I saw this on another blog yesterday (sorry for not giving proper credit. I forget where I saw this). It’s a list of “must read” books from the National Endowment for the Arts. According to the NEA, the average American has read only 6 of the 100 books. I was that geeky kid who was happy to hang out at home on weekends and read, and I was an English major in college so I’ve probably read more than the average reader. However, I’m embarrassed to admit that there are some serious gaps in my list. A couple of years ago I realized I’ve never read Catcher in the Rye. I bought a copy but it’s still in my stack of books to read.
How did you do? And are there books on here that you think shouldn’t be? Are there books missing?
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The instructions for passing this list around are as follows:
1. Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2. Italicize those you intend to read.
3. Underline the books you love.

1. Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
   
2. The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series – JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6. The Bible
   
7. Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
   
8. Nineteen Eighty Four – George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
11. Little Women – Louisa M Alcott
    
12. Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
    
13. Catch 22 – Joseph Heller
    
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
    
15. Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier (Yes, Lesley, I did love this book and probably wouldn’t have read it if you didn’t recommend it!!)
    
16. The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks
    
18. Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger
19. The Time Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch – George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby – F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House – Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
    
28. Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
    
29. Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
    
30. The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
    
33. Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis
34. Emma – Jane Austen
35. Persuasion – Jane Austen
    
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – CS Lewis
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Bernieres
    
39. Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh – AA Milne
41. Animal Farm – George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown
    
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
45. The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
    
48. The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies – William Golding
50. Atonement – Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi by Yann Martel
52. I don’t know what happened to #5152 Dune – Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
    
54. Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
    
57. A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon (I have this in my stack of books to read. In fact, I’ve tried before but couldn’t get through it. I’d like to try again at some point.)
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
    
62. Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
    
63. The Secret History – Donna Tartt
    
64. The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road – Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding (I liked this book, but I don’t get why it’s on the list.)
    
69. Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick – Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
72. Dracula – Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island – Bill
75. Ulysses – James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal – Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession – AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple – Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte’s Web – EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks
94. Watership Down – Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet – William Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables – Victor Hugo

At some point last year, they did add a few more books:

Their Eyes Were Watching God

Zora Neale Hurston’s vibrant novel presents Janie Mae Crawford’s growth from a voiceless teenage girl into a woman who takes charge of her own destiny. (I read this in college and it’s stuck with me since.)

The Joy Luck Club

In sixteen interwoven stories, Amy Tan’s characters—four Chinese immigrant mothers and their American-raised daughters—struggle to connect despite the ghosts and secrets of the past. (I loved this book!! The story is a a very relateable tale of mothers and daughters.)

The Call of the Wild

Abducted from his comfortable home and sold as a sled dog, Buck battles the elements to become leader of the pack. This story of a struggle for survival is an unforgettable adventure. (I think every kid should read this book.)

UPDATE:

I hope the NEA plans to update this list regularly because the more I look this over, the more I’m surprised by some omissions. I probably would have added the following:

• The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair

• White Noise, by Don DeLillo

• Anything by Michael Chabon (yes, Lesley, I know this may shock you!)

• Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen (C’mon, if Bridget Jones can be on here, a book like this should definitely occupy a spot on the list.

I bought a car yesterday. It’s a bitchin’ car actually. It’s a car worthy of a midlife crisis if I were to have one.

It looks just like this. It’s my first convertible, and if I say so myself, I look damn cute in it.

But here’s the thing. It’s been years since I bought a new car and the last time I did, I never had an experience like this. And it wasn’t good. I almost walked out of the showroom a half dozen times.

My husband and I did our homework. We knew ahead of time which model we wanted, which features were standard (and which we were willing to accept and for how much) and, most importantly, we knew what the car was really worth. Forget the sticker price. We knew what their markup was. We knew what we were willing to pay.

In spite of that, or maybe because of that, it had to be one of the most exasperating experiences of my life. Once we committed to negotiating, the battle began. And it was an epic battle.

Our salesman brought out what they call the “4-square work sheet.” If you’ve ever bought a car, you’ve probably seen this. As the name implies, the sheet is divided into four sections. The salesman writes your info at the top with all the car’s info—the make, model and serial number. The salesman also writes the sticker price of the car at the top. Then the game begins.

They try to get as much info out of you as possible—down payment, how much you want to pay each month, if you have a trade-in, etc. Once this was all filled out, they tried to lock us into payments without even telling us what interest payment they were charging. The salesman said, “What do you want to pay each month?” and pointed to some generic payments on the sheet he got from the finance guy. Fortunately, because we priced everything ahead of time, my husband said, “We want to pay X-amount for the car. Period. You can either meet it or not.” Thirty minutes later, they agreed to meet it. But not before telling us how we were robbing them and they weren’t making any profit. Like I care. Then they tried again to lock us into monthly payments without even telling us the interest rate. They wouldn’t answer directly. Finally, we pushed hard and they admitted they just typed in 15% interest. 15%!!! Nope. Try again. I wonder how many people don’t even ask.

After more back and forth, we agreed to a number. Verbally. Our mistake.

Because once we got into the finance room the terms and everything else was different from what the salesman agreed to. Longer terms, higher payments, jack-up add-ons. So we had to start all over again.

Five hours later—no shit, it took that long—we got what we wanted. But it was brutal. The salesman was playing good cop to the finance guy’s bad cop. I was playing good cop to my husband’s bad cop. The salesman was running back and forth to tell the finance guy we said this, then he’d come back and tell us the finance guy said that. It was like the most fucked-up game of telephone I’ve ever played.

They did thank us for being nice about it. I gather that a lot of people go in there terrified that they’re going to get ripped off—and it’s very possible that they are—so they get nasty and mean. I saw a little of that while we were waiting—couples storming out, people yelling at salesmen.

By the time we left the dealership, I had a migraine and was too tired to even take the damn thing for a spin.

I get that they’re trying to make money; we were trying to get the best deal possible. We’re lucky that we can actually do this in this economy, and I know they’ve probably had a hell of a time moving cars off their lot in the past couple of months. We all want the same thing—I wanted the car and they wanted to get rid of it.  But there has to be a better way. Next time I buy a car, I’m going to go through a broker. It’s worth a few hundred dollars to have someone else do the leg work.

Of course, it rained this morning, which it never does in Southern California, but weather be damned I put the top down this morning.

I know this is an old topic, but it still sort of blows my mind. I just deleted 425 e-mails out of my work e-mail inbox. I still have 1072 messages that I can’t quite part with yet. These are all related to projects that are ongoing. This, by the way, doesn’t include the messages that I’ve filed. My inbox is inundated. (And this? This is the slow time of the year for me.) The 1072 doesn’t even include the lame response e-mails like “thanks” or “got it.”

It’s insane, right? 1072 doesn’t cover my two personal e-mail accounts.

Most of the work-related e-mail is pretty important. It consists of feedback and approvals from clients. I also have e-mails from vendors and bosses. My e-mail (personal and professional) gets forwarded to my Blackberry. Which means I’m tethered to my desk 24 hours a day, whether I’m actually working or not.

Even when we were on vacation this summer, both of us had our Blackberrys. And God forbid you don’t respond to someone’s e-mail in two seconds—never mind the fact that you’re two continents and three time zones away—they freak out and resend. Or call. There’s no such thing as business hours anymore.

The sad thing is the more connected we are, the less connected we really are. Most days my husband I are too busy talk so we’ll text message each other. Or e-mail. I IM my best friend during the day. We talk when we see each other every other week.

I wish I could just disconnect from it all for one day. Work-wise I can’t. But I’m curious if anyone out there has put limits on this stuff. Have you drawn the line on when and how often you check your e-mail (and no, it doesn’t count that your internet was down)? Have you ever just selected all and hit delete?

E-mail me with your responses!

PS: By the time I finished this post, I had 1132 e-mails.

I’m not a morning person. Never have been. Never will be. My husband’s favorite saying is that I am “the most wonderful woman in the world. After 10 a.m.” I’m okay with that. It’s true. I’m not (usually) mean. Just don’t talk to me. Let me ease into things.  I need time to wake up and embrace the day.

But I cope. I manage to (sort of) function.

Some mornings, though, really test my patience. Take this morning for example.

First of all, I was wide awake at 5:19 a.m. For no reason. That’s a good 90 minutes before I actually needed to be up. I’ve been deep-down-to-the-bones exhausted lately, so even walking up one minute before my alarm goes off pisses me off. I tried to go back to sleep, but I finally gave up at 6:00 and started to get ready.

Ninety minutes of sleep lost. This put me at a deficit for my daily coping skills.

I finally manage to get out of the house (everything moved s-l-o-w-l-y this morning) and went on my way to Starbucks. I was at the corner of our street waiting to pull out but I had to wait for the Suburban that, upon seeing me, slowed down to about 1.2 mph. She was close enough that if I pulled out in front of her I’d be a bitch but just slow enough that I had to wait for what felt like an eternity.

About 16 hours later (really, it was like 5 minutes) I pulled into to the Starbucks parking lot and could feel the tension leaving my shoulders in anticipation of my morning Venti Skinny Vanilla Latte (add a shot today, please). (Picture angels singing!)  While I was in line, a woman walked in behind me with the most shrill voice I’ve ever heard (imagine injured cats screwing), practically SCREAMING into her cell phone because she wasn’t sure she was shrill enough. Now, I don’t expect my coffee house to be as silent at a freakin’ library in the morning, but there should be RULES. Rules like Don’t Stand Behind Me And Scream Into Your Cell Phone About Your Fucking Bladder Infection. Especially when I HAVEN’T HAD MY COFFEE YET.

Another rule should be, don’t interfere with me trying to order my coffee. That bladder-infection-having-caterwauling yowler was talking so loud that the barista asked me to repeat my order four times. Up until then I had managed to control every fiber of my being to stop myself from ripping the phone out of her hand, shoving it down her throat and throwing her through the plate glass window. (I’m really NOT violent. I swear.) But, coffee-less and thus powerless, I couldn’t stop myself from turning around and politely asking her to take her entirely too personal phone call outside so the barista could hear well enough to take my order. (I don’t think it came out as, “Would you shut the fuck up!”) At this, she tells the poor person on the other end of the phone that she had to go, snapped her phone shut, rolls her eyes and lets out a big fat sigh. Really? Was it really too much to ask of you to keep your dirty little details to yourself??

Fortunately, they know me in there, got my drink made quickly and I was on my way.

I got situated in my car and started to put it in reverse and made one last check before backing out. Thank God I did. There were two totally clueless women standing 2 inches off the back of my bumper yammering away, not paying attention to shit. I tried to be polite and give them a minute, but they had no intention of moving. I tapped on my horn to get their attention and they didn’t even look. At this point, I feel it’s fair game to back up and nudge them with my bumper, don’t you? But I didn’t. Mostly because I don’t want my insurance to go up. I did get out of the car, and asked if they wouldn’t mind moving their conversation to the sidewalk. Both sighed, rolled their eyes at each other and moved.

Now, I know I’m not a morning person. I know I hadn’t had enough coffee yet, but really…Am I unreasonable?

My office mate brings in her dog every day. He’s a sweet little boy and I adore him, and getting down on the floor and playing a game of fetch is a great way to break even the most stressful day.

But today? Not so much.

He is licking the hell out of his paws right now and it’s like Chinese Water Torture.

Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick.

Get the idea? Now you know how I feel.