things I learned about my dad (in therapy)

Title: things I learned about my dad (in therapy)

Author: Heather B. Armstrong

Pages: 230

Genre: Essays, Parenting

Grade: B+

Synopsis: This is a compilation of 17 essays edited by Heather B. Armstrong (the writer of one of my favorite blogs, dooce.com). The other essayists include her husband and a slew of other bloggers from the infamous worldwide web. While I haven't read much by any of the other authors, I ended up really enjoying most of the essays. They all have to do with being a father, what they learned from their own fathers or just fatherhood in general.

Why I Chose This Book: I've been a big fan of dooce for a long time. Alison knew this and had Heather B. Armstrong sign my book (by sending it in) and gave it to me for Father's Day. She was having a book signing at a bookstore near our apartment but we got there just a few minutes after it had closed. We were bummed that we didn't get to meet her. As fate would have it, the last Saturday that we lived in the village I met her, her husband Jon and their daughter Leta at Dan's on Foothill Boulevard.

My Review: I really like the essays by Heather B. Armstrong and a few of the other bloggers. Unfortunately there were a couple essays that just seemed disjointed and unrelated. I laughed while reading most essays and got a bit teary-eyed during a couple of others. It really was quite interesting to get so many different viewpoints in one little book.

Disclaimer: These essays range anywhere from G-rated to a strong PG-13. Be forewarned.

From the Book: "(p. 23 from "Sam I Am" by Matthew Baldwin) The other contribution I made to the pregnancy was accompanying my wife to childbirth classes. As we live in progressive Seattle, nearly all the women in attendance were accompanied by the fathers, even though we didn't really do much beyond gawp in horror at the delivery videos and exclaim, "Holy smokes! That's going to totally suck for you, honey."

"(p. 36 from "A Girl Named Spike" by Matthew D. Laplante) She was one of those sadly conspicuous, middle-aged Mormon closet lesbians, so common in our fair city, who for reasons of either devout piety or deep self-loathing, wind up spending a lifetime like Eleanor Rigby, living vicariously through the mundane lives of others rather than succumbing to the sinful charms of another woman."

"(p. 108 from "Peas and Domestic Tranquilty" by Greg Knauss) One thing that I used to believe that has stuck with me is, of course, that farts are funny. Burps, too. Sneezes, even. Pretty much the whole gamut of bodily noises is a treasure trove of ready-made comedy. You gather a handful of small boys together and let them entertain themselves and there will be more sharp honks than an angry L.A. freeway. But there's a time and place for such fun, and every second of every day, no matter the location or company, turns out not to be the appropriate venue for a gastrointestinal symphony."