12 Books to Read After The Hunger Games

After 5 weeks of working with the youth in our church, they finally had their performance a few weeks ago. It was a skit based on The Hunger Games, and they did a great job-- writing, acting, and choreographing the majority of it themselves.

Of course, I --like nearly everyone out there-- read and loved The Hunger Games. I tend to like dystopian novels in general. In fact, I've read so many that I thought I'd put together a little list of recommendations for those of you itching for something to read after burning through The Hunger Games trilogy. This is by no means a comprehensive list, but it should provide a good starting point {and who doesn't like a good book to read during a long holiday weekend?}

12 Books to Read After the Hunger Games:

fig.1  The Adoration of Jenna Fox by Mary Pearson-- a quick, not altogether unpredictable read, but quite enjoyable anyway.

fig.2  The Compound by SA Bodeen-- a tale of an uber rich family living in an underground compound after a nuclear holocaust.

fig.3  The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan-- this is a series, but the first book is the best. It has zombies. Enough said.

fig.4  Gone by Michael Grant-- one day everyone over the age of 15 disappears. It's like Lord of the Flies with a sci-fi twist. Plus it's an ongoing series, which ups the addiction factor.

fig.5  Life As We Knew It by Susan Beth Pfeffer-- The Moon is knocked into a closer orbit with Earth. Panic and death ensue. Good times.

fig. 6  Matched by Ally Condie-- Life is perfect until it isn't. Dystopian in the vein of Fahrenheit 451. 

fig.7  The Maze Runner by James Dashner-- This ongoing series keeps you guessing. Who's in charge? And just what are their motives?

fig.8  Ship Breaker by Paolo Bacigalupi-- unflinching account of boy living in a world where resources are limited and government has broken down.

fig.9  Tomorrow, When the War Began by John Marsden-- this is possibly my favorite 'end of the world as we know it' series. A group of New Zealand teenagers form a guerilla resistance group when they come home from camping in the bush only to find that their country has been taken over by invaders. Violent and suspenseful.

fig.10  Uglies by Scott Westerfeld-- the strength of this series is its premise and the questions it raises about beauty and self-worth {the plot is unfocused and meanders aggravatingly}.  

fig.11  Wither by Lauren DeStefano-- a world where everyone dies young.

fig.12  Z is for Zachariah by Robert O'Brien-- Chilling. A young girl believes that she's the last living human being on Earth after a nuclear war. Then one day, there's campfire smoke on the horizon.


Have a great weekend, all!

{if anyone has the source for the "May the odds be ever in your favor' image, please drop me a line!}

The Olive Mill

Over the weekend, I stopped by one of my all-time favorite local spots, the Queen Creek Olive Mill. I was hoping to stock up on vegetables at the Farmer's Market being held there, but discovered that they'd shut down last week for the summer. :(

Nevertheless, The Olive Mill didn't fail to enchant. With their cafe offerings, stuffed olive samplings, and endless array of delicious olive oils, I was soon spooning gelato and adding to my collection of infused cooking oils. I never thought I'd find so many uses for all these olive oils, but each has become a necessity in my kitchen!

I use the mayer lemon oil for crepes, the roasted garlic for pasta and savory dishes,  the blood orange for cupcakes and salad dressing, the key lime for mexican food, and the dipping oil is perfect over caprese salad.

I know I've written about The Olive Mill before, but I just never get tired of visiting. It's thrilling to me that such an upscale resource is available locally. It's like having a tiny piece of what I used to experience in Seattle come find me here in Arizona. :)

Furthermore, how can I not love a place that makes chocolate olive oil?! Heaven! I'll be using this over the weekend to make some special no-bake cookies. {recipe coming soon!}

Do you have any amazing resources nearby? I used to feel that ours were super-limited, but after doing some digging, I've really fallen in love with our area. :)

Refrigerator Art

E is our little artist.

Over the weekend, apparently he decided that I wasn't doing enough to display his masterpieces and took it upon himself to cover our entire refrigerator with his artwork. I could barely stand it! {I lean towards minimalism, and papers on the refrigerator have always read as visual clutter to me.}

I managed to put up with it for three days before limiting him to two or three, but the message was loud and clear. I just need to put up a gallery system or bulletin board in his room so he can display and rotate his artwork at his leisure... and far away from my refrigerator. :)

Are your children as deprived as mine, forced to live in a sterile, decorated space? Or do they have free range over your fridgidair? Please tell me I'm not alone!

Coconut-Chocolate-Almond Macaroons

I've been on a form of the South Beach diet for the last 3-4 weeks, and have loved the way it's transformed my body, quelled my carbohydrate cravings and reinvigorated my passion for local, organic, unprocessed food. It's become commonplace to fill 75% of my plate with vegetables, which not only is slightly miraculous for this self proclaimed bread-addict, it's also led me to believe I need to plant a much bigger garden!

However, I'm still a chocoholic at heart, and sugar-free fudgesicles were just not cutting it. It was time to find something more satisfying and more nutritious. So naturally, I turned to hAha's Foodie Board on Pinterest. {She always finds the best recipes with whole, real-food ingredients!}

My eye was immediately drawn to the Coconut-Chocolatet-Almond Macaroons, adapted from this recipe by Red & Honey. Not only is it free of refined flours and sugars, it's packed with healthy oils, enzymes from the honey, and antioxidants from the cocoa. The resulting macaroon is so rich and decadent, a little goes a long way towards satisfying even the most fierce chocolate cravings- I've only ever needed one. Plus, did I mention they're no bake?

Melt the honey and coconut oil in a saucepan over low heat. Add salt and vanilla extract, stir. In a separate bowl, mix shredded coconut, almond meal {you can make almond meal by pulsing raw almonds in a blender or food processor} and cocoa, then gradually incorporate into your honey mixture. When well blended, plop spoonfulls into a bowl of almond meal. Coat well, then place on a cookie sheet lined with waxed paper. Store cookie sheet in the freezer for 20 minutes or until macaroons are firm. Voila!

Take a bite and revel in the dark-chocolate, sea-salt tinged, coconut-almond joyousness. {unless you're my kids, in which case you take a bite and complain that they're 'bitter' and 'stringy'. To each his own.} Enjoy!

Second Just to Being Born

E is in such a gangly-awkward phase. Gaps in his smile. High-water jeans. Temper tantrums one moment and astonishing seriousness the next. I don't envy him. Despite all the talk of care-free childhoods, I'm well aware that growing up is hard work. I find it staggering how quickly their bodies and minds grow and change.

The other day, for no apparent reason, E tenderly put his arm around L and offered to buy him a treat with his own money. I watched in silent awe as he patiently pointed out the various sweets on display in the vending machine, waited for L to pick one out, paid for it himself and handed it over. Most days, E can be vicious to L, seemingly taking out all his frustrations with the world on his younger brother. It kills me to see it, knowing as I do how close they could and should be. But he's been steadily working on it, the same way he's worked on controlling his anger, learning to read, and trying new foods {annoyed as he is with our mantra, "a picky eater is always hungry"}.

Last Sunday, he stepped up in front of the entire congregation and shared his testimony. I listened from the hallway {unable to sit through Sacrament meeting with a screaming Baby R in my lap} and marveled at his carefully composed, unprompted remarks. Next year he will turn 8 years old and be baptized. It boggles the mind!

What happened to that little baby that could only sleep while laying on my chest? The toddler with the shock of reddish hair that was so gorgeous, I cried when I accidentally cut it too short? The tiny little boy that was so skinny, his pants were always falling down?

Everyone says it, but it's heartbreakingly true: they grow up so fast.

Extra Chores + Free Printables

Now that J has steady employment, we've been discussing how to handle the issue of allowance with the kids. In the past, we gave them a small weekly sum simply to teach them how money works {and to stave off the gimme's that always struck while going through the check out at the grocery store} but now that they're older, we feel they're ready to earn their money, as well as become serious about paying their tithing and putting away savings. 

We discussed which household tasks {separate from their daily chores} we'd be willing to pay for, then made up a reference chart with the appropriate sums. We also decided we wanted to put them on an old fashioned envelope system: each child having an envelope for giving {10%}, saving {10%} and spending. 

Instead of paper envelopes {which wouldn't last 24 hours in this household}, I found several inexpensive mesh cosmetic bags in the dollar section at Target and bought blue for the boys, pink for Little Miss C. I then made color-coded 'Give', 'Save', and 'Spend' tags {a different color for each child, corresponding with their color coded chore charts-- geeky, I know}, laminated them, and placed them inside the mesh bags.

Next, I hung them in the pantry + command center with the chore charts.

I've talked about their chore charts in a previous post, but made a modified version for their extra chores. Each time they do an extra chore, we write down what the task was, how much they earned, and on which day the task was completed.

Once a week {after Family Home Evening} we add up their totals and they get paid, immediately placing the appropriate amounts in their corresponding envelopes.

It's only been a week so far, but so far they're so excited to earn money that they've glossed over the fact that we don't give them an allowance any more. :) Orderly stuff like this makes me ridiculously happy.

What about you? Do you give your children an allowance? Have them earn it? Do you put a cap on what they can earn {like we do-- or we'd go broke}? Do tell.

PS If you like, you can print the modified chore charts here or the Give, Save, Spend tags here.

How to Take Care of Me

I don't know how to take care of you, J exclaimed in frustration. I know I should be sympathetic, but instead I just feel mad.

He had a right to be.  I knew that.

I'd gone off my medication and had {predictably} sunk into a depression. He was upset with how easily my current pain could have been prevented, but I was too trapped by my own paralyzing feelings to try and handle his as well. 


Don't kick me when I'm down, I thought. If you can't love me right now, just leave me alone.


Days passed. I got better and our pseudo-argument faded into a non-conversation, the way so many items of conflict do.

***

Last week as I drove down the US-60 to pick up the older children from school, a car ahead of me blew a tire, skidded across two lanes of traffic and flipped before slamming into a barrier and ejecting a passenger. All I saw was the smoke from the tires and a sea of brake lights, but I pulled to the side and ran to help.

When I arrived on the scene, an older woman who had witnessed the accident was standing in the road, hysterical. I put my arms around her and walked her to her car, murmuring comforting words and telling her to breathe, just breathe. She pointed to the young woman lying in the street, saying, it's terrible so terrible and why don't they stop? Why don't they help? There were, in fact, a pair of women crouched over the bleeding form, but I settled her into her car and ran to join them.

The girl was alert but confused and bleeding from multiple head wounds. We took our shirts and jackets to wrap her head, then carefully put a layer of clothing underneath her to protect her from the burning asphalt. She begged for us to move her to the shade, but we used our bodies to shield her from the sun instead and distracted her with talk of sexy firemen coming to her rescue. She kept forgetting where she was, asking what happened and who was traveling with her and where was her mother?

I left her briefly to peer into the wreckage of the car where another young woman was crying and cradling her shoulder, but otherwise unhurt. It was obvious that neither of them had used safety belts. Fools, I thought as I asked her name and told her sit tight, help is on the way. 

Once more crouching over the first girl, I held her hand as another woman dialed her mother, gently informed her of the accident and then held the phone to the girl's ear as she sobbed into it. My heart hurt for that mother.

Am I dying? the girl asked me. No, sweetheart, I answered, no.

Not long after, police cars and fire trucks pulled up with sirens wailing. I relinquished my hold on her hand as the paramedics took over, then walked to my car and slowly pulled back into traffic. I was short a jacket but in all other respects, it was as if nothing had happened. Just a surreal and horrific dream.

But for days afterwards, I found myself checking and re-checking that my children's safety belts were fastened. It became so compulsive that in exasperation, E sighed and asked, are you still thinking about the car crash? 

Yes, yes I was.

I pictured my children launching from their seats, lying crumpled in the road and I got angry at those girls. I was angry that they hadn't been buckled, that they hadn't prevented their injuries and that their mothers had received those dreaded phone calls. I know I should feel sympathetic but instead I just feel mad. 


***


I hate taking that little pill every day. I hate the mocking tone it uses as it tells me that I'm not enough on my own, that I'm weak and broken and damaged. I hate that sometimes, though it lessens my lows it also lessens my highs, until I feel like I'm floating through life feeling just okay, with no passion or spark or creativity.

I realize now that as much as I hate it,  it's a safety belt, and I love my family too much to leave them with the aftermath of a crash.

But please, if I do end up confused and crying on the asphalt? Don't be angry. Just hold me and tell me that as much as it feels as though I am, I'm not going to die.


No, sweetheart, no.

{images from our NY trip 4/2009}