Margaret Atwood where are you?

Dr. C (whom I get to meet at MLA--a brush with fame it feels like) listed her top ten books to take to a desert island. She chose Atwood's the Robber Bride as one of them, which I don't think I've read. I used to love Atwood. I read everything up to this point: (thanks Wikipedia)

• The Edible Woman (1969)
• Surfacing (1972)
• Lady Oracle (1976)
• Life Before Man (1979) - finalist for the 1979 Governor General's Award
• Bodily Harm (1981)
• The Handmaid's Tale (1985) - winner of the 1987 Arthur C. Clarke Award and the 1985 Governor General's Award.
• Cat's Eye (1988) -
  

My high school teacher, alarmed that I was reading too much Plath and Sexton, gave me a book of her poems which I read too, though with less enthusiasm.

The other day, I read a review on bookslut about her latest book of poems. She still writes poems? Where did she go? After Cat's Eye, I fell out of love. It was the first time I had been disappointed by a writer. I remember the story beginning so pedestrian, so Anne Tylerish (I don't know if I'm right in my memory...that's just the vague recollection I have). Once I went to college I didn't think of her again.

So she dropped out of my periphery. When she came to do a reading in Salt Lake, I was like, whatever man. Crowds and such. She's too popular, therefore too lame (I guess that was what I felt...again hazy or lazy with the details).

But then, two years ago I read Oryx and Crake. That might be my favorite book of all time. I like books about young boys and apocalypses. Then I read the Blind Assassin. Not my fave, but still, fine. Mythological.

Yesterday, I bought the Robber Bride. If I had my druthers (meaning not having 10 essays to comment on) I'd read it all day.

I wonder, as I write this sort of bullet-pointed post without the bullets, where does Atwood stand on the measuring stick of great writers? In some ways, because she's prolific, she falls into the Updike, Joyce Carol Oates list. Her writing is more akin to John Irving and Tom Robbins--who, are prolific too, I guess. But to me she stands apart--poet and novelist. Not afraid to be political. Willing to let a book fail because of its politics.
I say that I like her very much. Admire her. Maybe the most. And that maybe I didn't go see her in Salt Lake because I want to love her with my singular love and not look at all those other lovers who want to love her singularly too. But next time she comes to a town near me, I'll go. I'll see if I can ask her a lame-free way of asking how she does it.

Good things

In an attempt to be less complainy, a new list called Good Things. Ala Martha Stewart. Back when she could coin a phrase.

1. Triscuits.
2. Two year olds who say "Bye. Love you." every time they leave or room. Or enter one, for that matter.
3. Husbands who clean up after said child's artistic experiments with "clay" otherwise known as "poop."
4. Other people hosting parties so I can make the cholesterol-busting, stuffed mushrooms.
5. Birthday weeks. Nay, birthday months.
6. Friends who let me go back and forth deciding what to do for said birthday and promise to bring pie no matter what I decide.
7. People who sent cards and emails and presents (including Gordon's Gold because nothing says 23 like Gordon Lightfoot) even though I'm far away and am not good at sending presents myself.

I'm the lame

I can't even write a blog post that doesn't suggest my suckitude. I keep thinking about the previous post's title with the word "contemporary" in it. Is that even the correct usage? I doubt it. But I don't know. I'm a lame complainer head who doesn't even post on the twitter blog. And I really want to know where the New Adventures of the Old Christine is, but I'm too lame to go find out on the internet.
My kid is not lame. She peeled an orange and then threw the peels away. I would just leave them about like they're some kind of make-shift potpourri.
Perhaps the middle of November will prove to be some kind of lameness turn around.
In general, I feel like apologizing to the planet: Sorry to be so lame.
Edited to add: As if the planet cares how lame I am. See? So lame.

7 new facts about me, the contemporary version.

Thirty-one has retagged me. This could go back and forth for awhile.

1. I didn't want to spend $20 to get my eyebrows waxed at the Aveda salon so I went to a salon right by my house where the haircut was $40 and the brows were $15. They used Loreal products. I have the worst haircut of my life. Also, the Aveda salon doesn't ask for tips. I ended up paying near-by salon $65. And now my hair hurts.
2. Being on this side of a job search also hurts. So many well-qualified people. So only one job.
3. I wonder where my book is. At the Conference of Potentially True Facts, everyone thought I already had a book. Not so much.
4. I'm obsessed with micropreemie (babies born before 28 weeks--usually around 1. 5 lbs) blogs. I call is "research."
5. I check my email about once every ten seconds. I get about 7 emails a day. This is not efficient use of my time nor a good way to answer any questions of longing.
6. It's my birthday on Wednesday.
7. I will be 23.

7 Facts about me

I'm back from the Conference of Suspect Facts. More on that later. For now:

Lisa B Tagged me for this. I'll tag 7 more people for their 7 facts below.

Seven facts about me:

1. I didn’t eat beans, black, red, white, refried, until I was 27 years old.
2. I had a hernia operation when I was 8. The hernia was probably caused by carrying my twin sisters around simultaneously. I didn’t want to play favorites.
3. In the 3^rd grade I wanted to win the reflections contest—an elementary school arts contest in every category. I wrote poems (“Ain’t no freedom in this land/for no one” was a featured line. I had just read Roots), I drew a picture of a cat and I made composed my own score by, somewhat randomly, making half and whole and quarternotes on the treble and bass clefs. I won none of the categories.
4. I had the fuel injectors (twice), my car stereo (five times) stolen from my Jetta in Portland. When I moved back to Salt Lake, my Isuzu Rodeo (leased) was shot up on 9^th South and 9^th West on Halloween night.
5. I wore a headband every day of fifth grade.
6. I am allergic to (cheap) metal. When I wear Levi’s, the cheap metal rivets give me a rash on either side of my belly button.
7. I have no middle name.

OK: Now these guys are tagged to post 7 facts about themselves and then tag 7 more people in the comment section of those people's blogs:
Thirty-One.
Kendall Jackson.
Mapmaker.
Scorpion's Tail.
Econtrario.
Xena One and Two.
Strange Polkas.