Untitled, pt. 2

I've come to realize that as much as I love writing, it's not something that I am capable of doing as a hobby, much less a career. Instead, it is my release when trying to verbalize my thoughts is not enough.


Thursday was hell. At work, if it could have went wrong, it did. I was in one terrible mood at the end of the day, and when I was finally off the clock I remember wanting nothing more than to just hang out with my little guy and my husband.

We decided that we would go and have some dinner with my grandparents. We hadn't gotten to see them much over the previous week, and their house is a place that we love to spend time.

While I was getting supper ready to eat, Sam walked in the kitchen and asked for some water. I noticed then that he looked very, very tired. Droopy eyes, and his color was off. I suspected that he was possibly overly tired, and would be wanting to sleep soon after eating.

As we ate, he cuddled next to me on the couch. He was not interested in his food at all, so he sat with me, watching videos on his iPad.  I reached to move his hair out of his face, one of my favorite things to do when he is near me, and realized that his whole body was hot.

All the typical mom thoughts made their way through my brain.
Ugh, he's sick.
Well, lets take that temp.
Tylenol?
Gosh, do I need to go ahead and get a sub for tomorrow?
I wonder what is causing it?

When I checked his temperature, it was 99.1. Typically not a cause for immediate concern. Jared sat across the room from me as he, my grandparents, and I talked about what could be the culprit for his fever and about going ahead and getting him something to take for his fever.

We discussed these things for mere minutes.

My Granny noticed that Samuel had begun to fall asleep. That was my first red flag. If you have spent any significant time around my child lately, you will know that when he is watching his iPad, he is wholly focused. He NEVER falls asleep in front of it ( in fact, he cannot even fall asleep with the TV on). I reached around him and hit pause on the video he was watching. Nothing. Even when half asleep, this should have sent him into a fit. Jared crossed the room and at my insistence picked him up.

The second that Jared picked him up off the couch, Sam began to slip into a seizure. I demanded that Jared give him back to me.

What is it about that need to have your hands on your child? That gut feeling that if you can just touch them, you won't both go flying off the earth.

For a moment, he shook in my arms. I tried to take a deep breath and remind myself what the doctors told me the last time that Sam had a febrile seizure. Keep him safe, monitor how long it lasted.

I fought down panic, rising in my throat, and watched as his eyes lost focus, and no longer saw me. His brow furrowed like it does when he us displeased with something. His entire body jerked in my arms, and then went rigged. Jerk, stiff, jerk, stiff. Looking back, this probably lasted about a minute.

Then it changed. His body became limper, still jerking, and he began salivating uncontrollably. The best I can tell, he must have aspirated some of this, because it was then he began to struggle. The noise he made was somewhere in-between a hiccup and choking, and my mind went into a tailspin.

All of a sudden, I couldn't tell if he was getting air properly. And I lost my cool.

During all this, Jared was trying to reach someone through 911 to have an ambulance come to us. After getting no where with them, we made for the Jeep.

Possibly the greatest blessing is that we had decided to have dinner with my grandparents. They live only about 5 minutes from Murray Medical center. Although, I believe the records would show that we made there in under 2.

The entire time, my child lay in my arms, unresponsive, and shaking. Finally, about halfway through the ride, he took one large breath. And then another.

The seizure was loosening its hold, and when we made it into the Emergency Room parking lot, he was still unresponsive, but the shaking had stopped.



In the melee, I realized then that I had ran out of the house, leaving my shoes behind. Hospital floors gross me out to no end, but I would have walked the entire place barefoot to fix what was wrong with my child.

In our time there, I held my baby's legs as they attempted to insert an IV, finally accomplishing it on the third try. And I rejoiced at his screams and tears, because even though they cut me like glass, it meant that he was, even on a basic level, okay. The nurses and I laughed and screamed yay when he promptly wet the bed.

I was ushered out of the room while they took a chest X-ray, to rule out any respiratory problems.


After settling him in my arms, he finally began to come around. He was entering what they called the Postictal state. Lethargic, confused, he pulled at his IV and cannula, but only for a minute. Blessedly, he was content to lay in my arms, and turned his head to look when he heard another one of his family members had entered the room to see him.

We learned then that after blood work, we would be transferred to Hamilton to be checked at a higher level of care. Learning that he was going to ride in an ambulance perked him up considerably. When the paramedics wheeled in the gurney to load him up, he made sure they knew to "buckle first". He was very impressed with the ambulance, although the ride got the best of him and he drifted off to sleep.

Upon reaching Hamilton and seeing a doctor, it was determined that he had, in fact, had another febrile seizure, and that the fever was likely caused by an ear infection. We would be receiving some medicine and then would be heading home soon.

Between these things, there was time. Mostly, I spent it with my eyes closed, holding my sleeping boy, but not sleeping myself. If nothing else, I needed to keep my mind blank, to keep the image of my shaking child out of my head as much as possible. Of how his eyes had never been a purer shade of blue than in those moments.

Instead, I chuckled gently at how every time the nurses and I had to move him someone would inevitably say, "my goodness, you have a big boy!". Or how while laying in my lap, he, with a precious sigh, peed all over me and the bed.

When, after asking to be held by his daddy, I went to use the bathroom myself, I wore my urine stained pants like a badge. Funny, the things you celebrate, the things you put aside, when other things take precedence.


Soon enough, we were driving home, exhausted, unbelieving that this could have happened to us again. But mostly just thankful. That we got handed a get out of jail free card, we got to take our boy home, practically unscathed.

We are anxious, worried, jumping at every noise and unfamiliar motion.
Sam has a renewed obsession with ambulances and a new hatred for "band aids" thanks to the sticky pads we had to peel off of his chest and belly.

And now it would seem that we are in the clear. No fever for a day or so now. And our sweet boy is back to his normal, lively self.

We could never say thank you enough to everyone who whispered a prayer for Sam. I felt them. And they worked.

Soon, we will be seeing a neurologist, to have an EEG as a precaution. Our family asks that you keep us in mind as we begin to gain some clarity, and pray for a healthy report.

I have to say, that the condition we think we are dealing with is a minor one, and while it is terrifying to experience, it could very well be that Sam will be just fine in the long run, and will eventually grow out of this.

To every parent who has to watch their child suffer because of an uncontrollable, unfair, and unforgiving illness or medical condition, I know that I have only experienced a slice of your pain. I try to be thankful daily for my healthy boy, but times like this really serve to hi-light how particularly blessed we are.


Love,
HLP

Just Be Held.

When my son was an infant, I nursed him to sleep every night. Most nights I held him and rocked him as he succumbed to sweet, milk drunk sleep. I read one advice article after another claiming that nursing/rocking your baby to sleep would only spoil them, but to me there was just no other way( and let me just say that if you managed to "crib train", I think you are a magical unicorn.) Every mom and babe have their groove, and that was ours.

But then a thing happened. He got older. He nursed less.

And then one night, he bypassed my open arms and just laid down next to me as he drifted off to sleep. My heart knew that it was all a part of him growing up just like he should, but any mom will tell you that she can remember when her baby stopped asking to be held, or rocked, or comforted. 

It stinking hurts. Puts a lump right in your throat. As parenthood will do, many, many times.

So tonight, when he sleepily declared "You rock me", my heart skipped a beat. And I sat right up. 

As he nestled down into my arms, I wondered if he would really let me hold him long enough to fall asleep. My boy is on the move 24/7 and does not enjoy being held these days.

Or so I thought.

He asked that I cover his feet with his Olaf blanket because he hates when they stick out. And then thanked me for it.

I normally sing to him, and he usually has a request, but tonight surprised me with my favorite to sing to him, and he asked for "Hey Jude".

And so, I rocked that boy. And I sang 2 rounds of "Hey Jude".

Then, he was snoring softly in my arms.

And then it struck me how wrong I was. As it turns out, he does want to be held. We have really been struggling lately with what every one hails as "The Terrible Twos". And you know what? Sometimes it really is terrible. But, not all the time. 

Most of the time, as he is screaming at me for limiting his screen time, and refusing him yet another popsicle/sucker/gummy snacks/(insert any sugary item here), as he is telling me NO! for the eleventy-oneth time that day, I am doing my best(and mostly failing) to reach my mind palace so that I can remember the other boy I live with.

The one who picks his nose as he falls asleep, and loves to sing "Jesus Loves Me", and dances All. The. Time. My boy who can count to 10, and is one of the most polite and caring human beings I have ever met.

And as I was sitting here in my bed, looking down at his eyelashes that are to die for, it hit me just how exhausting it has to be to be a 2 year old. And while no one wants their child to be disobedient or unruly, sometimes it helps to try and look past it all. And see that baby that use to live for the warmth of your arms. And to remember that sometimes, they just need to be held.

Untitled.

I feel like I have to write this soon because if I don't then it will slip away.

Most of the people in our lives know that early Saturday morning, our family had a medical scare.
Around 3:20 am I was pulled from sleep by the frantic movements our son, who will be two in March, was making. At first I thought he was dreaming. He can be a fitful sleeper, usually making a journey around our bed most nights. The bedside lamp on my husband's side of the bed had been left on, so when I saw Sam's face, I knew that he wasn't dreaming. Or sleeping.

It hit me hard that I was watching my son have a seizure. My husband Jared, who normally sleeps so deeply that he is often impossible to wake, woke within seconds of me shouting his name.


For once, my brain did not let me down. We called 911. We made sure he was safe.

This was the first time that I had ever seen anyone have a seizure right in front of me. And it was terrifying. But the wildest thing was this. I was ready.


I was beyond ready.

You see, just the day before, on Friday, I completed an all-day course to become CPR certified.

And so I watched my son, keeping a check on his breathing.

His seizure only lasted about a minute. It took him about ten minutes to come around. He remained unresponsive the entire time. It was excruciating. For a large part of me. But a part of me also had peace.

So, why do I feel the need to record this for all the world to see( or not, their choice. :) )

This post isn't to scare you about your child having a seizure. The type of seizure Sam had is called a febrile seizure, and actually occurs in about every 1 in 20 children, age birth through seven years. It happens when the body has a dramatic change in temperature in a short amount of time. In this case, Sam's temperature rose extremely quickly. The seizure was merely his body's response. He will, thankfully, see no effects.

This post isn't about cosleeping, although I've never been more thankful that I do so.

This post isn't even about how I think everyone who is able and willing should be CPR certified. ( And I do think that, truly)

This post, rather, is how through every moment of this experience, I could feel God's presence with us. This post is my way of thanking Him for the peace he grants us, even when we struggle to find it.

Even Saturday night, when bed time rolled around and I was unexpectedly riddled with anxiety at the thought of succumbing to sleep, and not being able to watch him. We had made it through nap time that day with no such feeling. Honestly all I felt then was relief since we all lost a good bit of our normal sleep time. But the dark changes things. The nighttime has always felt Other to me. Alluring, yet guarded. So when my body was trying to give in to exhaustion, but my mind was wrestling with what-ifs, I reminded myself that worrying would do me no good. For this, we are given Matthew 6:27,
Can anyone of you by worrying add a single hour to your life

Short answer, no.


And so, for the boy sleeping on my pillow, with only one sock on because he is my child, I give all my thanks to God.

A Year of Journaling-2016

While searching Pinterest for Family Management printables(Yes, that is a thing. Yes, they are awesome.), my eye wandered over to my journal. I have had a journal most of my life, and I really enjoy writing in one. Right now I actually have two. One is for myself, and the other is for Samuel. It is my hope that one day I can gift him with a journal(or perhaps journals) full of memories. I hope to do this for all my children.

Both of my journals could use more attention. I have been contemplating what I would like to work on in 2016, and one of the first things that came to my mind is my journaling. So to the search bar I went, and found this really neat list of monthly journal prompts from a blog called Life of Lovely.

They have just put a new list out for January 2016, and since it's only the 3rd I feel that catching up will be manageable. I love writing prompts, so I can't wait to see where this goes.

Here is the list for January created by Life of Lovely.

She also has some great tips for beginning a journal if it is something that you want to do but aren't sure where to start. Printable versions of these calendars are available as well.

Keeping a journal can be very cathartic. It keeps your mind sharp and your soul open.

Best wishes,

HLP

I do not subscribe

I do not subscribe to the idea that once you get married that is HAS to go downhill from there. This is so common now that we think it's an actual law of nature or something.

People, this is a CHOICE we make! Every day.

Lately, this has been shoved in my face in various different ways. I've been watching as friends of mine have been struggling in their marriages, as we all do. Oh, how we do. 
But there is something else going on here. And our culture has been cultivating it for decades, nay centuries.

We whole-heartedly believe that once we are married, it's normal for things to...settle. We let our everyday lives become worn around the edges, and chalk it up to normal wear-and tear.

We are left stunned, gazing at our wedding photos, mesmerized by those blessedly happy people. Where on Earth did they go?

Every time we hear of another relationship suffering, my husband and I find ourselves turning to each other, our faces masked in fear and determination, saying "this will never happen to us!" And then, in a smaller, meeker voice "right?"

Well, I've decided that it is up to us.

In our four years of marriage, I've began to have an understanding of the word. Because, marriage isn't just about those happy people as they were on that one December day in 2011. It's also about these people who are sitting in their living room together right now in 2015, enjoying the silence of their one year old napping.

Marriage is helping your newly wed husband shower because he just had shoulder surgery.
Marriage is cleaning up after your pregnant wife because she missed the trash can.
And doing these things with love.
It's looking out at each other over a sea of dirty diapers, Teddy Grahams and piles and piles of never ending laundry, and remembering how he looked in his tuxedo, waiting for you at the end of the aisle. And then pushing through it all. Finding ways to make this new life you have created together work for you.
And remembering that is not easy. Not one bit. Not for one minute. If it feels easy, just wait. That other shoe is probably coming for you.
But here's the pinch, you already have everything you need to get through it. You put a ring on their finger, and they are waiting for you.

My husband and I like to talk of our future together often. We like to make plans for our family, our home. We enjoy imagining together how our lives might be in 5, 10, 20 years. And one thing that we always seem to come back to is that, in the end, when the children are raised, and they are off making their own lives, there will be no more Legos on the floor to clean. No more dirty diapers to change(hallelujah). We will look up and only see each other. And it is up to us to decide who we will see looking back at us. We could be strangers by then.
Or we could be so much more.

Warrior Mom

Warrior Mom

I have had this post on my heart since this morning. I'm sitting here on my bed, a toy train and an open, unfinished pack of gummy snacks on the mattress to my left, freezing because my one year old is passed out in a ball on the covers at the end of my bed. Our family is exhausted from a very taxing week. On Monday, Jared started an amazing new job, I went back to school for pre-planning, and Sam started at daycare for the first time. This week has really thrown us a curve ball.

This morning at drop off, as the daycare worker was prying Sam from my arms as I turned to go, trying to make it easier for everyone, I felt that familiar lump rise in my throat( I'm feeling it now just remembering). I could still hear his cries for me as I made my way out of the front door of the daycare. I looked up at the morning sky as I willed myself not to break down and thought to myself, " It's time now. You have to be a Warrior Mom". It was kind of a silly thought at first. Honestly my brain automatically brought up an image of Xena, Warrior Princess. But as I made the drive to my school I thought about it more and more.

This thing that we are going through, this transition. It is so commonplace, and at the same time it is incredibly momentous. Sam is learning how to go and be a person without my constant supervision.  Which is quite a big task for a one year old. It kills me to see the uncertainty in his eyes when he watches me leave a room.

And I know. I know it will get better. Because that is the way things go. All the veteran moms are smirking at me right now, shaking their heads, but they know deep down, in some form, they were once me. And it stings.

So I see you, Warrior Mom. I see you praying that this day will go just a little bit better for you and your crew. Celebrating the small things. Living completely in the moment because there is just not enough time NOT to.

I see you, Stay At Home Mom, who just swept Cherrios off the floor for the third time today, and it's not even 10am.

I see you, Working Mom, completing your work as fast as you can, and mapping out the evening hours in your head to maximize the family time that you have.

Since I teach, I get to be you both at times. And I know that in some way, on some level, you feel like you are failing. But your reminder of how amazing you are doing is right under your nose. Just take a glance at their sweet-cherub-"I have done no wrong" faces, and smile back.

So straighten your messy bun, throw back some coffee, and don't worry. You've got this. You are Warrior Mom.

It's Your Job.

I began this draft nearly a year ago, and for some reason, I left it sitting here all this time. I haven't posted on this blog in years, as it says below, and I'm not sure what caused me to abandon this post. But now that I've read it again I think it needs to be shared.

Christmas in July

I didn't feel like putting this on Facebook outright because in my past when I have gotten new things, like when I got my new/used(new to me) car, people would talk. I have no clue why really. Most everyone was happy for me. But there were one or two comments along the lines of " She must be doing well" Like they knew anything about me.

Truthfully, my car was a gracious gift from my generous grandparents(how about that alliteration, eh?) And if you knew anything about how my old car ran, you would have understood.

I digress.


Today I received the most exciting thing via FedEx. My husband and I bought new MacBook Pros as well as Apple TV.


First, some back story on my previous laptop. I bought it in the summer of 2008 right before college. A typical computer would still being running pretty good by this time. But I made a little boo boo when I bought it. When I saw the one I wanted, a beautiful pearl white Sony Vaio. The only problem was that the one on display was the only one they had in the store.

Stupid me. The salesperson smoothly offered to knock off around $200 if I went ahead and bought the display. I was delighted. And stupid.

NEVER EVER EVER DO THAT

Promise?


Ok.

The result was a battery that only lasted about an hour unplugged. That's fresh from the store folks. That one hour time limit dwindled to where it is now, about 5 minutes, if you're lucky.

It has other problems as well, the main one being that it is slow and glitchy on a general basis.


And so, it is with pride and joy that type this on my wonderful new MacBook Pro.

Merry Christmas in July

Pygmalion~Classic Summer

Pygmalion is a Greek mythological figure who carved a statue of a woman and fell in love with it.

Clearly he was convinced that he had the ability to create the perfect woman.

Enter Henry Higgins.

Professor Higgins is a master of phonetics, obsessed with Milton and the Universal Alphabet. He is rash, unyielding, exacting, and, at times, tyrannical. Only he wouldn't apply most of those adjectives to himself. And he  does this mostly while being a gentleman.

So when he meets Eliza Doolittle, flower girl and the face of cockney accents, he is absolutely certain that he will be able to turn her from a guttersnipe into a lady in no time. And with the help of Colonel Pickering, that is exactly what he does. Their scheme works so well that she is presumed to be a Hungarian Princess at a garden party.

What Higgins cannot calculate is human emotion. With the emotional range of an automaton he cannot understand Eliza's feeling of displacement when his little project is over, and all he has to say is "thank God!".

Eliza comes to realize that she could never abide being Higgins' wife. They are too much alike. So, she marries Freddy, her suitor who is perhaps worth nothing more than his devotion to Eliza, and they open a grocers shop together, and end up quite happy.

Pygmalion spawned the well-loved musical My Fair Lady, which is often regarded as the perfect play. It is loved by many, and the plot is recognizable by most everyone.

Other spin-offs have surfaced, mostly in movie form. One for my generation would be She's All That, where a preppy A-list soccer star turns an anti-social artist into the most popular girl in school for a bet.
Or how about Princess Diaries? That film also smacks of Pygmalion.


I really enjoyed reading this play. There were aspects of Higgins that I found reprehensible, and others that I sort of agreed with.
Once, one of my English professors called me a classicist because I made a face when she said that she thought the way that English as a language was evolving was a good thing. My bad. But I suppose that somewhere deep inside me is a little Henry Higgins. He's probably the one who cringes when reading the various misspellings and incorrect grammar on Facebook. :)

My favorite quotes are from the preface.

"It is so intensely and deliberately  didactic, and it's subject is esteemed so dry, that I delight in throwing it at the heads of the wiseacres who repeat the parrot cry that art should never be didactic. It goes to prove my contention that great art can never be anything else"

"An honest slum dialect is more tolerable than the attempts of phonetically untaught persons to imitate the plutocracy"

Those two made me chuckle.

Check out Julie Andrews version of Eliza singing "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" ( If I had chosen the Hepburn version, I could have given you a video. But I'm and Andrews girl myself. So enjoy the slide show. :)

And now it is on to The Grapes of Wrath. But I will have to start that one tomorrow due to the fact that I have a headache paired with the lonely hell known as the hiccups.

Later :)

Rory Gilmore Reading Challenge

Who can forget Rory Gilmore and all her books? Not me! Rory was such an identifiable character for me growing up, and I love how she's always reading! While perusing on Pinterest I stumbled upon a list of all the books that Rory mentions/reads/quotes/alludes to on the show. ( The source I got this from is here and they got it from here) It's 250 books long, maybe more because I don't feel like counting them!  That my friends is a long list of books!There was more than one snooty comment on the website that I got this from saying that the list wasn't what Rory actually read, but this list as far as I can tell is all-encompassing to anything she mentioned at all on the show. If you don't agree, just know I didn't make this list, and I'm not taking it upon myself to change it!
There are quite a few that I have read ( those will be in purple ) and a lot of my Classic Summer list are on there as well. I'll be keeping this list in mind as go along my reading journey, and I'll try to update what I have read.

Here it is!

1984 by George Orwell
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll – read – July 2010
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon
An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser
Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
Archidamian War by Donald Kagan
The Art of Fiction by Henry James
The Art of War by Sun Tzu
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
Atonement by Ian McEwan
Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy
The Awakening by Kate Chopin
Babe by Dick King-Smith
Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women by Susan Faludi
Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Sijie
Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath – read – June 2010
Beloved by Toni Morrison
Beowulf: A New Verse Translation by Seamus Heaney
The Bhagava Gita
The Bielski Brothers: The True Story of Three Men Who Defied the Nazis, Built a Village in the Forest, and Saved 1,200 Jews by Peter Duffy
Bitch in Praise of Difficult Women by Elizabeth Wurtzel
A Bolt from the Blue and Other Essays by Mary McCarthy
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
Brick Lane by Monica Ali
Bridgadoon by Alan Jay Lerner
Candide by Voltaire – read – June 2010
The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer( in Middle English too!)
Carrie by Stephen King
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger – read
Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White
The Children’s Hour by Lillian Hellman
Christine by Stephen King
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens 
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
The Code of the Woosters by P.G. Wodehouse
The Collected Short Stories by Eudora Welty
The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty by Eudora Welty
A Comedy of Errors by William Shakespeare
Complete Novels by Dawn Powell
The Complete Poems by Anne Sexton
Complete Stories by Dorothy Parker
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas père
Cousin Bette by Honor’e de Balzac
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber – started and not finished
The Crucible by Arthur Miller
Cujo by Stephen King
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon 
Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende
David and Lisa by Dr Theodore Issac Rubin M.D
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
The Da Vinci -Code by Dan Brown
Dead Souls by Nikolai Gogol
Demons by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller
Deenie by Judy Blume
The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America by Erik Larson
The Dirt: Confessions of the World’s Most Notorious Rock Band by Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars and Nikki Sixx
The Divine Comedy by Dante
The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells
Don Quijote by Cervantes
Driving Miss Daisy by Alfred Uhrv
Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson 
Edgar Allan Poe: Complete Tales & Poems by Edgar Allan Poe
Eleanor Roosevelt by Blanche Wiesen Cook
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe
Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters by Mark Dunn
Eloise by Kay Thompson
Emily the Strange by Roger Reger
Emma by Jane Austen 
Empire Falls by Richard Russo
Encyclopedia Brown: Boy Detective by Donald J. Sobol
Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton
Ethics by Spinoza
Europe through the Back Door, 2003 by Rick Steves
Eva Luna by Isabel Allende
Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer
Extravagance by Gary Krist
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury 
Fahrenheit 9/11 by Michael Moore
The Fall of the Athenian Empire by Donald Kagan
Fat Land: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World by Greg Critser
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson
The Fellowship of the Ring: Book 1 of The Lord of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien (TBR) 
Fiddler on the Roof by Joseph Stein
The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom 
Finnegan’s Wake by James Joyce
Fletch by Gregory McDonald
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem
The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Franny and Zooey by J. D. Salinger
Freaky Friday by Mary Rodgers
Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut
Gender Trouble by Judith Butler
George W. Bushism: The Slate Book of the Accidental Wit and Wisdom of our 43rd President by Jacob Weisberg
Gidget by Fredrick Kohner
Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen
The Gnostic Gospels by Elaine Pagels
The Godfather: Book 1 by Mario Puzo
The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy 
Goldilocks and the Three Bears by Alvin Granowsky
Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell – Classic Summer
The Good Soldier by Ford Maddox Ford
The Gospel According to Judy Bloom
The Graduate by Charles Webb
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck - Classic Summer
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald 
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
The Group by Mary McCarthy
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J. K. Rowling 
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad 
Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders by Vincent Bugliosi and Curt Gentry (TBR)
Henry IV, part I by William Shakespeare
Henry IV, part II by William Shakespeare
Henry V by William Shakespeare
High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon
Holidays on Ice: Stories by David Sedaris
The Holy Barbarians by Lawrence Lipton
House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus III (Lpr)
The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende
How to Breathe Underwater by Julie Orringer
How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss
How the Light Gets in by M. J. Hyland
Howl by Allen Gingsburg
The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo
The Iliad by Homer
I’m with the Band by Pamela des Barres
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
Inferno by Dante
Inherit the Wind by Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee
Iron Weed by William J. Kennedy
It Takes a Village by Hillary Clinton
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë 
The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan
Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare
The Jumping Frog by Mark Twain
The Jungle by Upton Sinclair
Just a Couple of Days by Tony Vigorito
The Kitchen Boy: A Novel of the Last Tsar by Robert Alexander
Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini 
Lady Chatterleys’ Lover by D. H. Lawrence
The Last Empire: Essays 1992-2000 by Gore Vidal
Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
The Legend of Bagger Vance by Steven Pressfield
Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis
Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke
Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them by Al Franken
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens
The Little Locksmith by Katharine Butler Hathaway
The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott 
Living History by Hillary Rodham Clinton
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
The Lottery: And Other Stories by Shirley Jackson
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold 
The Love Story by Erich Segal
Macbeth by William Shakespeare 
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert- Classic Summer
The Manticore by Robertson Davies
Marathon Man by William Goldman
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter by Simone de Beauvoir
Memoirs of General W. T. Sherman by William Tecumseh Sherman
Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris
The Meaning of Consuelo by Judith Ortiz Cofer
Mencken’s Chrestomathy by H. R. Mencken
The Merry Wives of Windsro by William Shakespeare
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
The Miracle Worker by William Gibson
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
The Mojo Collection: The Ultimate Music Companion by Jim Irvin
Moliere: A Biography by Hobart Chatfield Taylor
A Monetary History of the United States by Milton Friedman
Monsieur Proust by Celeste Albaret
A Month Of Sundays: Searching For The Spirit And My Sister by Julie Mars
A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
Mutiny on the Bounty by Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall
My Lai 4: A Report on the Massacre and It’s Aftermath by Seymour M. Hersh
My Life as Author and Editor by H. R. Mencken
My Life in Orange: Growing Up with the Guru by Tim Guest
Myra Waldo’s Travel and Motoring Guide to Europe, 1978 by Myra Waldo
My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult 
The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer
The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri
The Nanny Diaries by Emma McLaughlin
Nervous System: Or, Losing My Mind in Literature by Jan Lars Jensen
New Poems of Emily Dickinson by Emily Dickinson
The New Way Things Work by David Macaulay
Nickel and Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich
Night by Elie Wiesel
Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen 
The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism by William E. Cain, Laurie A. Finke, Barbara E. Johnson, John P. McGowan
Novels 1930-1942: Dance Night/Come Back to Sorrento, Turn, Magic Wheel/Angels on Toast/A Time to be Born by Dawn Powell
Notes of a Dirty Old Man by Charles Bukowski
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
Old School by Tobias Wolff
On the Road by Jack Kerouac
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Opposite of Fate: Memories of a Writing Life by Amy Tan
Oracle Night by Paul Auster
Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
Othello by Shakespeare – read
Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens
The Outbreak of the Peloponnesian War by Donald Kagan
Out of Africa by Isac Dineson
The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton
A Passage to India by E.M. Forster
The Peace of Nicias and the Sicilian Expedition by Donald Kagan
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
Peyton Place by Grace Metalious
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde- & it's on Classic Summer
Pigs at the Trough by Arianna Huffington
Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi
Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain
The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby – read
The Portable Dorothy Parker by Dorothy Parker
The Portable Nietzche by Fredrich Nietzche
The Price of Loyalty: George W. Bush, the White House, and the Education of Paul O’Neill by Ron Suskind
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen 
Property by Valerie Martin
Pushkin: A Biography by T. J. Binyon
Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw- Classic Summer (and currently reading!)
Quattrocento by James Mckean
A Quiet Storm by Rachel Howzell Hall
Rapunzel by Grimm Brothers – read
The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
The Razor’s Edge by W. Somerset Maugham
Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books by Azar Nafisi
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier 
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin
The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
Rescuing Patty Hearst: Memories From a Decade Gone Mad by Virginia Holman
The Return of the King: The Lord of the Rings Book 3 by J. R. R. Tolkien- Lord of the Rings is Classic Summer
R Is for Ricochet by Sue Grafton
Rita Hayworth by Stephen King
Robert’s Rules of Order by Henry Robert
Roman Holiday by Edith Wharton
Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare
A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf
A Room with a View by E. M. Forster
Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin
The Rough Guide to Europe, 2003 Edition
Sacred Time by Ursula Hegi
Sanctuary by William Faulkner
Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay by Nancy Milford
Say Goodbye to Daisy Miller by Henry James
The Scarecrow of Oz by Frank L. Baum
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne 
Seabiscuit: An American Legend by Laura Hillenbrand
The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir
The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd 
Secrets of the Flesh: A Life of Colette by Judith Thurman
Selected Letters of Dawn Powell: 1913-1965 by Dawn Powell
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen 
A Separate Peace by John Knowles
Several Biographies of Winston Churchill
Sexus by Henry Miller
The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Shane by Jack Shaefer
The Shining by Stephen King
Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse
S Is for Silence by Sue Grafton
Slaughter-house Five by Kurt Vonnegut
Small Island by Andrea Levy 
Snows of Kilimanjaro by Ernest Hemingway
Snow White and Rose Red by Grimm Brothers 
Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy: Lord and Peasant in the Making of the Modern World by Barrington Moore
The Song of Names by Norman Lebrecht
Song of the Simple Truth: The Complete Poems of Julia de Burgos by Julia de Burgos
The Song Reader by Lisa Tucker
Songbook by Nick Hornby
The Sonnets by William Shakespeare
Sonnets from the Portuegese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sophie’s Choice by William Styron
The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov
Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach
The Story of My Life by Helen Keller
A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams
Stuart Little by E. B. White
Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust
Swimming with Giants: My Encounters with Whales, Dolphins and Seals by Anne Collett
Sybil by Flora Rheta Schreiber
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
Tender Is The Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Term of Endearment by Larry McMurtry
Time and Again by Jack Finney
The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger 
To Have and Have Not by Ernest Hemingway
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee 
The Tragedy of Richard III by William Shakespeare
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
The Trial by Franz Kafka
The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters by Elisabeth Robinson
Truth & Beauty: A Friendship by Ann Patchett
Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom – read
Ulysses by James Joyce
The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath 1950-1962 by Sylvia Plath
Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe – started and not finished
Unless by Carol Shields
Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann
The Vanishing Newspaper by Philip Meyers
Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray – read
Velvet Underground’s The Velvet Underground and Nico (Thirty Three and a Third series) by Joe Harvard
The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
Walden by Henry David Thoreau
Walt Disney’s Bambi by Felix Salten
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
We Owe You Nothing – Punk Planet: The Collected Interviews edited by Daniel Sinker
What Colour is Your Parachute? 2005 by Richard Nelson Bolles
What Happened to Baby Jane by Henry Farrell
When the Emperor Was Divine by Julie Otsuka
Who Moved My Cheese? Spencer Johnson
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee – read
Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire 
The Wizard of Oz by Frank L. Baum
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole


If I counted right I have read 62! Comment and tell me how many you have read!