What should I read next?

What are your greatest fears? Public speaking? Showing up in public naked on accident? Death? 


You know what I'm really afraid of? Being stuck somewhere without paper and pen to write with and a book to read. Seriously. My husband always makes fun of me for how I pack. Even if we're just going somewhere overnight, I have to pack multiple books - so I have a book I'm actually in the mood to read. Sometimes you want a beautiful thought provoker, sometimes you want some silly brainless fun, but then there's always the random wild card. 


Maybe you can understand that having to put all my books away into boxes in preparation for our move, I'm feelin' pretty anxious. Granted I've got enough pages on my current book to last me probably until and through the move - just the thought that I could finish and not have enough books available makes me start to grind my teeth.


I used to be a compulsive book buyer. I currently have multiple boxes of books in three different cities. That's after several sessions of trying to go through them and take as many as possible to used book stores. 


[sidebar: One of my favorite literary passages is in Italo Calvino's If On a Winter's Night a Traveler, where the author walks you through a book store, not categorized by genres, but organized instead according to your experiences with books - probably inspired High Fidelity's autobiographical organization of albums. I can't do it justice, you should check it out for yourself.] 


Recognizing that I had a problem, I made a rule for myself a while ago that I had to read three books before I was allowed to buy another one, and that helped me curb the habit. I hardly ever buy books anymore, but that means that when I do, they really better be worth it. 


If you can remotely identify with me on any of this, you can perhaps share my excitement when I read Joanna Goddard's tip on this website that helps you figure out what to read next. It's like getting lost in a rabbit trail of movie trailers, checking out potential books to dive into. This is doing wonders to calm some of my weird anxieties. 


But here's the thing, I can't just trust a website, I need some testimonials to help me out. So while I'm dreaming about the day when I'll let myself buy my next book, you can help me make a good choice by giving me some input. 


Some recent books I've read and enjoyed lead to some potential suggestions:



1) Divisadero by Michael Ondaatje. One of my favorite authors, Ondaatje's background as a poet clearly comes through in his prose. He's from Sri Lanka, where I studied abroad, and a good portion of the book takes place in the Bay Area, my most recent home. He pays beautiful homage to place while spinning riveting character development throughout an unconventional plot structure. 


Out of the recommended list, Saturday by Ian McEwan interests me. I enjoyed Atonement [thanks for lending that to me Emily!]. Is this one worth checking out?




2) Bossypants by Tina Fey. For my thoughts on that, see our conversational review post if you missed it. 


mmm . . . weird list of rec's. Possible website fail. Looking for hysterically funny here people. Not sure how Jane Eyre makes that list - good - but not quite what I'm going for with this one. Maybe Goodnight Nobody by Jennifer Weiner? 








3) The Philosophical Baby by Alison Gopnik. It's full of research from all sorts of fields from Psychology to Computer Science, and it's woven together by great philosophical questions, and it's about babies. This woman foresaw my pregnant-waddle-entry into that Pegasus bookstore the day I found that book and wrote it just for me. I wasn't 100% satisfied, but I was quite stimulated and entertained. 


This one only yields a singular recommendation: Richard Wiseman's 59 Seconds. In reading about it I feel both intrigued and skeptical. Any input?

Hmmm . . . looks like I really need some back up. Have any Lobsters out there read these books? Got any thoughts? Should I check them out or stay away? Anyone else have fun with this "What to read next" website, or found it useful? 

Comfort Friends

I was on the chapel worship team in college. I loved it because I learned to be a better singer and I had some incredible times with Jesus as a result of the combination of singing His praise and fully depending on Him to ease my nerves. The other people on the team were awesome, and I made some great friends there.

Hey, here's one of those friends - Clausen!

All that said, I was never fully comfortable in that group. I was intimidated by the fact that I was the least musically gifted person on the team. (This is absolutely not me fishing for compliments, nor did anyone on the team ever make me feel lesser - it's just a fact, and I was totally fine with it.) I was also intimidated by the fact that many of the people on the team were just ridiculously cool and many had similar quirky senses of humor that I didn't always fully get. Basically, chapel worship team tended to give me the unnecessary insecurity of a junior higher. 


My junior year of college, I was also a Resident Assistant. This meant that I constantly hung out in our dorm's lounge - manning the snack bar, playing ping pong, watching TV, or just hanging out. I freaking loved our dorm. My fellow Resident Assistants were all incredible, and I adored the residents too. It was your basic ball o' squishy feelings in Armington Halls. 

We still love each other after college. Here are some of us
Armington RAs at Andrea's amazing wedding in 2007.

One night, I went to a worship team party. We had a good time singing, laughing, hanging out. When I left, though, I noticed that I was kind of exhausted from not fully being myself. I was always either trying a little too hard at those things or just being quiet, which is equally tiring for me. I decided that I'd just drop into the Armington Lounge and maybe catch a game of ping pong or say hi to whoever was on duty there. When I walked in, there was a group of about five people gathered around a  giant tub of that cheap but delicious generic rainbow sherbet that you can find at drugstores. They all looked up when I entered, and they all said "Emily!" like I was Norm from Cheers. One of the guys held up a spoon, and I joined the group, relaxed and comfortable with these friends. 


I can't explain how thoroughly that little moment warmed my awkward little heart. 


Ever find yourself unable to get comfortable with perfectly wonderful people?  Or have you ever been surprised to feel at home with a group of friends?

Lobster Recap: Two Months of Lobsterness

Dear Reader,

Thanks for stopping by Long Distance Lobsters today! Emily and I have been having a blast writing for this blog together over the past two months. We hope you’ve been enjoying reading it. Maybe you’re a new Lobster, maybe you’re a faithful daily reader, but either way, we thought it would be fun to revisit some posts you might have missed or may enjoy reading again.

If you’re totally new to us, and wondering what on earth we’re all about, you should read our introduction posts. We are pretty broad in our content, but some consistent themes include movies, marriage, photography, cooking, and trying new things.

If you are male, please be sure to check out “boys allowed.”

If you are pregnant, parenting, or just into mommy blogs, you might enjoy perusing our pregnancy and baby related posts.

If you are into being cool, you will want to make sure you’ve read our most popular posts:

1) anything once: being asked if you’re having twins

2) three years ago today

3) the movers I won’t be hiring

We also have some of our own favorites. Emily says she loves all of her posts equally, like they were her children. I told her that I only have one child, so right now, I have no problem with playing favorites, so my personal favorite goes on top:

1) Bossypants: a conversational review

2) the shot that started it all

3) eFriendship

4) Movie Review Monday #5: My Top Ten(ish)/ #5.5: Top Ten Challenge Accepted [I cheat often by sneaking multiple points into one]
5) Movie Review Monday #1

What are some of your favorites that we’ve overlooked?

Thanks for reading, Lobsters, we hope you’ll keep it up and tell your friends! 

Movie Review Monday #9: Midnight in Paris

I have previously only seen two Woody Allen films: Hollywood Ending (which my mom and I watched during a trip to New York purely to escape the heat so I don't remember anything about it except that it was air conditioned) and Melinda and Melinda (which I saw in Spain and all I remember was that it had Spanish subtitles and I liked it). So I didn't have a deep knowledge of his style or anything, nor did I go in expecting to either love or loathe the film. I feel like people who have seen a lot of Woody Allen films automatically know whether they'll enjoy new ones or not. 


Anyway, we went to Midnight in Paris last week. Observations:
1. Paris is beautiful. Yes, this is an obvious statement to most of you, but for some reason I never grasped it. Even though my husband can talk for weeks about a few days that he spent there, I still didn't comprehend the draw of it. The cinematography in this film gave me a glimmer of understanding though. 
2. I am an uncultured dolt when it comes to 1920s painters, writers, filmmakers, and musicians. I think I would have enjoyed the film a little more if I'd taken a class on the Artists of the Roaring 20s. With my current base of knowledge, I understood some of the Ernest Hemingway humor, I knew who the Fitzgeralds were, I recognized Dali, and I vaguely recalled Cole Porter. That left a slew of characters that were flatter to me than Allen probably intended. 
3. Rachel McAdams is capable of being not adorable. Who knew?
4. Owen Wilson completely held my attention. I don't think he's the best actor of ever, but he does entertain. Other Owen faves: Bottle Rocket, The Royal Tenenbaums, and, of course, Zoolander. (I'd probably also enjoy him in Marley and Me, but I refuse to watch that. I was inconsolable for a solid two hours after Turner and Hooch, so now I avoid sad dog movies at all costs.)
5. For me, the film's message was to focus on the present when creating art, which was encouraging. Like Owen Wilson's character, I sometimes look at past authors and think there's no way I could recreate such incredible works. But here's the thing about art (and in my case, art is literature): It shouldn't be recreated - it should be created. Which means there is always an opportunity for new greatness. There can always be a new golden age of artistry. Not to say we shouldn't be inspired by past artists - just that we shouldn't feel belittled by them.


I have left out several tidbits of information about this film on purpose. There's a delightful mystery about it which I hope you experience yourself. I recommend watching it at home with the encyclopedia open in front of you so you can learn as you go. Not necessary, but I know I would have enjoyed that.

Two claws up, Lobsters!

Sabbath Sunday #9

If you are a Loyal Lobster, you may have detected a pattern that Emily and I trade off Sundays, posting about how we plan to Sabbath rest. Technically, this would be an Emily-Sabbath. But she just had a baby, so instead of asking her to even think about queueing up a post, I am just going to wish her as much rest as is humanly possible with a newborn today!

Want to help her rest even more? Provide her with a meal through this MealBaby registry! You would get major Lobster points if you did. Thanks y'all!!

Snapshot Saturday #9: Staircase

Next week, I'll say more about where these shots were taken. Stay tuned! 

In the mean time, I'll just say I enjoy these shots for the geometry and the light. I also love the little touch of humanity sprinkled in oh so subtly. 

Other than just being a Snapshot Saturday, today is also my parent's wedding anniversary. Over three decades of unyielding commitment for each other. You two deserve to be celebrated! So, it is a very small gesture, but I dedicate this Snapshot Saturday to you! I love you Mom and Dad! 

Guest Post: Why pop is superior to soda

In case there is some way you could have missed the news, our own Emily just had her very first baby, Eiley Grace Fazakerley. Yay! You are personally invited to join in on the celebration. To give her a little maternity leave from blogging, and to give you readers a little break from all things baby, please enjoy this wonderfully masculine guest post from our long distance friend, Michael Strongman, who I will forgive for dogging on us Southerners for calling all soft drinks "Coke," because I enjoyed this post so much. 

Why pop is superior to soda: 

Confessions of a Californian living in Michigan.

Last fall I was able to host my brother for a visit for the first time since I moved to East Lansing, MI five years ago.  I had tickets to the football game that Saturday (Wisconsin at MSU). Enjoying the Michigan fall and attending my Dutch reformed church (so Dutch, the pastor's name is DeYoung) were also on the agenda.  However, the first stop after he arrived was to get some grub at Jimmy John's, a sandwich chain built on the premise that a good sandwich starts with good bread.  It's a typical American chain, which would be perfectly at home on State Street-Santa Barbara as much as Grand River Ave-East Lansing.  But after Kevin ordered his sandwich, the cashier asked if he wanted a pop.  “Pops?” queried Kevin, and I had translate that he was being asked if he wanted a soda.  “Yes, please.”  After we got our sandwiches, we had a conversation about how Michiganders (among other northerners like Minnesotans and Wisconsinites) calling fizzy drinks pop (not pops!), and the people of the deep south centered around Atlanta call them Coke (even Sprite is Coke), and everywhere else it's soda (like our home in Northern California).  And then Kevin asked the question that prompted this entire blog post, “Do you call it pop?”

I moved to Michigan five years ago in order to attend grad school in nuclear physics.  I was three months removed from graduating from Westmont and part of my coping mechanism from my first extended period out of the Golden State was to be fiercely Californian in outlook. I defended the Governator to critics (however laughable that view may be now; forgive me), extolled the virtues of Californian products and the vastly superior weather, and still rooted for my beloved 49ers. I didn't watch basketball and am sorry to say I never went to a Westmont b-ball game.  And I called soda soda.

One crazy thing about Michigan is if you ask anyone where they are from, they quickly pull out an open palm face up and point to it, “I'm from there!”  

If they are from Detroit, they'll be putting the finger on the soft pad between the thumb and wrist. Saginaw, they point to the webbing between the thumb and forefinger. Traverse City, and they'll point between the tips of the pinky and ring finger. And of course, if they are from the Lansing area, they point point right in the middle of the palm, the center of the state and location of the capital. That's where I managed to end up, going to the “little brother” of the flagship University of Michigan (Wolverines are the lowest scUM of the earth), and attending a Reformed church where the motto is, “If you ain't Dutch, you ain't much.” (Not really, that would be a sad church indeed.) However, these Dutch, academic, wolverine-hating, Spartan loving, cheese and meat eating brothers and sisters in Christ, welcomed me into their families  and quickly indoctrinated me in the ways of Spartan football and basketball and ice hockey.  It helps that the basketball team has been to two Final Fours back to back, though.

Now five years later, I am a die-hard Michigan State Spartans fan in both football and basketball.  I even had accidental sightings of the coach (In Izzo We Trust) in the local supermarket and have gotton giddy in excitement.  I've had paczkis (pronounced poonch-keys) for Fat Tuesday, which are gynmormous Polish jelly-filled or cream-filled packets of dough and sugar, better than a jelly-filled donut (And should only be consumed one-day a year – they are that fattening). Hummus is consumed on a weekly basis, brats are the goto BBQ fare, and Bell's Oberon is the beer of choice on hot summer evenings as the lighting bugs flash in their little behinds everywhere.  And most intriguingly, I call pop pop. Why?  It saves time; one syllable verses two. It actually sounds like what it's describing, unlike soda, with it's flat consonants, and let's not forget that Coke can only be Coke. Sprite isn't Coke, neither is Dr. Pepper, Sunkist, Fanta, or any other fizzy drink that southerners call coke.

Pop will always be my little reminder that I lived (for a little while) among the Dutch of West Michigan. I still hold onto things that define me as a Californian, like the secrets to tri-tip BBQ, love of the mountains (Michiganders have to ski literally on hills of garbage. GARBAGE!), and the knowledge that a true coast experience requires the sun setting over the water and smell of the sea.  I am a Californian, and a Michigander,  and sometime soon I going to be Floridian?  Crazy!

Okay, lobsters, what regional peculiarities have you picked up on your journey through life?  Any
delicacies you crave that you can't get at home?  Any loyalties of fandom that you can't claim you grew up with?  Any traditions that you wonder how you lived without them growing up?