A Contest!

A couple of weeks ago, I reviewed On Borrowed Wings by Chandra Prasad. I have access to an autographed copy of the book, so I’m going to give it away. If you’d like to be entered into the drawing (which will be pulled from a Red Sox AL East Champions t-shirt), leave me a comment here. If you want your name in the hat twice, post a comment here and tell me that you’ve linked back to this post on your own blog.

If you want to read the review again, you can go here. It’s an excellent book – I really enjoyed it.

I may start doing this with other books I review, although they probably won’t be autographed copies, just my well-thumbed ones.


There’s Joy In Mudville Today

The Red Sox clinched the AL East last night, for the first time in twelve years, beating the Minnesota Twins 5 – 2. An hour and 17 minutes later, the *spit* Yankees lost to Baltimore, 10 – 9, in extra innings.

There were around 4000 fans left at Fenway, watching
the Baltimore/Yankees game on the jumbo screen.

Jonathan Papelbon soaks the crowd.

I see you, baby, shaking that ass….

Many bottle of champagne sacrificed themselves to the celebration.

Facebook Can Suck My Left One

I put this little button in my sidebar:

If you click on the button, it takes you to League of Maternal Justice, a site set up by Her Bad Mother and Motherhood Uncensored, to protest Facebook’s policy of not allowing photos of women nursing their babies. They do, however, allow pro-anorexia groups and photos as well as pedophile groups. Breastfeeding, however, is verboten.

I’m 100% pro breastfeeding. I’m not a lactivist, I don’t think women who use formula are horrible mothers or any of the other stupid things you hear some women say about them. As long as your baby is being fed, and fed properly (ie, formula or breast milk), then I’m not going to get my panties in a bunch. However, I do think, if a woman choses to nurse her child, she should be allowed to do so freely and not be forced into a bathroom. Women shouldn’t be stared at, whispered about or asked to leave a location just because they’re feeding their child. I don’t know any woman who nurses because she’s trying to titillate (hur) anyone. She just wants her child to stop hollering, most likely. And unless you’re really trying, you’re not going to see much anyway.

So, I’ve deactivated my Facebook account. If anyone would like to do the same, in support, I’d love it. Just post your website on the LMJ site and they’ll give you credit. You don’t have to be a nursing mother, or even a mother, to join us. Even if you can’t live without Facebook, you can still register your disapproval by putting up a button and writing about it.

The Eyes Have It

Moral Of The Story: Never turn your back on a child with a glue stick and googly eyes.

In other news:

It was O’s birthday on Tuesday (and thanks for all the good wishes for her) and her fuckwit of a father never called her. Not on her birthday, not the day after her birthday. Not one single person in his family called or sent a card or anything – not even his parents, her grandparents. Not one. I really wish they would just fall off the face of the earth. What kind of grandmother doesn’t even acknowledge her first grandchild’s birthday? O has made the effort. She’s called her grandparents, she emailed and called her aunts and uncles and nothing. They’ll email her back, but they don’t make any effort to see her. They only live an hour away, so it’s not like it’s a chore to visit. They just don’t seem to care. And O’s heart is getting harder and harder towards them. She still gets a bit upset, but it’s not like it was before. Now she just shrugs and says “Oh well. What do you expect from that family?” She’s so jaded about them. It pisses me off. I just keep telling her that some people are just like that and there’s not a lot you can do about it. If you want to make all the effort, they’re happy to let you, but if not, then they won’t. O says she’s sick of making the effort, sick of being the bigger person. As she puts it, “I’m a kid, mum. I’m not supposed to have to be the bigger person here.” It’s hard to argue with that.

A Post In Pictures

Answers on the back of a $20, please.

The Splendor of Silence

This is a Mother Talk book review.

The Splendor of Silence, by Indu Sundaresan, is a lush, sweeping novel, set in India in 1942. It weaves a love story, culture clashes, some espionage and anarchy into four boilingly hot pre-monsoon days.

Sam Hawthorne comes to India via Burma, where he had parachuted in behind Japanese lines to rescue a missionary. During his mission for the fledgling OSS, he’s injured and comes to Rudrakot ostensibly to heal. In reality, he is searching for his missing brother Michael.

Read the rest of my review here.

Laughing All The Way To The Bank

Whooo! I can finally reveal the job I have. Kerri, from the incredible SixUntilMe, also works for dLife and a while back, hired me to write a blog for them. There’s a great group of writers over there, so if any of my millions hundreds half a dozen readers are at all affected by diabetes, cruise on over and check out blogabetes. There are blogs written by people with type 1 and type 2, parents of kids with diabetes, spouses of people with diabetes, the whole gamut. The website itself is also a great tool and full of useful information. You can also check out the dLife television show, which airs (at least for me) on Sunday nights, on CNBC. This week’s episode features Darren Brass, from TLC’s Miami Ink.

That’s great, mama. Maybe you’ll make enough money to fix mah teef.

On Borrowed Wings

This is a review for Mother Talk.

On Borrowed Wings, by Chandra Prasad, is a coming of age story with a twist.

Adele Pietra grew up during the Great Depression in Stony Creek, CT, a town divided between the haves, or Cottagers, and the have-nots – the quarry workers. Adele’s father was an Italian stonecutter and her mother was a former Cottager, disowned by her wealthy parents over her marriage.

Adele has a brother named Charlie who is a year older and their mother’s favourite. Their mother pours all of her spare energy into educating Charlie, tutoring him into the night so that he can get into Yale.

When Adele’s father and brother are killed in a quarry accident, Adele and her ambitious mother decide that Adele should assume the role of Charlie and take his place at Yale, where he’d been accepted shortly before his death.

Continue reading this review here.

An Open Letter To The Red Sox Organization

Dear Mr. Francona,
A 1.5 game lead? 1.5??? We had 14.5 games on the *spit* Yankees and you’ve pissed it all away. And listen, I know you want to give Eric Gagne a chance, but for the sake of my blood pressure, could you just not use him when the game is on the line? Don’t turn into Grady Little on me.

Thank you.

With much nervousness,
Major Bedhead

Dear Mr. Farrell,
Could you please explain to me how someone of Okijima’s caliber can become out of shape during the season? How is that possible? Is he scarfing down Fenway Franks on the side? Channeling Babe Ruth? Could you maybe give him a salad and start him on an exercise program?

Read the rest ovah heyah.

It’s International Talk Like A Pirate Day, Savvy?

So buckle your swashes, reef those jibs, ye scurvy dogs, or it’s the plank for all of ye.

The reality is that I just wanted an excuse to post a picture of Johnny Depp.

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