Tidbits From My Reading Life

I've only read the first few pages of this book, but already it strikes me as incredibly true. Entre Nous by Debra Ollivier begins by trying to figure out the secret that makes French women so enviable, successful, indomitable. One adjective doesn't seem to cover it all.
One secret is that French women love sensual pleasure. The feel of smooth pebbles running through the hands. The smell of lavender wafting through the air. The taste of a subtle spice. The sound of a violin with its achingly high notes. The sight of a sky so blue it makes the eyes water. Maybe the reason they wear those silk scarves is because it feels so soft, like a caress whenever they move. So lesson number one from French women: experience everything around us.
Okay, here's something that French women have that I definitely missed out on: discretion. Ollivier says everything they do is deliberate and thought out. I am the queen of output control issues. I've just recently been able to stop embarrassing myself at every outing. No, I take that back. Just yesterday at a swim meet I made a snide remark about a high school boy who is always "injured" and I looked up to see his father there. I continue in my role as least discreet.
Next comes self confidence. French women don't second guess what they wear, who they go out with, their haridos. They seem to have supreme confidence in their choices. Maybe that's because they actually think about them before they jump into them. I'm sure I'll learn a lot from this book. But maybe I should read it in small doses so I don't get depressed about my lack of Frenchness.
Another French book, well, it was written in French and translated, is The Elegance of The Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery. It's a little existential for me but I love the scene where the landlady and the cleaning woman get together for tea. Both of them are deep thinkers but must hide their intelligence from their "betters." When they have tea, they always make coffee, but not to drink. They just like the smell. So they make coffee and enjoy the aroma while they sip tea. It seems somehow decadent, doesn't it? What would our Puritan anscestors say? Waste not, want not. But is it a waste, if they enjoy the scent? Maybe we just need to widen our focus on allowing ourselves to enjoy more of those sensual pleasures.

Fun on the Trail

This is an addendum to my previous post for anyone who might have thought that, because we abandoned the Appalachian Trail early, we didn't have a blast. Is there any possible way to travel with three girlfriends and not have fun? I don't think so. First, there is the leaving behind of children and spouses. You could just sit in the car for three days and have more fun than you would at home.
Okay, but we didn't do that. We did sit in the car for eight hours as we sped south to North Carolina. And we talked constantly, except for Najah who kept falling asleep in the middle of the conversation because she hadn't slept the night before.
So, why is it hilarious when the two car-sick people ride in the front seat and don't notice that we are almost out of gas in the Tennessee mountains. Or because I look down to program a number into my phone we miss our turn and drive miles out of the way. Hey, am I the only one paying attention here?
We laughed when Najah decided that our trail call "Hooty Hoo!" should be replaced by "Hey Laaadies!" in a Jerry Lewis voice. We found that call didn't carry quite as far. And no one went for my suggestions that we yell a hearty, "My friends!" in honor of the election season.
My husband claimed that a ball of, basically, kite string, was strong enough to hoist our bear bags over a branch. We ended up splitting our food into two separate bags and pulling it over a branch. The string was so skinny it cut into our palms so we had to work together to pull it. The branch was the right size and location, out away from the trunk of the tree so a bear couldn't get it, but it did happen to be right next to another tree trunk where a bear could have shimmied up and grabbed our food, like convenient take out. It wasn't until we left that trail that we saw the sign warning about bear activity on the trail and a bear that had been stealing packs. Ooops. Noreen had been so proud that she kept her pack in the vestibule of her tent so it was handy the next morning and didn't get soaked by the rain overnight. That bear warning deflated her pride a little.
After our night in the tent, we all swore we hadn't slept. Yet, I thought Pam didn't move all night while I turned over every 15 minutes. She said the same. And Naj claimed to have called our names all night long.
The next day had its miserable moments, I must admit. But we were so proud of filtering our own water and filling those empty bottles. Noreen sang "This is the trail that never ends" as we walked along. And when I became too tired to go on, I simply sat down. Najah was on a positive swing and was in the middle of a motivational speech about how we could accomplish our goals, we could go the distance, we could... She turned around and saw me at the bottom of the trail, staring into the multi-colored leaves that covered the trees. "Hey!"
And I decided that was it for me. My hiking days were over.
In the end, we're typical Americans. Although the hike wasn't what we imagined, we were already plotting a way to make it better the next time. Boots and a pack that fit. Naj claimed she would only carry five granola bars and a water bottle. I thought sherpas might solve the problem.
When I walked out of work on Monday, and the air had that sweet tinge of fall while the sun made me blink, I texted Naj: "I'm ready to go again."
"Me too!" she replied.

INADEQUACIES

I consider myself a fairly confident woman. I have a master's degree. I've worked for 20 years, homeschooled three kids, written two novels.
Sometimes, the little things can throw me back to that insecure 13-year-old again. I've been teaching college for two years and last week I received notice that the lead teacher will be coming to observe my class. This is a totally normal, once-a-year occurrence. I've just dodged the observation for the past two years through luck.
I know the students leaving my class become better writers, so why am I so nervous about this? Why do I feel like the wizard about to have the curtain pulled back? I'm preparing powerpoint presentations, scripting my class, trying to plan for every contingency. I want to impress her with my teaching skills and I'm afraid she'll find me a fraud.
This is the second vulnerable incident in as many weeks. I finished a non-fiction book proposal and sent it off. I know it is a great book idea, but having never written a book proposal, I was filled with trepidation as the e-mail left my desktop. These people are professionals, for god's sake. They'll probably just laugh at my amateurish marketing plan.
Maybe this fear of being laughed at or found lacking is a throwback from my adolescent years. But aren't I the one constantly telling my own adolescents that if they don't take a chance, they'll never accomplish anything.
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