First lost tooth. First colonoscopy. First second mortgage. First chin hair. First comb-over. All of these memorable firsts belong in MY MIDDLE-AGED BABY BOOK: A Place to Write Down All the Things You'll Soon Forget. A padded and chewable keepsake with room to write in significant firsts, it's a perfect gift for a milestone birthday, when you're old enough not to take yourself too seriously. ?A comic classic, My Middle-Aged Baby Book is the irrepressibly cheeky celebration of middle age in the form of a fill-in baby book--and the perfect gift for both women ("Is it hot in here, or is it just me?") and men (remember, it's prostate not prostrate). It's a place to record firsts: my first colonoscopy, my first reading glasses, my first words ("everything hurts"). Vital statistics: including married name(s), circumference of abdomen, cholesterol count (bad HDLs, good HDLs). Primary caregivers: urologist, periodontist, colorist. It explains the Seven Stages of Hair Loss, answers the question Am I Smiling . . . or Is It Gas?, covers Sex? (Check one: Yes, No, Can't Remember), and what happens When I Grow Up--go ahead, be a burden to your children! ?And for everyone who forgot where they put their reading glasses, the book is thoughtfully printed on anti-glare paper in large, easy-to-read type.
Mimicking the popular format of baby books, a gently satirical celebration of middle age offers space to record Memorable Firsts--liver spot, conservative opinion--Primary Care givers--Manicurist, Hair Colorist--and other indications of the onset of mid-life.
Author Mary-Lou Weisman and her husband, Larry, didn’t want to tour a foreign country; they wanted to become part of it. They were eager to pierce the tourist veil, and get as close to the essence of the culture as they could. No more observing from the outside with their noses pressed to the glass. They yearned for someone to open the door and invite them to step right in and make themselves at home. They wanted to become so French that even Americans wouldn’t like them. In September of 2003, the Weismans arrived in Provence, France, for the first of four, monthlong stays. Playing House in Provence follows them on their sometimes wonderful, sometimes humiliating, always playful pursuit, as they learn that feeling disoriented and stupid on a daily basis can be fun. So can looking up French words they need to ask for directions—où est la pharmacie—only to realize there’s pas une chance they will understand the answer. “Funnier, smarter, and more wickedly honest than any memoir about Provence.” —Sybil Steinberg Contributing Editor, Publishers Weekly
One has to be a superb writer to lift the story about the wheelchair that Peter Weisman was confined in from his tenth year and waltz around with it so brilliantly. But that is what Weisman, who vowed that 'Peter's life must grow steadily and bravely upward,' has done. There are time when the power of Weisman's prose squeezes the heart like a sponge, but perhaps the best moments leave you laughing." -Phyllis Theroux, Washington Post
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