One need not guess what this means, it is exactly as it says.
It delights me to pure giddiness when I find a misprint, a fault, or some other oddball and incorrect moment in a published book- even when I am desperately rooting for the author.
My latest culprit: Kristen Schnell's, The Turquoise Table.
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First, I really enjoyed the book. It is well documented and written, there are pictures and lists and space for note taking and I thought it looked rather charming. It is also hardcover, so if I owned it and had not borrowed it from my library, it would be a stellar asset to my coffee table.
But I found one typo still, on page 165.
That was last night. Today I finished the book and, after reading the acknowledgements, which is my way of sucking every last piece of the writing out of the book, (You know I enjoyed a book when I read through the thank you pages and proceed to cyber-stalk the author for days after.) I walked out to my front yard to dream.
Lately I have been dreaming of nice patio furniture. Something wooden with big cushions. An outdoor coffee table with a huge vase of overflowing tulips. I dream of a front porch where life happens, not just a gathering place of wet rain boots and a stray cat's poo.
yeah, I wrote that.
I went out to dream of the patio furniture once again, but this time my dream overflowed to the front yard. There, under the single front-yard tree, I could just see a Turquoise Table, half in and half out of the shade.
Off to the side but still front of the yard, there is enough room for a badminton net. And a cooler on a small table under the mailbox filled with ice cold water and snacks for mailmen (I see you, Johnathan!), and knocking neighbors. Maybe we would splurge and get one of those hallowed out gourd bird houses which sway so beautifully in our city square outside of Gallery 30.
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Maybe, my mind continued, I could place a bowl or two filled with the extra tomatoes I know we won't get around to eating out on the table in the incredible plastic bowls I got for 79cents each at Target and just adore. A giant vase for the Turquoise Table as well. And, well, what else...?This is all so dreamy, until we back up to earlier today.
It was a great day and at one point my oldest exclaimed, "this is the best day ever!".
It was the Pokemon poster I bought him at Five-Below and the discovery that Wendy's french fries (with sea salt!) dipped in a Frosty is utterly divine! Followed by the surprise trip to Hershey's Chocolate World -with free chocolate- and then the treasure which is two Pokemon tee shirts we found in his size at the Community Aid. Best Day Ever.
Each of my sons fared the same: posters, Frosty, free chocolate and entertainment at Hershey and new tees. Everyone was dreaming happy dreams on the car ride home.
But we had been gone since 7:15 that morning, after getting up at 6:30. This, on the second week of summer vacation which, when Vacation Bible School does not demand us get up early -and never that early-, is an excruciatingly early hour to rise.
And, perhaps it was inevitable, but what followed next was a meltdown.
One son, multiple tantrums. It was ugly, ya'll, and I tried so hard not to raise my voice or spank.
By the time Big Strong Man came home, I was frazzled.
When B.S.M., our blessed son, and I sat down together to discuss the tantrums and expectations, Dearly-Loved Son was easily distracted and kept looking away. At one point, while Big Strong Man was talking, son began walking towards his bedroom door as if to leave.
Wait, said B.S.M., grasping for Son's attention, where are you going? I am still speaking to you.
Here comes the cursing.
In all my excitement of becoming what Kristen's friends deemed, #Front Yard People, I asked Big Strong Man to join me out on the porch because I wanted to show him something.
I wanted to share my vision.
To multiply it.
This is now post-tantrum, post-speaking with son, post my being frazzled. This was a good moment, a moment of great possibilities.
As I stepped out on the porch, he stopped short, staying inside the door.
Can you join me out here?, I asked. I want to show you my vision, I continued.
I could sense he was reluctant, his eyes asking why his remaining inside wasn't good enough and his slow, slouching body walking outside expressing without words that he was doing this against his will. He is tired, he would explain later. Exhausted, and I am asking his to go beyond.
What if, I began, as I spread both arms in the area of the spot I thought a proper patio-style couch for the front porch would look best in. And here, I continued, facing to the front, a proper patio table- a big one! And we could put flowers on it! What do you think?
But before I ever got to the following dream of a Turquoise Table, and even before the mention of Tulips came tumbling out of my mouth, he was off, walking the distance of the porch, focused on the hanging wind chimes his mother gifted him one Christmas.
And I lost my cool.
Can you look at me, please? I asked with accusation and anger spilling through my tone.
In sharp defense, B.S.M. turned to me and, rather rudely, responded that he, did not have to look at me, but that he was still paying attention.
The next bit is outside of me.
I just don't understand it.
One moment I am dreaming of a beautiful living space- inviting and comfortable, a place for family. And a Turquoise Table to share this overflow of love and comfort with neighbors.
And the next minute, I am cursing.
Angry at his tone, his choice of words, and perhaps mostly angry because my dream appeared to be less-than-important to him, I threw my hands up in the air and exclaimed, never mind!
As I stormed to the door, I turned, still madder than a hornet, and said through gritted teeth, How rude of you! You do the same thing our son did, walking away as someone is speaking to you, and you do so knowing that you corrected him!
Now inside the house, I turned, once again, and the most ugly thing came spilling out of my mouth, as if it had been in waiting. Looking at Big Strong Man one last time, I cursed, And F you.
That's what I said, and just like that. "F".
It's the Big One. Perhaps the Worse One.
In the event that you don't know me personally, allow to me point out a few objects which may be making your head spin right about now.
Yes, I did mention earlier that my sons and I go to Vacation Bible School. We are Christians and love Jesus. Before this blows your mind, let me also say that I have a terrible anger problem and sometimes I curse. Sometimes I storm away. On rare occasions, I throw something.
Also worth noting, my husband and I have had a hard-go at this thing called marriage. I cannot remember an extended period of time when it hasn't been difficult. That written, we are still together, daily confess our love for one another, and are "working on it". We are always working on it.
I realize that this is far from ideal, as I am a Sunday School teacher, a Cub Scout Leader, a volunteer at Awanas and VBS, and -most importantly, a mother. Cursing is not something I take lightly, nor do I curse as a habit. It is something I have found myself prone to do from time to time. I think I am getting better.
My cursing aside, I do recommend the book to all readers and would be surprised if everyone who does read it doesn't also dream of a Turquoise Table of one's own.
Tell me, have you?
Read it?
Dreamed it?
Done it?
Always,
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