The Interrogative Mood a Novel? by Padgett Powell

Dec18

To answer the question in the title, no it is not a novel in the I shall tell you a story sort of way. Perhaps one could say that stringing together endless random questions and somehow managing to publish them is a novel idea… but that still doesn’t make it a good one. It’s possible my extreme dislike of the book has something to do with the four year old I live with.

Ivy: “What do you do at book club?”

Me: “We all read the same book and then we talk about it.”

Ivy: “What book did you read?”

Me: “A book that was all questions.”

Ivy: “Why was it all questions?”

Me: “I’m not sure, that’s just what it was.”

Ivy: “What kind of questions?”

Me: – gave some examples-

Ivy: “Why do they ask those questions?”

Are you getting the picture? I’ve got plenty of questions in my life thank you very much, and it’s not like they are all easy ones. Just this week we’ve covered topics ranging from cremation to how trees drink water. John has been known to come home from work, ask too many questions and then frantically back pedal and rephrase his conversation before I kill him with a spatula. Perhaps at some distance stage of my life I will no longer prickle at the thought of being asked 3,000 questions – but I’m not there yet.

Would I recommend this book? Can’t say I would.

Someday

Dec17

Today we burned Piper’s couch. No question about it, the couch was Piper’s. The other dogs didn’t use it, people didn’t use it. It was essentially one gigantic dog bed. Once she was gone the empty couch was too much of a visual reminder of the big hole in our lives. Nobody wanted to sit on it, and nobody wanted to look at it, we replaced it with a Christmas tree, thew it outside and decided that burning it in honor of Piper was the only thing to do.

I’ve never burned a couch.

It’s impressive.

And just so you know years of dog drool do nothing as a flame retardant.

As we work on getting along without our big dog we have of course not forgotten our other two. But Uncle Weasel puts it something like this; once you have that super, special, great, fantastic dog, there is a really good chance that no matter how wonderful the next one is, it won’t be worth more than a pimple on the butt of the first. He’s eloquent isn’t he? Eloquently stated or not, it’s a truth that even Ivy recognizes. Or as she said to me just minutes after we said goodbye to Piper: “It’s OK Mom, someday Trip will be a good dog too.” I’m sure she’s right. Currently Trip is a goofy, loveable, trouble making puppy but someday he’ll grow up into a good dog. He’s just not quite there yet, for instance look at this picture:No, you’re not supposed to be looking at the fact that I have an open Allergy Free Cooking With Ease cook book and a box of spice cake mix on the counter at the same time. It’s the puppy on the other side of the window I’d like to draw your attention to.

Notice how he’s in the window?

Yup, that’s a window box he’s standing in.

Notice how you can’t see his head and his butt is suspiciously high in the air?

Yup, he’s digging a hole in my window box.

Someday he’ll be a good dog.

Someday.

This Moment – O’ Christmas Tree

Dec16

A Friday ritual . A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.

A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Saying Goodbye

Dec13

We had to say our final goodbyes to Piper today.

She was the best snow loving,

pheasant hunting,

kid tolerant,

bed hogging,

couch loving,

Great Dane in the world.

We’ll miss her forever.

A Dance With Dragons by George R. R. Martin

Dec11

I like epic fantasy novels and series. I like knowing what happens next… and next… and next. The trouble with this is that authors of epic fantasy’s usually don’t crank out their books one right after another so I’m required to remember what happens in a book for long stretches of time… possibly years. Usually this is where John comes in. I screen books and give him ones I think he’ll like and he remembers everything he reads and can remind me of all the little (and sometimes gigantic) details I have forgotten. Unfortunately after he read A Game of Thrones and possibly the next one or so in this series he quit. He quit reading them because the author makes you care about his characters and then he kills them. Sadly it’s true, the chapters switch character viewpoints among a huge cast and Martin has an uncanny ability to turn you from indifferent, to actively rooting for them right before he offs them.

In any case I couldn’t count on John to remind me what happened in the last books, which was a problem, because this books timeline runs along side the book before (A Feast For Crows) so I actually was trying to remember what happened two books (A Storm of Swords) ago. I read those books in 2004 and 2006 respectively. I can’t remember a book I read last week, asking me to not only remember back to a time before children but to also recall what I read then – not happening.

For the first quarter of the book I was confused, really confused. I recognized names, some events were familiar, I had a couple of “OH YEAH he killed that king” sort of moments but it was pretty bad. By the time I reached the half way point I was mildly confused but had come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t setting this book down, re-reading the last two and coming back to it. Mild confusion and I were getting along fine. The third quarter of the book I was well enough in that most of my confusion was behind me and I was caught up in the story again. Then last quarter arrived and he started killing off all the characters I cared about, threw a few new old ones that I was supposed to remember into the mix and ended it with me wanting to know what happens next.

Would I recommend it? The series isn’t for anyone… the term epic should not be taken lightly… This was a 1,000 page tome and while lots of people died nothing got resolved and it’s the fifth book in the series. On the other hand it’s a pretty darn good story, from what I can remember… If you are brave enough to take them on start with A Game of Thrones.

Where Mom, Where?

Dec8

Clara has always been very concerned about where people are. It’s not unusual for us to run though a long list of family and friends throughout the day identifying who is at work, home or elsewhere. If those people have dogs we have to do a run down of those too. Tonight we picked up our friend Jessie’s dog Finley and that started Clara off.

Where Jessie Mom?

Where Cooper Mom? (Jessie’s other dog)

Where Ivy Mom?

Where Dad Mom?

Where Piper Mom?

Where Storm Mom?

Where Trip Mom?

Where rat go Mom?

-Wait what?! How did a rat get in the list of family pets?!!? Well, as much as I would like to feign ignorance of our rodent issues, Christmas is coming and if Santa isn’t a fan of pouting and crying I’m thinking I better not lie either…

A few weeks ago I heard rodent noises under the kitchen sink, I opened the cupboard but didn’t see anything other than un-tripped empty mouse and rat traps. Then I heard rustling in the drawers next to the sink. Irritated that a mouse was boldly rummaging around when I was right there I opened and slammed shut multiple drawers in some odd misguided attempt to either scare it away or squish it. Instead a giant rat leaped out and almost landed on my feet. What followed I’m ashamed to admit was that girly scream that I seem to reserve just for rats – which then caused chaos to break out in the house. Clara stood up on her kitchen chair at the table and start crying, the rat disappeared, Piper tried to knock down the pet gate into the kitchen to follow it and John yelled down from upstairs wondering if everyone was OK.

In my defense I had bare toes.

Anyways, I’m not surprised that Clara is still talking about the rat.

Clara -” Where rat go Mom?”

Me- “I don’t know where do you think it went?”

Clara- “Pantry…. You shoot rat in pantry Mom?”

Me- “No. We don’t shoot things in the house.”

Clara- “Uncle Tyler shoot rat Mom?”

Me- “Not in the house.”

Clara- “Where Uncle Tyler Mom?”

Me- “At his house.”

Clara – “He cut up deer Mom?”

Me – (shit)

Fortunately I was able to derail Clara from rats and cutting up deer by talking about Uncle Tyler’s truck he was fixing. Now if I could just keep her from ending every sentence with “Mom” I’d really be getting somewhere!

Five Under Five

Dec7

When my friend Sarah and I started having kids, we started at just about the same time. We’d get together, have fun with our two babies, take piles of pictures and go home rested. Then we each had another… and then she had one more. Now with five kids under the age of five we take no pictures, think that we possibly had fun and go home exhausted. Last weekend we saw each other for just a few hours and I was determined to get a picture. The kids were clearly unimpressed by my efforts and I don’t blame them – these are not my best pictures ever.

But crazy monster faces and stick to the forehead aside no one is actually crying and we do now have proof that they’ve all been together – I’m calling it a success.

Uncle Tyler

Nov30

The girls have many uncles but the one they spend the most time with is my brother, Uncle Tyler.

Which is good because little princesses need a healthy dose of Uncle Tyler every now and then. As much farming and hunting that we do we just can’t compete with the fascination of Uncle Tyler. For starters he’s not us, so therefore he is automatically cooler in the eyes of his nieces. Second of all he shoots more stuff and happily shows the girls what he’s doing as well as finds them cool things to see and trees to climb. He also is fascinatingly dirty while he’s hunting – that’s really here nor there just a good side note. Grime aside they were excited to see him so many days last week. Since all the time spent with Tyler was the middle of the gun season it involved an extra amount of grime and plenty of opportunity to check out the hunters successes. The girls happily went with him to see dead deer while he showed them who shot which deer and what he was doing when he helped butcher them.

Clara told everyone “Tyler shoot big buck” with her arms in the air for emphasis just in case anyone missed his bow deer of a few weeks ago. Then after John shot a very nice doe she added “Dad shoot done” (rhymes with stone) to her deer hunting talk. She got rides from Uncle Tyler and anyone else who would carry her to and from the shed to see the deer every chance she got. Ivy took her friend in to see all the deer and was perhaps a little miffed when she wasn’t interested in identifying carcasses with Ivy and instead bolted for the door. In short my girls are not afraid of dead things and they love their Uncle Tyler so I was more than a bit taken aback by Clara’s bedtime conversation with me the other night:

Clara: Uncle Tyler shoot big buck!
Me: Yup.
Clara: Dad shoot big doe! (we worked on pronunciation since last weekend)
Me: Yup.
Clara: Uncle Tyler cut up dad doe.
Me: Yup he helped. (A clarification to pacify those who did cut up Johns doe (Thank you!) Tyler did not in fact cut up that deer, but he cut up some others and I was trying to get the girl to go to sleep since she was up and talking far past bedtime.)

Then there was a thoughtful silence, followed by a very worried:

Clara: Uncle Tyler no cut me up!

Me: No Clara, Uncle Tyler would never cut you up. (shit… and excuse my language but there is really no other phrase that better suits the fact that at 8:45 at night your two year old is suddenly worried that her beloved Uncle is going to carve her up like a deer.)

Clara: Uncle Tyler have big knife….. Uncle Tyler no cut me up!

So we talked about all the fun things that her Uncle Tyler likes to do with her and the conversation was going well until I mentioned that he likes to climb trees with her.

Clara: Uncle Tyler cut up trees!

Me: (shit!)

Fifteen minutes and one futile phone call to Uncle Tyler later(Tell me please – is there anything more annoying than a brother who falls asleep before your daughter, who is awake because of him???) I had her mostly convinced that her Uncle was not going to cut her up because she is not meat, and he wouldn’t do that even if he does have a big knife. She finally fell asleep and I haven’t heard any more about it since.

This weekend we will again be spending time with Uncle Tyler. The girls are already excited and I’m just crossing my fingers that we’ll all be able to sleep when we get home!

Thanksgiving Miracles

Nov28

We have Thanksgiving dinner with my Dad’s side of the family every year. I know Christmas is supposed to be the time for miracles but I think in this family the miracles come early.

Most of the miracles revolve around the fact that 45 people gathered at my aunt and uncles to eat dinner together. This means that not only is it miraculous that my aunt can seat (that’s right, you heard me – seat) 45 people in her house at once but that we have that many family members willing to show up with a side dish for the evening! The house, I feel I must mention, is a very normal house. IE: it’s not actually made to seat 45. Instead I’m pretty sure they are somehow able bend the natural occurring laws of space in order to fit enough tables and people inside it once a year – miracle. The turkeys (you need a lot of turkeys to feed this crowd… and a ham) are delicious and left overs usually go to feed a slightly smaller contingency of the family lunch the next day after they finish butchering the years deer harvest. A mere two days later and a giant feast has been mostly reduced to crumbs and turkey carcasses.

No one else was interested in the remnants of the turkey (or perhaps it was that we excitedly jumped up and down and called dibs on it) so we came home yesterday with a giant bucket of bones, giblets and necks… mmm mmm mmm! John pulled out our turkey fryer in order to find a pot large enough and spent the night making turkey stock. Today after picking bones for an hour (did I mention it was a really big pot???) he had it all ready to go. Normally we would just divide and freeze all the stock but our freezer space is limited this year. I’m not sure what happened but apparently one pig, two deer, 7 chickens, a turkey and assorted fruits just fill the thing right up. The Thanksgiving space making miracle unfortunately does not seem to apply to my freezer so after dividing up and freezing about a gallon of it we pulled out … the pressure canner.

I’ve only had the pressure canner for a few years, and up until today it had been used solely to can venison – a lot of venison– but just venison. While regular hot water bath canning doesn’t phase me much anymore the pressure canner always seems a bit intimidating. Our brief history together has been a rocky love/hate relationship. First there is the fact that I always have to double check the instructions, how long to vent the steam, how much water to add, stuff like that, which then turns me into a neurotic instruction checker even though I know the basic steps. Suddenly I can’t help but consult my instructions every five seconds, which of course makes everything take twice as long, except when I lose my instruction booklet every ten seconds… then it takes three times as long. When I actually get everything going and the steam is spitting out the top and the little pressure doohickey is spinning round and making crazy noises and I’m crossing my fingers I haven’t screwed anything up and if I did that the 50 thousand safety release valves this canner seems to have will save me, ( I have a vivid memory of Granny making chicken soup in a pressure cooker that involves a stained ceiling that I should endeavor not to think about when using the canner.) and I’m worried that even if we survive the pressure it might all be a broken catastrophe inside when I open it up again, that’s when I’m afraid I really sort of hate the canner. Then just when I get in the groove, remember how things work, force myself to leave the instruction booklet alone and push my fear of the giant spitting pot to the back of my mind I start worrying that I’m going to screw up and poison my whole family with botulism or some other fantastic disease like that.

But so far – so far – it’s always gone well. Things have not exploded and burned body parts have been kept to a minimum. I’ve only ever had one jar break and my family is still alive and kicking. Today when I finally got to pull out the still bubbling jars and only sort of burned my thumb I looked at all 16 pints of turkey stock lined up on the counter ready NOT to go in the freezer and had a change of heart. I stared at the still slightly boiling jars, I listened to the seals pop closed, I marveled at the fact that I could put it all on the floor of the pantry and nothing would get damaged by rodents and that’s when I had my own mini Thanksgiving miracle and re-fell in love with the pressure canner.