(Audio)book review: Melt with You

Melt With You
by Jennifer Dugan
narrated by Jeremy Carlisle Parker

This was a listen that I stumbled across while mindlessly browsing through the LGBTQ+ Romance tag in the Libby app. I liked the cover, and I was in a hurry to find something to start so I went for it. I hesitated a bit when I realized it was a YA novel—not because I have anything against YA fiction—I don’t—but because I wasn’t sure if I was in the mood for anything quite as wholesome as YA can be at times.

Frankly, I would have LOVED reading this when I was a teen. I am so glad it exists for today’s queer kids. I love how sexuality is never really a focus of the storyline—it just is what it is and there aren’t any explanations, excuses, or apologies. There’s no grand “coming out” drama, nor is queerness an obstacle of any sort. If I had a library for teens, this book would be in it.

As an adult reader, this book pushed my limit on accepting poor communication as a major plot line. That sort of thing drives me batshit crazy when there’s too much of it. How do I decide whether there’s too much of it? My personal litmus test is as follows: If character A were to just tell character B how she feels, would there still be a story? If the answer is no, it’s overkill. HOWEVER, this is YA fiction and that’s a good lesson for YAs to learn so that they don’t repeat this BS as Old Adults. (What? Is that not the opposite of YA?)

Melt with You was a sweet story with a solid narrator. I will happily recommend it to queer YA readers. As an OA, I’m probably a bit too cynical to believe that these two will last beyond college, but what do I know? If I had a time machine, I’d give it to my immensely naive 16 year old self around the time she was busy falling for her best friend.

(Audio)book Review: Sprinkled in the Stars, by Violet Morley

I listened to the audio version of this, which had the bonus of being narrated by Abby Craden. Narrators can make or break an audiobook no matter how great the story/writing is, and Ms. Craden has not let me down yet.

Basic plot: An a-list celebrity actress who is likely neurodiverse falls for a pragmatic paramedic—single mother to a 7-year old daughter who is on the autism spectrum.

Thoughts: I really enjoyed this listen. I loved the imperfections woven into each character—it made them feel more whole. As a parent to a 7-year old daughter, I appreciated the details of the mother/daughter relationship. Although my kiddo is not on the spectrum, she does have her unique challenges and I could relate to the struggles.

Overall, this was solid writing with a sweet storyline that offered some unique vantage points. I will absolutely pick up another Violet Morley novel in the future. The very near future, actually.

Surviving the Pandemic One Sapphic Romance Novel at a Time

Life hasn’t been particularly easy over the past few years, has it? As a society, we’ve had political unrest, a global pandemic, and now both of those things plus war and a rate of inflation that I struggle to wrap my head around. In the midst of all that are our personal struggles, and frankly I’m surprised we haven’t been crushed by the weight of it all.

The term self-care has been thrown about as if crop-dusting the world with that word alone will solve all of our problems. Spoiler: It won’t. The notion that we can self-care ourselves into a thriving, pandemic-free, worry-free economy is ludicrous. A bubble bath might ease some tension, but unless we can live inside a bubble bath, the relief will be extremely temporary. Still, temporary is better than nothing.

For that reason, I’ve found my temporary escape in sapphic romance novels. I am not going to share the number of books I’ve finished over the course of the past year, but it’s a ludicrous figure. Don’t judge.

Here’s why it’s working for me:

1. As long as I’m reading, my mind isn’t able to deliver reminders of the unending stream of things I should be worrying about instead.
2. The formulaic nature of romance novels means that at least one of the main characters will do something so utterly stupid that I will have an opportunity to feel either intellectually or emotionally superior—maybe even both!
3. There’s always a happy ending.
4. Reading about other people having sex is a reminder that I can do that too!
5. Book hangovers are vastly preferable over wine hangovers.
6. The battery in my Kindle lasts 5x longer than the battery in my iPhone.
7. Inflation has not impacted the price of library books.
8. It’s nice to spend time with other queer people—even if they’re fictional.
9. People are less likely to bother you in public if you’re reading.
10. When Charlotte brings home one of those “all about my mom” things they do every year at school, it’s more likely to say, “My mom likes to read,” than it is to say, “My mom likes wine!”

For those reasons, I’m going to start writing publicly about the books I read or listen to. I will no longer be a closeted queer romance reader, because there is nothing wrong with needing some happily-ever-after to survive the day(s).

And then there was cat

I wanted so badly to be a model chicken lady, but I have failed. I’m not even ashamed of my failure, because I learned so much from our year-long foray into urban ranching. (That makes it sound so much more glamorous than what it really was, which was simply 4 chickens in a back yard in the middle of Los Angeles.)

In the end, the chickens destroyed every living green thing in our back yard, and we had to power wash every available surface before people came over–and we always have people over. It wasn’t sustainable, despite that being the whole point.

There was also the issue of Waddles, who was by far my favorite of our little flock of 4. A prolapsed uterus lead to infection, and despite our best efforts there was just no saving her. It wasn’t the same without Waddles.

Soon, it was summer and Los Angeles was in full drought-mode. I couldn’t keep the yard clean enough, and power washing was incredibly wasteful. I’d been wrestling with what to do about the chickens when we learned that our neighbor’s cat was having kittens soon. (That sounds like a terrible segue–I promise the two scenarios are only loosely related.)

How do you convince your child to give up her beloved chickens? You offer a trade: goodbye chickens, hello kitten.

The chickens went to a new home where their eggs are cherished, and we got this:

Meet Nacho, aka Nacho Man, Nachito, Kitty Kitty, Demon Spawn, Damnit Cat, OUCH, etc.

So, here we are–just two moms, a 2nd grader, a middle-aged basset hound, and a kitten.

She’s 5

My baby girl turned 5 today. Five whole years old.

My birthday wish for her this year is freedom. I would give anything for her to have the freedom to be her authentic self without a pandemic and an inept government holding her back.

Five. It needs a better world. It deserves a better world.

Into the Unknown…

Today, my parents delivered breakfast from a favorite spot, and we all ate in my back yard while maintaining as much “social distance” as we could. Fortunately, our yard is big enough to accommodate that, but I don’t know right from wrong anymore. A month ago, I would have told them absolutely not, but now—well, now we’ve all been living in fear of the air we breathe for two months and it’s taking its toll. So pancakes in the back yard it is.

When they were leaving, Charlotte looked at my dad and said, “I wish I could give you a hug and a kiss, but I can’t.” Their car pulled out of the driveway and she curled into us and sobbed those big heaving sobs that make your heart hurt for them.

She sees them and she interacts with them, but she feels the disconnect—the fear of the unknown. She needs to feel her people and she needs them to feel her.

This was supposed to be her last year at her preschool. She was accepted to the school we wanted her to go to for kindergarten, and we have been SO excited. I was looking forward to all of the end-of-preschool festivities, and the new parent/student orientations. She was going to go to summer camp at her new school so she could get to know the kids and the teachers before the school year starts. Now, none of that is happening. Is she really supposed to start kindergarten online? What does that even look like? I feel like we’d do better with an official homeschool program that we manage ourselves, but then she may lose her spot at this school for first grade.

I have never done well with unknowns. A few weeks of unknowns felt reasonable. A few months of unknowns felt challenging, but manageable. More than that, though? More months? A year? Two?

I read a dystopian YA book years ago about a young girl navigating a changing world as the earth’s orbit slowed and the days and nights grew longer and longer. There was really never a resolution. There was no happy ending. There was no dramatic ending. Everyone’s lives just continued on in the face of a new world, and people adapted however they possibly could. Nothing would ever be the same, and the changes society was making to try to make the new world livable were probably not sustainable beyond a generation or two. It felt so unsatisfying to put that book down because everything just was. No answers. No solutions. They just kept going on with their grim reality.

That story has been haunting me ever since this began. I need a better ending to this. I need solutions and answers and the ability to hope that someday we’ll see some semblance of “normal” again. I need to know that my daughter will run freely with her friends. I need to know that we’ll celebrate birthdays and graduations and births and deaths alongside the people we love most in the world. I need more than this seemingly endless abyss of unknowns as the world comes apart at its seams.

I am very fortunate to be able to spend this time of unknowns with these lovely creatures who continue to both challenge me, amaze me, and love me through it all.

The Hound

This dog. She is everything.

Can you believe Twix is 14? She’s been my best girl since she was 6 weeks old. It’s hard to believe everything she’s been through with us. (And everything we’ve been through with her!)

There’s enough heavy, hard stuff in the world right now. I thought maybe we could all use some puppy pictures. I mean, just look at her next to that box of tissues. 😍

Safer at Home Day Whatever

We swam at my parents’ house again today. This time, we brought the dogs. Snickers got out and went for a little joy ride through my mom’s neighborhood. I’m not sure how long she was gone before we realized she was missing. She wasn’t wearing a collar because she’s had issues with infection in the folds of her neck. It was terrifying.

Fortunately, we found her within 20 minutes. Three of us were driving around the neighborhood and two were on foot. She was discovered in the open garage of a neighbor who was cleaning. They said she immediately went belly up for them and thoroughly enjoyed the attention.

Little fucker.

She’s lucky she’s cute.

Water therapy

Today, we swam with(ish) my parents. Social distance-style. It was much-needed, and lovely, but also… socially distant.

We rescued a ladybug from the water, watched the lizards sun themselves, and began many sentences, “When this is all over…”

Look at those freckles. I adore them.

The evening ended with a predictable angry, emotional breakdown. Something about amoxicillin does this to her every time. After two doses, it’s all downhill. 2 doses down, 22 more to go.

Just like the COVID quarantine, the only way out is through.

What a world, what a world

I’m sitting down at the keyboard tonight because I feel like things are only going to get worse if I don’t. I have no idea what I’m writing about, but hopefully the words will just start flowing after a bit.

Charlotte has an ear infection. I’d guess it’s probably the worst she’s ever had because I can’t recall her being in this much pain with prior earaches. For the first time ever, she was prescribed antibiotics via video chat with a doctor. It wasn’t even her doctor. She just trusted my gut and handed over the pink shit. That is what the COVID world has come to… doctors just handing antibiotics out willy nilly because no one wants to step foot near a medical center.

Catch broke her big toe. It was a freak accident, and I don’t think the scenario could ever really be duplicated. Basically, Snickers knocked the little step stool she uses to get up on the bed as she was jumping, and it tipped over and landed on Catch’s toe near a joint, and just… ouch. Poor thing was doubled over in so much pain and Charlotte was laughing because she thought her gasps for breath and yells of pain were funny.

I really miss the world. I miss my family something terrible. I miss babysitters and date nights. Me time. Knowing what day it is. Feeling hopeful about pretty much anything.

The days have been gorgeous for several weeks, but all the sunshine in the world isn’t helping my mood this week. I feel like I’ve hit a wall of defeat. Is this what life is, now? Will my mom ever hug my daughter again? Will I ever find a job that can support us?

I know in my heart that over time, the world will re-acclimate. People will gather again. Grandparents will hug their grandkids. But will this ever be far from our minds? This fear that the very air we rely on for life could also be the death of us?

And the protesters… oh, what a sorry bunch they are. They make me so angry standing there with their weapons trying to intimidate people who are doing their best with a horrific situation. No one wanted to shut down the country. No one wanted to sit at home and slowly watch the economy collapse. None of this is ideal. But lives are worth saving. All lives. When it comes to COVID, all lives do matter. Or at least, they should.

I’m going to try to write every day for a while. Hopefully tomorrow’s post will be a bit less uninspired.

Photo from a few weeks ago. I let her scooter around an empty park provided she touched absolutely nothing, and we left if any people arrived. This is what every playground here looks like right now–all equipment roped off with caution tape.