Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

Dear Running:

Consider the subtext of your letter: “I know better than he does what’s best for him.” When heroes display this attitude and behave accordingly, we call them alpha heroes and chuck the book at the wall. I’m not saying that if your husband jumps a fence too high you’re going to spank him, but you might want to reconsider how you’re approaching the issue. When heroines display too much alpha tendency, they can kick too much ass to the point that they are entirely unsympathetic and they cut off their noses with their katanas to spite their intriguing faces. Either that, or they alienate everyone around them, including the reader, by being irritating as hell. Confidence is good. Being in shape is good. Kicking ass is good. Presuming you know best because you got all three? Not good.

Examine the situation from your husband’s perspective. In this area, you’ve left him in the dust. Literally. You have an entire aspect of your life that he doesn’t share, and while that’s healthy and normal, you’re also telling him that he ought to join you - when that might mean you leave him in the dust again and again. While most men won’t mind watching the back end of a woman leaving (though they hate to see her go), your husband might be feeling left out, left behind, and just plain low about the entire situation.

So in essence, you’re right. But you might be losing ground in how you go about being right. My advice? Treat him like a hero. I’m not saying your husband is an alpha male to beat all chest pounding alpha males and can’t handle being beaten at anything by a woman let alone his wife, but he might need encouragement and admiration in equal doses, without condescension. Instead of examining the things that he’s not doing, focus on some of the things he is doing, and doing well.

But as for specific exercise, depending on your husband’s personality, he might benefit from a completely different activity that interests him, something solitary like biking or something group-oriented like a sports team. He might not like gyms and cardio machines, and prefer something outside. My point is that his choice has to be all about him - not all about you nagging him or telling him to model his activity on yours.

Furthermore, working out isn’t something that you’re done with. As soon as you finish, you have to do it again the next day, or the day after (much like writing a blog—huh. I have to look up how many calories this burns). So from his perspective, it might be an impossible obstacle. So give him space to figure out what might interest him, and quietly, gently encourage him to do things that might combine activity and tasks he enjoys.

Bottom line: his doctor has told him he needs to work out. You’ve told him the same and you’re doing it yourself. The ball, so to speak, is in his court. You can’t make him work out, or work out for him, and insisting, cajoling, or even delivering ultimatums means you risk emasculating him before he can get to the net.

What, bad sex isn’t enough of an eyeball torture for you? How about this one, courtesy of Jackie Kessler‘s blog: author J.F. Lewis was booted from his non-denominational church in Alabama because of his book. According to Mr. Lewis:

...by writing the book, I committed the sins contained within it. They also felt that I’d aimed the novel at young children (which boggles the mind) and that it teaches and encourages the use of vulgar language. Though I disagree wholeheartedly with their decision, I can’t really say they took the action they took in order to be mean… they appear to have been acting out of genuine concern.

Yes, I’m concerned as well, specifically about the ability to discern fiction and creativity from reality. Oy.

Since I’m a veteran of two major religions, three if you count my deep devotion to 85% cocoa dark chocolate (that’s not a euphemism), perhaps it’s time I founded a church. A non denominational church. Or synagogue. Or Syn-urch. Where if you write about violence, fear, atonement, rebirth, celebration, sex, and happily ever after, you’re lauded and celebrated for being creative, since being creative, to my mind, is one of the top 3 ways to affirm we are alive and well. See sex and above re: chocolate for ways #1 and #2.

And seriously, Mr. Lewis, that had to hurt, to be removed from your community like that. My condolences. I hope you find a home of worship and community that’s much more welcoming to you and your creativity.

The Kohl’s House provides living space for families of transplant families, who frequently spend months away from home during their child’s surgery, recovery, and follow-up care. When I was there this last time, they had quite a few kids’ books, but their selection of books for adults had dwindled to just one small bookcase. The Kohl’s House encourages families to take the books home if they haven’t yet finished (or if they just fell in love with it), so it’s not surprising that the collection has shrunk. In fact, it’s a good thing.

You don’t have to send a giant box full of books, but if you feel like dropping a few into the mail here is the address:

Kohl’s House
2422 N. Orchard
Chicago, Illinois 60614

I also checked with Michelle (manager) about any other wishes they might have, and she said that they are short on DVDs (kids or adult), and would also like VCRs as they just received a huge donation of VHS tapes, but only have one VCR for the house (each floor has a community TV, and a few rooms also have their own TVs).

Moreena, my biggest and strongest Smart Bitch wishes for your daughter and her new liver (Hi, new liver!) and my deepest thanks for a great opportunity. If you have ideas of places looking for fine, fabulous romances where they’ll do the greatest good, let me know. Or, fill a box and ship it over to Kohl’s. Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.

ETA: Moreena asked me to give folks the heads up that, while this may be an obvious thing, books should be as clean as possible because the folks undergoing care are being suppressed - in the immunological sense, not the Monty Python sense. So be conscious of the condition of the books as pertains to hair, mold, dust, etc. And as always, thank you for your generosity.

Pull my finger.

Wait, you want my love letter entry? Heh.

Back in college, before Hubby and I were officially an item, I met up with him at a New Year’s party during winter break of our freshman year. Hubby and I met in high school, and most of our mutual friends were at this party. I have no clear memory of writing a letter to him after that night, but at some point, I wrote a long, rambly, probably incoherent letter about how much I liked him and was attracted to him, and then, I mailed it. Seriously, this is not like me. I have no idea when I mailed it. But I did.

Surprise, surprise, Hubby wrote back. I received a printed out letter from him in Chicago (not handwritten; I’d never have been able to read it) when I returned back to school in South Carolina the following week. And while I don’t remember the specifics of the first paragraph, he admitted he really liked me too, he had always been attracted to me, but since we were 1000 miles apart, there wasn’t anything we could do about it anyway. Then came the memorable, romantic part, when he wrote:

“In other news, I’m going to change fonts. It’s really cold here. Today it was -40F with the wind chill. I almost froze my dick off.”

Ahh. Romance with Hubby. Nothing like it under the sun, or inside the wind chill.