13 July 2012

A Bloomin' Review

A week or so ago, I was desperate for some book fodder that wouldn't lead me to spending next month's Wickson Creek bill on the Barnes & Noble website. Lucky for me, my bestie in the neighboring cube just happened to have Kelle Hampton's "Bloom" on the front floorboard of her car.

I can't say how long it's been since I've read a hardback, jacketed, currently-popular book. I was pretty excited about it, although at first, I felt I might need to collect an afghan, some reading glasses, and perhaps a dainty cup of tea before diving in; three pages of reading convinced me it wasn't that kind of book. I was perfectly fine with bare feet, forgetting to suck in, and stopping every page or so to slurp the ol' Big Red.

Initially, I had some trepidation over reading a book about a baby - much less a baby labeled as disabled. I think I've mentioned more than once that I'm just a little too tenderhearted these days to cope with anything more than the baby I've already got that's crisscrossing and wrapping my heartstrings every which way and through the house and under the couch and between me and her and up alongside her daddy and back out to the nearest fence post.

But I persevered. I read it anyway...all the way to the last picture, in only about three days.

And I didn't even drop it in the bathtub one time.

Tangent: I'm telling you, that is one place where you just CANnot take your Nook or your phone to read. I tried it once, and the visions of my phone slipping from my fingers and into the warm water, where it would quietly float while it electrocuted itself and erased everything, were enough to freeze me with fear. Never. Again.

Back to the book: It was very good, and the glossy, picture-filled pages made it really easy to read in a big hurry. All I could think at the end, though, was how in the world did she have the time and the energy to commit so much to her new world of Down Syndrome? Most days, I'm amazed I had time to match my clothes.

There are so many mundane things that I have trouble fitting in...how would I ever plow through something so momentous with such passion? I can't even find time to exercise or cook better suppers. (I blame that last part on my mama. That nightly, home-cooked supper that tasted so good has become a standard that chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, and leftover chicken and dumplings from the crockpot just can't reach.)

And now I'm seriously hungry for chicken and dumplings...even from the crockpot.

Or one of those deli-style sandwiches from Subway with a bag of BBQ tater chips.

Reigning it back in now, thanks.

My overall assesment, for all it's worth...it's a good book, it's a beautiful family, it's a touching legacy for her daughter, and it's going to make you cry a waterfall if you relate it to your own baby.

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