The Accidental Domestic Goddess

Beautiful Homage

I have loved Edgar Allan Poe since I was a little girl. My mom bought me some abridged versions of his stories, happy to feed whatever kind of reading interest I had. I watched different film versions of his stories with my dad on PBS. I even went to a Poe Mansion event at a Renaissance Festival during the off season and had a blast.; each room hosting a different story.

I am sorry to say, I’m not a fan of the movie with John Cusack, which is a shame because he’s one of my favorite actors. Anyway…

I must admit going through a scaredy cat phase. My stomach just couldn’t handle horror for a while. My nerves were too fried. Life may have been frightening enough during those years. Then I became a mom and a lot of my interests were off the table.

When I finally started getting the urge for really good horror again, I just kept being disappointed. Movies were either too disturbing, too gory, or too anxiety inducing. None of the books I found were even slightly scary. To top it all off, I have really struggled to explain what I’m looking for in horror.

In comes T. Kingfisher and The Twisted Ones. Oh, the seep into your bones and turn your own imagination against you kind of horror! Then The Hollow Places was another win for scaring me. So, of course I’m going to try another of her books. This one looked interesting.

It starts off gorgeously dark. I can see Poe’s version sitting behind this new one, expanding the scene. It feels like a return, yet there’s something new and unknown lurking in the dark corners.

Kingfisher expertly gives us Poe’s voice right off the bat. Then, slowly, her voice begins blending in until it’s almost taken over and you know you’re reading a Kingfisher tale. This was a beautiful homage to a classic story and an interesting man.

I’m thinking of rereading Poe’s original tale. Like the author, before being inspired to write this book, I haven’t read it since I was a kid. Maybe after a reread, I can finally watch the series. I had trouble with it, but my mom swears it gets good, and my mom is almost never wrong.

Even Though I Knew the End

This was another $5 cafe buy at Barnes & Noble. They’re hard to resist. Especially when they sound so good. Apparently my mom has the same weakness and brought me her copy. I passed it along before I read my own.

I don’t come across much in the way of good noir, even though it’s a favorite genre of mine. This book hit the mark and then made a few more to hit. As each surprise was revealed I fell deeper in love with this story.

There are gumshoe elements and fantasy rolled in, all blending together. I love genre mashups. I also love the sapphic inclusion and historical truth of life for queer women. Nothing heavy. Just normal life in 1940’s Chicago where magic was an organized practice and underground clubs used versions of “Shave and a Haircut”.

I only spent a couple of days between these pages, but this tale has secured itself in my reader’s soul where I’ll revisit the feel of it again and again.

My sister asked what I do with my books when I’m done. Without missing a beat, “I put them on my shelf like a trophy.” Which is exactly what I did when I got home. Right next to Sheer Madness: A Buffalo Steampunk Adventure by Laura Strickland, another excellent read that seeped into the same bit of my soul.

Sitting with the Grieving

Another short visit with my sister to keep her company just shy of the two month mark. We wish we could be here more. I wish we weren’t so far away. I wish my sister wasn’t alone.

We don’t do much. Leaving the house for anything is still such a treacherous task. At any moment her grief might swallow her up and drag her away. He’s never coming back. Her whole future shattered.

So we sit. We sit and pass the time watching birds and squirrels in her yard. We play games on our phones or read a book while the breeze blows around us. Sometimes we talk. Heavy, weighty talks of life, souls, health, love, family, loss. Lighter talks of work, the kids’ activities, childhood memories, her dog’s wacky antics.

We break it up with cooking and meals, coffee refills, checking on the kids. In and out. In and back out again. I don’t always say or do the right thing, but I’m here. I’m here.

And now we’re headed home. And she’s alone again.

New Look at an Old Favorite

I just finished re-reading Incubus Dreams by Laurell K. Hamilton. It was not what I remembered. Or, at least, not what I remember remembering.

This was the book my good friend dragged me to the bookstore several towns away from campus for back in college. She was so adamant about me reading the series, we found the first book or two for me to bring home and begin my obsession.

I remember being really annoyed with Nathaniel and how everyone else was pressuring Anita about him the first time I read this, sometime in my early 20’s. Now, it felt so much more earned. Of course he should speak up about his needs. Of course Anita needs to take the blinders off and realize what she wanted too.

Richard was great in this book. This is the Richard I love. A mess, but trying. A part of the solution, even if he struggled.

Jean Claude is always amazing and getting peeks at his inner self is always satisfying. The equalizing of their relationship is so comforting. I’ve never not rooted for him.

I love that this book has it all. Zombie raisings, police work, relationships, escalating metaphysics… everything that I love about this series. Plus, Anita is growing and less angry. One of the themes my friend thought I would relate to. Letting go of the exhausting anger at everything.

I’m really tempted to dive right into the next book, Micah, but I’ve got so many spooky season books I want to read before October and November are over that I’m making myself wait. It’ll be worth it.

I am thinking of making a quick reference chart for myself to keep track of each book’s plot because we’re entering the stage of too many books in a series to remember it all and I find myself trying to remember when certain things happened. We’ll see.

An Uphill Hike

That’s what it feels like reading this book. I gotta work for the joy. Not that this is a laborious read, and honestly, I love a challenging hike. It’s that need to push yourself because the struggle makes the payoff even better.

I’ve got 120 pages left and I’m feeling so hyped to get to the view at the top. My legs are protesting. My lungs feel sharp. My gut is a bit queasy, but rest is just a little farther on. I just have to keep moving along, one page at a time.

Maas is a master at layering a story and then hitting you with one big reveal after another in the last couple chapters. You don’t even realize how far up you’ve climbed until the hits start coming. They’re shocking, they’re satisfying, they make so much sense.

I love that Celaena Sardothien is both a badass and likes fine things. I appreciate her intelligence and her youthful attitude. I like that the romance is smart and simply a part of the whole story, not the focus. I enjoy the genuine relationships and care these characters have for each other.

I did finish the book before finishing this and it was worth the effort. By the last 50 pages it was all a downhill hike of amazing views. I’m excited for the next book, but I need my breather. Anita Blake sounds like a perfect follow-up.

One Week

Yes, that’s a Trigger Point chart for massage therapy in the background.

I should really start investing in bulky weight yarn more. Sweaters work up quick and are so cozy. The speed is probably what kept stockinette stitch from getting boring. That and the stripes.

This resurgence of 90’s fashion and nostalgia is strange. It means I’ve entered a certain phase of life and the perspective shift is something to get used to. Trying to remember what it was like when I was my kids’ ages has opened up some interesting time capsules of memories.

I’m just happy to be wearing sweaters again. I lived in sweaters in my youth. They gave me a lot of comfort during some turbulent years and with different sweaters for different moods I had any disaster covered. Over the years I gave them all away.

All I need are ripped knees and this would have been me as a kid.

Slowly I’m rebuilding my collection and learning a lot about sweater design. They’re a great comfort as we navigate raising preteens who are about to be teens and a young one with big feelings about it all. I’m working through my own shadows while learning how to help them navigate theirs in a world I never imagined.

So here’s to big comfy sweaters, speedy knitting, making peace with the past, and generational healing.

I’m Sure I Like It

I really do like this book. Every time I’m in its pages, the world around me dissolves and I’m swallowed up by this story. But I’ve been at it for a month now. I tend to wear out.

Losing a family member will do that. Reading wasn’t really a priority for a while. Escape was not a choice I could take. As we settle back into our new normal, I’m trying to get back to my books.

So, I find myself struggling to pick it up. To find enough time to really invest in these intriguing characters. There’s so much left to go and I’m getting antsy for something new.

I’m also very stubborn. I have no desire to set this book aside for later. I want to finish it, but I want to finish it now. If I wasn’t so picky about narrators, I would find an audio version and listen while I clean, but I am. I’m also easily distracted and would either be rewinding a lot, or stand in one spot and forget I was doing something.

And, of course, I bought yet another new book. I should have waited, but I ran into a friend I haven’t seen in a while because I couldn’t wait, soooo… I’m going to reread the All Souls trilogy by Deborah Harkness and had to buy the new release The Black Bird Oracle, which I won’t be reading until I’m done with the first four. (And I might have come across another book in this story. I’ll have to investigate further.)

Eh, it’s just motivation to finish the book I’m on and start adding some titles to my September reading list. Besides, it was great catching up with my friend. I hear you universe. I’ll keep buying more books.

Last Few Rows

Why do the last few rows on the last sleeve always feel like they take longer than the rest of the sweater to knit? I’ve only a few loose ends left to weave and a bit more seaming at the shoulders and then I’m done.

I’ve been wanting to make a sweater like this for a while, but have never gotten around to it. My husband surprised me with a big bag of yarn a while back and I knew what it was going to become.

Guess I’ll get back to it. Finally I’ve made a Fall sweater just in time for the season.

A Book For Young Widows

None of us ever expected my sister to become a widow in her late thirties. It’s still so new it’s hard to believe, yet his absence is very real. I’ve never talked on the phone so much with her as I have in the past couple weeks.

She tried meeting with a grief counselor, but my sister has never really been one for sitting in a room and talking about herself. The thought of repeating her agony over and over is just too painful. So she’s trying books.

It’s been years since she read a book. Always busy with work, her dog, and her husband, there wasn’t much time and she didn’t really have the desire. Now, finding the right books is its own form of therapy.

Out of the nine she bought, There Are No Rules: A Young Widow’s Perspective on the Early Days of Grief by Britany Rivera has been the most helpful. Deliberately written in easily digestible sections it covers the myriad of things that are most pressing in those first few days and weeks of losing a spouse.

The repeated message is that grieving looks different for everyone and there is no right way to handle it or all the decisions you now have to face alone.

I have not finished it yet myself, but I found comfort in those pages. This was what my sister was dealing with that first week. Hosting all of us, making funeral arrangements, choosing photos to display, a photo for his obituary, ordering enough death certificates, going through the funeral. Being surrounded by family and then most of us leaving to return to our lives.

Rivera also talked about what’s to come for my sister. Trying to decide what to do with his stuff, whether to stay in her house or sell, wearing her wedding ring, filing as a widow on her taxes for two years, and is she even going to be able to return to work.

Being a young widow is rare. It is an agony none of us want to experience. The author did not shy away from the truths of this, while also asserting that it’s survivable. This book has been the most helpful in my sister’s journey and I am grateful for that.

When Death Comes Sudden

I have never experienced the loss of someone close. Mostly older people where it wasn’t unexpected. A kid who died tragically that babysat us a few times. Family I never really knew.

Last week, my sister lost her husband. My younger sister is now a widow. One of my nightmares is now my sister’s reality. He was such a good man and he was so good to my sister.

As all of us gathered in her house, swooping in as fast as we could, it struck me that you never see this in film or in books. Leave it to me to look at fiction to make sense of real life.

There are the gut melting realities of life insurance, multiple death certificates, canceling doctor and dentist appointments that will never be rescheduled. There are credit cards and streaming subscriptions. There’s remembering he’s not there to help her anymore.

We all kept trying to keep the house clean. A difficult feat with so many people staying and visiting. But a clean house was important to him. I wiped the counters and talked to him. I swept and mopped and did the laundry. I picked up dirty tissues and finished dishes. We all found tasks to keep us busy in between sitting with my sister. The young widow.

The kids were great, which can be worrying. I kept trying to talk to them, but I was rather preoccupied with my sister. Their father sat with them. He played with them. He took care of the dog too, who’s missing his playmate. He cooked a few times and even took the kids to an aquarium. He kept it together for my sister. For his sister.

It’s strange coming back home to our lives. He wants us all to keep going, but it all feels so different now. To have sat with my sister as she ordered a widow bracelet and ring. As she picked charms for the bracelet he had given her. Ordering a new dress to say goodbye in. To watch her say goodbye.

Now I’m back to making doctor appointments, dealing with insurance, far away dentist visits, and the daily grind of work and kids. I’m back to trying to put our house in order while we’re barely holding our heads above water. And we’re getting ready to make the long drive back to my sister’s to give my mom a break.