LM came in with the mail. Always good things for him, bills for me. Today he says, “something from the SAT came.”

“It can’t be your scores,” I replied, “it’s too soon.”

We both had envelopes addressed to us, with the same SAT return address. I ripped mine open faster.

Cricital Reading 580
Math 500
Writing 480

Let me translate that: In critical reading, LM scored higher than 74% of college-bound SENIORS. In math and writing, he scored higher than 45% of college-bound SENIORS. (As an aside, knowing how much he lacks for good writing skills, I think I’m suddenly VERY concerned about the writing ability of high school seniors.)

He needed a 520 in Math and a combined 900 to get in for English. I’m hoping that this is close enough to qualify!!

I think we’re both still a little shell-shocked.

While I don’t regret the move to Michigan for a single instant (neither does the boy), there are things I miss about our home in PA.

I miss the sunshine that fell through all our windows.
I miss the open space we had, the clean, uncluttered feel to the house.
I miss having a park to walk the dog or ride bikes right around the corner.
I miss my birdfeeders on the deck.
I miss all my plants. While several survived the move, I have less than a third of what I used to have.
I miss people at our church, especially our pastor.
I miss our dishwasher that actually understood its function of cleaning.
I miss my beautiful cherry kitchen cabinets.
I miss having laundry right in my home that doesn’t require quarters to operate.
I miss the sound of the R/C airplanes from the field just down the road.
I miss taking Gabe to the dog park and then for a bath.
I miss the warmer weather and the green grass, instead of snow and cold this time of year.

but today, most of all, I miss a certain picnic table at a park not an hour from home. If I were in PA today, I know that’s where I would be right now, watching the sunlight on the lake, wondering about matters of the heart.

Eli has taken to growling this funny little growl when he wants to go outside. I’m not sure why he’s started doing this, we take him out just as much as we always have, but lately he seems to think we need a nudge or two. So he does this little growl thing. And it makes me laugh.

“I know I shouldn’t laugh, and I shouldn’t encourage him to keep doing it, but it’s just that the growl is so darn cute. I can’t help it.”

LM, wishing I would stop indulging the dog (because he’s the one that ends up taking the dog out at these times) turns to Eli and says, “Mothers. Was your mom like this?”

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing.

LM asked me what was so funny.

“I shouldn’t tell you. It’s inappropriate.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I was just thinking of Eli’s response.”

“Which is…”

“No, dude. My mom was a bitch.”

LM fell off the couch he was laughing so hard.

(Please send all mail to Miss Eliza Jane c/o Satan, P.O. Box Burning In Hell…)

“My high of the day, or one of them, is that I got to see the space shuttle.”

“You saw the space shuttle today? Did I miss the permission slip for the field trip to Cape Canaveral?”

“No. On our way home from school today, Mr. D (bus driver) pointed it out in the sky.”

“You saw the Endeavor flying across the Michigan sky?!”

“Yeah! It was really cool!”

“LM, tell me, how did you know it was the shuttle you were looking at?”

“Well, cause it was too bright to be a star, and it was moving far too quickly to be a plane.”

“So it just had to be the shuttle? You don’t think that maybe it might be difficult to see the shuttle from the ground?”

“Mom. It was landing. We didn’t see it out in space, we saw it as it was landing.”

“It was landing in Michigan?! LM, I think the shuttle usually lands in Texas, it doesn’t come down over land.”

“I know, Mom. “

“So you think the Endeavor came across Michigan on it’s way to Texas to land.”

“Yeah.”

A few clicks on the computer later –

“Hey, LM? The NASA website shows pictures of the Endeavor today!”

“Oh yeah? Of the landing?”

“No, of their fourth space walk mission. Seems they must have made a really quick landing today if they had time for a space walk before their detour over the great lakes.”

“oh.”

Two disappointments in one day. The poor, poor kid.

“Are you serious?!” was LM’s reaction when I handed him his test scores. He looked up at me with a shocked but excited look on his face. I was a little puzzled by his reaction – his previous scores on the Pennsylvania Standardized tests were actually higher than these.

“I scored in the 600’s?!?” he shouted excitedly.

“Yes,” I replied, still uncertain what all the excitement is about. I mean, the scores are good, advanced in most cases, but they aren’t off the charts or anything.

“So I qualify?!”

Ah, the lightbulb moment.

Gingerly I broke the news. “No, LM. These aren’t your SAT scores, we don’t have those yet. These are your MEAP (Michigan Standardized Test) scores.”

“oh.”

The poor kid.

George does really well when I sub in his classroom. He calls me Miss Jane like all the kids do. He doesn’t act out or act like he knows me outside of class. And if it weren’t for the fact that I drive him home everyday, the kids might not even realize we were related – well, this is the class that didn’t realize they had triplets in the room until it was pointed out to them.

Days when I am in George’s room are particularly fun sub days for me. His teacher is very organized and a fantastic teacher so her plans are always well organized and thorough. Her class if full of fantastic kids. Sure, there are a couple that I have to keep my eye on, but they are a truly delightful group of personalities.

Today we had a math assignment that involved counting, sorting and graphing jelly beans. The teacher felt particularly bad about leaving me such a task (handfuls of jelly beans and 20 first graders, she must have heard about Valentine’s Day) but I assured her it wouldn’t be a problem. And it wasn’t. The kids followed directions well and stayed on task. They were really quite good about it all.

But there was a point later in the day when I was allowing the kids to eat their jelly beans as we progressed through a particularly tedious book assembly project, when I just had to stop and laugh out loud.

It was George’s voice that reached my ears. He said, “Miss Jane? I think these green jelly beans taste just like Pizza Hut!”

I’m not sure even Jelly Bellies have that flavor, George.

(For the sake of argument, when it was time for everyone to eat another jelly bean, most kids chose out of curiosity to try a green one. We took a vote; half the class thought it tasted like lime. Half agreed with George and thought it tasted remarkably like Pizza Hut.)

LM was commenting on the directed audience for a particularly annoying commercial.

“Who do they think is watching this show?”

I replied, “Moms and losers,” laughing to make sure he got the joke.

LM replied, “I was thinking more like, losers and their moms.”

Wherever you are, I’m pretty sure you heard the smack when he hit himself in the head for that one.

My sister is going to Mexico. She and Bear are joining my dad and second mom for vacation in Mexico next week.

My dad has apparently reminded my sister on a couple of occasions that she will need to bring her own reading materials. I’m not sure if there’s an anti-sharing policy in place south of the border or if there’s just a high demand between my dad and second mom for the books they bring, or perhaps there is some sort of regulation that you can only bring in TWO books no matter how long you intend to stay, but my dad seems to think it’s of rather critical importance that my sister not forget to bring her own books.

Only my sister doesn’t read.

I don’t mean she can’t, or that she hasn’t, or even that in a pinch, she wouldn’t. She just doesn’t. For as much as I read, my sister is balancing out the universe by refusing to even look in the direction of a book. She thought Barnes and Nobles was a law firm on TV. (I jest.)

Anyhow, it has been no small bit of amusement to me that my dad keeps bringing this up to my sister -to the one that doesn’t read. She has apparently shared with him that she doesn’t seem to think she will have any use for a book, so not to worry. But still, he is concerned.

Today, when we were chuckling about it my sister said that she MIGHT pick up a book at the airport, but she certainly wasn’t going to go out and buy books ahead of time for the trip. I said I couldn’t even think of what sort of a book she would read or I’d offer her any of mine to take.

She said, “Oh, I know of a book I’d like to read, I’m just not sure I’ll be buying it to take to Mexico.”

I stared in disbelief. “You? You know of a book you’d LIKE to read?”

“Yes.”

And before I could even make a crack about a certain financial guru that she’s obsessed with and how it must be his autobiography or his latest decree on how to make a million with only a penny and a pack of gum (oh, I kid. It’s not like he’s a complete whack job.), she says, “Dave Ramsey recommended it, but it’s not about finances. It’s about fathers raising daughters.”

Now, pause with me to consider just how Type A my sister really is. She not only cannot possibly imagine the idea of reading while on the beach in Mexico, she cannot fathom planning ahead of time for some relaxing novels to have along, but even if she were pushed into reading a book, it would darn well NOT be for silly pleasure, nor would it, apparently, have anything to do with her. Instead, she would like to spend her rare book-reading time about how BEAR’s relationship should be with Bird. As recommended by the financial dude on the radio.

I said, when I could smother my laughter, “You just can’t read a book just to read a book, can you?”

“Heck no! I have no interest in reading about other people’s stories!”

Nope, we’re not sisters. No relation at all that I can tell.

Oh, to have written a book such as this! To have created such an incredible twisting, turning, captivating novel that when it was finished, readers flippe back to the first page and began the journey all over again.

“The Thirteenth Tale” has restored my faith in readers. I was beginning to think any novel with “National Bestseller” emblazoned on the cover was something to fear. Setterfield deserves every accolade, every morsel of praise for this provocative, spellbinding, enchanting tale.

I will tell you nothing more of it. I will only caution you: open and commence only when the rest of your life can be put on hold.

I actually finished this book (reluctantly) a couple of weeks ago, but was never motivated to write a review. Suffice it to say I did not enjoy this book and did not find myself drawn in to the characters or the plot at all. I tried. I really did try, but there was nothing about the people or their circumstances that made me want to find out more. The book is primarily about three friends in their 30’s in New York City. What I found it to be, however, was a depressing tale of people who seemed to lack ambition, standards and compassion. Perhaps my disinterest in the book stemmed from my lack of connections to the characters and their self-inflicted plight.

In any case, many of the critics strongly disagree with me, so take my review for what you will but my recommendation is that you leave this book where it belongs: on the shelf, unread.