As I say every month, I’m shamelessly stealing this idea from Jessica Lahey. She has a recurring monthly date where she reviews all the books she reads that month. Book reviews are important for authors, and I want to get better at doing this.

So. I’m going to review them here and also online, but I’m going to do it a little differently. I’m only going to review the stuff I really liked. I don’t see a reason to spend my time writing about something I didn’t love; it’s just using up more of my energy. So only positive reviews.

These are the books I liked (or mostly liked) from August.

Strange Sally Diamond (Liz Nugent): I wrote on Goodreads that “this is a complicated review. It is a five-star book. The writing is incredible. I’ll admit that I didn’t know a lot about the book, and I read it because Anthony Horowitz mentioned how much he liked it at a reading for his book. But it was deeply deeply disturbing, and I felt uncomfortable and upset reading it. So beautiful writing, but go into it knowing it is a very upsetting story.” I still have regrets about reading this book despite it being great writing.

Death at the Chateau (Ian Moore): The third cozy mystery in the series. They’re funny and cute and you won’t tax your brain reading it. It was exactly what I needed in August.

The Skeleton Key (Erin Kelly): I was blown away by this story. If you love the idea of Masquerade by Kit Williams, you need to read this book about a family that unravels as the world chews through its obsession with the treasure hunt. So so so so so good.

Just Another Missing Person (Gillian McAllister): It was a good thriller, though I fulfilled the prediction I made on Goodreads: “I don’t know if I’ll remember a lot about this a few weeks from now, but it was super engaging while I was reading it.” I don’t remember most of it, but I remember enjoying it while the book was in my hands. Sometimes that’s enough.

What did you read last month?

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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Yesterday, I went to register for an event. The event page informed me I was entitled to 11 tickets due to our membership level. I filled out the form and requested two.

A pop-up appeared with, “Are you bringing any children?” even though I skipped entering anything in the box that specifically asked about children. You would think that leaving it empty would indicate that I was bringing zero children.

I almost closed the box without registering but finished the form without another automatic reference to our smaller household. What someone thought was a thoughtful touch, reminding people to count everyone in their party so they had an accurate head count, was another paper cut.

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts connected to businesses or sponsored posts.

When the twins were little, we belonged to the Science Center, which showed movies in the Planetarium. There was a movie about black holes that freaked us out (yet, for some reason, they kept asking to see it again and again), especially its description (and accompanying animations) about spaghettification.

The idea is that as you approach a black hole, “an object is stretched in the direction of the black hole (and compressed perpendicular to it as it falls). In effect, the object can be distorted into a long, thin version of its undistorted shape, as though being stretched like spaghetti.” In other words, you are pulled apart in the most painful way.

That is how leaving the kids at college felt.

This is a dramatic description for someone who feels otherwise about leaving their kids at college, but it’s how I felt.

I used to use my HSG as my 10 on the pain scale. Delivering the twins without an epidural was a 9. Getting my tooth drilled without Novocaine was an 8. But that HSG was my eternal 10 until now. Dropping off the kids at college was physically and emotionally painful. The physical pain ebbed and flowed, sometimes reaching a 10, other times fading down to a 5. But the emotional pain was always beyond a 10, and it started weeks before we left, burned through the week we spent moving them in, and followed me home.

And I kept thinking, “This is what we were so freaked out about when they were little, thinking about the idea of falling into a black hole and how we would be pulled apart.” I felt like I was being stretched and distorted as I faced down the moment we would have to say the final goodbye until fall break. I was falling toward a nothingness. An everythingness. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I don’t feel like myself. I am not good company. My home still feels like they will be back after school: a used cup left on the counter, books stacked on a table. They are finding their footing and thriving, figuring out college, new friends, and new places, which is a relief. But I still have a lot to figure out, including how to get through the day now that it looks and sounds and feels so different from how it was before.

Thank you if you reached out. I’m sorry if I didn’t respond. I really don’t feel like myself right now.

I am not writing my blog right now because I realized mid-August that it felt like a burden instead of a release. I am too sad, navigating the twins leaving for college. I scheduled these posts that day so the blog wouldn’t be empty, but I could pull back and use the time left with the twins. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

This week contains the last first day of school. Months ago, I wrote about this day, dreading it because it removes another buffer between our lives up until this point and when the twins leave for college.

“Very soon, we will have a final first day of school. And then a final last day of school. And then a final last day of summer. And then a college arrival. And then a college drop off and drive away. And I will have to get through each of these moments. And right now, I don’t know how I will do that.”

I still don’t.

Read the rest here.

I am not writing my blog right now because I realized mid-August that it felt like a burden instead of a release. I am too sad, navigating the twins leaving for college. I scheduled these posts that day so the blog wouldn’t be empty, but I could pull back and use the time left with the twins. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

We write them, setting them adrift in the great Internet ocean, tiny wobbling boats that we hope will reach a friendly shore. We have no idea where they go once we release them. All we know is that we once owned them and now they are out of sight, affecting the people who swim past them. All we can do is wait to hear back from a tiny voice in the distance telling us that they heard us. They understand.

I spent my morning telling a person how her words changed my life.

Read the rest here.