Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood [REVIEW]

When this novel became a movie a number of years ago, my mother saw a commercial for it and told me it made her think of our family. Apparently, the promo featured a scene where a daughter slammed her phone against the counter during a conversation with her mother. Since such behavior doesn't bring forth visions of a healthy mother-daughter relationship, I chose not to comment. I also decided it would be best not to view the movie, just in case.

Years have elapsed since that conversation and a couple more years have elapsed since my mother passed away. During the ensuing time, I picked up a copy of the novel at Goodwill that finally made its way to the top of my pile. While I had only saw the disfunction in the interaction between the mother and daughter in the small clip my mother brought to my attention, I found the book filled with something more. The mother had a group of friends, a sisterhood, that stuck by her through the warm summer fun and the chill winter nights. The story focused on both of these aspects of life, eventually merging them together to show the hope of a young girl merging with the reality of a grown woman. Through this growth, she also realized the true nature of the love she shared with her mother.

A few days after I finished the novel, I noticed that the movie was playing on television. Of course, I recorded it. Today, I watched it with my daughter. (Okay, I watched it while she ate, snuggled, and napped.) They switched the order of some scenes and completely changed a couple of others. I believe they were trying to make some of the relationships seem less chaotic. Despite feeling that many of these changes, particularly the one that involves an elephant in the book, actually downplayed the love between mother and daughter, I enjoyed the ending they created for the movie.

As always, I fear giving away too much, so I will close with potentially unrelated thoughts:

We should all be grateful for those true friends who lift us up, love us even when we border on becoming monstrous, and bring us back to the best parts of ourselves. If you have friends like that, tell them how grateful you are and make time for whatever sisterhood rituals you have established. whether it is midnight smoothies, singing silly songs, or making treats and sharing them with others, make time to uplift each other.

Speaking of treats, I normally try to include a recipe, but my treat making has been a little spotty of late. My most recent decadent delight was a combination of mini pies that I made in muffin tins. I started by making a half batch recipe for Betty Crocker's banana cream pie (this is not exactly the same recipe I used but should work) and used the cream to make six banana cream pies before dumping an unknown amount of chocolate chips into the cream concoction that was left until it looked quite chocolatey and used that to fill my last six muffin-sized pie shells. (This even left me some pudding for my husband who doesn't understand the importance of pi day.) Then I used my leftover chocolate pies to celebrate Saint Paddy's Day by putting mint M&M's on top of the pie for a hint of green love.

Grumple, the Grumpiest Leprechaun [FICTION]

Reading to my daughter may be helping me rediscover my childish authoress. Enjoy.

In one gloomy glen in Ireland, the grumpiest leprechaun ever known took up sole residence. His demeanor frightened off all the other fairy folk that once inhabited the area. From rotting potatoes lobbed at unsuspecting passers by to late night digging complete with the ringing of a pickaxe on stone to cursing at unseen foes throughout those dark hours, he assured an unwelcome feeling to even the most thick-skinned individuals. Creating such an environment earned him the lonely neighborhood he desired in which to perform his daytime moping and late night ranting. Such perfection could not last long, however, for too much of what one wants dissolves grumpiness and misanthropy.

Late one night as the pickaxe resounded against stone time and time again, Grumple's weary arms gave out and the axe rebounded, flying toward his head with his weary hands still clenched around the handle. Startled, he screamed an improper word, loosened his grip, and fell to the ground. As the axe clanged off something in the weeds, a high-pitched laugh erupted from Rumple's left.

He raised his head slowly until his eyes rested on a thick tree trunk. "Is someone there?"

Another laugh answered him as a slender woman stepped from behind the tree. A soft glow emanated from her skin, shining through the thin rags of white fabric that formed an old-fashioned dress with voluminous skirts, a high neck, and flowing bell sleeves.  Long, dark hair flowed freely past her shoulders. She raised her arms in greeting and bowed dramatically at the waist.

"My name is Branna." She whispered but the words cut through Grumple's eardrums.

Clasping his hands to his aching ears, he exclaimed. "Banshee."

She chortled and reached into the folds of her skirt to produce a small pipe. She lifted it to her lips and the sweet scent of pure tobacco filled the air. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. A trail of smoke letters floated from her lips.

'A caterpillar's trick should keep you alive to heed my warning.'

"What?" Grumple's hands fell from his ears.

'My cousin lives here. You're trying to scare her away. Stop it. ' 

"But I need my privacy." He crossed his arms and scowled at Branna.

'Why?'

"That's not your business."

'You lost something?' As the words hovered in the air, her free hand disappeared into the folds of her skirt again.

Grumple's eyes followed her hand hungrily as it reappeared with something shiny. "My gold?"

'Not yours.' She put the coin to her mouth and gently peeled gold foil away from milk chocolate.

Grumple muttered something under his breath as Branna devoured her prize.

"What?" She opened her mouth in anger.

Grumple screamed and clutched his head. As the pain subsided, he mouthed an apology. The banshee raised the pipe to her lips once more.

'If I find your gold, will you be a better neighbor?'

"If I can't find it, what makes you think..."

The banshee raised her hand to silence him. 'I have my ways.'

Grumple stood stunned in the fading light as the banshee disappeared into the trees. 

What do you think, dear reader: Is this story done or should I tell you how it ends?