universe. But this break has been freakishly long and I need to just get a move on and quit whining, seriously.

And I'm hoping to do a major tear up cleaning, organizing, rearranging dealio on my apartment tomorrow. We'll see about that--that's the spirit, Bails!

Okay, loves from the newly displaced (?) Bailey and Dibbs. Chat tomorrow, same place, probably different time.

A movie review brought to you by Grandma

Sometimes I feel I am equal parts 5-, 25-, and 85-years-old.

Par example:

Early this afternoon as I was getting ready to meet my friend Tom for lunch, my mom asked me if I wanted to join her and Dad for a movie later in the afternoon. Minutes later, she was on the phone and I whispered, "Is that Dad?"

Then she told Dad to hang on and asked if I wanted to ask him something.

I did, in fact.

"Can Tommy come to the movie too?" I asked.

(This was the 5-year-old in me.)

I went to lunch with Tommy, where we complained about job searching, crankiness as a result of break-up withdrawal, Tom's business plan. You know, grown up, twenty-something topics.

Then we went to see a movie with my 'rents, which I suppose is a mature, 25-year-old activity. Seeing an indie British film with your parents, on a Wednesday afternoon? Sure. We'll call that grown up.

I should probably be fully honest in my disclosure here and mention that after some chatty settling into my movie seat, as Tommy and I exited the theater to get popcorn Dad told me to run off some of my energy before returning to the theater.

So I relapsed for a moment into 5-year-old Bailey. See what I mean? Who am I?!

Okay, I will move us along to the 85-year-old portion of this post shortly, but first we will pause for a movie review.

Today we saw The King's Speech, with Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, and Helena Bonham Carter. It is the true story about King George VI and the speech therapist who helped him overcome his struggle with stuttering when he suddenly succeeded his living brother as king during WWII.

Friends, I cannot express enough how much you should go see this film. It was excellent. All four of us loved it. It was a wonderful story of friendship, it was funny, it was touching, terrifically acted. Seriously.

GO. See. It.

And yes, Riley Francis, that was Mr. Desplat's work you heard in the trailer (for those of you who breezed past it without watching the trailer, march your mouse back up to that link and watch it! This is the bossy 5-year-old speaking!). And you would L-O-V-E love the soundtrack as much as you will love the film itself when you

go. See. It.

Okay. Seriously. Go see it. Please. This is coming from a girl who has little patience for movies, and rarely solicits them.

Okay now moving on to the 85-year-old portion of my day.

This evening, while Dad watched TV after dinner, I continued work on my current cross stitch project.

I have been suffering from a mysterious muscle ache in my right hand and it occurred to me just as of late that it could be the result of cross stitching too much.

Last night I also cross stitched in the living room, while Mom and Dad dozed in front of the TV, and BooBoo slept on Mom.

The other day Patrick called and asked what I was doing for the afternoon.

"Well, I just made some tea, I'm gonna cross stitch, and take some ibuprofen because I'm kind of sick."

"That's a grandma afternoon!" he told me. "The highlight of your day is taking some Advil!"

Yes, Patrick, yes.

Well, I quite like my age-confused existence. And why am I not ready to go back to school, aside from the fact that the books and constant reading and writing will soon loom over me again?

Because I'm not done hanging out with my parents, who are my friends. Or our cats.

So there.

Yours truly,

Granny

Ugh. Sorry, world.

I sure chose the day to be a diva.

Long story a little less long:

Kelly and Jenny and Bailey drove from Kansas to Illinois today and dropped Bailey off at a train stop there to ride into Chicago to meet best friend forever Nicky Pie for a week of fun and excitement.

Now. When I say "dropped Bailey off," you picture a calm "drop off," am I right? With kisses and hugs? Okay well there were hugs, but no time for kisses! We got in the "I love you"s, if I remember correctly, because those can be multi-tasked, grouped in with the hugs.

Anyway.

We ran! up the stairs to the train, leaving my curling iron and hair dryer behind in the car in our haste (tomorrow morning could be interesting, in this frigid weather), after Kelly grew more and more nervous about leaving his

sweet, precious, only sister

at a...sketchy...train stop, as well as not being able to find the train stop right away, with mere minutes left to board.

Kelly's nerves must have been pretty present in his face, because after I boarded, the conductor followed me onto the train and asked me first:

"You do have cash, don't you?"

And then a few minutes later:

"Do you know where you're going when you get there?"

Awesome. Okay, well the diva explanation: here it comes.

So I don't think I can blame the conductor's extra concern/my seeming lack of street smarts this evening on Kelly's concern for his

sweet, precious, only sister

alone.

Because.

I must be honest.

I was dressed.

And accessorized.

And in possession of luggage belonging to:

a diva.

(I must preface before I continue that I harbor no ill-will (well, that I'm aware of--we might need to re-address this topic in whole during a later blog post) toward divas.)

Okay. We'll start from the top. My outfit:

Sweater. Jeans. Flashy red coat.

Heels.

Accessories:

Ponytail, slicked back with a headband. Diamond-looking stud earrings.

And finally, luggage:

HUGE suitcase. Shoulder bag (filled with books! Intelligent blonde! NOT a diva!). Laptop...in a pink and brown case.

And also carrying:

A leather-looking jacket.

Ugh. I can hardly continue in the telling of this story.

Diva, right? No wonder he asked if I had cash, and whether I knew where I was going when I got off the train. He didn't even have to check my driver's license to guess I was a little naive schoolgirl from Kansas.

Ugh.

So remember how yesterday I told you I used to wear sweatpants all the time? Yeah, so nowadays I wear pink things and earrings and jeans. Yes. But I rarely wear heels.

But today? On the sketchy train? Yep, heels.

Ugh.

People, I was reading a book on the train about AIDS, for crying out loud. I am a concerned citizen! But my outfit betrayed me as embodying a different type of sentiment for the world around me. One concerned with

[fake!]

diamond stud earrings and

[fake!]

leather jackets.

Sigh...

I will say this is the most excited I've been to be in Chicago in a long time, (aside from the simple fact that I'm away from the judging eyes on the train), especially considering the weather--shudder. Currently: 15 degrees. Feels like: -1. Wind: 17-23 mph.

Why?

Because I'm with best friend forever Nicky Pie.

He'd probably appreciate it if I quit calling him that. Not the BFF part, but the "Pie" part. Meh.

3 Hollas--aka Holla Holla Holla

Can I get a holla for Bill Bryson?

My neighbor and dear friend Carly (who will be home from Turkey in 6 days, holla!!) lent me his book, A Walk in the Woods, last year, and there were multiple occasions while reading it that I was lost in hysteria.

I was at a coffee shop with Riley and had my first outburst, and Riley, who is usually unaffected by my volume level/general-making-people-uncomfortableness, looked at me and asked, "Are you done?" I embarrassed the poor boy, and to be honest, I think he was more embarrassed for me.

Then, less than 48 hours later, Reggers and I were again reading side by side (yes, we are that naturally precious; and it doesn't hurt that we are practically twins) at home, and I reached a particular sentence--preceded by pages of hilarious paragraphage--that had me unable to do anything but laugh for two solid minutes. Riley demanded to know, "What is wrong with you??"

I'm telling you, people. Hilarious. I knew that I would become quickly addicted (and most of his books are about traveling and world/nationwide adventures, which I don't get to do a lot of, so I get jealous hearing about it), so I have avoided his collection for over a year now. But I came across The Lost Continent in the library two days ago, and caved and checked it out. Two years ago I read four Anne Lamott books in a row (with one Don Miller book in the middle--holla!) because I was, let's face it and go ahead and admit it, addicted. The obsession just swelled and I couldn't stop until I was finished reading every piece of nonfiction she had every published. Check. on that little to do item.

So here it comes. The Bill Bryson obsessive reading extravaganza madness rampage. Join me. (But read all of Anne Lamott and then Don Miller's books first. Then join me.)

Miss Bailey & the Books Half Read

Okay so I've decided that I've lost my energy for telling the water mane break story. So unless there are major protests, I'm going to post about something else. After all, I am in charge of this blog. (That sounded a little snotty, didn't it? Hmm.)

So is anyone else having a horrible time finding a book that they want to read? The last time I finished a book was early May. I think perhaps I have read so much that I have lost my excitement about any particular book, and I also haven't made a lot of time for reading so it is no longer a habit. This saddens me greatly, and also annoys the crap out of me. I keep picking up a book, read a few chapters, put it down, try another, same thing. Even the library doesn't get me excited, and Brad and I spent a whole hour in a bookstore on Friday and both of us left empty handed. Ridiculous.

Last night I started reading the novel How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, and I've made it past page 50 so that's a good sign. I think I'm going to force myself to finish it. It's not even that I don't like these books I'm reading, I just can't seem to finish them. None of them suck me into their vortex of awesome reading pleasure. The Awesome Reading Pleasure Meter has been extremely low lately.

Riley and I went to this big used book sale last week, and I did find one of the greatest children's books ever, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh!!! So perhaps when I finish Garcia I will make that my next read. Mmm, what a great book! Mice, rats, cats, so descriptive, so adventurous, so entertaining. Loved it and still love it! Can I hear it for Miss Frisb? Holla!

Good luck to all of you in your book searches.

Five O

Friends. Today is the day. This is the 50th post on The Daily Bailey! Thank you so much for reading! Someday when we are at post 8,000 you can say "I was a follower way back at post #50." To celebrate (and perhaps bore you a little bit), I am offering 50 random thoughts/things about me. Ciao until tomorrow!

1 I never get sick of the “Little Women” soundtrack.
2 Lynn’s daughter Claire gave me a kiss on the cheek today (and then ran away). She had been drinking apple juice so it was sticky. I had never realized how much she looks like Lynn until she got right up in my face to give me a kiss.
3 In fourth grade I put peanut butter on my armpits (and then ate it) in front of the whole school.
4 I look almost exactly like my brother Riley.
5 I have considered joining the ministry.
6 I secretly want to be on America’s Next Top Model.
7 I only like peanut butter about 2% of the time, and can only eat about a tablespoonful before I have to stop.
8 Green is my favorite color.
9 In middle school I wanted to be a dairy farmer in Canada.
10 I hate toffee nut flavoring.
11 I love lima beans, beets, and black jelly beans.
12 When I tell people I have three brothers, most of them immediately ask if I am the youngest (I am not).
13 I am terrified of peacocks and belly dancers, both for their sexual forwardness.
14 My favorite book ever is Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott.
15 I hate to carry things or have things in my pockets.
16 I have never been stung by a bee.
17 I am extremely lazy. Truly. I sort of embrace it, but I’m also ashamed of it. Ironically I can be a very hard, tireless worker.

18 I lose my appetite when I'm scared, but gain one when I am bored.

19 I wish I could get lost dancing in a crowd of people every day.
20 I love to dance with my dad.
21 I hate the word “hubby."
22 I love the words “chevron,” “pedigree,” and “beleagured.”

23 I'm a definite advocate of seatbelts, sunscreen, and helmets.

24 I met Bob Dole in the second grade.

25 I love football. I dislike frisbee.

26 A kiss on the cheek (from anyone) makes me feel precious.

27 I am both a laidback free spirit as well as a contemplative crazy person.

28 I'm addicted to communication, but need my alone time every day.

29 I like when people are singing and the guitar stops playing and the voices continue a capella.

30 I find it fascinating that our toes naturally tap when we listen to music.

31 I think cows are beautiful animals.

32 I hate when I'm cold and have to pee at the same time.

33 I check people’s hands for wedding rings within the first 10 seconds of meeting them (both male and female).

34 I went almost 8 years without throwing up, threw up on Dec 19 2005, and haven’t thrown up since.
35 Beer is my preferred alcoholic beverage.
36 I feel off-balance if I don’t get a chance to read every day.
37 I have been on a rip-cord, jumped off a cliff (into water!), and ridden every roller coaster I have come across, but have not bungee jumped or gone sky diving.
38 My grandmother graduated from college at the age of 80.
39 I do not like to go to the doctor, but do not mind getting shots or getting my teeth cleaned.
40 I hope that the man I marry loves to cook.
41 I love children’s books. I also have a lot in common with the character Kristy Thomas in The Baby Sitters' Club series.
42 Rainy weather is my favorite kind.
43 I hope to live near water within five years.
44 In 2008 I threw away almost all of my jewelry and nail polish, then decided a few months later that I wanted them back.
45 I have worn makeup probably no more than 20 days of my entire life.
46 The song “Pomp and Circumstance” makes me cry. I hate attending graduations, but love to be the graduate.
47 I don’t know that I ever crave apples, but I eat them because I know they are good for me and I am not very creative with my produce selection.
48 When I was in preschool, my dad and I would recite our address and phone number, spell “SEARS,” and sing “There are Many Ways to say I love you” from Mister Rogers in the car.
49 The past few weeks I have changed bedrooms three times to accommodate for my guests, and Dibbs has found me each night to sleep with me.
50 I can’t believe I finished college almost three years ago.

Bad Mood Bailey

Today is a day off for me. While I L-O-V-E love days off, I never quite know what to do with myself when I have one. Today my parents are in town visiting, but they left to run errands, so I lost my potential playmates for the day. I have plans for this evening (to see author Tobias Wolff!!), but only one plan before that, which was no fun at all: a dentist appointment.

I was driving to my dentist appointment, thinking, "I am grumpy! I don't want to go to the dentist on my day off." Then I got there, and aside from the good news that I have no cavities, I just wanted to be left alone. The hygienist, bless her heart, was so sweet, and trying to make conversation--about books, even, and I love books--but I just wasn't havin' it. Then the dentist and the patient next to me were having the most syrupy sweet, pretentious, pleasant conversation (okay, it was very genuine and kind, I just didn't want to hear it), and I refrained from rolling my eyes.

So following the appointment, I decided to get some coffee at Borders and look around. I found a book on sale written by Isabella Bird, who I did a project on in fourth grade, and another little bound beauty, narrated by a girl with whom I think I will become a fast friend. Her name is Judy. Judy Moody, to be exact. Title of the book?:

Judy Moody was in a mood. Not a good mood. A bad mood.

I couldn't relate more. In Chapter One, Judy embraces her bad mood and sarcastically writes "I ATE A SHARK" on her t-shirt. In Chapter Two, she meets her new teacher, Mr. Todd. "'Hello, Mr. Toad,' said Judy. She cracked herself up" (This particular line made me think of Brad). Needless to say, I think we can all look forward to future readings of Judy Moody on The Daily Bailey.