Worth A Read Hard Pass Length 386 Quick Review A tale as old as time. Who knew the hate being felt from/for someone was just a big misunderstanding and just love in disguise…
The Hating Gameby Sally Thorne is not a romantic love story but a cautionary tale. It was stupid, archaic, toxic, and quite frankly set women back seventy years. Part of me wants to be shocked that “love” stories like this are still getting published, but I’m too realistic for that. I don’t know why women read this stuff and what it is they find attractive about a tall asshole. These are not the kind of relationships we should be glorifying. There’s far more interesting and sexy things to read than this troped up, crap novel.
Lucy and Joshua sit next to each other after a merger between two publishing houses. They hate each other and are up for the same promotion. They’re complete opposites. She’s super short, bubbly, and sweet. He’s cold, calculated, and rude. Gasp! Circumstances bring them together, and oh my God, they’re attracted to each other.
By page 50, I was utterly exhausted from reading how short Lucy was in comparison to how tall and masculine Joshua was. It was boring and cliché at the best of times.
The entire premise of The Hating Gamerides on the back of the kindergarten playground advice given to young girls: “He’s mean to you because he likes you.” I’m pretty sure we’ve realized how that sets girls up for complicated relationships with attraction at best and abusive and violent relationships at worst.
I kept seeing how great this book was… I don’t get it. It’s kind of funny, but the problematic plot and characters are impossible for me to get passed. The fact the plot is beyond formulaic and predictable almost doesn’t even register due to the toxic relationship between Lucy and Joshua. Honestly, if your friend were to come and tell you all of these things Lucy went through in real time, you would never encourage her to have a relationship with that man. I doubt Joshua’s friends would encourage him to be with Lucy because she wasn’t so great to him either. Love does not and should never wash away the toxic, problematic, or rude interactions leading up to feelings.
Had The Hating Gameended with a good, long visit to a therapist instead of unrealistic sex (I know it’s a novel, no one wants realistic sex in novels) with boring and problematic co-worker, I would have liked it more. If you ever find yourself in Lucy’s position, go to a therapist instead of on a date. You deserve better. Lucy deserves better. Joshua deserves better. These two should never date.
Memorable Quotes “I’m not about to be ravished. No one boils water before-hand [sex], except maybe in the Middle Ages.”
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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Title: The Hating Game Author: Sally Thorne Publisher: William Morrow (HarperCollins) Copyright: 2016 ISBN: 9780062439598
I’m sure Freud has something to say about that title.
When we’re children, we stick everything in our mouths because that’s one way we learn. It’s also evolution’s way of weeding out the real dummies. Kidding. As adults, we are more fastidious about what we shove into our mouths. But there’s really only one way to know if you’ll like it or not: open up and let your tongue decide.
Bland Indian Food This deserves to be number one for a reason!!! (The rest are not in numerical order, but this one is.) Bland should never be an adjective for Indian food. They just don’t go together. But I have had bland Indian food, and it was the most disappointing thing I’ve ever experienced. It hurt my soul and sent me to Yelp, which never happens. Zero stars. Go somewhere else.
Bad Banana Bread Is there anything worse? Absolutely, but this is disappointing. Dry banana bread is the most disappointing, but I made bad banana bread a couple weeks ago. (Pictured) It was totally done on the outside yet pudding-like on the inside. Why? Because I ran out of regular flour and used whole wheat flour to finish it off. Nope. Doesn’t work. Don’t do it. DISAPPOINTING.
“World’s Best [anything]” It’s not. They just put it on the sign to make you stop and steal your money with their disappointing world’s not best whatever.
This One Dude in College I’ll keep it at: disappointment. Wherever your mind wandered, subtract all of the inches and it’s still more than what it was.
Anything Chocolate Chip When You’re Expecting Blueberry I’m weird. I don’t like chocolate chip muffins or cookies or really anything. It’s such a disappointment when it turns out to be chocolate instead of blueberry, which I don’t love, but give me a free muffin, I will take it.
Post Five Second Rule In my house, if it hits the floor, it’s the dogs’. There is too much puppy glitter – aka dog hair – for me to put anything in my mouth once it hits the ground. I found this out the hard way. Water only does so much.
Dog Treats That Look Like Human Cookies I love giving my dog pretty treats. They deserve nice things too. But when I grab a cookie out of a jar, I want it to be a human cookie. Label that shit!
Tea Bags I mean tea bags with tea in them not the other thing that dudes do [Although, that’s pretty disappointing to have in your mouth too. Balls!]. Once you’ve gotten used to that high roller life of loose leaf tea, tea bags are just not so good.
Cilantro Everything There’s a genetic component in this one, which doesn’t apply to me. Cilantro doesn’t taste like soap to me; I just don’t love it. I don’t hate it, but it is a continual let down because it’s never as good as people say it is.
Folgers My high school AP U.S. History teacher (Mr. Mooney was the best) referred to this as the F word. He’d rather hear “fuck” than “Folgers” in his classroom; neither were encouraged. It’s not the best part of waking up. Don’t lie to me like that Folgers.
Real Milk When You Ordered Almond Milk This is disappointing because it tastes so good and you realize it tastes so good because the barista did it wrong and gave you the thing you can’t have instead of the less good thing you can have, and it’s the worst because you think, “Man, they have some bomb almond milk” only to realize “Nope, almond milk still tastes like almond milk, and this is good because fat.”
bisous und объятий, RaeAnna
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Celebrating PRIDE and the first few weeks in our house.Honestly, it’s amazing we made it through this year.
WE BOUGHT A HOUSE FOR OUR DOGS
I’m not even kidding.
We took possession and moved into our new home on May 29. I wish I could tell you that buying this house was a fairytale of magical bliss that brought us closer together. I would be lying.
IT WAS HELL!!!!!
If I never ever ever buy another house again ever, it will be too soon.
Dylan has been itching to buy a house since before we even met. I have been on the opposite side of the spectrum: I like apartment living. After three and a half years in an apartment, I finally gave in. He and I talked and talked and talked about it for about ten months. Should we? Were we ready? How would it work financially? Did we even like each other enough to buy a house together (the jury is still out on that one some days)? Also where would we buy a house? What did we want in a house? What did we NOT want in a house? In my mind, I’m nowhere near old enough to own a house. The bank disagreed with me, and gave us money to buy one eventually – more on that later.
This is a long and hellish story. Living it was something I hope to never experience again in my life. Granted, a lot of unique situations were at play.
In January, we found our realtor through my best friend. Michelle Miller is an angel. Honestly. She was sent to us by the great beyond to help us through this horrible experience, fight for us, assure us, keep us from killing each other, and be an absolute boss-babe Goddess. If you’re in Houston and wanting to buy a house, let me know, I will give you her information. She is AMAZING. I could write an entire love letter to her because I think she is just about the best human on this planet. We would not have made it through this without her.
I would not suggest EVER getting a mortgage through NAVY FEDERAL. Don’t do it. DO NOT DO IT. It was a miserable, horrible, terrible, anxiety-inducing, anger-filled experience. I cannot dissuade you enough.
It took us two months to get pre-approved for a mortgage. It should have taken a few days, tops. We kept getting denied. Which was very confusing because we were asking for less money than we knew we should get approved for. After changing loan officers, we found out the reason we weren’t getting approved is because the first one fucked up the paperwork SO bad. We were denied because he had tripled our debt and quartered our income. Well, obviously we didn’t get the loan under those circumstances because we wouldn’t have been able to afford oxygen. We eventually found out, the paperwork was saying the house wouldn’t be our primary residence… again, why would we buy our first house to not live in it? He was the WORST. Our second loan officer seemed better. We’ll circle back to her.
After two months of Michelle checking in to see how we were coming and two months of us being frustrated out of our minds because people suck, we were pre-approved!
It is now the end of February. On the day we received our pre-approval, I found a very pregnant Tess on the side of the road. We decided to keep her and take on the puppies because we knew we would be in a house within two months… (I’m rolling my eyes and face palming and sighing at my own naïveté on that one). We SHOULD have been in our house a month and a half lalter, but life had other things in store for us.
As happy and blessed as I am to have Tess and all thirteen puppies in my life, they made buying a house so much more stressful. I wouldn’t change anything because my life has so much more love in it, but it was hard and stressful. There was only so long we would be able to hide the existence of these puppies from our apartment complex before we needed to move into a house. The clock was ticking. Our lease on our apartment was also up at the beginning of April.
Dylan and I spent two days looking at the properties that fit our criteria. Which for me was: a space for a home office, a fenced in backyard for Beau and Tess (and eventually the puppies we were not planning on keeping but kept anyways!), and a Houston address. Dylan’s list included: two car garage, four bedrooms, a big house, updated, super awesome master bathroom, not a fixer upper, a place for him to game, room for his race car, room for his motorcycle, space in the garage to work, solar panels if possible, a big driveway, and more. He did actually get everything he wanted except solar panels. I got what I wanted too, which was easier because my list was short. We picked three houses to look at that would be perfect for us for the next few years. We were not looking for a forever home; we were looking for a fur-now-because-we-are-desperate house. We talked to Michelle, scheduled a day to look at houses and told her time was of the essence.
We’re in the first week of March. COVID was in the news. It was starting to be in the world, but it wasn’t a huge deal yet.
We looked at three houses. House number three was a four bedroom, relatively new house, with a decent backyard, recently renovated cookie cutter house in a newer subdivision. We didn’t really want a cookie cutter, new subdivision house. We like quirk. We like funk. We like trees. But, we needed a house. It was decently priced, and it had been on the market for just long enough, we hoped they would be happy to sell especially with the COVID shadow starting to loom. We put in an offer that day. They countered the next morning. We countered. We didn’t hear anything. We waited for four days… I had a feeling of foreboding the entire time, which has always been the precursor to bad news. The owners decided to go with another offer and never told us.
Michelle felt HORRIBLE. It wasn’t her fault. The sellers and their realtors were crapwads. Those four days were precious because the puppies were now outside their mama, and the clock was ticking. We weren’t heartbroken about that house because we weren’t in love with it, but we were in love with not being homeless. We needed a place to live, and our lease was up soon. Michelle told us to pick a gazillion houses and we would look at all of them the next day. So we did. We had wanted to be picky and keep the list small, but we were running out of time. I talked to the apartment and extended our lease three months. Thank God.
The next day, we looked at twelve houses. None of them were right. The next day, we looked at seven. I had almost made the executive decision to not go see the very first house on the second day, but Dylan said he wanted to. We walked through it, Dylan had the warm fuzzy feeling. I was being overwhelmed by anxiety and taken over by foreboding. Nothing felt right or good. Something was wrong or going to go wrong, I just didn’t know what that was. Dylan made a solid argument for the first house from the second day. I said “fine.” I didn’t care as long as we were going to have a place to live.
Our house had been on the market for 123 days when we put an offer in. The family that owned it were also military, so I played up Dylan’s 100% disabled veteran card a whole lot in our letter. I am not above using the truth to our advantage. Thank God I did. They liked us. They wanted to sell to us. After a little back and forth and Michelle being a badass, she got us an amazing deal in a super timely fashion. They accepted our offer. We had 45 days until we would take possession. That meant the puppies would be ten weeks old when we moved into the house. I would have to figure out somewhere for us to live for three-ish weeks once they turned six weeks old and were too big to be hidden.
We had the inspection done and all that jazz. Awesome. Things were moving along.
Pretty much as soon as they accepted our offer, COVID started being a really serious issue. Things were closing. People were staying at home. Quarantine was put in place. Masks were being mandated. Things were changing very quickly. Luckily for us, all the physical, in-person things were taken care of. We were assured nothing would keep us from moving in on May 4, our closing date. We had done everything we needed to do. It was the bank’s turn to get their ducks in a row.
The puppies and I and Tess and Beau and Dylan lived in our apartment until they were five weeks old and too old and big to hide and cover up the noise. There was a two pet rule in our apartment; we were thirteen over. Woops. I’m a rule breaker when I have to be. When it became too much for our apartment, we moved in with my best friend, Amanda the Saint, for three and a half weeks until we closed on the house and moved in on May 4! Yay…
Kidding.
COVID had turned the world upside down. We were lucky in a lot of ways, but it fucked some things up for us. Dylan did end up losing his job. The bigger problem was NAVY FEDERAL AND OUR LOAN OFFICER NOT DOING HER FUCKING JOB. Two days before we were supposed to close, we found out through a very round-about way that we weren’t going to close on time. We had to track down our loan officer’s boss – because our loan officer had a very bad habit of never picking up her phone and taking DAYS to call us back – to find out what was happening and why we weren’t closing on time. Also… I’m going to be fucking homeless with fifteen dogs in two days. Turns out, our loan officer didn’t do the paperwork she was supposed to do so we could close, which meant the potentiality of being homeless, living under an underpass with FIFTEEN dogs.
Michelle worked her magic and found a way to convince the sellers that we would move Heaven and Earth to figure this shit out and buy the house from them. They agreed to give us a three week extension. All they wanted was to sell their house and get their money. All we wanted was to buy their house and give them our money. But the bank didn’t want to do their goddamn job, so that they could take our money.
My dad flew down on Sunday to help me drive to Iowa with the thirteen puppies and Tess. Holy fuck, that was a horrible drive to Iowa. It was gross and disgusting. I should really write that story because yuck. I was going to Iowa for at least three weeks. If things didn’t get figured out with the house in that period of time, I would be in Iowa until we could figure something else out or find a new house. So you know… I would be living with my parents.
I was homeless with fourteen dogs. Beau stayed with Dylan, whose job was to pack up everything in the apartment. He got the luxury end of that deal.
After a really long and frustrating and fucked up process, we finally got the go-ahead to close on the house on Friday, May 29. I had been in Iowa for a month. My dad and I left Friday morning super early. We weren’t sure we were going to get the keys to the house that day, though. So we were driving to Houston on a hope and a prayer. Dylan got the keys at 5:00 pm. Dad and I were driving straight to the house and would get in at 10:30. Dylan would meet us at the house with Beau where he would have the air mattress set up for my dad, blankets for us, shower stuff so we could shower and go to sleep after a long day in the car. The movers would move everything the next day. We would hand over our keys to the apartment in the nick of time. Things would be golden.
Hahahahahahaha…
Dylan fucked that up.
After fourteen hours of being on the road, I called Dylan to see how things were at 9:30. He didn’t pick up. I kept calling. My dad kept calling. I just knew in my gut, he fucked up. I pulled into the house. The car was nowhere to be found. The lights were off. There was nothing in the house. I drove to the apartment. Keep in mind. We had been on the road for fifteen and a half hours with nine puppies and Tess. They were hungry and bored and ready to stretch their legs. So was I. I banged and banged and banged on the apartment door. He finally woke up. Turns out, he had laid down for a nap after getting the keys without setting an alarm. To say I was pissed is an understatement. I had spent the last three months NOT sleeping, taking care of puppies, and generally not having any kind of life. And on the ONE day I needed him to do ONE thing, he took a nap. When he finally opened the door of the apartment, I walked in to find NOTHING packed. I was ANGRY. Beyond angry. Like I said, I had spent the last three months taking care of the puppies by myself, going without sleep, giving up my life, moving out of town, being homeless, and a whole lot of other things. His ONE job was to pack the apartment. Our lease was up the next day. How the fuck was he going to get it done? He had planned on having the movers do everything, and I was never supposed to know because I was going to be busy at the house with the puppies.
Honestly, it’s a little bit of a miracle that we are still together. I was livid. I was fucking pissed. And tired. Really, really, really tired.
I took the key, the puppies, Beau, Tess, and my dad to the house. We let them run around the backyard and put some food in their bellies. Dylan finally showed up with the air mattress and towels and shower stuff. I looked at Beau. She’s white, but her skin has black spots. It looked like her spots were moving…. The backyard was INFESTED with fleas. I have terrible PTSD that is triggered by bugs. We were laying on the floor in our bedroom, so our bedroom was now infested with fleas. It was pretty much my worst nightmare. It was the exact opposite of the thing I needed that night. I didn’t get to sleep until 3:00 am. The puppies woke me up at 6:00. It was a hellish day.
Dylan and I ended up having a very long conversation, and he apologized for his stupidity. We’re fine now, but I was very upset. He was dealing with his anxiety and depression. He’s not just a lazy, good-for-nothing fuck noodle; he’s got his issues. Between COVID and all that went wrong with the house, we were both basket cases. It was a hard three months for everyone. But it was not the happy closing day where we left all the bad shit behind us that I had hoped for.
We have spent the first month living in our house dealing with life. COVID has made things difficult. I am the kind of person who likes to be unpacked immediately. That didn’t happen here. We’ve had basic life things to deal with like vet check ups, health issues, buying necessary owning-your-first-home items, catching up on sleep because I went without for three months, getting the dogs and puppies acclimated to their new life, and more. A week after moving into the house, four puppies went to their furever homes. The next week, two more went to their furever homes. Two weeks after moving in, we found out one of our A/C units and the furnace needs to be replaced. Three weeks after moving in, the water heater went out. We didn’t have a washer or dryer for the first three and a half weeks, which was terrible because I have a gazillion puppies that make a lot of laundry. We spent three weeks deinfesting the backyard and house of fleas, which we are now flea free. The plumbing had some issues, which cost more money. We need new windows because well yikes. Nothing has been painted, and it desperately needs paint because it’s this horrible purply-gray-taupe color with terrible stenciling. It has been a VERY expensive month. There are still boxes everywhere. The bed isn’t on it’s bed frame. The house is a mess. But we’re not homeless! We love our house and what it will be. The neighborhood is great. Life is starting to get into a new rhythm of normal.
Our family consists of Dylan, Beau, Tess, Makeda, Knight, Bear, Duke, and I. We were only going to keep three puppies, but no one wanted Duke. Which makes me so sad because he is the sweetest little cartoon of a puppy. He has a serious overbite that will take some money and work to make him better and let him live a full and happy life. We love him very, very much.
We took family pictures in front of our house a few weeks ago. All the puppies (except Duke because we didn’t know he was ours at that point), Beau, Tess, Dylan, and I in our rainbow PRIDE outfits, flying our rainbow flag and our Marine flag. We are a military family. We also believe in inclusivity and living your truth. We are a family full of disabilities. Our home is welcoming to all. We accept everyone as they are. Rescues, strays, pregnant mothers, and everything in between. Humans are welcome too. Our home will always be open and loving. It has been a journey getting here. It was hard and stressful. There were a lot of tears and fights, but we made it. Five months ago, we had one dog and lived in an apartment.
Today, we have a house with a big yard that we bought for our SIX dogs.
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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Worth A Read Eh Length 496 Quick Review Anna of Kleve was the fourth wife of Henry VIII, faring better than any who came before or after, but was she hiding a secret love child?
I have a hard time reading historical fiction because I have a LOVE of history. To the point of obsession. I don’t love historical fiction because authors change and add and revise history like it’s their job, – it is – but the problem for me lies in the fact history is ridiculous enough, it doesn’t need changing. I understand making up conversations and filling in the gaps of history, but come on. I like Aliso Weir because she’s an actual historian with numerous historical nonfiction books and biographies published, focusing on the Tudors and other royal figures. She writes popular history, which is more accessible than academic writing for those who enjoy history and don’t want to be bogged down in academese. Her historical fiction is far more factual than most out there. She just knows her shit better.
Within the first few pages of Anna of Kleve, there is a sex scene. For me, it’s not a selling point, but the other 490 pages pretty much steered clear of the graphic sex scenes. Although, I think a lot of people read historical fiction just for the naughty bits.
Anna of Kleve was the fourth wife of King Henry VIII. She was never crowned, but she became a trusted friend of the king and loved by his children. Where his other wives found tragedy, Anna found a friend. Henry fell in love with her portrait, but he was disappointed by the reality he met. Henry famously told Oliver Cromwell, “I liked her before not well, but now I like her much less, for I have felt her belly and her breasts and as I can judge, she should be no maid.” the night after their wedding when he couldn’t or didn’t consummate their marriage. What does this mean? Alison Weir explores the possibility: Anna of Kleve was no virgin, but had a love child before their marriage.
Weir paints a convincing picture in her latest historical fiction novel Anne of Kleve, but is it convincing enough to change the way history views the fourth wife of Henry VIII? I found it interesting and compelling, but not revolutionary. As a student of history, it’s founded on a rumor that is not new. It circulated during Anna’s own time.
It’s a decent book. It took me a while to get through it. I highly suggest Anne of Klevefor lovers of historical fiction. For me, not my favorite.
Memorable Quotes “Men did commonly blame the wife if anything went wrong…” “…he had such a deep-rooted elied in his own righteousness that it would never occur to him that he might have wrecked her life.”
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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Let sleeping dogs lie, so this is the picture we got today for the post. I love this water bottle!
Who rescued who?
Please rescue me!
Just kidding. Kind of. It’s been a long week, and it’s only Wednesday. A lot of things out of my control have gone to shit all of a sudden. It’s been stressful as fuck. Having thirteen puppies is not a regret, but it is, for sure, making everything harder right now. Life is weird in the chaos of the pandemic, and like many, many other people around the world, it has started affecting me and my family. It wouldn’t be quite so devastating if it weren’t for the puppies. Taking care of them is the first priority, and I will do anything and everything to protect and keep them safe. The best thing I can do for them is to love them fiercely, and that’s what I will be doing through this frustrating time. Puppy cuddles may not be a cure to all ills, but they definitely help.
I love the saying ‘Who rescued who?’ In so many ways, it’s true. Rescuing Beau was one of the best choices I ever made for myself and hopefully for her. I don’t know what would have happened to Tess and the babies had I not saw her on the side of the road. Hopefully, someone else would have helped her, but I was able to. The other day it started hailing. All I could think about was what would have happened to them in the horrible weather. I can’t imagine what Tess would have been going through. It makes me sick thinking about it, but I’m here for her and her babies. I was able to rescue them all, and they have given me so much hope and purpose in these crazy times.
Still, feel free to send someone to rescue me right now.
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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If you have a love for art and a desire to not be trapped inside your own home anymore, A Month in Siena by Hisham Matar is a great little book to read. It’s beautiful, inspiring, and consumable in an afternoon.
Matar was drawn to Siena because of the art. After his father died, he found himself immersed in the Sienese School of painting in museums around the world. Over the years, it became a comforting obsession for him. He looked for it everywhere and had a burning desire to explore it more in its home city of Siena, Italy. After publishing The Return, he wanted to center himself and relax, so he made his way to Siena for a month, where he dove head first into the art world and focused on eight significant pieces.
One of my favorite things about reading is the tactility of it. A Month in Siena is a beautiful book with glossy pages and images of some of the notable paintings he mentions within the pages. When talking about art, it’s important to see what is being discussed, and Matar wants the reader to visual immerse themselves in the art as much as he did.
It is more than a memoir or a book about art, it’s a love letter to Siena, to Sienese art, and art history. Matar writes with the confidence of a seasoned writer but with the excitement of a toddler reaching for a favorite sweet. It is evident, he has found himself in the middle of his own personal heaven in Siena. He speaks about getting lost and falling in love with the tangible city instead of the dream he had built up in his mind throughout his life. He fell in love with the city which inspired his beloved art, but he also fell in love with meeting people and unlocking a deeper part of his soul.
The book is beautiful, but you have to have an appreciation and love for art and art history because that is what A Month in Siena is about: Matar’s love for art and the history of the Sienese School of painting. He has a beautiful way of crafting insightful passages, “With every step I pressed deeper into it and, as though in response, it made room.” The sentences create a picture of who he is as a writer but also as a person. He gives meaning to things and the interconnection of everything, “that cities are there in part to render us more intelligent and more intelligible to each other.”
Matar lets the reader into a part of his soul with this tiny memoir. His reverence for art and history come across in every line. I liked reading A Month in Siena, but it’s definitely for a specific demographic of reader.
Memorable Quotes “I remember thinking I did not mind dying – that it would have to come at some point – but that I was not quite ready yet, that dying now would be a waste, given how much time I had s not learning how to live.” “And it must surely follow that what lies behind our longing and nostalgia is exactly this need to be accounted for.”
