Josie Lynn Books: Imagine the Possibilities

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  • Partial-Paleo Sweet Potato Pie

    I’m posting this recipe for those of you who (like me) love sweet potato and pumpkin pie, but would like a tasty, semi-paleo, gluten-free, dairy-free alternative. I’ve been experimenting with different options, and this is the one I like best, so far.

    The first time I tried it, I made it with a gluten-free pie crust mix, which was pretty good, but I decided to try out the Basic Nut Crust recipe from the Wheat Belly Cookbook by William Davis, M.D.

    I added a smidgen of sugar to the crust because I wanted my crust to taste a bit more like a graham cracker crust. If you anticipate that being too sweet for your taste, add less sugar, or feel free to leave it out. I’m also including the option to top your pie with Whipped Coconut Cream, if you so desire. I tend to like my sweet potato/pumpkin pie unadorned, but Whipped Coconut Cream is delicious and ridiculously easy to make (instructions appear below).

    Semi-Paleo Sweet Potato Pie

    2 pounds cooked sweet potatoes* (about 2 to 3 medium)sweet potato pie
    2 tablespoons dairy-free butter substitute, melted
    1/2 cup organic sugar
    1/4 cup organic brown sugar
    1/4 teaspoon salt
    1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
    3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
    1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
    1/2 teaspoon grated lemon zest
    3 eggs
    1 can of coconut milk (about 12 ounces)
    One 9-inch Basic Nut Pie Crust
    Whipped coconut cream

    Basic Nut Crust (modified)

    1 1/3 cups almond flour
    2/3 cups golden flaxseeds
    6 tablespoons dairy-free butter substitute, melted and cooled
    3 teaspoons organic sugar (optional)

    Directions for pie crust:

    In a large bowl, stir together nuts, flaxseeds, and dairy-free butter substitute until well blended.
    Press into a 9-inch pie plate (as you would a graham cracker crust).
    Preheat the oven to 350° F. Cover the pie crust with foil. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove foil.

    Turn oven up to 400° F.

    Directions for sweet potato pie:

    Start with cooked and cooled sweet potatoes. Scoop the flesh out and puree in a blender or food processor with the dairy-free butter substitute. Add the remaining ingredients and puree until well blended. Pour mixture into the pre-baked nut pie crust.

    Continue baking in 400° F oven  for 40-50 minutes or until knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool. Serve plain or garnished with whipped coconut cream.

    Makes one 9-inch pie.

    Instructions for whipped coconut cream:

    Chill one can of full-fat coconut milk in the refrigerator for several hours. Take the can out of the refrigerator and open it. Scoop out the thick cream that has risen and solidified at the top of the can. Put it in a bowl and whip as you would whipped cream. Once it has thickened to the desired consistency add sugar to taste, and a teaspoon of vanilla and/or a dash of cinnamon. Enjoy!

    *COOK’S NOTES: use your preferred method of baking the sweet potatoes (suggestions below).

    Oven method: Preheat oven to 400° F. Pierce each sweet potato several times with a fork. Place on a baking sheet lined with foil. Bake until tender, about 45 minutes.

    Microwave method: Pierce each sweet potato several times with a fork. Place in microwave and cook for 5-6 minutes, or until soft.

    (This post has been revised)

  • Review of Harvey’s Hideout

    I decided to dedicate this post to a review of an old childhood favorite, in honor of Throwback Thursday.Harveys hideout

    Harvey’s Hideout, written by Russel Hoban and illustrated by Lillian Hoban, is the first book I remember holding in my hand as a very small, pre-preschool-aged child.

    It is the charming story of two muskrat siblings, Harvey and Mildred, who are having some “issues” getting along. Harvey is the “stupid, no-good” little brother who annoys his older sister Mildred, who in turn is “mean and rotten.” In truth (and as their muskrat father wisely points out) neither is really stupid, no-good, mean, or rotten. They just seem that way to each other. Ah…memories of childhood.

    Not that my older sister was ever quite as mean to me as Mildred was nor was I ever quite as bratty or annoying as Harvey.  Still, the colorful illustrations depicting the idyllic family life of a muskrat family charmed me and provided ample fodder for  my imagination. I wanted a party dress like Mildred’s and fantasized that when I ran away from home, I’d carry my belonging in a bindle (bag on a stick) like Harvey.

    I found this book several years ago at a second-hand book store and, reading it as an adult, I was happy to see that it hasn’t lost its charm. I still love the colorful illustrations which probably endeared muskrats to generations of readers, which was a feat in itself. I mean, I’ve seen muskrats in person, and they are not this adorable. But, I must say, this time around, I appreciated the book’s very realistic portrayal of sibling interactions.

    Then there was the joy of finding all of the things that went over my head as a child (which were probably snuck in just to give parents a chuckle) for instance the part where the muskrat children list all the children in the neighborhood and the reasons they may or may not be suitable playmates…(they are not allowed to get mixed up with the weasels).

    Hilarious.

    Reading this as an adult reminded me what a gift siblings can be. At the end of the day, all you really have is each other and that’s a lot. What a nice lesson to find in a children’s book.

    I wonder if this book is the real reason my sisters and I always got along so well.

  • “Can we all get along?”

    Pa, mark my words! Between Mr Rokesmith and me, there is a natural antipathy and a deep distrust; and something will come of it!                      Our Mutual Friend, Charles Dickens

    “Why can’t we all just get along?”

    This is the question I often pose when I observe my supremely gorgeous and only somewhat smug cat named Lily and my absolutely lovely, friendly, super intelligent and obedient dog nasydney and lilymed Sydney (or maybe it’s Sidney…I never asked him how he prefers to spells his name) interact with one another. Maybe interact is too strong a word for their involvement with one another. Maybe “encounter” is a more accurate description for what they actually do. Sydney approaches, makes an overture, and Lily usually slaps him down, sometimes drawing blood, occasionally leaving a claw in his nose (that’s gotta smart!)

    I try not to take sides. I try to understand where each is coming from. I’m not exclusively a cat person or exclusively a dog person. I’d say I like both cats and dogs (if not equally) for different reasons and (basically) depending on the cat or dog. On the one hand, I’ve never met a cat I didn’t like. On the other, I’ve had some very nice experiences with some dogs.

    Now, back to my two pets, Sydney and Lily. I’ve noticed that Sydney loves Lily but Lily isn’t quite so fond of Sydney. She is languid and cool and he likes to dart around in a perky, animated fashion. I suspect for this reason she looks askance at him and this saddens me. I think in a small way it saddens Sydney, too but he quickly recovers from his being rejected, rebuffed, and repudiated to give me one of his lovely and sometimes rather bemused smiles.

    Sometimes we’re just too different to get along. Despite the overtures, despite the shows of goodwill, Lily will not let down her guard. Cautious girl that she is, she will not allow herself to be charmed by the enormously charming Sydney. Maybe he is too big and too quick for her. Maybe he is simply too different. Perhaps this is one of those times when overtures and goodwill are not enough.

    Maybe somewhere in Lily’s mysterious past, when she used to be an indoor/outdoor cat, she had a bad experience with a dog. Maybe her mother told her to beware of those rather sloppy, drooling beings who pant and bark and chase and bite. Of course, her mother didn’t mean Sydney—she didn’t even know him—but Lily doesn’t know that.

    I guess some of us simply can’t overcome our experience with the world: what we have learned, what we’ve been taught, or simply what we’ve come to be believe to be true. It’s sad really, because both Lily and Sydney have something to offer. Just not to each other and not any time soon.

  • The Day the TV Died (AKA The Best Day of My Life)

    COUCHPOT

    I was six years old when our TV died. The truth was, the picture had been fading for some time before it for once and for all breathed its last, but since I had never witnessed the demise of a TV, I continued watching in sheer, blissful ignorance, completely oblivious to the now obvious fact that our beloved magic tube was about to buy the farm.

    One fateful morning, before heading for the bus stop, I was watching Captain Kangaroo and the picture began to implode. There is no other word for it. The picture gradually began to close in on itself until there was just a teeny, tiny dot of light that eventually…went…away. There was a faint “poof” and the TV went dark one final time, never to see the light of day again.

    My parents made what turned out to be a fortuitous decision to not replace the TV, at least, not immediately. Having no TV to watch, I turned to books for entertainment. I’d been a somewhat avid reader before the demise of the TV, but now I began to ferociously devour them. I read everything in our house that had writing on it: cereal boxes, old magazines, not to mention every single book my parents owned, including an old college textbook about Greek mythology. Then I turned my attention to the children’s section of the local library and systematically began reading my way through it, starting at the end of the alphabet and working my way back to the beginning. I read as if my life depended on it, as if the world was ending.1

    When my parents finally replaced the TV several years later, my reading habits were firmly established, so even though I resumed my great like for television, nothing could ever supersede my love affair with books.

    This, in my opinion, is a classic example of how to make lemonade out of that bag of lemons handed to you by this thing called life. And it’s proof that when you grow up you will appreciate some of the seemingly mean or unfair things your parents did to you. They aren’t always trying to ruin your life. Sometimes they really do know best.

    1. Speaking of those two things (…reading and the end of the world…) reminded me of a painfully ironic Twilight Zone episode called Time Enough At Last. ↩︎
  • A Caterpillar’s Life

    A Caterpillar’s Life

    While watching Frozen Planet, I was introduced to a creature known as the woolly bear caterpillar. Woolly bear caterpillars have become my new favorite insect, replacing my former childhood favorite, the lady bug. Mind you, I still think lady bugs are cute, but the woolly bear caterpillar has a lot going for it starting with (but not limited to) an extremely cute name. Eventually, it turns into a quite spectacular moth, which is perhaps not as overtly glamorous as a butterfly, but few things in nature are. Butterflies are in a class unto themselves. People chase them. They collect them. They make up cool philosophical sayings about them, such as this affirmation commonly found on motivational posters and wall art:butterfly quote

    I have many fond memories of chasing ever elusive butterflies the way people tend to chase dreams or happiness. My memories of moths are of finding them burned to a crisp inside an outdoor light fixture and pitying their fatal attraction so, needless to say, I never imagined that the life cycle of a moth could be in any way motivational. Then I met the woolly bear caterpillar.

    Life Lessons From the Woolly Bear Caterpillar

    Woolly bear caterpillar
    Closeup of woolly bear caterpillar

    The woolly bear caterpillar starts life as a rather cute, furry little creature with a voracious appetite for leaves (thankfully, not wool coats). During the spring and summer months it eats as much and as fast as it can, in a valiant attempt to store up enough reserves to fulfill his destiny of becoming a moth. Metamorphosis apparently takes a lot of energy. Alas, the woolly bear caterpillar is not successful on his first attempt. When fall comes, he slows down and, with the onset of winter, comes to a complete stop—his heart stops, his breathing stops, and his body freezes. The caterpillar produces a kind of antifreeze that prevents his body from crystallizing as it freezes, otherwise he would freeze to death.

    Spring comes. The caterpillar thaws and begins eating again. But once again, he doesn’t have enough time to gather the required reserves before the freeze sets in, so he waits out the winter in a frozen state. This happens again and again…and again…

    Finally, one spring when the caterpillar is fourteen years old—the last spring of his life—he reaches his goal. After fourteen years of preparation, he has finally eaten enough and is ready to spin his cocoon. After a fashion, he emerges from the cocoon as a beautiful moth, finds a mate and lives happily ever after (as happily ever after as is possible for a moth, anyway). I watched the woolly bear caterpillar’s inspiring story and found myself routing for the little guy. (“Come on, Little Caterpillar. Eat. Eat faster. Winter’s coming. You can do it. Don’t give up.”)

    It made for good television: there was tension/drama, there was a villain, and our hero triumphed against the odds. Plus, there were life lessons, especially for aspiring writers.  The woolly bear caterpillar did several things that made him successful, and following his example can help us reach our writing goals.

    The woolly bear caterpillar:
    1. Continued to work at his craft.
    2. Took advantage of favorable seasons and did what he could when he could.
    3. Was not discouraged by minor setbacks that were beyond his control.
    4. Didn’t allow a period of inactivity to result in death.
    5. Was in a position to take advantage of the right conditions when they prevailed and, as a result, he thrived.

    As writers, we must have determination and a good work ethic. Sometimes we can create opportunities, but we often have to wait for the right conditions. The waiting period—the time between working toward a goal and realizing that goal—might feel like death. The trick is to develop a figurative elixir (coping mechanisms) that will protect us from succumbing to the deep freeze of discouragement. When preparation and favorable conditions meet, the results will be magic.

    In the end, diligence and persistence will pay off—just ask the woolly bear caterpillar. He prepared and waited fourteen years for his shining moment. The lesson? Never give up.

  • Top 10 Meaningless Expressions

    As writers, we try to put down on paper exactly what we mean to say. The goal, generally, is clear, concise communication. When it comes to verbal communication, we’re often not as fastidious, sometimes preferring to say everything besides what we mean to say. In honor of that tendency, I’ve compiled a list of ten meaningless expressions that I’m sure we’ve all been guilty of hiding behind at one time or another. If your goal is clear, concise communication, avoid these like the plague. However, if your intention is verbal subterfuge, this one’s for you…

    1. We’re sorry for/We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.

    I find that this is a statement commonly used by people, businesses, or organizations whose lack of competence, planning, etc. is currently inconveniencing their customers and they typically could care less and plan to do nothing to eliminate similar blunders in the future.

    1. Thank you for your patience.

    Just so you know (see #4), this is not an admission of fault, but a general acknowledgement of the public’s patience, generally at a time when the public has no choice but to be patient (i.e., when something we are waiting for and have paid for is (1) late, (2) cancelled, or (3) not coming). Rather than thanking us for our patience, how about stop trying it.

    1. Sorry if I offended you.

    This is a poor excuse for an apology. Apologies should be specific and sincere. They should not resemble the line in that Take That song: “Whatever I did, whatever I said, I didn’t mean it….” Not good enough. I’m sorry, you should know what you did and apologize for that and keep your smug statements to yourself.

    1. Just so you know…

    This phrase tries to pass itself off as a harmless FYI, but it is usually delivered with the nastiness of a smack down (I’m not sure why). It’s usually not a news bulletin that follows, but a rude instruction.

    1. This isn’t going to hurt.

    Commonly told to small children just before they are stabbed with a needle. It is never true. They never tell adults it isn’t going hurt, because this lie works exactly once.

    1. This will only hurt a little.

    Any poke, prick, stab with a needle hurts. And pain is relative. The way I like to measure it is how I felt before being jabbed versus how I feel after being jabbed. Pain level before jab=0. Pain level after jab=10. There’s no such thing, in my book, as hurting a little.

    1. It’s not right for our list, but maybe another publisher will feel differently.

    I think I’ve address this one in a previous post (or here).

    1. It’s not you, it’s me.

    This should be fairly self-explanatory, but just in case it isn’t, allow me to assure you, it is you. But that doesn’t mean you won’t be right for someone else…

    1. Please don’t take this the wrong way…

    This means there isn’t going to be a right way to take it…What follows is going to smart. Sorry.

    1. I’m not trying to be nosy, but…

    I think people think this makes their insolence cute. Sort of like when Lady Rosamund told the Dowager on Downton Abbey: “I’m afraid you’ve read somewhere that rudeness in old age is amusing. And it’s quite wrong.” Actually the Dowager’s zingers are quite amusing. But being asked personal questions by a total stranger is slightly less so.

  • I Hate to Burst Your Bubble, But…

    Today, for some reason I was thinking about my all-time favorite rom-com, While You Were Sleeping, specifically the line towards the beginning where Lucy says about her father:

    He would get these far-off looks in his eyes and he would say ‘Life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan.’ I just wish I’d realized at the time, he was talking about my life.

    Ah, the bubble bursting moment. We’ve all had one. The moment of realization that (1) there is no such thing as a free lunch, (2) pie in the sky is merely an illusion, or (3) it is only a paper moon.

    I remember a friend telling me that she saw The Way We Were when she was eight years old and it ruined her life. I didn’t ask her what she meant, because I assumed I knew. I assumed she meant that before she saw The Way We Were she thought life (her life) would be peachy keen and she’d grow up and be happy for ever after. The Way We Were destroyed her faith in the happy ending. How could it not?

    My bubble was burst when I read Little Women. I was nine. I loved Jo and I loved Laurie. I loved LaurieJo. I thought they were THE PERFECT COUPLE. I, like Laurie, never understood Jo’s reluctanceLittle Women 2 to elevate their relationship from platonic best chums to a bona fide boy-girl thing. Jo’s refusing Laurie broke my heart into as many pieces as it broke his.

    I’ve tried to be mature and philosophical about it. I told myself that Jo and her mother were right, she and Laurie were too much alike, they would have made themselves miserable if they had been “so foolish as to marry.” But I didn’t agree with her decision then, and there’s a part of me (especially after reading Little Men) that still doesn’t. Jo and Laurie were undeniably best friends and, in my opinion, you should try your level best to marry your best friend, especially if he is as wonderful and as hopelessly devoted to you as Laurie was to Jo.

    Despite all of my trying to come to grips with a decision made by a fictional character (hum…maybe a little perspective is in order), the thing that finally helped me get over my deep and profound sadness that Jo didn’t marry Laurie, the thing that finally restored my bubble to its pre-bubble burst state was the movie Anne of Avonlea. The proposal scene in that film is—funnily enough—lifted right off the pages of Little Women instead being taken from the book (Anne of the Island) that it’s based on. I’m not sure why writer/director Kevin Sullivan opted to use Louisa May Alcott’s words instead of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s, but I am grateful because in an odd way, it provided me with needed closure.

    And by the way, have you ever noticed that when someone starts a sentence with the words, “I hate to…” they then proceed to gleefully do what they claimed to hate to have to do?

    More on that next time.

     

  • Metaphorical Cats

    Sometimes, I’ll be in a room presumably alone, when all of a sudden, I sense a presence in the room. I look down, and my cat Lily is at my feet. I didn’t hear her walking in, mind you. It is as if she appeared out of nowhere. Whenever it happens, I completely understand why over the ages people have held so many superstitious ideas about cats. I mean, I can look up articles online that logically explain how and why cats are able to move so silently…but years ago, people’s imaginations must have run hog wild. I have to admit, Lily’s ability to creep up on me on her soft, padded paws is, on occasion, slightly unsettling.

    When it happens, I’m also reminded of the poem Fog, by Carl Sandburg:OA1OXX03

    The fog comes
    on little cat feet.

    It sits looking
    over harbor and city
    on silent haunches          
    and then moves on.

    I love the imagery in this poem. As noted earlier, I am quite familiar with the ways of cats and, living as I do in an area that is often blanketed in fog, I can say with certainty that this metaphor is entirely appropriate, not to mention stunningly beautiful.

    Writers’/Students’ Corner

    Just so it doesn’t seem like this post was merely an excuse to mention my cat Lily again, here are a couple of definitions that might be useful to students and writers:

    met·a·phor: noun \ˈme-tə-ˌfȯr also -fər\
    a word or phrase for one thing that is used to refer to another thing in order to show or suggest that they are similar

    sim·i·le: noun \ˈsi-mə-(ˌ)lē\
    a phrase that uses the words like or as to describe someone or something by comparing it with someone or something else that is similar

    Metaphors and similes are similar, but the basic difference is that similes will use “like” or “as” when drawing the comparison.

    Carl Sandburg’s poem is a good example of a metaphor. He says the “fog comes in on little cat feet,” not the fog is like a cat coming in on little cat feet. The former is succinct and powerful; the later would have been clunky and would have interfered with the poem’s meter.

    For some reason, when I think of an example of a simile, the first thing that comes to my mind is not a poem or a great literary work, but that Patrick Swayze song She’s Like the Wind (and then it gets stuck in my head and I can’t get it out).

    There are no rules governing when to use a simile and when to use a metaphor. It’s more about figuring out what idea, mood, or feeling you’re trying to convey and deciding which vehicle will help you get there without unnecessary detours. The most important thing to consider when using figures of speech is to strive for originality (for example, it’s probably not a good idea to compare the way fog rolls in to the way a cat moves, since it’s already been done), but not so original as to leave your readers confused.

    Challenge

    Where does the phrase “metaphorical cats” appear?

  • The Problem With Book Clubs

    Or why I (personally) don’t like Book Clubs

    Disclaimer: Any views or opinions presented in this post are solely those of the (sometimes over-opinionated) author and do not necessarily represent anything other that what she felt like expressing at a particular moment in time. It is quite possible she will feel differently at a later time.  Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental (so please, no offense). No animals were harmed in the writing of this post, because, well…harming animals is wrong.

    Now that that legal bit of business is out of the way, I invite you to view a commercial which pretty much sums up why I don’t relish the thought of joining a book club.

    [vimeo 35919418 w=500 h=281]

    It’s because I harbor the fear that that guy will want to join or will have already joined. In either case, I would have to quit the club and run for the hills, because that guy is annoying. I want to read, not be annoyed.

    Readers (at least, this reader) tend toward the introverted side, and for me reading is a solitary experience. So I like the idea of a book club, but not so much the actual thing.

    I liked the idea of Oprah’s book club. She picked a book. You and a bunch of other people out there in the great beyond read it. There were no meetings, no social interaction. It was just you and the book and the idea that a whole lot of other people were reading along, which was in some ways comforting. It was like being in a flash mob without having to leave the comfort of your home and without making a complete fool of yourself.

    There was always the off chance that some fortunate viewers would be invited to participate in the book club dinner/discussion with the author, but let’s face it, the reality of that happening to you was pretty slim.

    Oprah’s book club surpassed any other book club because she could actually facilitate a dinner with the author (except for the time she chose two books by Dickens…she’s Oprah, but there are limits to was she can do). What are the odds the guy in the commercial could get the actual author of a book to come discuss his or her book over dinner? Slim to none. I don’t care how much processed cheese book club guy promises to serve.

    Post script

    I have a bit of news: My book, Maxwell Parker, P.I. was honored as a Notable Book in the Middle-Grade Books category in the Third Annual Shelf Unbound Writing Competition for Best Independently Published Book, sponsored by Bowker.

    For more information about the competition, please check out the December/January 2015 issue of Shelf Unbound, a great resource for all those interested in indie publishing.

     

  • Misunderstandings Are the Spice of Life

    Misunderstandings Are the Spice of Life

    There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”

    “And your defect is to hate everybody.”

    “And yours,” he replied with a smile, “is willfully to misunderstand them.”—Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

    The Tendency to Misunderstand

    I touched on this subject previously when I talked about mishearing and misunderstanding song lyrics (and arguably improving upon them) in a previous blog post. The resulting phrase based on the misunderstood words is called a mondegreen. Incidentally, the etymology behind this word is interesting and just goes to show one more great thing about being a writer: you get to make up words.

    It’s no secret that misunderstandings are at the heart of some of the best stories. If you don’t believe me, watch any random episode of Three’s Company.

    Holden’s Mistake

    However, classic TV shows aside, the story that I actually had in mind is J.D. Salinger’s classic tale of teenage angst. In The Catcher in the Rye, protagonist Holden Caulfield misunderstands and misquotes a line from “Comin’ Thro’ the Rye,” a poem by the Scottish poet Robert Burns. His misunderstanding (though not technically a mondegreen) provides the novel’s title, as well as one of its most poignant scenes, which occurs late in the story when Holden explains his life’s ambition to his little sister Phoebe in what could be termed his “I Am Song” moment.

     “I thought it was ‘If a body catch a body,’” I said. “Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody’s around–nobody big, I mean–except me. And I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff–I mean if they’re running and they don’t look where they’re going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That’s all I’d do all day. I’d just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it’s crazy, but that’s the only thing I’d really like to be. I know it’s crazy.” (The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger)

    It’s “If a Body Meet a Body”

    When I first read The Catcher in the Rye, I recognized Holden’s mistake—that is to say, I recognized the line as a song Laura and Pa used to sing in the Little House books, specifically in By the Shores of Silver Lake. This was a particularly gratifying moment for me, because it meant that I’d gained something far greater than learning how to churn butter (in theory) and how to theoretically deal with a locust plague from all those years I’d spent reading as a kid. It was like my reading was paying off. I love it when knowledge comes full circle.

    A Few Points to Take Home
    1. Writers get to make up words (It could happen, I’m not saying it will, but the word mondegreen was coined by a writer in an essay. Now it’s in Webster’s).
    2. If you spend your entire childhood reading the Little House books, it may benefit you in unexpected ways.
    3. A Jane Austen quote is always pertinent.
    4. Don’t be frustrated by misunderstandings; learn to laugh at them. Unless you’ve built a pipe dream around one and it’s been mercilessly shattered and your very next stop will likely be a nice long stay undergoing psychoanalysis in an institution. In that case, it’s not at all funny, but rather…sad…

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