Book Review: From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, by E. L. Konigsburg

This is no ordinary running away story. Claudia Kincaid decided to run away, yes. But, she didn't want to run away from somewhere. Rather, she wanted to run to somewhere:

To a large place, a comfortable place, an indoor place, and preferably a beautiful place. And that's why she decided upon the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

Overview:

From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler is Mrs. Konigsburg's second novel, for which she won a Newbery Medal in 1968. It is the story of Claudia Kincaid and her quest for... something. She starts out thinking she is running away because of what she terms "injustice:" the unequal assignment of chores simply because she is the oldest, and the fact that her life seemed to be one big boring routine without end, and the fact that her allowance was hardly enough to do much of anything with. 

Yes, Claudia was unappreciated, and she intended to call attention to that fact by running away. But by the time her adventure is over, Claudia discovers - with the help of the mysterious "Angel" sculpture in the museum and the eccentricities of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler - that she had a much deeper reason for running away. It was a reason she somehow knew, but yet didn't know, and living in the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a week (and her adventures and experiences there) led her step-by-step to the very conclusion she needed to find.

For Teachers and Librarians:

This book, set in the late 1960's, provides a perfect opportunity for comparison and contrast of life then and now. Math comes into the picture when you develop activities devoted to cost-of-living comparisons, or budget development. Could they repeat Claudia and Jamie's adventure on "twenty-four dollars and forty-three cents" today? What has changed? What has stayed the same? Some library science can be slipped in, too: Claudia and Jamie used a card catalogue. Does your library still have one of those? They typed a letter on a typewriter. Do your students know what a typewriter is, let alone know how to use one? You could incorporate the book in a mystery unit as you delve into the "Angel" statue the kids tried so hard to learn about. How did they try to solve the mystery of who carved the statue? What clues did they find? Where did they look for them? So many possibilities: history, math, socioeconomics, art appreciation, even mystery. What can you pull out of this book to make reading come alive for your students?

For Parents, Grandparents and Caregivers:

Claudia and Jamie's adventure is a loved one's worst nightmare. Missing! For a whole week! This book, while showing kids a little bit about the realities of the world and what it takes to try and live on your own, also gives you the perfect springboard to discuss how your kids are feeling. Is running away the best answer when you're upset? How can you let me (us) know how you feel? It's a great opportunity to let them know you are always there for them, and that you want to know how they feel - whatever that feeling may be - so you can help them through it. It is a wondrous thing for a kid to realize they have someone who cares for them unconditionally. There's a security in that. It's the kind of bond everyone yearns for - especially kids.

For the Kids:

Claudia has a lot of the same feelings you may have. It's always interesting to see how someone else deals with things. Sometimes it helps you deal with your own feelings, even if you solve your problems differently than someone else does. Even though running away is not a good idea, and something you should never try, it is fun reading about Claudia and Jamie's adventures. Imagine, sleeping in a hundreds of years old bed! Taking a bath in a public fountain! Riding on the train! Washing clothes! (OK, so maybe that last one isn't such an adventure.) Claudia learns something about herself during this journey. What do you think it is?

For Everyone Else:

Did you read this book when you were a kid? Try reading it again as an adult. Does it feel different to you now? Does it remind you of your own youthful adventures? Ah, life in the late 60's. Train tickets for less than $2. Imagine...

Wrapping Up:

From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler is a journey of personal discovery. Go discover your copy today!

Title: From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler

Author and Illustrator: E. L. Konigsburg

Pages: 162

Reading Level: Ages 8-12

Publisher and Date: Aladdin Paperbacks, September 2007

Edition: Third edition paperback

Language: English

Published In: United States

Price: $9.99

ISBN-10: 1416949755

ISBN-13: 978-1416949756

Author Spotlight: E. L Konigsburg

E. L. Konigsburg never set out to be a writer. Though as a child and throughout her life she loved books, and loved to draw, she did not set out to be a writer. That realization came to her later - following a career in chemistry, then teaching, and during her time as a stay-at-home mom.

The second of three daughters, she was born February 10, 1930, in New York, and grew up in small towns in Pennsylvania. She was an excellent student. After high school graduation, she took a job as a bookkeeper for a wholesale meat plant in order to earn money for college. It was while working there that Elaine Lobl met David Konigsburg.

Elaine Lobl was the first in her family to attend college. She graduated with honors from Carnegie Mellon University, majoring in chemistry, earning scholarships and working her way through in order to stay enrolled continuously. She saw chemistry as a sensible choice, and one that would afford her a solid career with good pay. None of her friends at CMU suspected she wrote, and loved to draw and create, as her chosen field was all about facts and study and experimentation and systematic application of knowledge.

She married David after graduation and began graduate school at the University of Pittsburg, again pursuing a chemistry degree. Once her husband earned his doctorate, they moved to Florida, where Mrs. Konigsburg taught science at a private girls' school. 

Leaving teaching in 1955 to become a stay-at-home mom, she began to think of new career directions to take in life. She said that she became more interested in what was going on inside her students than in what was going on inside their test tubes. So, she started taking art lessons, and then when the youngest of her three children went off to Kindergarten, she finally began to write. She worked out a system of devoting her mornings to writing, and saving housework and other things for afternoons.

The family moved to New York in 1962, and her daughter's challenges and experiences in dealing with the move inspired her first book, Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth. Her second book, published only months after the first, From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, was inspired by her children's behavior during a family picnic. In fact, most of the 21 books she's written (so far) come from the author's life experiences, and deal with the emotional growth children go through.

E. L. Konigsburg is the only author ever to win both a Newbery Medal (for The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler) and a Newbery Honor (for Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth) in the same year (1968). She made history again 29 years later when she won a Newbery Medal in 1997 for The View From Saturday, because that is the longest span between any two Newberys awarded to one author, ever.

Her advice to children:

Before you can be anything, you have to be yourself. That's the hardest thing to find.

Sources:

E. L. Konigsburg - Wikipedia

E. L. Konigsburg - Houghton Mifflin Reading

E. L. Konigsburg - SimonSays.com

E(laine) L(obl) Konigsburg

Lesson Learned from the Little Guys

Handsome Boy plays T-Ball. So, two (and sometimes three) days a week, we load the trunk with folding Penn State chairs, water bottles, a Steelers bat, a pint-sized ball glove, and set off for the t-ball fields. We sit. We watch. We cheer. We swat bugs. Each game is pretty much like the one before. 

Until last night. 

Last night, somewhere amid the sitting and the bug-swatting and the game-watching and the cheering, I unexpectedly learned something from these small-type ball players... 

After dropping off the Boy at his dugout, Lovely Girl and I set up our chairs and settled in to watch my little man do his stuff. I squinted through the bright sun at Handsome Boy out in the field as he examined dirt, made grass angels in the outfield, watched several batted balls roll right past him, yukked it up with his cap pulled completely over his face, and played pretend-catch with another outfielder. I cringed as he played tag and climbed the fence in the dugout. In fact, I spent the whole first inning trying to get his attention from the sidelines, sending desperate hand-signals to get him to get in the game before he got a t-ball upside the head (like last game). 

Then, somewhere in the middle of my worries about Handsome Boy receiving his next bonk on the head, I stopped obsessing about my youngest child and took a look around at his teammates. Several little guys preferred to have a seat in the dirt as they waited for the batter to connect with the ball. A few ran in little circles in their assigned spots. Still others deposited unknown treasures from the ground into their pockets.  There were some wrestlers in the outfield. A couple teammates intently searched the outfield grass for interesting critters to scrutinize. And they all played tag and climbed the fence in the dugout.

Then I started to just relax and watch the game. When the other team hit a grounder to center field, our center fielder's frustrated dad pleaded with his daughter to put down the lovely butterfly she'd just found, and go get the ball. In the next inning, while our batter was still swinging, their first baseman ran gleefully to the sidelines, clutching something thin and gray in his little fist. "Mommy! I found a feather for you!" A while later, Butterfly Girl waved her newest find at her dad as he once again begged her to put down the pretty butterfly and pick up the ball that had just rolled past her.

In between, there were some great plays: a couple of awesome hits to the outfield, a few pop-flies, some great plays at first base, and some exciting chase scenes as our right-fielder barreled toward home plate to tag a runner out.

But the best moment of all was right near the end of the game. Our team was fielding. The other team smacked a sky-high pop-fly right toward center field. But this time, Butterfly Girl was ready. She caught that ball in the air, then looked with amazement first at her glove, then at her coach - who ran over to give her a double high-five, then over at her dad. Then her grin stretched a mile wide as she took in the whistles, claps and cheers from both sides - coaches and parents alike - all for her fantastic catch.

At the end of the game, there were giant smiles on every kid's face. Nobody noticed how many outs there were, or how many runs were scored. Nobody argued about who collected pebbles in the infield, and who paid attention the whole time. Everybody thought their team had won, and every kid out there had a great time.

A few grass angels left in the outfield, and a few butterflies caught, and a few birds missing a feather or two is all part of the fun, I realized...

...and I'm so glad I didn't miss it.

A Happy Accident

It's National Grape Popsicle Day! And to think, if not for the forgetfulness of one 11-year-old boy, we wouldn't have anything to celebrate today...

Back in 1905, young Frank Epperson was outside on the porch, enjoying a refreshing fruit-flavored soda. But, it wasn't like the soda we know today. In those days, you poured soda water powder in water, stirred, and viola! Instant tasty drink. So, Frank was enjoying his soda, and for whatever reason, didn't finish it, and forgot to bring it with him when he went inside. There it sat. On the porch. All night. With the stirring stick still in it.

That night brought record low temperatures, and when he found his soda the next morning, the drink was frozen to the stick. Boys will be boys, and instead of taking it inside to clean it up, he tasted it. It was good! The story goes then that he took it to school to show his pals, and made them for his friends. He called them Epsicles.

It didn't occur to him to patent his frozen treat until 1923, as he sold seven flavors of Epsicles at a lemonade stand at an amusement park in Oakland, California. His patent was granted in 1924, and the name was changed to the familiar Popsicle we know today. (It seems his kids gave him the idea, as they were always asking for "Pop's 'sicles.")

There are now over 30 different varieties and flavors of Popsicles, and an estimated 3 million of these frozen treats are sold each year. (My household contributes significantly to this total - in every season!)

Now you're craving one, aren't you? Go ahead - buy yourself a grape Popsicle, go outside, sit on the curb (because, as everyone knows, a Popsicle is best enjoyed while sitting on the curb), and, well... enjoy. 

And if anyone asks why a grown adult would chow down on something that never fails to turn one's lips a brilliant shade of purple, tell them you're celebrating a national holiday. 

Or, you could just say, "Hey! It's hot out here, alright?"

- - -

My Popsicle history sources (in case anyone's interested):

The History of the Popsicle - About.com

Popsicle History - Ice Cream USA

Kid Inventors in History - KidzWorld.com

Popsicle History - FoodTimeline.org

Remember the Fallen...

Memorial Day

Arlington National Cemetery

(picture from The Official Site of the US Constitution)

Memorial Day is tomorrow, so I thought some history on this most important of days would be appropriate. 

Memorial Day - or Decoration Day, as it was known then - was first nationally observed on May 30, 1868. On that day, flowers were placed on Union and Confederate soldiers' graves. Originally, this day honored only those who fought and died in the Civil War, but after World War I, that stipulation was expanded to honor those who died in all American wars.

Waterloo, New York was officially declared the birthplace of Memorial Day by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966, though over two dozen cities and towns claim to be the rightful originators of the day. (This includes Pennsylvania's own little village of Boalsburg.) But however it came to be, what is most important is that we have the day. Memorial Day is about coming together to honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice for the good of our country.

Now, Memorial Day is celebrated on the last Monday in May. In recent years, the traditional observances of the day - wearing red poppies (an idea first conceived by Ms Moina Michael and later taken up by Madam Guerin of France), observing proper flag etiquette, holding parades, and decorating the graves of the fallen - has gone by the wayside in some places. Memorial Day is seen by many as an extra day off of work, a time for picnics and barbecues and sports events, and a day to honor anyone who has died.

Because of this, and to ensure that the ultimate price paid by fallen American heroes is not forgotten, the President signed into law in 2000 "The National Moment of Remembrance."

So, throughout the weekend, have fun, enjoy your picnics and barbecues and sports events, and relax on your day off. 

But don't forget those heroes whose sacrifices made all of our comforts and freedoms possible...

At 3:00 PM your local time, on Memorial Day tomorrow, observe the National Moment of Remembrance. Pause wherever you are for a minute of silence. Remember and honor those who have died in service to our country.

If you have a loved one to honor this day, please leave his or her name in the comments section. Tell us a little about them if you like. I'll list them in a special post tomorrow. Then we can know a little bit more about the people responsible for the freedoms we enjoy today.

The Incredible Invisible Stuff: Update

On Tuesday, I posted about Modern Mysteries That Fascinate Me. (If you didn't read that one, g'head and click on the link to catch up, so this little update will make sense...) 

I'll wait...

Hmmm hmmm hmmm. I need a snack. Maybe I'll raid the kids' snack bags from Grandpa and Grandm- Oh, hey! You're back. (I guess the snack raid will have to wait...)

Now then, you will recall that strange phenomenon that occurs in my house: The Incredible Invisible Stuff? Right. So, my kiddos never seem to see the many items I so helpfully place there on the stairs, so that all they have to do is grab them on their way by, and put them in the very rooms they were already headed to anyway. Well, this is what the stairs looked like at post time on Tuesday:

...and this is what the stairs look like as of post time today:

Notice any difference? Let's see: the football did get moved up three stairs, so that's progress, I guess. The little cars have been played with, but not actually moved from their original step. The book remains undisturbed altogether. The big 'ol tiger, D'mitri, is gone... though if you were here in my house at this exact moment in time, you would see that the tiger did not make it upstairs. He is at this moment on my living room floor. Only one single solitary item has been put back in its rightful place. Can you pick out which one?

Book Review: The Moffats, by Eleanor Estes

"Jane clanked her feet against the hollow hitching post. For the hundredth time she was thinking that the yellow house was the best house to be living in in the whole block because it was the only house from which you could see all the way to both corners. You could see every inch of the way down New Dollar Street to Elm Street, where the trolley ran. ...In the other direction you could see every inch of the way to Wood Street, along which the railroad tracks ran like a river."

Overview:

The Moffats was first published in 1941. It is a collection of stories about the Moffat family: Jane, Sylvie, Joe, Rufus, Mama and Catherine-the-Cat, who live in the beloved yellow house on New Dollar Street. Set in the fictional town of Cranbury, Connecticut, in the 1910's, the Moffats have many adventures, all while living under the uncertainty brought on by the sudden appearance of a "For Sale" sign nailed to the front of the yellow house. Pen and ink drawings throughout the book add an extra visual perspective to the story, giving an even clearer picture to draw the reader further into the action.

Readers will delight in being along for the ride as Jane and her siblings get into all manner of situations and shenanigans. There's the time Janey ran and hid inside the breadbox outside Mr. Brooney's store, fearful of being arrested for mimicking a most important citizen. Or, there's the time, on his very first day of school, that little Rufus hitched a ride on a freight train, all to convince a friend that school isn't such a bad place to be. Then there is the time all four Moffat children finally give neighborhood nemesis Peter Frost his well-deserved comeuppance, and Mama is none the wiser for their Halloween prank. And there's the time Rufus got Scarlet Fever, and the house was quarantined, and Mama regaled Rufus with stories from her childhood in New York City.

Times are difficult for the Moffats, as Mama is a widow raising four children, making ends meet as a seamstress. The author presents their situation honestly, and from the children's point of view, and always with a little smidgen of hope from Mama that things will turn out OK.

For Teachers and Librarians:

The Moffats offers children of today an intimate window into the life of kids in the early 1900's. A compare/contrast of life then and now could be easily done using things from the book like bicycle style, transportation, electricity use (the yellow house had no electricity), grocery shopping, clothing, school, or economic times, to name only a few. Activities surrounding what kids did for fun back then, how everyone in the household worked together, or how life then is also similar to life now for kids, too, would all be perfect things to spring to from reading this book. It is written to kids, from their point of view, so that even though their time periods are worlds apart from Janey, Sylvie, Joe and Rufus, your students will find much to relate to and enjoy reading about.

For Parents, Grandparents and Caregivers:

Have your kids ever asked you what it was like when you were a kid? If they haven't, they'll start after reading this either with you or on their own. They will love the stories, and comparing the Moffat children's lives to their own. If your charges are reluctant readers, each chapter is a story in itself, so it is easy to break down into manageable chunks. Perhaps reading this book will even inspire you to share your own childhood stories with your kids - tell them all about it or write it down for them to enjoy many times over. Either way, they will truly love hearing or reading all about you!

For the Kids:

This book is a perfect kind of chapter book. It's written just the way a kid talks and thinks, so you'll have no problem getting into the story. Each chapter is its own small story, so you can read it straight through, or jump around a bit, and it will still make sense. The Moffat kids have lots of adventures in the yellow house they love so much, and it is fun to see the kinds of things kids did back in the 1910's, and compare it to the kinds of things you do right now. You may be surprised at how much is just like your life, and just as surprised at the things they do that you've never thought of before. Ask your grandparents or great-grandparents about what their life was like as a kid. It will be fun to see: was their life like the Moffats' lives?

For Everyone Else:

Though the book is written specifically for kids, history buffs can gain an interesting perspective of life in the early 1900's. History books are full of what happened back then, and what life was like in general, but reading about the kids' lives day in and day out in narrative fashion can show you things you'd maybe never realized before. Or it may bring back childhood memories of your own. You never know...

Wrapping Up:

The Moffats is a snapshot in time, a window into the life of kids and families in the early 20th century. You won't want to miss it.

Title: The Moffats

Author: Eleanor Estes

Illustrator: Louis Slobodkin

Pages: 224

Reading Level: Ages 9-12

Publisher and Date: Odyssey Classics, April 2001

Edition: Paperback, Sixtieth Anniversary Edition

Language: English

Published In: United States

Price: $6.95

ISBN-10: 0152025413

ISBN-13: 978-0152025410

Author Spotlight: Eleanor Estes

Eleanor Estes was an award-winning children's author. She first began writing during her recovery from tuberculosis, when, bedridden, she wrote down her own childhood memories as a series of stories for young readers. Before her death in 1988 at the age of 82, Mrs. Estes had written 19 books for children, as well as one novel for adults.

Born in 1906, Eleanor Estes grew up in New Haven, Connecticut, and worked at the Free Public Library there - first as an assistant, then eventually as head librarian. In 1931 she was awarded the Caroline M. Hewins scholarship for children's librarians, and used these funds to attend the Pratt Institute Library School. She continued her library career with the New York Public Library, where she stayed until 1940. Her first book, The Moffats, was published in 1941, and launched her full-time writing career.

Eleanor Estes' award-winning books include:

Ginger Pye - Newbery Medal 1952

The Middle Moffat - Newbery Honor Book 1943

Rufus M. - Newbery Honor Book 1944

The Hundred Dresses - Newbery Honor Book 1945

In addition to book awards, Mrs. Estes received the Certificate for Outstanding Contribution to Children's Literature in 1962, and was nominated for the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award.

Responding to a New York Times Book Review query regarding what she was trying to say to children, Eleanor Estes replied:

"I am holding up a mirror, and the scene reflected in the mirror is a true image of childhood, and the mirror, besides reflecting, also speaks and echoes the clear, profound, unpremeditated utterances, thoughts and imageries of children. I like to make children laugh or cry, to be moved in some way by my writing."

Sources:

Eleanor Estes: A Childhood Shared

Wikipedia: Eleanor Estes

Eleanor Estes (Embracing the Child site)

New York Times Obituary: Eleanor Estes

Eleanor Estes (Everything2 site)

I Did Not Visit the Gas Station. Nope. Not Me.

My budget is shot. Groceries are up - but I'm not buying any more than I usually do. Utilities are up - but I'm actually using less than I usually do. In fact, the only bill I have that has not increased is my cell bill. (Thank you, rollover minutes!) 

But I think the bill that bugs me the most, the one that I blame for fueling my other skyrocketing costs, is my gasoline bill. Now that a gallon of gas sets me back $3.82 a gallon - according to yesterday's fill-up - I cross my fingers and pray somebody does something to keep it from getting to $4 for the 87 octane I buy. Even more of a pipe dream, I cross my fingers and pray that somebody does something to get gas back to below $2 a gallon. (I hear you laughing. It could happen...)

Anyhoo, all this recent hand-wringing over gas prices reminded me of my own small personal protest: Back about a year or so ago, when gas was below $3 a gallon (remember those days?) and had never yet reached that particular price milestone, I watched nervously every time I needed to fill the tank. Everywhere I turned, I read all about how I needed to brace for impact. Three Dollar Gas was looming. 

Then the Big Day finally happened, and gas went to $3.01. Incensed, I staged my own little protest and refused to buy gas until it went back down to below $3. 

I don't drive much, as it is. I am blessed to be able to be home for the kids and write while C graciously braves the rat race solo. My only excursions involve 10 minute drives to get groceries, or to volunteer in the kiddos' schools, or to piano lessons. All told, my vehicle leaves the garage about 3 times a week, more or less.

So, I bravely drew my line in the sand: No under-three-dollar-gas? No fill-ups! I still did my usual trips. But I did not visit the gas station. Nope. Not me.

Week One went by, and I made the usual trips, plus an extra grocery run when we got low on milk and bread. I was down barely a quarter of a tank. Gas was still over $3 a gallon. I did not visit the gas station. Nope. Not me. 

In Week Two, I ran the usual errands and volunteer trips. Then, I had to make a trip to Target. Hmmm. The closest Target is 40 minutes away. Crud. I had to go, so I did. When I got back, I was at a good bit over a half tank left. Gas was still over $3 a gallon. I did not visit the gas station. Nope. Not me.

Week Three brought with it a few extra trips, as we ran late for the school bus and missed it twice. Then a Wal-Mart run became a necessity, which is a 20 minute drive. Then a birthday party came up, and we almost always give books for gifts, so that involved a 40 minute trip to the nearest Borders. (My hands were tied there - I have to use Borders, 'cause that's where my freebie coupons can be used.) So, by the end of Week Three, I was down to about a quarter of a tank left. Eesh. That was a bit close. I usually never let my tank get that low. (What if there was an emergency? I do like to be prepared.) I sweated a bit, but decided to stick it out. Gas was still over $3 a gallon. I did not visit the gas station. Nope. Not me.

Week Four, and luckily a few volunteer commitments got cancelled, so I stayed home two days more than usual. Then, Lovely Girl forgot a project for school, and it was due that day, so I brought it in. Another day, we missed the bus. Again. Then toward the end of the week, Handsome Boy didn't feel well. We needed to see the doctor. That was another 20 minute trip. Then we needed to get to the pharmacy. Ugh. I had only an eighth of a tank left at that point. I would have to fill up. (My worst fear is to run out of gas on the highway, and then have to walk forever and a day to a gas station, with two kids in tow.) So, I did visit the gas station. Yep. Me. 

I pulled up next to the gas pump, wallowing in defeat. I couldn't believe I was not going to win this quixotic battle of wills...

I grabbed the nozzle and looked up at the sign, cringing. 

But what was this?

Hallelujah! $2.97! 

Victory! Victory for Kim!

Modern Mysteries That Fascinate Me

Yesterday, I revealed some Ancient Mysteries That Fascinate Me. So today, as promised, I present to you some present day head-scratchers.  Enjoy!

Mate-less Socks

Yes, there's nothing more sorrowful than a sock widow. Poor thing. It seems the old boy went out for a jog, then went off to hit the washer. The last time she saw him, he was hopping into the dryer. But he never. Came. Out.

Smells a little gamey, if you ask me...

The Incredible Invisible Stuff

It never fails. Each evening I go through the house, collecting the odds and ends that didn't quite make it back up to the kiddos' rooms that day. I carefully place them on the steps for their retrieval. They will have to use these steps to get down to breakfast in the morning, then back up to get dressed, then back down again to get out the door to catch the bus.

Each evening, I see this...

but, the following morning, afternoon and evening, I can only surmise that the kiddos see this...

...because all day long, they clomp up and down and up and down and up and down that very set of stairs, but their belongings never leave their resting places. Hmmm...

The Miraculously Appearing Clothes Pile

Here's another mysterious phenomenon in our otherwise uneventful home. Each day, the area behind my favorite chair is devoid of anything but the occasional dust bunny. (OK, so maybe there might be a colony or two back there...)

Aaaanyway, so the corner behind my chair is clothes free all day. Then, like clockwork, sometime between 4PM and 4:15PM, I find this:

Then, soon after this odd but usual discovery, Handsome Boy appears in the kitchen for a snack, sans school clothes, and now wearing his favorite PJ's. Hey, didn't I see my little man wearing that same sweatshirt this morning??

That Black Smoke Monster Thing on Lost

I have been watching this show since it first aired. While I am not one to record, pause, and rewind to catch hidden clues (alas - no TiVo or DVR for me), and I don't frequent the many many fan sites out there, am insanely curious:

Just what is that Smoke Monster Thing?

Charlie Brown, Lucy Van Pelt and the Ominous Football

Poor Charlie Brown. Now that Charles Schultz is gone, we'll never know why that round-headed kid never got to whomp that football a good one - or why he never whomped Lucy a good one, for that matter! (Honestly, who takes that kind of abuse?)

The Refrigerator Light Conundrum

Alrighty - this one, I have definitively solved! 

This lovely photo shows our leftovers on the refrigerator shelf as my camera saw it with the fridge door open. As you can plainly see, the light is on:

And here we have the same view, with the fridge door closed (and yes, this is the actual photo the camera took): 
 

How did she do it? you marvel. Well, it was like this: leaving my trusty camera in the same position on the food shelf, I turned off the flash, set the 10 second timer, and closed the refrigerator door. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep-CLICK! Then, I opened the door, and checked the camera, and voila! Case closed! 

I can tell you're impressed. Yep. It's pretty amazing. I'm sure the folks from The Today Show will be calling any minute, begging for an interview. I think I'll just go and pack my bags - I don't want to be unprepared for my fifteen minutes of fame...

Ancient Mysteries That Fascinate Me

I do enjoy a good mystery, and history is full of them. I think what fascinates me most about the following mysterious things/places is the unanswered questions and controversies that surround them:

Stonehenge

One of the most famous prehistoric sites in the world, Stonehenge is located in Amesbury, Wiltshire, in southern England. It is believed to have been built in several phases over a period of about 3000 years, with the circle of stones being completed in the final phase. Some sources estimate that it took more than 30 million hours of labor to construct it. Of the more than 900 stone rings dotting England, Stonehenge is the most famous. 

But who built Stonehenge? And why?

The White Horses of England

This picture is the White Horse of Uffington, Oxfordshire, England. It is 360 feet long, and was carved from chalk bedrock about 3000 years ago. Best seen from the air, the White Horse of Uffington is one of seven such horses cut into the chalk downlands of Wiltshire, and is said to be one of the oldest.

Why was it carved? And by whom?

Atlantis

OK, this one admittedly is a stretch, but it tickles my fancy nonetheless.  Atlantis was first referred to by Plato in two of his dialogues: Timaeus and Critias - the only know written record referring specifically to a lost civilization called Atlantis. Legend describes it to be an island in the middle of the Atlantic, which sank "in a single day and night of misfortune" after its people launched a failed attempt to invade Athens. This leads, of course, to the 2000 year old debate:

Was Atlantis real? Or, is it merely fiction?

Easter Island and the Moai

One of the most famous, yet least-visited, archaeological sites in the world, the ancient name of this island is Te Pito o TeHenua: "The Navel of the World." It is the world's most remote inhabited island, sitting in the South Pacific Ocean. The over 800 moai on the island are enormous stone monolithic statues, each in various stages of completion. They are an average 14 feet tall, and weigh an average of 14 tons apiece! Only 7 moai face the sea - the rest face inland - and most were carved between AD 1000 and AD 1650.

But, why were they made? Who carved them? Why do they face the way they do?

Machu Picchu

"The Lost City of the Incas," Machu Picchu was created at the height of the Incan Empire. Situated on a mountain ridge above Urubama Valley in Peru, it was built around 1450, then abandoned about 100 years later and forgotten for centuries. It wasn't until 1911 that it was brought to worldwide attention, by an American historian named Hiram Bingham. Machu Picchu is invisible from below, and completely self-contained. The city is listed as one of the Seven Wonders of the Modern World.

Why was this city abandoned? What was its purpose?

The Great Pyramid of Giza

Located outside Cairo, Egypt, the Great Pyramid was completed in approximately 2580 BC, and is the largest of the three pyramids in the Giza Necropolis. Its base is a nearly perfect square. It is the largest pyramid in Egypt, and was the tallest man-made structure in the world for over 3800 years! The Great Pyramid is made of over 2.4 million stone blocks, and is the only remaining member of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

How was the pyramid built with such precision?

The Great Sphinx

Near the Great Pyramid, the Great Sphinx reposes. Measuring 241 feet in length, 20 feet in width, and 65 feet high, it is the largest monolithic statue in the world, and the earliest known monumental sculpture. The Sphinx is believed to have been built in the third millenium BC, but recent studies suggest it may have actually been built thousands of years earlier. After the Giza Necropolis was abandoned, the Great Sphinx became buried up to its neck in sand. Excavation efforts were begun in around 1400 BC, but it wasn't completely released from it's sandy tomb until the period from 1925-1936.

Is the Sphinx really thousands of years older than we thought? Who was the real-life model for its face? And what really happened to the nose?

- - -

Well, all this talk of ancient mysteries has got me thinking of a few modern ones. I won't need to Google these - they're all sprung straight from my (sometimes) crooked brain! Check back tomorrow for a post all about some Modern Mysteries That Fascinate Me...

Get Out the Paper Plates...

...because today is NO DIRTY DISHES DAY!!!!  

Be sure to tell all of your family and friends, and enjoy the reprieve!

Book Review: The Eleventh Hour: A Curious Mystery, by Graeme Base

A book is read, a story ends, a telling tale is told.

But who can say what mysteries a single page may hold?

A maze of hidden codes and clues, a clock at every turn,

And only time will tell what other secrets you may learn...

The Eleventh Hour: A Curious Mystery is an irresistible invitation to try your hand at solving a most fantastic conundrum. Horace the Elephant is turning eleven, and has invited 11 friends to celebrate with a grand costume gala filled with 11 games and tons of fun. Everything is set to begin at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. But, when the friends all gather at the appointed hour for the feast after a day full of fun and frolicking, a curious mystery is revealed, and the culprit remains afoot. Can you figure out who?

Overview:

This oversized, beautifully illustrated picture book is written entirely in verse. It is 32 glossy, high-color, insanely detailed pages jam-packed with clues, codes, cyphers, and hidden objects to be taken in through picture and poetry and ingenuity. But be careful! The author has thrown in a fair helping of red herrings to keep things interesting.

Whether you're an expert mystery solver, or a novice starting out, take heart! Graeme Base has purposely designed the book so that everyone - tall to small, right-brained to left-brained, detail person to big picture thinker, and everything in between - can find a way to solve this riddle. The journey to find the culprit is the real fun here, as the reader searches for clues amongst the chaos. Even so, if the things just aren't adding up, and you're at your wit's end, and you just gotta know whodunnit, a built-in safety net is included so you won't be left hanging.

For Teachers and Librarians:

Where to begin? This book has so many possibilities for use in the classroom or library. The mystery unit is most obvious, but you could also launch into a lesson on Roman Centurions or the Fall of Rome; discuss what a "red herring" is, as well as the origin of the term; use it as a springboard for teaching your charges to look for clues both in pictures and text; culminate your unit on nutrition with a grand feast of your own. There are references to math, history, games, literature, crime solving... truly endless possibilities. Try it out - how many ways can you find to use this book in your classroom?

For Parents, Grandparents and Caregivers: 

You will love this book! Your kids will love this book! Pull it out on a rainy day, a sunny day, a there's-nothing-to-do-today day, really any day, and you are guaranteed to begin a journey that you may find it hard to tear yourself away from. The pictures alone are a veritable feast for the eyes, and you and your child could spend hours just searching for all the hidden and not-so-hidden gems the author has packed into each illustration. Even without the pictures, the story is enchanting and fun. Work together to find those clues, but don't be surprised if you find yourself searching for this book to do some solo sleuthing when the kiddos aren't around...

For the Kids:

Do you love searching for clues? Do you think it's fun to solve mysteries, look at really cool pictures to find all the hidden ones mixed in, read a really awesome story full of fun and parties and costumes and talking pigs? Would you think it's funny to see lions, giraffes, tigers, mice, pigs, cats, zebras, elephants, swans and crocodiles all charging along trying to win a potato sack race? Then The Eleventh Hour is the book for you. The story is great, and the author has written it so everyone from kids to adults can solve the mystery. Just in case, there's a section included to help - but try not to peek unless you really, really just have to! Trying to find the answer on your own is so much fun!

For Everyone Else:

Mystery lovers, puzzle fans, clue solvers, cypher fans, and all those who enjoy a rollicking story full of twists and turns will simply not be able to put this book down. You could spend literally hours scouring these pages for clue after clue, solving puzzles and brain-busters, getting side-tracked by several red herrings, guessing and second-guessing to try to get to the bottom of this mystery. The real clincher? This can be as easy or as hard as you care to make it, be you a kid, a kid-at-heart, or somewhere in between, or even well beyond. Take a crack at this romp of a mystery. You won't be disappointed.

Wrapping Up:

The Eleventh Hour: A Curious Mystery is a book that appeals to all ages and all kinds of people on all kinds of levels. Grab a pencil and some paper, grab the book, find some clues, solve some riddles, and have a great time.

Title: The Eleventh Hour: A Curious Mystery

Author and Illustrator: Graeme Base

Pages: 32

Reading Level: Ages 9-12

Publisher and Date: Harry N. Abrams, September 1, 1989

Edition: 1st

Language: English

Published In: United States

Price: $18.95

ISBN-10: 0810908514

ISBN-13: 978-0810908512

Author Spotlight: Graeme Base

Graeme Base is an illustrator, author and musician, who knew even at the tender age of twelve that he wanted to be an artist. Born in England on April 6, 1958, Mr. Base moved with his family to Australia in 1966. He lives there, still, with his wife, Robyn, and their three children.

He grew up in Melbourne, and studied graphic design at Swinburne Institute of Technology for three years. From there, he went into advertising, but found it unfulfilling. During this time, he also did freelance work for book publishers on projects such as book covers. After two years, Mr. Base struck out on his own to do freelancing full time, showing his portfolio to various publishers. This ultimately led to the many children's books he has written, beloved by people of all ages, tall to small.

Though his books are viewed as children's books, he never intended to write for children. He has said that he writes and draws first for his own creative needs, then makes it fit the project at hand. He uses a variety of mediums to create his illustrations: airbrush, gouache, watercolors, transparent inks, watercolor pencils, lead pencils - in short, whatever will produce the effect he wants to achieve.

Graeme Base's first book, My Grandma Lives in Gooligulch, was published in 1983. It is written in verse, and has six illustrations. 

It was not until his second book, Animalia, was published (1986), that he received international acclaim. Animalia is an alliterative alphabet book whose illustrations set it apart from all the others through their incredible depth, with 1500 images hidden and embedded in each one. This second book took three years to complete, and has sold over 2 million copies worldwide. 

The Eleventh Hour, published in 1989, is perhaps equally as well known. It is a mystery in pictures. The author wrote and illustrated it with the intent that it can be enjoyed and solved by all ages, through many means. This book took two years to complete, and Mr. Base shares that he had the title idea first, and wrote the rest of the book to match that title.

Building on the phenomenal success of these early books, Graeme Base has written and illustrated many more books, each with the beautiful, intricate illustrations and creative verse his fans have come to love. 

Sources:

Graeme Base Teacher Resource File

BBC Graeme Base Biography

An Interview With Graeme Base

Graeme Base Biography

The Dust Bunnies Must've Had One Heckuva Party...

...under my bed. Either that, or a couple of somebodies who will remain nameless (Hint: one is my firstborn, and the other is my second born) have clearly taken liberties with the phrase, "Clean up your toys, please."

You see, we're having company this weekend. That means it's time to clean.  So, I'm dashing around the house, going from laundry pile to dirty sinks to laundry pile to dirty shower to laundry pile to dirty dishes... you get the idea.   

Just for kicks, I decided I'd be extra clean and vacuum under my bed instead of around it. But first, I had to clear out a few obstacles:

How many of these things are actually mine, and how many of these things have been crammed under the bed to take stealthy advantage of my, ummm, less-than-stellar home upkeep?  Let's go on a little picture walk, shall we, and see what's mine:

Star Wars Lego box - nope.

 

Geronimo Stilton book - nope.

 

Giraffe print goody bag from last year's birthday party - no again.

 

Well, how about that View Master storage case? No.

 

Teeny little basketballs? I think not.

GI Joe in Jeep? Umm, no.

Boy-sized sock? I don't think so.

Ooh! How about that empty tissue box, or that jar lid? No, and no.

All right... Carnival book? No.

Pipe cleaner truck? I made it, but it's not mine, so nope.

Accordion horsie craft? Cute, but no.

Little toy cage thingie, used popsicle stick, homemade ghosties - nope, no, not.

 

Joseph Had A Little Overcoat - great book, but not mine.

Plastic golf club, small hi-bounce balls, Mickey D straws, 3-D glasses, pencil, calendar from Kindergarten, Mickey D Happy Meal toy, drawing of a cherry pie? No, times eight.

Lovely gift bag? Now, this isn't mine, but I may swipe it and call it "Finders Keepers" as, well, a finder's fee.

Birthday card? Not mine.  Neither is the card addressed to "Daddy."

Hair scrunchies - OK, those are mine. 

Two sets of slippers? Mine again - though I never get to actually wear them anymore, because they're always on feet four sizes too small.

Now, if you're paying attention, the score is:

      Nameless Ones: 26         Me: 3

But, I did find this yellow note, too, all folded up in a tiny square. Maybe it's not so bad to let the dust bunnies have their fun once in a while...

What Are You Afraid Of?

I read somewhere that to prevent yourself from having trouble getting to sleep, you should keep lights low in the evening, and keep them off after you turn in for the night. So, I have learned to navigate my house in the dark. I'm pretty good at it these days, and have found there's usually enough light to maneuver from either an Indi-Glo night light, or outdoor lights that filter through my blinds.

My kids, however, have not inherited this ease with the night. Ask them to retrieve a favorite toy after lights-out, and they will - without fail - flip on every single light switch they pass on their journey. Guess who has to go back down and flip them back off? Though, in all fairness, I remember way back when: leaping from light switch to bed at night, then pulling the covers over my head, waiting for my heart to stop pounding... and then I turned twenty-seven...

That got me thinking about fears, so I did a little research to find some of the more... unusual... phobias out there. Here's a representative sample:

Anatidaephobia - the fear that wherever you are, a duck is watching you (I kid you not...)

Arachibutyrophobia - the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth (fairly valid, all things considered...)

Amathophobia - fear of dust (Don't come to my house if you suffer from this one!)

Walloonphobia - fear of Walloons (Now, this one I looked into a little more - Walloon is a Romance language spoken as a second language by some in Wallonia, Belgium. Who knew?)

Zemmiphobia - fear of the great mole rat (Guess anyone who suffers from this one shouldn't watch Kim Possible - A Sitch in Time...)

Mageirocophobia - the fear of cooking (hmmm... the kitchen does creep me out a little, but maybe it's just that skillet that hasn't come clean for two days, now...) 

Alektophobia - fear of chickens (Oooh!  All you alektophobics out there may not want to visit Kathi's I Think We're All Bozos on This Bus blog- but everyone else should... she's a riot!)

Alliumphobia - fear of garlic (Think of all the poor alliumphobics out there mislabeled as vampires...)

Eosophobia - fear of daylight (Yes, well, if you're alliumphobic and eosophobic, you may have some 'splainin' to do...)

Pentheraphobia - fear of one's mother-in-law ('fess up now people, you know who you are...)

Vestiophobia - fear of clothes (Is this why so many toddlers delight in disrobing at the most inappropriate times?)

Gymnophobia - fear of nudity (So, if you put a vestiophobe and a gymnophobe in the same room together, do they cancel each other out??)

Ataxophobia - fear of disorder or untidiness (Definitely not me - but if this is you, well, again, maybe you won't want to visit my humble abode...)

Samhainophobia - fear of Halloween (movie: yes! holiday: not!)

Syngenesophobia - fear of relatives (hmmm... well, not all of them...)

Dromophobia - fear of crossing the road (Crud! All this time, we've been asking the wrong question. That chicken never crossed the road at all...)

Ombrophobia - fear of rain or being rained on (So, I guess visiting Seattle would be out of the question...)

Kathisophobia - fear of sitting down (Hey! Is this why Hemmingway is said to have written while standing up, with his typewriter propped on a bookcase? He- What? What's a typewr- You know, typewriter?? Tap-tap-tappatiy-tap, zzzzip, tingggg?  Those things writers used to- Oh, never mind...)

It's Limerick Day!

To celebrate, here is my own original limerick:

Feel free to post a comment with your own original limerick (make it clean, please - my kids read this blog!!!) and join the fun!

A Very Colorful Mother's Day!

I had the most perfect Mother's Day, today!  C, Lovely Girl and Handsome Boy took me on a surprise trip to visit The Crayola Factory!  Though I am a writer, I love art, too, and have boxes and bins and drawers and shelves full of supplies to feed my habit.  It was an especially sweet trip since I love all things Crayola - and have a collection of special edition Crayola Crayon tins to prove it!

If you've never been there, you have to go - whether you have kids or not! As soon as you arrive, they give these neat gold tokens.  You can use them throughout the museum in exchange for a marker, or a small pack of crayons, or some Model Magic.

All through the museum, you can make cards or murals or puppets with cut paper, glue and markers; dance in front of a trippy, psychedelic video screen drenched in color that copies your every move; paint with melted crayons; write on clear plexiglass walls; draw on a huge chalkboard on the floor with giant sidewalk chalk; experiment with stop-animation; sculpt; and as you can see from these lovely examples here - paint with watercolors.  (Hmmm... can you guess which painting is mine???)  It was a blast!

Though the museum isn't attached to the actual factory, they have a small auditorium where they demonstrate how crayons are made.  We even got to wrap our own crayon with its label the way they used to do it before the process was automated.  (It's not as easy as you might think to wrap those things and keep the label straight and unwrinkled!)

When we had finally done everything we could possibly do (three hours of slightly-messy-but-oh-so-worth-it fun), we went down the street a few feet to The Crayola Store, where they have the World's Largest Crayon on display.  It's blue - my favorite color!

Is this just the most awesome thing or what?  I know, I'm easily impressed, but seriously - it's a fifteen hundred pound crayon, for crying out loud! How many times in your life can you say you got to see that up close and in person?  In my case, just once... so far...

I hope every mom out there had a fantastic Mother's Day.  If you did, leave a comment and tell me all about it!  I'd love to hear about your day!

Book Review: The Sorcerer's Letterbox, by Simon Rose

The Sorcerer's Letterbox begins with a mysterious encounter in England, in 1740, between the queen, and a monk known only as Brother William.  The queen fears for the safety of her son, and has a vision that this monk - who has a reputation as a sorcerer - has something for her that will protect him from harm. He does indeed, and hands her what appears to be an ordinary box before she hurries away.

Who is Brother William?  What was the queen's vision?  And how is an ordinary box going to save her son?

The story jumps forward hundreds of years, to a boy named Jack. Jack's father owns an antique shop, and had long ago given him an antique wooden box that had been in his family for generations.  One day, a small drawer in the box popped open, revealing a scroll, containing a letter written in Middle English.  Later, at his father's shop, a mysterious visitor reveals to Jack - who is the spitting image of the boy king, Edward V - that he is the only one who can respond to the scroll.  "Lives are at stake!"

Overview:

Thus begins a time-traveling thrill ride that pits Jack and Edward against the king's nefarious uncle, who intends to kill Edward and his brother in order to keep the throne for himself.  The two boys are aided in their adventure by a girl named Meg, who knows her way around the hidden passages in the castle where the boy king is imprisoned with his brother.  Together, Jack and Meg work to try and save Edward and his brother from certain doom.

This book is a spine-tingling journey through space and time, filled with danger, evil plots, and seemingly impossible situations, with lots of plot twists, turns and surprises to keep the reader on the edge of their seat!

For Teachers and Librarians:

This book is based on the historical story known as The Princes in the Tower, where King Edward IV of England died, leaving his young son to be crowned King Edward V at 12 years old.  But, Edward IV's brother Richard took the throne for his own by exploiting a technicality, and imprisoned Edward V and his brother in the the Tower of London. They were gradually seen less and less until no one saw them out at all.  The suspicion was that Richard killed his nephews, but it was never proven, and conspiracy theories abound.  This book would be a perfect accompaniment to an English history unit.  Or a unit on the English monarchy.  Or a mystery unit.  The possibilities are endless!  

For Parents, Grandparents and Caregivers:

This is a great book to get reluctant readers excited about reading.  Full of action, adventure, mystery, and a hint of rebelliousness, they can't help but get pulled into the story, either by reading it themselves, or having it read to them.  It is a good way to get them interested in history, as well as mystery books.  Once they've read this, it would be so easy to help them go online or to the library and find out the real details of The Princes in the Tower, and perhaps find more mystery books, to keep them reading.

For Kids:

The Sorcerer's Letterbox has it all: mystery, adventure, kids in charge, time travel...  Imagine, four kids are the only ones who can save the true King of England!  They have to battle evil uncles, wiggle through secret tunnels underneath a moat, sneak through hidden passages in castle walls, escape from peasants hoping to turn them in and collect a reward, all while trying to be sure each of them ends up in their right time without losing their lives in the process.  Do the princes survive?  Does Jack ever get back to his own time?  And how does Meg figure into all of this?  Curious?  Then go pick up the book and get started... you won't be disappointed.

For Everyone Else:

This is a great book for the history buff - history from a kid's perspective is quite different from The Establishment's point of view.  No one really knows what happened to The Princes in the Tower, but the author provides an interesting possibility.  Those who love a good adventure or mystery book will find it equally interesting.  Though written for the 9-12 set, there is a lot here to keep the 12+ set coming back for more, too.

Wrapping Up:

The Sorcerer's Letterbox is the perfect combination of history and fantasy.  Hurry to the store or the library, find it, and start reading!

Title: The Sorcerer's Letterbox

Author: Simon Rose

Cover Illustration: George Juhasz

Pages: 114

Reading Level: Ages 9-12

Publisher and Date: Tradewinds, March 2006

Edition: paperback

Language: English

Published in: Canada and the United Kingdom

Price: $7.95

ISBN-10: 1896580521

ISBN-13: 978-1896580524

Author Spotlight: Simon Rose

Simon Rose has written several novels for young people, beginning with The Alchemist's Portrait, published in 2003.  Since then, he has had four additional novels published, with a fifth coming out in Spring 2009: The Doomsday Mask.

Born in 1961 in Derbyshire, England, Mr. Rose grew up in Chesterfield.  He was a big comic book fan, and was rather partial to Marvel comics.  He first began writing as a teenager - when he began an epic sci-fi and fantasy novel.  He still works on it from time to time, and hopes one day to see it published.  Also during his teen years, he developed a love of history, and graduated from university in 1982 with a history degree. 

In addition to writing novels for young readers, Simon Rose does readings, presentations and author-in-residence programs for schools and libraries worldwide.  He serves as an instructor with the National Writing for Children Center, offers many services for aspiring writers of all ages, and does copywriting for the business world.

This author, writer and presenter enjoys reading sci-fi, fantasy, ancient mysteries, and "anything mysterious and unexplained."

Having moved to Canada in 1990, Mr. Rose resides in Calgary with his two children, and a dog, and a cat.

Sources:

Simon Rose website

Today is No Socks Day...

...and so, the kiddos and I decided to celebrate in high style!

Hope your day was as footloose and fancy free (and fun!) as ours was...

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

So, I'm sitting at the kitchen counter with Handsome Boy.  I'm reading the paper. He's having an after-school snack. Suddenly I get the distinct impression someone is staring at me. I look up to see my little man gazing at me with his best I'm-so-cute-how-can-you-resist-me face.

"Mommy?"

"Hmmm?"

"Could you get me my Calvin and Hobbes book?"

I look around.  "You mean, The Days Are Just Packed?"  It's behind him, on the back of the couch.  

He looks over at the couch, then back to me.  "Yeah!"  His eyes sparkle with anticipation.

My eyes sparkle with you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me.  "Of course not!"

Handsome Boy looked at me as if I'd just crushed his favorite toy.  "What?"

"You can drag your lazy self the two feet it will take you to pick it up off the couch that's right behind you."

"But, can't you get it?"

"I certainly will not."

Shooting me a very irritated look, he takes the 3 micro-seconds to remove his behind from his cushy seat, take two steps, pick up the book, take two steps again, and deposit his behind back on his cushy seat.  He gives me a dead-pan stare.

I return the stare.  I pat his little hand.  "Boy!  You must just be exhausted!"

"Mommy!"

          ----

Later that same evening, I'm sitting at the computer, surfing online for something funny to read.  

C (my husband) is reclined on the couch behind me, tapping away on his laptop. He says to me, "Do you have that Power Point thing Lovely Girl did?  I want to use it for Take Our Daughters and Sons to Work Day."

"Sure."  I stop my super-important work and pull it up.  I turn to C, moving out of his line of sight to the monitor.  "Is this what you wanted?"

He squints over at me.  "Could you just email it to me so I can read it?"

I stare at him like he's grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead.  "You have got to be kidding me."

"Whaaaaat?" he whines.

"Email it to you..."

"Yes!"  

He is totally serious.  

I am totally flaked out.  

"NO!  Drag your lazy self off the couch and walk the five feet it will take you to come over here and read it!"

Grudgingly, C lurches off the couch.  He rests his hand on my desk.  He peers at the screen.  "That's it," he says. Then he looks down at me.

"Could you copy that to a flash drive for me?"

Could I copy it to the flash drive...  

...the one that was sitting (yep!) right next to his thumb...

A Debt We Can Never Repay

Today is National Teachers Day.  As I sit here, I am reminded of the many things teachers have helped me work through, whether it was for me when I was a kid, or whether it was for my own kids as I try to help them in this journey through life.  Here are just a few instances, though there are a whole lot more:

Friendship Crisis

When I was in sixth grade, Mrs. Mathews helped my best friend and I heal a significant rift.  I said something on the playground that hurt my BFF's feelings to the point that she was still red-faced and teary well into the afternoon.  Instead of letting this go, Mrs. Mathews stopped what she was doing, got another teacher to cover the rest of the class, and took us across the hall into a private conference room (quite a luxury in an open space school).  Then, she demanded to know what was going on, and insisted that we fix it there and then because it was disrupting her class.  

I was embarrassed to have hurt my BFF so profoundly, since that was not my intention at all, but it came out as anger, instead.  The more she cried, the more embarrassed I became that I had caused it, so I just kept getting outwardly angrier and angrier.  Which made her cry even harder.  I had no idea how to fix this, and neither did she, but Mrs. Mathews did.  She helped us walk through it, in her own no-nonsense way.  If she hadn't, that BFF and I would never have made it to 30 years of friendship (which I hope continues as long as we live).

Oh, the Patience...

My Handsome Boy is as full of life and joy as I've ever seen in a human being.  If I could find a way to bottle that energy, I'd be a rich woman, and the energy crisis would be a non-issue for all time.  At home, he's free to let this energy play out to the fullest, but at school, he's got to reign it in a bit, and it's not easy for him.  Yet, each year, he's been blessed with a teacher who not only saw who he is behind all that busy-ness, but helped him find ways to be successful and happy in school, and gave him lots of opportunities to learn when to let it out, and when to reign it in.  

Mrs. Johnston helped him work through his distress at leaving me two days a week to be a big boy in preschool.  Miss Julie and Miss Wendy watched and thought, until they noticed his knack for building and his dislike of pencil and paper things.  They worked out a system with him of "must do's" and "can do's," giving him a modicum of control in situations that, for him, were a bit too confining at times.  But, they also helped him learn that pencil and paper can be fun, too.  They praised his building abilities and encouraged him to create lots of interesting things.  He loved preschool, and those three teachers are the main reasons why.

Mrs. Franks helped both Handsome Boy and me.  He started coming home from school every day telling me how sad he was.  Things were not going well, so I asked to meet with her, and soon after, my little man was back to his old silly self.  She taught him to channel his energy in ways to help school be fun, and she taught me not to worry - he is who he is, and that's OK, because he's OK.  Mrs. Taylor observes, modifies, encourages, and finds ways for my little guy to use his unbridled enthusiasm for life in positive ways in the classroom.  He loves it there, and she's a big part of why he does.

Intuitive Teachers for the Sensitive Soul

Then there's my Lovely Girl.  She loves school.  She loves books.  And she is a very sensitive soul who internalizes much, holding things in until she's at her wit's end.  Once again, she's gotten teachers who could see into her little soul, and knew exactly how to reach her and encourage her.  

Mrs. Clayton taught her how to use her strong sense of right and wrong in positive ways, and to ease her frustrations when things did not go according to plan.  

Mrs. Whetzel helped her see the difference between being bossy and being a leader.  She gave her ample opportunities to practice being a good leader, and being a good friend.

Miss Gray is a gentle, unassuming teacher, very calm, cool and collected.   She always has a smile and a kind word to greet the kids.  In a school that can seem overwhelmingly large and noisy, this teacher helped my sweet girl to deal with changes and find ways to be comfortable in chaos.  

Miss Delozier encouraged her to come out of her shell, have fun, and know that it's OK to be loud and boisterous once in a while.  She showed her that books are indeed important, but that there's a lot of other things in this big world to love, too.  

Mrs. Conant encourages her to be her best, to trust herself, and to be confident in who she is and what she can do.  Through her actions, she has shown my Lovely Girl more caring and compassion than I could ever have asked for.  She is a cheerleader, confidant, and teacher all rolled into one, and my first born has continued to grow in all directions.

Gratitude

I don't know how to thank these and all the other teachers we have known for the many many blessings they have bestowed upon me and my family.  We are all better people because of them.  

To all of the teachers out there who mold their little (and not so little) charges, and teach them, and care about them, and probably even love them...

Thank you.  What you do for kids and their parents is indeed a debt we can never possibly repay, but for which we are eternally grateful.

Book Review: Dirty Dog Boogie, by Loris Lesynski

Right from the get-go, Loris Lesynski invites the reader to join in the fun, feel the beat, and get set to be silly, in Dirty Dog Boogie, a poetry collection which she both wrote and illustrated.

Overview:

Slightly smaller than a standard sheet of paper, this slim volume is 32 pages packed with rhythm and fun.  The pages are smooth, and of a nice weight - so they will hold up well to repeated page-turns by excited little hands.  They have just enough of a sheen so that when pint-sized readers burst out laughing, the little bits of juice (from the juicebox they were sipping) that escape their mouths can be easily wiped off the pages, with little harm done.

The illustrations are bold, colorful, cartoonish, and definitely add to the silliness - a perfect complement to the poetry.  The rhymes have a jazzy, swingy feel to them that makes you want to tap your toes and get up and wiggle.  Kid-centric topics are the subject of each poem, and to aid in getting the right rhythm, the author has at times used strategic bold print.

The bulk of the poems are written in first person, from a kid's point of view, which makes it easy for kids to put themselves in the action.  Other poems encourage the reader to have fun with rhymes and feel the beat.  But, they are presented in a "Come join the fun" type of way, and not a "Do this so you can learn something" kind of way.  The author uses lots of word play, and shows the silly side of being a kid.  

All of the poems speak directly to kids, giving voice to their feelings, and especially to their goofiest of thoughts!  There is the quasi-philosophical discussion on sock fluff, for instance.  One can also read about puddles of sun, which is written so descriptively you can just picture it - even if the author professes to be unable to illustrate it.  There's more than one poem that tells all about how it feels to be fidgety.  (Something many grown-ups seem to have forgotten the feel of!)  So much fun and hilarity is jammed into these pages, that a child will be hard-pressed not to find something to his or her liking.

For Teachers and Librarians:

This book presents a wealth of opportunities for teaching a poetry unit - rhyme, rhythm, different types of poetic forms, different ways to read poetry aloud, etc.  The kids will have a blast both reading these poems, and listening to them.  The poems lend themselves well as frameworks from which your students can create their own poems.  In fact, the author encourages this - which you can see for yourself if you visit her website.  This is a welcome accompaniment to the book, as Ms Lesynski provides a ton of activity ideas, printables, and ways to have fun reading her poems aloud.  It's all there in pages she's created especially for you.

For Parents, Grandparents and Caregivers:

Ms Lesynski's poems are a delightful romp through the ridiculous and the silly, and your kids will have a great time reading these either with you or on their own.  Use it to turn their sour moods back to sweet, or pull it out to brighten up a rainy day.  Also, check the author's website for ways to increase the fun with printable coloring pages, and ideas for fun things to do together using the poems from this book.

For the Kids:

These poems will make you want to tap your toes, wiggle your nose, and get up and dance!  Be silly!  Have fun!  Read them all, and you'll want to read them again and again.  And then, you can make up your own poems, using the ones in this book as a guide.  The author's website has lots of other fun stuff you can do using the poems in this book, but be sure to ask your parents for permission and help, first.  

Wrapping up:

Dirty Dog Boogie has some great rhymes, and lots of opportunities for fun and giggles in a jazzy, swing-beat kind of way.

Title: Dirty Dog Boogie

Author/Illustrator: Loris Lesynski

Pages: 32

Ages: 4-8 years

Publisher and date: Annick Press (U.S.) Ltd., 1999

Edition: Second printing, April 2005 paperback

Language: English

Published in: United States

Price: $6.95

ISBN-10: 1550375725

ISBN-13: 978-1550375725

Author Spotlight: Loris Lesynski

Loris Lesynski was born in Eskilstuna, Sweden, but her family later moved to Canada.  Her father was from Poland, and worked as a toolmaker.  Her mother was a nurse originally from Finland.  She and her sister, an artist, loved to draw, write and read as little girls.  Ms Lesynski says she always knew she wanted to be a writer someday.

She started keeping a journal at the age of three, and continued right on through high school - filling those journals with poems, stories and observations.  She also drew cartoons, which she enjoyed immensely.

Her career has taken her from university student, to nursery school teacher, to newspaper reporter, and even to fruit market clerk.  Then, at 21 years old, Ms Lesynski discovered graphic design, and fell in love with it.  Her works included designing and illustrating book covers, books, theater posters, brochures, menus and myriad other types of media.  She continued with graphic design work for many years, while continuing to write on the side.

Boy Soup, her first book, was published by Annick Press in 1996.  Since then, she has been a full time author and illustrator, writing poetry and picture books.  Ms Lesynski also makes time for visits to schools, libraries and educational conferences.

Source:

Loris Lesynski website

P.O.V. of the Father of the Bride

Just as all good things must come to an end, so must this seven part story.  Today, you will hear all about the "No Marriage License" flub from the seventh and final storyteller.  If you've been keeping up, this will be a welcome wrap-up of this whole silly affair.  If you haven't, then by all means, check out the following parts first. (No one likes to come into the middle of the story, and be clueless.  It's like trying to watch Lost for the first time - if you haven't been watching all along, you'd better go buy the show DVD's and catch up, or you will be soooo, well... lost.)

Overview

P.O.V. of the Future Wife of the Best Man

P.O.V. of the Only Brother of the Bride

P.O.V. of the Groom

P.O.V. of the Best Man

 P.O.V. of the Mother of the Bride

 P.O.V. of the Bride

So, all caught up and ready for the big ol' finale to this big ol' fiasco?  OK, here you are: the story of the "No Marriage License" flub, Version Seven of Seven, in the words of the Father of the Bride.

Thirty minutes before the ceremony was ready to start, the mother of the bride and love of my life came running to the back of the church with a look of sheer panic on her face.  Pastor D had asked for the marriage license and, much to his chagrin, the bride was unable to produce it!  Pastor D adamantly refused to proceed with the ceremony until he had the license in his hand.  This was not negotiable.

With 150 guests anxiously awaiting the wedding processional to begin, my wife dispatched me back to the house to retrieve the marriage license.  The bride emphatically stated that it was in a notebook on the floor in her bedroom.  The fifteen minute ride to the house seemed to take forever.  Once in Kim's bedroom, the challenge began.  "Hmmmm, in a notebook on the floor of my room."  I couldn't even see the carpet, let alone a notebook, with all the clothes and "stuff" on the floor.  After plowing through a pile of clothes, I found the notebook at the bottom of the pile.  I flipped through it quickly.  Panic heightened when that most important piece of paper wasn't where it was supposed to be.  I began tossing clothes in the air like a dog throws dirt when digging a hole.  "It has to be here somewhere!!"  I finally found a stack of papers at the bottom of another pile of clothes.  With a stroke of luck, the marriage license somehow found its way into my hand.  It had to have been divine intervention.  That was the only plausible explanation.  "If she was only organized..."

Back to the church I rushed with the marriage license in my hand.  After sprinting across the parking lot and into the back of the church, I calmly handed it to Pastor D.  The best man gave me a high five and said, "I owe you big time, man!"  Wiping the sweat off my brow, I wound my way through the basement of the church and then up the stairs to assume my place so that the processional could begin.  Feeling like I saved the day, I escorted the bride down the aisle, right on cue as if nothing had happened.

Sadly (or... not), this marks the end of the journey.  All seven versions are present and accounted for.  But, are we any closer to figuring out what really happened?  Or, is the identity of the guilty party responsible for the AWOL document doomed to be undecided for all time?  Or, did we all have our hands in the cookie jar in some way, shape or form???  Or, did I just publicly hang myself out to dry, here?  Hmmm...  Well, let me know if you have any thoughts.  If not, well, it was fun reliving all of this...

...I think...

P.O.V. of the Bride

So.  Day 6.  Time to hear from the Bride - aka... me.  I have been putting this off for quite some time.  As I once told a judge during my first appearance in traffic court (after the police officer's testimony), "It happened just the way he said."  The judge paused, took in my jean jacket attire and youthful appearance, and with forced patience said, "Well, I'd like to hear your version, if you don't mind."

And, here we are.  If you're just joining us, you'll want to visit the following posts to catch up, first.  Then, come back here.  That way, I can procrastinate furth- I mean, proofread my already written account...

Overview

P.O.V. of the Future Wife of the Best Man

P.O.V. of the Only Brother of the Bride

P.O.V. of the Groom

P.O.V. of the Best Man

 P.O.V. of the Mother of the Bride

waiting....

Laaa la la looo......  I just stepped in-

Ah, there you are!  Here we go, then.  Version Six of Seven in the "No Marriage License" flub.  In the words of the Bride.

Let's start at my house, the morning of the wedding.  Two of my bridesmaids (or was it three...) were bunking with us, one of which almost didn't show (very long story).  I was at the kitchen table giving myself a French manicure - which I hurried to dry using a hair dryer, as I used a bazillion coats of paint, to be sure it looked professional, even though it wasn't.  I was wearing cut-off sweats with one of M's old button-down short sleeve shirts, and everyone was complaining that I was heating up the house.  (NO air conditioning.  At the end of July.  In a state south of the Mason-Dixon Line.  Yeah.)  

My hair was wrapped in a towel - freshly washed and waiting for my aunt to come and work her magic on it to make me lovely.  When she arrived, we headed upstairs to my room, as the main floor was too busy with other bodies all trying to eat and get ready.  

Now, here I need to make a few footnotes.  I am as organized as they come, and probably more so.  I prepare things like this well in advance, and I have more than once (and to my great irritation) been referred to as "anal," or "type A," followed by snickers and hidden grins.  So what if I still have the one-inch-thick binder I kept to get this whole show planned, put together, and run?  (It is tabbed, color-coded, and alphabetized.)  So what if I also keep calendars and date books indefinitely once the year is done?  (You never know when you might need the info in there...)

However, that stellar organization does not manifest itself well to those not living in my head.  (So far, it's just me in there...)  Why?  Because stuff that calls for immediate attention or that is unable to be kept in a book or binder is organized by a system that serves me immensely well - the "pile system."  I put stuff in piles, according to how and when I need it, in plain view, where I won't forget it.  

I will admit, my room did look like piles of crap to everyone who walked in there.  But each pile had a purpose, and I knew exactly where each one was, and what it contained.  On that fated day, one of these piles held everything I needed to take with me to the church: earrings, necklace, panty hose, shoes, toiletries, two garters (one to throw, one to keep) and... marriage license.  

Now, when my aunt and I wound our way up to my room to do my hair, my mom followed, then rushed around moving my stuff all over the place.  I did indeed tell her not to touch anything, just as she related in yesterday's post.  Everything was organized so I could just grab the one pile I needed for the church as soon as my hair was done, and my friends could rush me to the church to finish getting dressed.  

So, when my hair was done, I grabbed the "church pile" exactly as I had planned, ran out the door with my bridesmaids, jumped in the car, and sped off to the church.  (The car and the church had air conditioning - another reason to hurry up and go.)

From the church parlor, memories come to me in bits and pieces.  Laughing with the bridesmaids as we all tried to figure out how the heck a real garter works.  (I know - what was I thinking??)  Telling my hearing-aid wearing grandmother to stick around for pictures.  (She didn't hear me.  How do I know?  The same way I always do: she smiled, nodded, and walked right out the door!  I sent a bridesmaid after her, but she had disappeared into the crowd.)  Sweating through pictures.  Watching a flurry of blue as bridesmaids rushed to hide me whenever someone came to the door.  (I was superstitious enough that I DID NOT want the groom to see me until the moment I appeared at the sanctuary doors.)  Panicking when the tiny blonde ring-bearer had his own panic attack and wouldn't go down the aisle - even though his big sis told him the aisle runner was a magic carpet, and my mom sewed a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure to the ring pillow. Panicking  again when someone told me Pastor D needed the marriage license, but when I reached into my pile... guess what wasn't there???

From here, I think everyone else told the story quite sufficiently.  The wedding did get started late.  The Groom really didn't have Clue One that anything was amiss. The Brother of the Bride was absolutely as laid back as he sounded in his story.  The Future Wife of the Groom really did feel the pressure of being in this new town pretty much on her own in a crowd of 300+.  And for the record, those instructions the Best Man told you I gave him for finding the license?  He remembers them EXACTLY as I told them to him all those years ago.

Well, now.  Six down, and only one to go: The Father of the Bride.  And after that, if you think you have this whole comedy of errors figured out, well, you're doing better than the seven of us have!

Until tomorrow...

Looking for the Book Review/Author Spotlight Posts?

In order to complete the "No Marriage License" seven part story, Book Review/Author Spotlight will be moved to Sunday, May 4, for this week only.  Then it will be back to the regular schedule.  Thank you for your patience!

Coming later today - Version Six of Seven in the "No Marriage License" flub, in the words of the Bride...

P.O.V. of the Mother of the Bride

Here we are... today you will read the fifth of seven parts in the "No Marriage License" flub.  Nobody really knows why this happened, or whose fault it is, so we're presenting all the ridiculous details out here in cyberspace to see if all of you people can help us sort it out.  If you're new to this blog, you'll need to catch up, so here are the links to the other posts leading up to this one.  Once you're done with those, click back to this one, and we'll continue:

Overview

P.O.V. of the Future Wife of the Best Man

P.O.V. of the Only Brother of the Bride

P.O.V. of the Groom

P.O.V. of the Best Man

Tumm ta tumm...... Hmmm... what is that on my carpet?  Ewww!  It's -   

Oh, you're back!  All updated, then?  Let's move on.  There's only one of the seven of us us who is certain of at least one thing - and that is the Mother of the Bride.  What is she so sure of?  That it most certainly was not her fault.  Guess whose fault she thinks it is?  (Clue: she's writing directly to ME...)  At any rate, read on, and form your own opinions.  Here, for your enlightenment, is Version Five of Seven in the "No Marriage License" flub, right from the Mother of the Bride.

My response has been swarming around in my head for over ten years now and frankly hasn't changed!  I was told by many, before the wedding, to expect that little things would go wrong.  "Don't stress over it," they all said.  "No one will ever notice any of it."  Not true in this case.  Pastor D would not marry you without the license, so someone had to work this one out.

That morning, I was helping you get ready, trying to remember......no stress.....it will all be OK.  You had everything organized, so my only job was to keep you calm and collected.  How's that for easy?????

Your room was, as usual, a sight to behold!  Even with guests in our home and the big event moments away, you insisted on having your "piles of stuff" literally everywhere in your room.  I tried to tidy up all morning, and your response was, "No........... Mom!  Don't move that!  I know just where everything is!"

So, off to the church we went!  Little stumbling blocks did happen: flowers late (with some missing), ring bearers that wouldn't walk down the aisle, an almost no-show bridesmaid........ all little things by comparison.

When M told me of the Pastor's need for the license, I was going to go get it.  I felt I was probably the best person to navigate your room!  (Maybe it was a secret urge to finally get a chance to clean up a bit, eh?)  You insisted I stay with you in the parlor.  So, M (thank goodness he was wearing his patient hat) was the hero who saved the day and all was well.

Not really.

You may not remember this, since it was a very busy day for you: somehow, it became my fault, in your words, that you forgot the license!  My fault.......because I dared to move a "pile" from here to there so we could find a spot of carpet in your room to walk on!

That's about it!  I really don't remember all the drama of the moment.  I was just happy that your special day was all you dreamed it would be.

There.  There, for the love of Pete, it is.  Deep cleansing breath..... inhale....... exhale...... OK.  Where were we?  Oh, yes.  Five down, two to go.  Tomorrow - get set to hear the Bride's version of the "No Marriage License" flub.

See you then...