Textbook Amy Krouse Rosenthal Read online

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  Copyright © 2016 by Amy Krouse Rosenthal

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  DUTTON—EST. 1852 (Stylized) and DUTTON are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Permissions can be found here.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  has been applied for.

  eBook ISBN 9781101985021

  While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers, Internet addresses, and other contact information at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book provides the opportunity for additional engagement via text messaging.

  Responses to text messages will be provided for as long as possible.

  Penguin is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone.

  Version_1

  Permissions

  “Amy (heart) Cougar” photograph permission of Robin Layton. A version of this story was originally published in A Letter to My Dog by Robin Layton, Lisa Erspamer, and Kimi Culp. Reprinted by permission of PQ Blackwell and Chronicle Books.

  A version of “Midterm Essay” was originally published in O, The Oprah Magazine. Copyright © Amy Krouse Rosenthal. Reprinted by permission of the author.

  “You Want a Social Life, with Friends” from The Collected Poems of Kenneth Koch, copyright © 2005 by The Kenneth Koch Literary Estate. Used by permisson of Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of the Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.

  “The Fictional Supplement to Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life” by John Green. Copyright © John Green. Reprinted by permission of the author.

  “Short, Collective Biography” courtesy of Lenka Clayton (lenkaclayton.com).

  “Book Jacket Jacket” concept by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, construction by Kayla Ginsburg.

  “Chairs” illustrations by Kevin Nordstrom.

  All other drawings in the book created by the author; all other images and graphics created in collaboration with Ruby Western and Kayla Ginsburg.

  CONDITION OF BOOK

  New

  Signed edition

  Used, like new

  Used, like used

  ANY ADDITIONAL NOTES: ________________________________________________

  CONDITION OF AUTHOR

  Pretty bad

  X Pretty good

  ANY ADDITIONAL NOTES: At present, the author is in relatively good condition. She exercises regularly—a combination of long walks, swimming, and weight training to retain bone density—and enjoys a well-balanced diet, though it is noted she could cut back on cheese. She is able to run upstairs to grab something real quick without getting too out of breath. In a pinch, she could fill in as your tennis doubles partner. Her hearing: fine. Her eyesight: eh. One last final inspection revealed a couple minor scratches on her lower left leg, and a three-millimeter rip on her right earlobe, presumably due to large, heavy earrings worn in her youth.

  THE HUMAN CONDITION

  X Gosh, that’s a tough one.

  ANY ADDITIONAL NOTES: Existence is akin to a 300,000-hours-long game of whack-a-mole where the grand prize dangling in the back row is your inevitable death. But I’ll tell you what: On any given day, you sure can find a nice array of free, tasty samples at the grocery store.

  ISSUED TO: ______________ DATE: ______________

  SUGGESTED READING

  This book.

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  INTRODUCTION

  PRE-ASSESSMENT

  GEOGRAPHY

  SOCIAL STUDIES

  ART

  SCIENCE

  MIDTERM ESSAY

  ROMANCE LANGUAGE

  HISTORY

  MUSIC

  MATH

  LANGUAGE ARTS

  FINAL REVIEW

  END NOTES

  I would like to acknowledge that the following have earned extra credit:

  Click http://bit.ly/2a9Bbw9 to see a larger version of this table.

  INTRODUCTION

  Welcome to the first book that offers additional engagement via texting.

  You will find texting interactions sprinkled throughout this book. You can choose to participate in all, some, or none.

  Rest assured this book functions perfectly fine without the texting element, just like any other “normal” book.

  If you do partake in these interactive interludes, you may choose to do so in real time as you read, or you may choose to come back to any of them later—whatever you wish.

  To begin, simply text Hello to 312-883-9945.

  You will receive a greeting from me, Amy, confirming you are good to go.

  P.S. Will you receive any random, unsolicited, out-of-the-blue texts? No way. That’s pretty much the exact opposite of what this experience is all about.

  In case you’re reading this book in Antartica/in space/in the distant future, please know that the texting component is limited by geography, volume, and the passage of time. You can always swing by textbookamykr.com to see how these texting interactions with readers are playing out.

  Why the title Textbook Amy Krouse Rosenthal?

  Because a textbook is a literary work about a particular subject.

  Because textbook would accurately describe a book with an interactive text-messaging component.

  Because textbook is an expression meaning “quintessential,” “definitive,” “classic example”—Oh, that wordplay and whole unconventional format is so typical of her, so textbook Amy K.R. . . . give me a break.

  Because if an author’s previous book has Encyclopedia in the title (Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life), following it up ten years later with a Textbook would be rather nice.

  The Central Characters in This Book

  PRE-ASSESSMENT

  I AM READING THIS

  in bed.

  in transit.

  on the beach.

  in a bookstore, head slightly cocked to the side, trying to decide what to make of it.

  I AM READING THIS BOOK BECAUSE

  my book group chose it.

  my professor assigned it.

  it was recommended by a friend whose opinion I value.

  it has appeared.

  PEOPLE SAY

  I am very, very funny.

  I am medium funny.

  I am not that funny.

  MY GENERAL STATE OF MIND AS IT PERTAINS TO WANTING IS

  I have enough, I’m good.

  I have enough, but I’d like just a wee bit more.

  I do not have enough.

  Actually, I have more than enough and could probably do with l
ess.

  IN GROUP DISCUSSIONS

  I truly want to hear what others have to say and enjoy listening.

  I theoretically want to hear what others have to say, yet I find myself doing most of the talking.

  I want others to hear what I have to say, but I seem to have difficulty inserting/asserting myself.

  I want others to hear what I have to say and have no problem whatsoever making that happen.

  I’M TRYING

  to understand.

  to remember.

  to forget.

  my best.

  I TEND TO

  have trouble with ceiling fan strings. Pull it once to stop? Twice? In trying to turn it off, I will just speed it up—great, now it is spinning around so fast that it’s wobbling almost violently.

  buy a headband every couple years thinking it might finally look good on me. It never looks good. It should be clear by now that as much as I would like it to be so, I am not a headband person.

  marvel at the sight of a portable wooden box displaying an orderly panoply of teas.

  feel at this stage of my life that we are all the same age: 20 years younger? 20 years older? We are the same. 9 years old? Me too! 95? Me too!

  I LIKE YOU BECAUSE

  you are nice.

  you have a way about you.

  I feel good when I’m around you.

  you get it.

  I MAY ALSO LIKE YOU SIMPLY BECAUSE

  you waved thank you in the rearview mirror when I let you in the lane.

  you like me.

  NO OFFENSE BUT I DO NOT LIKE

  overly chatty salespeople.

  salespeople who use an unnaturally high, fake-nice voice.

  when salespeople say, Thank you for your patience. I want to say, I was not at all patient; I had no choice here.

  EVERYONE BUT ME REALLY SEEMS TO BE INTO

  spaghetti and meatballs.

  going to the midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show in college. I always fell asleep.

  asking and answering the question So, how was your weekend? Thankfully by two o’clock or so on Monday afternoon it always dies down.

  knickknacks.

  IF

  a = b and b = c, then a = c.

  you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.

  PLEASE DO NOT ASK ME TO

  hold my applause until the very end. It feels unnatural, rude even. I really want to clap for each award winner or graduate. I can practically feel the suppressed desire in my palms, like the push/pull tension of two positive magnets. Furthermore, it just must be such an anticlimactic bummer, exiting the stage like that, in awkward, applause-less silence.

  have sex in the lavatory.

  set an intention for my yoga practice.

  CHAIRS ARE GREAT BECAUSE

  you can stand on them to reach things.

  if you have company you can just bring extra ones out from the closet.

  there are so many different, pretty kinds.

  you can lean back on two legs and just catch yourself.

  some swivel, and that’s fun.

  you can come home and throw your jacket on the back.

  they are quiet.

  MY MAIL CARRIER’S NAME IS

  Mary.

  not Mary.

  MY KEYS

  are right where I left them.

  must be in my other coat.

  . . . Your guess is as good as mine.

  HAROLD

  and the Purple Crayon.

  and Maude.

  FOR SOME REASON, IT TAKES MY BRAIN A MOMENT TO PROCESS

  that red means hot and blue means cold.

  the open-close symbols on elevators, which is which.

  that the delivery truck in front of me said party linens, not panty liners.

  I WOULD REALLY RATHER NOT

  reciprocate out of obligation.

  sponge the outside of the Cuisinart.

  fall from grace.

  I CANNOT BE THE ONLY ONE WHO

  thinks that Christo must wrap gifts incredibly well.

  finds it slightly self-important to sign emails with one’s initials.

  suspects the opera box is precariously attached and might snap off at any moment.

  hopes if I ever had to share a jail cell, it would be with someone who likes to give back rubs.

  is convinced I can still make it work when clearly the Velcro buckle has lost its fastening oomph.

  feels that both rain and pomegranate balsamic are nice as a light drizzle.

  finds myself making a concerted effort to heave/tug/lug a conversation up and over the hill of small talk.

  when pressing the spoon along the perforated lines of the Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls tube and anticipating what’s about to happen is still—yikes!—startled when it pops open, despite having done this a million times.

  draws a little arrow directing the recipient to the back of the greeting card, as if the recipient couldn’t figure out what to do next without my direction, as if the recipient would give up, figuring I had just abandoned the card midsentence.

  feels it is important to say good-bye to hotel rooms before vacating.

  enjoys when my hand slips into the pocket of a coat I haven’t worn in a while and I am unexpectedly reunited with a small but pleasing item, like a favorite hair scrunchie, lip balm, or that one good pen.

  WHEN I’M THOROUGHLY ENJOYING MYSELF AT A LARGE ARENA SPORTING EVENT OR CONCERT,

  I leave early. Why would I want to risk dealing with the parking lot traffic?

  I stay to the very end. Why would I want to miss a single minute?

  LOOKING AT THE FOLLOWING SYMBOLS, THE FIRST WORDS THAT SPRING TO MIND ARE

  peace, love, yay, swirly, la la la, bloom, sun.

  war, broken, danger, dizzy, off-key, wilt, fading star.

  YOU CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON ME TO

  be a responsible, empathic citizen of the world.

  pick up a stray thread on the floor.

  fall asleep during savasana.

  return your Tupperware.

  IT IS

  one thing to accumulate woes bit by bit over the course of a lifetime.

  quite another to enter this world with impossible burdens, by no doing of your own, and find yourself unequipped to handle them and/or find that, despite every conceivable effort, they are mercilessly unshakable.

  I HAVE BEEN WAITING

  for you at the northeast corner, by the Starbucks, as we agreed.

  for you to notice that I do not care.

  for someone like you.

  YOU

  make me not afraid of getting old.

  LATELY I FEEL

  full of longing.

  fragile and uncertain.

  centered, electric, brave, and alive.

  FINALLY, IT IS MY UNDERSTANDING THAT AMY

  wants to give me something useful and beautiful.

  suspects she may never be able to do this again.

  sends me off with her love.

  GEOGRAPHY

  My father-in-law tells me his Pal story. He was a young boy out on a field trip with his class. He suddenly saw his dog Pal and their dog walker across the way. Hey, that’s my dog, everyone! That’s my dog Pal! he shouted to his teacher and classmates. He wanted, of course, to run over, but his teacher insisted he remain in line. All these years later, the thing he remembers most is how incredibly weird it was to see Pal when he was out on this field trip.

  He says he hadn’t thought about the Pal story in years but was reminded of it a few days ago when something similar happened. He was cruising along Lake Shore Drive when (again, out of the blue) he spotted his youngest son, Tony, driving in the opp
osite direction. Oh my gosh, there’s my son! There he goes! he thought to himself as they whizzed by each other. He said it was a quintessential Pal moment—being out and about in the universe, and then unexpectedly crossing paths with someone from home base.

  It seems this sensation can also apply to home base itself. I am now remembering being on a walking architectural tour of Chicago in my early twenties and being surprised when the guide not only ushered the group down my street but then also stopped in front of the very four-flat where I lived. The building survived the Great Chicago Fire and had landmark status. I kept motioning to the other people in my group, That’s my house! This is where I live! I had deliberately wandered away from home for the afternoon, and to have it presented to me in this manner was exhilarating.

  I was at a water park with the kids. I found myself at the top of the park’s highest and steepest slide. I was scared. I kept motioning people to go ahead of me. Okay, he didn’t die. Okay, she didn’t die either. The succession of non-deaths was comforting but not convincing. The kids were all wading/waiting for me at the bottom. Come on, Mom! I forced myself to lie down in the arms-crossed-over-chest position. Ready? asked the lifeguard. I shut my eyes tight. Yeah, I’m ready. Right away I felt an enormous sense of relief. This isn’t bad at all, I thought. It’s a shockingly smooth ride. I thought about what great engineering was behind this contraption. I was flying down so fast it hardly felt like I was moving. I was stunned when I heard the lifeguard’s voice again. Ma’am, would you like a push?