162. The Last Policeman (Ben H Winters)

It's no secret; a lot of the books I read (especially fiction) are recommendations from friends, family and coworkers.  The latest work of fiction I devoured was thanks to my buddy Heather.  She read Ben Winters' sixth book, The Last Policeman, over the winter and I quickly added it to my wishlist but only got around to reading it this month.  I DEVOURED it.  Seriously.  What was not to love?  A great murder mystery set in a pre-apocalyptic world (look out! Asteroid!).  I'm so excited to read that this is the first in a trilogy and am eagerly awaiting the next installment.

 

From the author's website:
What's the point in solving murders if we're all going to die? Detective Hank Palace has asked this question ever since asteroid 2011GV1 hovered into view. Several kilometers wide, it's on a collision course with planet Earth, with just six precious months until impact. The Last Policeman presents a fascinating portrait of a pre-apocalyptic United States. Industry is grinding to a halt. Most people have abandoned their jobs. But not Hank Palace. As our story opens, he's investigating the latest suicide in a city that's full of suicides—only this one feels wrong. This one feels like homicide. And Palace is the only one who cares. What's the point in solving murders if we're all going to die?

As I savoured the last few words, I instantly began imagining who I knew that I could recommend this to?  My dad, definitely. My SIL, for sure.  Eugene (aka Mr. Anchovy), of course.  To be honest, I think this novel has a wide appeal and everyone who enjoys reading could find something they love in it.   Please please please make this into a movie!

 

I'm not normally a big fan of first person narrative but it was the perfect device to tell this particular story.  Living this story through Detective Palace's eyes, the feelings of helplessness and despair all around him washes over you and the reader becomes drawn deep into the mystery. As Heather wrote, one of the most outstanding aspects of the novel is not the intriguing mystery but the way Winters writes about how the participants are coping.

What would you do if you knew the world was ending?
 

There will (not) be blood.

So... yesterday I donated blood for the third time in my life.  And for the second time, I went into shock.  Alas, on the advice of the most fabulous, caring, compassionate, lovely nurse Joanne, I won't be donating again.

 

Now, the first time I donated, I figured it was pretty much my own fault.  The donation itself went fine (needles don't bother me).  When they removed the needle and I was told to hold the bandage in place, I did as I was told.  Unfortunately for me, I didn't put ANY pressure on the needle site whatsoever and within a couple of minutes, there was blood all over my hand and dripping on the floor.  I asked loudly "Is this supposed to happen?".  What can I say? Even in the face of bleeding to death, I kept my wonky sense of humour.  As soon as the nurse beside me replied with "Oh Shit!", I instantly felt sick, my face lost all colour and someone threw my feet in the air.  Yadda yadda yadda, I got the afternoon off work, had to have my brother drive me home and spent the next 18-ish hours sleeping, eating Ritz crackers, and drinking OJ.

 

Flash forward about 8 years.  I decided to bite the bullet two months ago and signed up to donate blood at work.  Couldn't have gone better.  Jason, my nurse, was gentle and understanding when I explained my first experience and everything was textbook.  Lots of juice and a few cookies, then I was back at work. Easy peasy.  You can see how I was deceived into donating again.

 

Yesterday, I merrily popped down to the concourse level of my office building, signed in and was off to the blood donating races once more.  Very excited, I imagined myself being one of those clockwork donors who go every couple of months and save hundreds of lives.  Yeah!  That's going to be me! 

 

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.  No, its not.

 

Everything seemed fine until she put the needle into my arm.  It seemed surprisingly big this time around.  And it hurt a little.  Now, as I said, I'm good with needles but I took a peek at it in my arm and was a little ick-ed out.  I looked away and felt fine.  The nurse and I chatted merrily about all manner of topics until the timer went off ten minutes later. All done!  Yippeee for me!  Another few lives saved.  You're welcome.

 

Then she removed the needle.

 

Things turned bad.

 

I didn't watch the needle coming out or saw anything that would make me feel ill.  However, the needle hurt again coming out.  As soon as I felt it slip out of my skin, I didn't feel well.  I remember the next 15 seconds or so, mumbling something about feeling a little queasy.  Next thing I know, I'm dreaming about my cats and a group of people are tugging at my face and neck.  Turns out its the nurses at the donation station bringing back to consciousness and wrapping cold damp cloths all around my face and neck.  I lost consciousness for about 15 seconds.  About two minutes later, I threw up into a plastic bag in front of 25 strangers.  I don't throw up in front of people but at that moment there was just no stopping it.  They turned on a giant fan (much to the annoyance of the warm weather clad donors around me) but it didn't stop the sweat pouring off every inch of my skin.

 

They had moved me to a bed off to the side where I could lay down and try and rest, eat a cookie or two and sip on some water.  Two hours later, I finally managed to stand/sit up long enough to be sent home.  The nurses borrowed a wheelchair from the building and two of my coworkers drove me home.  Big thanks Alicia and Vera!  I'm so grateful to them, I'll even forgive them for parking the wheelchair long enough to take a picture of me slumped over, ready to throw up again in my apartment's parking lot.

 

From the moment I was wheeled through my apartment door, Nubs didn't leave my side.  I spent a short while on the couch where Nero thought he'd be supportive by snuggling and kneading my stomach (not helpful) and then I moved to my bed where Nubs curled up around me feet and kept an eye on me for the rest of the day and all night.  Every time I'd get up to go to the bathroom, get a drink or try and wander around, he'd be there at my feet, following me.  And Mom?  She took the evening off of work to stay with me, brought me damp cloths for my head, helped me change into my jammies, and ordering me pizza when I felt well enough to eat.  She's good to me.

 

So, it is with a great deal of disappointment that I take the advice of the fabulous Nurse Joanne (all hail Nurses!) and admit that I'm just one of "those" people.  I will not be donating again.  However, there is always a huge demand for blood and blood products and I encourage everyone who can to donate at least once in their lives.  Go on, save a couple of lives!  For those in Canada, contact Canadian Blood Services to find out the details or to book an appointment.

Mother's Day 2013

While Mother's Day here in North America isn't until this coming Sunday, I got a bit confused this year and thought it was last weekend.   Normally I'm great with dates, holidays, etc but for some reason, I dropped the ball.  Or rather, I scooped it up and ran with it before the play even started (yes, I'm all about the sports metaphors).  On Saturday, I treated my Mommikins to breakfast out, followed by a pedicure and finished our day with a really really boring movie.  The pedicure, I think, was the highlight of the day.  Its relaxing to allow yourself to be pampered now and again.  Mom certainly thought so; she started to doze off in the massage chair!  Good thing they didn't do paraffin wax - she'd have started snoring!

Spring has ... arrived?

The snows have melted and with a couple of days in the low 20s Celsius, it feels like spring has finally decided to wake up and make an appearance.  The grass is a patchwork of brown and green but the brown bits are slowly disappearing.  It makes me hopeful that the seasons have definitely changed.  Its been so warm (actually hot, at least for me) that I've started some seeds.  Yes, I know the general rule in Canada (at least in central Alberta) is that you DON'T plant until the May long weekend but rules were made to be broken, right???  We won't be buying any plants for another week or so, just in case.  We want to make sure we're not going to get slammed with another round of frost before winter finally leaves.

 

A sure sign of spring?  The street cleaning vehicles were out sweeping and spraying the street near our apartment, clearing away some of the gravel and dust that's accumulated over the past 6 months.  Now, if only we'd get one full day of rain to wash away the last remnants of the snow mold, my sinuses would be eternally grateful!

161. Eating Animals (Jonathan Safran Foer)

From the official website:

Like many others, Jonathan Safran Foer spent his teenage and college years oscillating between omnivore and vegetarian.  But on the brink of fatherhood-facing the prospect of having to make dietary choices on a child's behalf-his casual questioning took on an urgency.  This quest ultimately required him to visit factory farms in the middle of the night, dissect the emotional ingredients of meals from his childhood, and probe some of his most primal instincts about right and wrong.  This book is what he found.  Brilliantly synthesizing philosophy, literature, science, memoir, and his own detective work, Eating Animals explores the many stories we use to justify our eating habits-folklore and pop culture, family traditions and national myth, apparent facts and inherent fictions-and how such tales can lull us into a brutal forgetting.  Marked by Foer's moral ferocity and unvarying generosity, as well as the humor and style that made his previous books, Everything is Illuminated and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, widely loved, Foer's latest tour de  force informs and delights, challenging us to explore what is too often conveniently brushed aside.  A celebration and a reckoning, Eating Animals is a story about the stories we've told-and the stories  we now need to tell.

I'm certainly on of those "others" referred to in the description of the book although I didn't delve into vegetarianism until after getting out into the real world.  It never lasted - the lure of roasted, fried, baked, or BBQ'd animal flesh always sucked me back in.  Eating Animals was suggested by a friend who had it recommended to her by another friend who's a vegetarian.  I love reading along with other people so I said why not.  Always interested in animal welfare (as you know, I have multiple furry family members), I dove right in.  While I didn't begin reading with the hope that it would finally turn me into a non-meat eater, it certainly did its best to encourage me. 

 

I didn't garner a lot of new information but this book had a big impact on my thoughts about meat.  We've all heard the horror stories about what goes on at large scale factory farms and slaughter houses but Foer lays it out step by gory step, from birth through death and butchering, including atrocities committed by overworked, overstressed, and often emotionally devestated killfloor employees. 

 

When most of us go to the supermarket, we don't think about where our ground beef or chicken breasts come from, let alone the life that animal "lived" to provide you with a tasty meal.  After reading Eating Animals, I found myself unable to even imagine eating meat for the first week or so.  I had a similar reaction after reading Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation - I couldn't stomach meat for a month.  I haven't given up meat this time around but I have not bought meat to cook at home since finishing the book (wait, I had hotdogs...that's not "meat" is it?).  Looking at meat while buying groceries now, I instantly start thinking of contributing to suffering and torture of animals we as a society don't feel as cute or adorable enough not to be eaten. 

 

I realize that I'm somewhat of a hypocrite.  I still eat meat (although not always) if I go out for dinner or have to buy lunch at work but I've altered my eating habits and instead of meat, I stock up on beans and chickpeas for home.  I love my Veggie Patch Chick'n Nuggets in hot sauce.  Butter chickpeas instead of butter chicken.  Veggie soup.  Quesadilla's.  Delicious, nutritious and no one hears the carrots screaming when you chop their heads off.