​I’ve never read this author before. In fact, I didn’t even realize this was an ongoing story/series of the Logan family until I was almost finished. Which means it stands alone pretty well without having read the earlier books of the series. The reason I discovered there were previous books with this family is because I kept wondering why this was categorized as a “Teen” novel. I’m guessing when the author started the series, the protagonist was a teen. Now she’s in her twenties and thirties. It didn’t feel at all like a book from the Young Adult genre. That being said, it was still an interesting read, even though I was looking for a YA book.

​​This story is heart-wrenching and difficult, yet uplifting between those tough spots. The trials and tribulations endured are hard to read. I wanted to reach into the story and rescue the protagonist, who also is the writer, as this is inspired by the true life of author Echo Brown. I also wanted to lash out at the people who hurt her. At this time of racial pain and awakening in our country, the story is enlightening about the never-ending pain endured by black citizens, and especially black women. I could relate to the teen being unable to verbalize her inner thoughts and advocate for herself, leaving her vulnerable to misunderstandings, and at worst, predators, because I’ve, too, had those times when I couldn’t form the words I needed to speak out for myself.

​Turtle Under Ice is styled a novel by its author, but I’d audaciously argue that it is more a novella, due to its length. I finished it cover to cover in 90 minutes. The work is laid out as if written in verse, giving it quite an artistic, poetic look and feel. Regardless of what it is or isn’t, I found it an intriguing read and worth the hour and half it took out of my Sunday afternoon.
 
To avoid spoilers, I’ll only say it turns out to be much different from what it starts out to be, or what it is represented to be by its marketing plugs. Be that as it may, it pulls off the change without betrayal, not as a bait and switch but as a device to drive home its purpose.

Book review for The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
(Balzer + Bray, February 28, 2017)
 
Black, white, or brown—read this because it’s a fantastic book. It’s a compelling story with wonderful, fully-developed characters and a page-turning narrative. Protagonist 16-year-old Starr is easy to care about and root for, even in the midst of her fear and indecision, and her self-perceived cowardice. She straddles life between her low-income black neighborhood and her mostly-white choice-in suburban high school. Unidentified witness to the murder of her friend, Starr has a life-altering decision to make that will define who she is for the rest of her life.

​Book review for Dear Edward by Ann Napolitano
(The Dial Press January 6, 2020)

​Dear Edward is a story inspired by the real-life tragedy of the ten-year-old Dutch boy, Ruben van Assouw, who was the sole survivor of a plane crash in Lybia in 2010. All other 103 souls aboard the plane perished. This novel’s protagonist is twelve-year-old Edward, a boy who loses his parents and cherished older brother in this tale’s crash. His aunt and uncle, who suffer from infertility and have no children of their own, take him home to try to piece together a new life in a new town.

The kids are wearing their complimentary Carter's sleepers. They're also modeling booties Aunt Cyndi's friend crocheted for them. They were not amused.

​By day as I lay on our couch when I was pregnant, trying to keep my contractions to a minimum and to put off being admitted to the hospital as long as possible, I watched the show Live with Regis and Kathie Lee (my one hour of TV I allotted myself in the daytime so I wouldn’t get incredibly depressed or fry my brain). They were giving away mini-vans. I really, really wanted to win one of their mini-vans. We only had one car and it was a small sedan. Many times each week without fail, I mailed in their requisite postcard so that I could be entered into their drawing. 

Third Grade: The kids in their uniforms ready to go to school.

This week we remembered what happened seventeen years ago on another Tuesday, on September 11. Every year when that date comes around, it is a somber day. We all remember where we were when the planes struck. It changed our lives irrevocably.
 
This past Tuesday, a friend on Facebook asked for memories of 9/11 and it was a solemn task, yet part of the ongoing healing, to go back and reflect on the day, its impact, and how it changed our lives. 

Not long ago, Pierce called to ask me details about applying a butterfly bandage to his roommate’s leg. The two young men had been biking home from the liquor store with a six-pack of beer and his roommate hit some gravel and the bike flew out from beneath him. He landed on the bottles, which broke, and a shard of glass cut a nice gash down his thigh. Pierce was wondering if they could avoid going to the ER and do like I’d so often done when Pierce was growing up and just tape the thing shut.

​The kids are all very far behind in speaking, from what every other mother tells me their two-year-old is saying. But the kids are picking up new words quickly. At least one per day. We are at the difficult stage where they try to say a lot of things, and I have no idea what it is they want to convey, and we all get frustrated. One will say, for example, “Baw, baw, baw,” and I can’t figure out for the life of me what it means in that particular context.