Book Review: I am Hutterite AND Giveaway!!

Booksneeze.com sent me a copy of Mary-Ann Kirkby's I am Hutterite to read and review, and I must say, I was pleasantly surprised.

I adore memoirs, but you never really can tell ... I mean, it seems like everyone is writing their memoir these days, and you have to figure that not ALL of them have the most interesting things to say and it is hard to be a "good" writer.

Anyway, I wasn't disappointed with Mary-Ann Kirkby's tale.  Mary-Ann grew up in a religious sect called the Hutterites, which is a branch of Anabaptists who, like the Amish and Mennonites, trace their roots to the Radical Reformation of the 16th century.  The Hutterites embrace community living, absolute pacifism, and living as much like their ancestors would have in 16th century Europe.  Since the Hutterites moved to North America in the 18th and 19th centuries, their population grew from 400 to around 42,000.  Today Hutterites are found in the provinces of Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, and British Colombia, and in the US they reside in North and South Dakota, Minnesota, Washington and Montana.

The book started off a little shaky, and I really couldn't hear Mary-Ann's voice, as she began by telling her mother's story, but it soon picks up, and I was engrossed.  She begins with her father and mother meeting and getting married, followed by her "charmed" community life, and finally being moved out of the community and facing the "English" world.

While at times the first half is hard to read with all the Hutterisch phrases (which are sometimes followed by and English translation and sometimes NOT), the story keeps you going.  I had a real attachment to Mary-Ann by the second half of the book, and my heart broke as she struggled to fit in at school.  My only other complaint is that the book is so careful and slow and detailed, but then it just ENDS.  She's in the middle of a narrative, and then, BAM, epilogue.  I guess it's hard to end a memoir when you went on living for so long after the part you need to tell ends, but it rubbed me the wrong way.

Overall, I would definitely recommend it.  In fact, one of you lucky bitches or bastards could have this book show up in your mailbox compliments of ME!  Here's the deal: since religious sects are usually seen as cults (not to say that the Hutterites are a cult, but you get what I mean!), to enter this giveaway, respond in the comments section with why YOU would be a great cult leader.  The best answer WINS!  Just be sure to leave your e-mail address so I can contact you and get your mailing address.

YAY!  A giveaway!  I must be like, the nicest person on the planet.  Or something.

Sexy Time in the News: A New Use for Scissors

People have their own little rituals.  I, for example, have a very specific order in which I use my shower products: 1.  Shampoo, 2.  Conditioner, 3. Shaving products, 4.  Body wash, 5.  Rinse conditioner, 6.  Face Wash.  If I deviate, then I am UNCLEAN and must start over.  Not really, but I get all mad at myself and the day is ruined before it starts.


People have post-coitus rituals as well.  Snuggling, eating, sleeping, stabbing.  You know, the usual.


Yeah, some people stab.  Michelle Thomas, 26, a Texas resident, was not satisfied with a sexual experience provided by her common-law husband on May 4th.  Instead of the silent treatment, she went for the scissors treatment, and began stabbing the crap out of him.  


That must have been one HECK of a disappointing sexual encounter.  I mean, I say I am feeling stabby all the time, but I have yet to cross that threshold into BEING stabby.  And I have never felt stabby after sex.  Maybe I'm just lucky.


Anyway, here are the two best parts:


1.  He refused to press charges.
2.  THIS is her mug shot:

Would you be grinning like that after stabbing your sexually-inadequate common-law husband?  Wait.  Don't answer that question.


At least now I know what neighborhood kid's parents are doing instead of watching him and teaching him about stranger danger.

RESULTS! And a SURPRISE ENDING!!!

So, remember how my ONE birthday wish was to get a doggy DNA test? And remember how my mom read my blog and bought me one?  And remember how TOTALLY normal people request things like doggy DNA tests all the time and it is totally not weird or lame or strange?  Well, we GOT IT and USED IT!


What?  You don't care what my mixed breed dog is made of?  Well, guess what?  It's MY freakin' blog, and it is RESULTS DAY!

She looks wary.  Maybe she isn't ready to learn who her daddy is?

Too bad, because *I* am.  We already knew that the test had a swab that we used to get cells from the inside of her cheeks, just like a human DNA test, but then we read the instructions, and we needed to get TWO swabs and those swabs had to be rubbed inside her mouth for TEN SECONDS EACH with one hand pressing on the outside of her cheek to get pressure and ensure lots of cells rubbed off onto the swab.

Guess what dogs don't like?  Yeah, someone shoving a huge q-tip in their mouth and rubbing it around for extended periods of time.

We have a super good dog, so she put up with it ...

"Woman, this just ain't right."

... for the first 18 seconds that is.  When we had two seconds of rubbing left (twss), she stopped playing along.

I decided DNA was more important than the comfort of my dog, so headlocks ensued.  Also, you get a bonus boob shot.  YOU'RE WELCOME.

In the end, I persevered over a squirmy dog:

We waited patiently for like a bazillion years (or two and a half weeks) and then we got the results in a large, important looking envelope in the mail. Just like I got when I was trying to determine the father of MY baby ... that might be a better story for later.  And Jeremy, if you're reading this, just ignore that part.


We knew that Cleo was predominantly a black lab, but with ears like this ...

and a tail like this ...

and a huge mane around her neck like this ...

and the fact that she weighs about 40 pounds less than a pure bred lab, we were excited.  And now we know.  Hold onto your panties.

=

(duh, Black Labrador Retriever)

+

(CHOW CHOW!)

+

(and ENGLISH SPRINGER SPANIEL!)

Okay, I think this conclusion is fascinating enough, but I have the feeling that some of you will not be all that interested.  So, I will ALSO reveal the REAL FATHER OF MY UNBORN CHILD!!!!

Ready?

Robert Downey, Jr., you ... ARE the father (Shouts and cheers from the Maury crowd.  Robert and I embrace.)

She's gonna be so beautiful ...

Cake-tastic

My mom told me to decide what kind of cake I wanted for my baby shower, and I was sure a Google image search would not disappoint.  Boy, was I right.  I found the WORLD'S WORST BABY SHOWER CAKE.  It is amazing and horrible, and I wanted to show it to you in all its glory, but instead I had to put up censor bars so as not to scar the sensibilites of my gentle readers. 

You migt be thinking at this point, censor bars on a BABY SHOWER cake?  Yeah, well.  You'll see ...

.

.

.

.

.

.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

BAM!

I told you it was something.  (If you're dying to see the original, click here)

So, what to do after finding the world's worst cake?  Find the best cake molds!!  I could shower you with amazing and impossible-to-recreate cakes, but I thought I would instead share cakes you can actually make.  I should probably be getting a cut of all sales that result from this post.  Note to self: contact companies demanding money.

Okay, on to my new favorite cake pans.

Here is one that you might have already seen, but I think it is worth highlighting:

 Wilton Giant Cupcake Cake, $24.99

Seriously, who doesn't love cupcakes?  And we all know making things giant is MONEY.  I can see this sitting in front of a one-year-old on his/her birthday as easily as I can see it at grandma's birthday bash.  Versitile AND delicious.  Killer.


Speaking of making giant sweets out of other sweets:

 Oreo Cookie Pan, $29.95

YUM!  It begs to be picked up and eaten like a giant Oreo.  I would really enjoy seeing that.


This last cake follows on the theme of giant things and also made me think of my husband:

Cakewich, $22.99

OH YEAH (in a Mac voice from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia)!  The fillings can be anything your heart desires, so all kinds of taste sensations could spring from this cake!  It also begs to be picked up and eaten.  Fan-bloody-tastic.


I still need to decide what my baby shower cake will look like, but I am leaning toward all four of these cakes at once.

Stranger Danger: A Passing Fad?

There is a knock on the door at 8 PM.  Since I am pregnant, I convince Jeremy to answer the door (*evil laugh*).  You will never EVER be able to guess what happens next, not in a million years, even if you are a witch.  

A kid is standing at our door, and says, "Hey, do you know a kid named Marty?"  Jeremy answers, "Umm, no?"  The kid, who was definitely under the age of ten and unattended says, "I think he lives somewhere around here, so I am just going door-to-door looking for him."

Does this sound STUPID and WRONG to anyone else?  I mean, we don't live in the Gaza Strip or anything, but we live in a city.  A city that has murderers and rapists and pedophiles living in it.  I don't know any personally, but statistics say they exist.  My neighbors are great (minus Crazy Lady, of course), but I can't vouch for anyone who lives beyond a two-house radius from me.  Would you want your child knocking on random doors, alone, at night?  I would NOT.  So, I told Jeremy maybe we should do something about it.

Jeremy:  Like what?

Veronica:  Shouldn't we teach this kid a lesson?

Jeremy:  Dear God.  How would we teach this child a lesson WITHOUT getting arrested as a result?

Veronica:  *pondering*  Call him back to the house, invite him in, and then tell him that we COULD have been killers, and now that he was in the house, we could have killed him and no one would be able to save him?

Jeremy:  And how would that NOT get us arrested after the kid ran home and told him mom and dad what you said?

Veronica:  What WE said.

Jeremy:  Oh, hell no.  You are on your own.

Veronica:  Don't you think it is important to educate our youth?  It takes a village, Jeremy. A  VILLAGE.

Jeremy:  I feel like it is natural selection.  If that kid is dumb enough to do that and gets killed, then ...

Veronica:  Jeremy!!!  You are so cruel!!

Jeremy:  You were JUST telling me we should tell this stupid kid we are going to kill him, and now you are defending him?

Veronica:  You know I think natural selection should only apply to adults.  It is not his fault he is an idiot and unaware of stranger danger and is allowed to roam city streets by himself, looking for danger.  Clearly the adults in his life have failed him.  Which is why we -- the VILLAGE -- need to take him under our wings and save him from his parents.

Jeremy:  I have a baseball game to watch, so if you are done talking about killing neighbor kids ... (*walks away*)

Isn't stranger danger still something that people are frightening their children with?  I remember listening to the cassette tape "The Safety Kids" so many times that we wore out a copy and my mom rushed out to buy a new one the same day ("We're gonna be smart / And we're gonna be CAREFUL. / We're gonna be the Safety Kids./ Learn the rules / and YOU can be one TOO! / Kids like me ... / Kids like YOU!").  


I also have VIVID memories of a Winnie the Pooh VHS that taught me to be "too smart for strangers" while traumatizing me.  I can't be sure if this was a real part of the video or something my terrified mind added in, but I remember a kid thinking it was okay to be alone with an adult because the adult was a doctor, and therefore safe, but the doctor was NOT SAFE and that child was NOT TOO SMART FOR STRANGERS and OH MY GOD, my doctor is so nice!  Is he going to use Not-Okay Touching?!?!

Long story short, my mom scared me appropriately, and I was never snatched, hurt, or sold to human traffickers (though my dad threatened to sell us to gypsies roughly every other day).  I can't say the same for kids around here, however.  When will scaring kids be in vogue again?