story time

in the first grade i had two boyfriends at once.  i was big time.  they left notes written on yellow pieces of sticky paper in my cubby.  i had a cubby.  i jumped rope at recess and dreaded dodge ball.  i loved when we played with paper mache or paint or crayons and white paper.  i had a plastic lunch box with a matching plastic thermos.  picking the prettiest one from the shelves was my favorite part of shopping for school supplies in september. on valentines day i cut out pink and red hearts, and pasted them onto a brown paper bag to hold love notes and little packages of sweet tarts.  that's when i knew i loved pink and red.  i learned to add numbers by counting pennies.  subtraction was so hard.  reading was harder.  in the first grade sounding out words was like a new thing, and everyone was doing it.  everyone was catching on.  everyone was reading, but me.  i was mortified.  so i pretended i could read.  but i couldn't.  not really.  it seemed so unfair because no one loved stories more than i did.  i was sure of it.  late afternoon became my favorite time of day.  mrs. moore sat in her wooden rocking chair by the window and we gathered around her feet.  she read so many stories and always gave us plenty of time to look at the pictures.  shel silverstein's poems became my favorite.  mrs. moore introduced me to kings who loved peanut butter sandwiches, children who wrote poetry from lion's mouths, and rabbits who wixed up there mords and founded sunny.  jumping rope, and cutting hearts, and counting pennies just couldn't compare.  i lived for story time.  i hung on her every word.  i promised myself that i would read someday.  even after that day came, i still had a soft spot in my heart for story time.  fast forward to fourth grade when mrs. thatcher read the true confessions of charlotte doyle.  sixth grade reading material.  pashaw!  my heart broke a little every afternoon when she finished each chapter and i had to wait one whole day to find out what happened next.  that's like sixty years in fourth grade time.  then came high school.   during yearbook when cory and i finished our pages early we'd hop up on the big wooden table in the photography room.  he'd read.  i'd listen.  then sean and i discovered harry potter together and a new family tradition was born.  today, as i turned the worn pages of where the sidewalk ends, and cradled my wide eyed little wonder in the crook of my arm, mrs. moore's voice echoed in my head.   i will forever love being read to, and hope to instill that love in my little one.     

love letter

dear liam,

tonight you were bright eyed and ready to play.  i finished rubbing your perfect, little back and you showed us the art of big, beautiful burps.  i laid you on the sofa and dad sat on the floor right next to you with dr. suess's abc's at the ready.  as soon as he began reading you turned your head towards him and stared at his face intently.  you parted your little lips.  you lifted your little eyebrows.  wonder seemed to swirl in your dark blue eyes.  like you had waited your whole life to hear such a voice.  as dad sang about four fluffy feathers on a fiffer-feffer-fef, you hung on his every word.  i felt giddy at the thought of this being the first of many stories to come.  tomorrow we will read harry potter books two through five, and then move onto war and peace.

love you,
mama

word to your mother

sometimes a word springs at me from the page.  it resonates or lingers or confounds or baffles.  i like it when i stumble on words i don't know.  the more i read the more they find me.  which is why i keep a running list.  some words sing to me.  like cupcake. it's like i need a gulp of cold milk whenever i say it. i like it when i discover a word that feels so delicious in my mouth, or fits so snugly in its sentence, that i can't imagine something being written or said any other way.  sometimes i have to take a moment to absorb its perfection, or thumb through a dictionary, or write it down so i'll never ever forget.  tonight i found a tattered envelope, which once dutifuly saved my spot when life inturrupted a story, covered with such words.  blue and red and green ink blanket both sides.  it retired as my book mark as soon as the room ran out, and found a home underneath a stack of forgotten papers.  while making my way down the jumbled lists i grinned at all the words that still elude me, all the expressions that remain so very absent from my vocabulary.  i haven't a clue as to many of their meanings.  in others i find a small source of satisfaction at the things i've learned - a bubbling spring of excitement and pleasure.

the envelope list -

taciturn. relic. scarab. bastion. esoteric. desultory. evince. dissolute. ostensible. squabble. dabbled. moldering. leaden. nascent. wizened. aloof. simulacrum. miasma. allegory. clammoring. belch. austere. idiosyncratic. palpable. disquiet. egregiously. modulate. inordinately. eddied. tenuous. brusque. timbre. assidiously. wisteria. suffused. undaunted. smitten. trepidation. mercurial. tenacity. marvelous. melancholy. pique. vacillate. thicket. etherial. copper. cloak. frost. evocative. slumber. reverie. bonhomie. ebony. gallant. undulate. emerald. token. sentiment. caustic. balmy. acerbic. seraphic. banter. blistering. beatific. inure. exacerbate. scathing. censure. sadistic. deluge. debacle. sycophant. laborious. bemused. dubious. crowed. incredulous. retort. besotted. wry. belied. abscond. propinquity. exasperating. snarl. shrewd. sardonically. tenacious. torrent. wretched. petulance. craggy. gilded. spat. piteous. frisson. scrim. sully. pining. ruminating. blushing. desiccated. patrician. dissipate. chagrin. malingering. shrewd. scurrilous. throes. balked. proffering. tome. detritus. dimity. effigy. incurious. epithet. satorial. festoon.

if you skim through this list and are able to decifer your way through every rhyme and reason, my hat goes off to you my bright, intelligent, well read friend.  if you are as baffled as i am, look one up and learn something new.  you may find an addicting new hobby, you wonderfully inquisitive darling, you!

wild and wicked

"He always thought of the sea as 'la mar' which is what people call her in Spanish when they love her. Sometimes those who love her say bad things of her but they are always said as though she were a woman. Some of the younger fishermen, those who used buoys as floats for their lines and had motorboats, bought when the shark livers had brought much money, spoke of her as 'el mar' which is masculine.They spoke of her as a contestant or a place or even an enemy. But the old man always thought of her as feminine and as something that gave or withheld great favours, and if she did wild or wicked things it was because she could not help them."  - Santiago, The Old Man and the Sea

Ernest Hemingway

"I'm not ready" - Me

I get really caught up in funny things ... things that are of little consequence in the grand and important scheme of things .... just things. Instead of letting them have their own little special place in my life, they consume, and envelop, and distract etc. I have an especially difficult time with books and films and stories and such. I think about things and feel things a lot longer than is needful (or healthy ... there I said it). One example: Harry Potter ... wonderful Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I was so enthralled with reading the seventh book (along with the rest of the world) and was so sad when it ended (along with the rest of the world), however, I STILL feel sad it's over. So much so, that I can't bring myself to watch the movies or begin the books again. Every time Sean brings up the subject of Harry Potter, or hums the theme song in flirtatious jousting I say, "I'm not ready!!!" There I said it. I'm still sad it's over. I can't bring myself to move one. Argh.

story time

i vant to drink your blooooooooooood

Sean finds my newest obsession a little amusing and has started teasing me about being a vampire.  He pretends that I vant to drink his blood and that he is unfolding the evil mysteries of my secret immortal existence. Hints of garlic in dinner earns a surprised expression, and forget about getting anywhere near his neck!  He will gasp and look at me out of the corner of his eye, grab his throat with both of his hands and run in the other direction, ask handfuls of illuminating questions and feign shock and terror to my responses and sudden movements.  Last night, while getting ready for bed, I was bombarded with a series of multiple choice inquiries ... the obvious answers always dripping with dramatic intonations, pronounced with one raised eyebrow, and filled with meaningful stares.   Some particular questions from the grand inquisition:  

Do you prefer:

Lucky Charms

Cheerios

or Count Chocula  

Do you prefer to vacation:

in the Bahamas

in Colorado

or in Transylvania 

If you could be any animal would you want to be:

a polar bear

a meercat

or a bat!

Would you prefer to sleep in a:

hammock

water bed

or a coffin

Is your favorite time of day:

the morning light

the twilight

or midnight

I played along, of course, and was met with frantic looks, and the above gasps and wide eyed neck clutches that had me rolling on the ground and gasping for air.  

sheesh

I'm back from Forks, Washington.  Reluctant and unwilling.  I can't truly go back until August 2nd.  I decided to fly south for a while to where the Mocking Birds are ... to pass the time.  But my mind isn't in the south.  It's back in Forks, with the moss, the concrete sky, the vampires.  

I spent a week there, in and out of some odd 2000 pages.  I don't really remember eating, or sleeping, or breathing ... just reading.  I get like that with books ... Books I really like.  Part of me feels like that's kind of dangerous, being so overwhelmingly consumed with one thing.  A story.  But the weaker part of me continues to read and read and keep reading.  Searching for more stories, more friends, more enemies, more places, more obsessions.  

If I wrote books, I would want to make characters who people could love and hate and dream about.  I would want to take people places I've been able to go because of books.  I would want to help people fall in love with words and reading.  There's nothing quite like it :) 

confession time

Sorry I've been away for so long. My bloggin' ambitions have been put on the back burner this week. I've been away. In Forks, Washington actually. With Vampires. And Warewolves. And a new friend. Bella. I've been having quite the adventure. Her life is so compelling, I can't keep myself from consuming it entirely! Nose stuck in a book, heart racing, unabashedly laughing out loud, turning page after page with no concept of time (which flies by the way when you're away). I know what you're thinking. Vampires? Warewolves? Mushy gooshy romance? There was never any hope for me, really. I am utterly and irrivocably hooked on these stupid books. The whole thing is getting quite ridiculous. And I love it.

a spought on thoonerisms

I was recently thinking about my grandpa and why I love him.  One reason is his humor and frequent use of spoonerisms.  When I was a little girl I remember him walking in the house from mowing the lawn or working on the deck and tell me he was going to go "shake a tower" (instead of take a shower).  Or he would say things like, "tush your breeth" and "homb your cair" (instead of brush your teeth and comb your hair).  He is most famous for his story of RinderCella and her three sugly isters.  You know the one.  The "meautiful baiden" goes to the "band grall."   She "slops her glass dripper," and "lalls in fove" with the "Prandsome Hince."  Grandpa tells the ENTIRE story in spoonerisms! It's downright hilarious and he gives quite an impressive performance.

I grew up hearing spoonerisms and so will my children; not only because it is a piece of grandpa and a special part of who I am, but also because it is a rich language experience that can enhance language development and encourage a love for and interest in words.  As a Christmas gift last year I was given Runny Babbit by Shel Silverstein and it has quickly become one of my favorites as it plays with words and fills me with memories of Grandpa.  I wanted to share with you a little of what makes me happy: 

Runny Babbit (introducing spoonerisms)

Way down in the green woods 

Where the animals all play,

They do things and they say things

In a different sort of way - 

Instead of sayin' "purple hat,"

They all say "hurple pat."

Instead of sayin' "feed the cat,"

They just say "ceed the fat."

So if you say, "Let's bead a rook"

That's billy as can se,"

You're talkin' Rubby Babbit talk,

Just like mim and he.

PLOPPY SIG REANS HIS CLOOM

Said Ploppy Sig to Runny Babbit,

"May I use your broom?"

Said Runny babbit, "Yes, fut birst,

Please let me ree your soom.

Oh Ploppy Sig, oh pessy mig,

Oh dilthy firty swine,

Whoever thought your room would be 

As mig a bess as mine?"

 - Shel Silverstein

Destination: Narnia

I'm pretty sure that Sean has loved books and reading since he learned how to read, maybe even before.  I have always loved being read to and story telling but did not realize until recently (thanks to Seanee) just how much fun reading can be.   During our first summer as newlyweds, or what we affectionately call our "monorific" summer,  Sean and I discovered the world of Harry Potter, and along with it, just how much we love to read books together.  There is just nothing better than snuggling on the sofa or in bed and listening to Sean's voice read a story we are both invested in, both excited about ... and then here him say, "Okay, your turn!" while he hops up to get us something to drink.  "Keep reading, I can still here you!" he'll say from the kitchen.  It's something that we have to look forward to.  It's something fun we can enjoy together.

Sean wanted to start Harry Potter again, but I'm not ready (that's a completely different post). But thanks to Mama Harper's thoughtfulness and generosity we have a new book to read together.  She gave us the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis (whom Sean and I both love) - which includes The Magician's Nephew, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, The Horse and His Boy, Prince Caspian, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, The Silver Chair, and The Last Battle.  I have only read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and am SO EXCITED to read the others!  I also really enjoyed Disney's rendition of that particular book and am excited to see what they have in store for Prince Caspian.  If you have read these books and wish to share in my excitement, I would please ask that you absolutely do so, just don't tell me any of the secrets of Narnia.  Sean showed me this trailer a few days ago and I just have to pass it on :)  Click here to see Prince Caspian sneak peek :)  

grandma's good advice

When we stayed with grandma and grandpa over the summer I would ask my grandma in the morning what she was going to do that day, and she would respond (as only she could), "As little as possible" (and then go and do just the exact opposite). I however, am not planning on doing the opposite this weekend. I plan on doing just that, as little as possible! That will include sleeping in (without an alarm - wahoo!), eating a ridiculously large breakfast, dinking around until I am done dinking (that's probably not a word, but you know what I mean), shower only if I feel compelled to do so, read read read, write Elder Davis, take a nap, MAYBE clean the house a bit ... but just a bit ... maybe, and revel in the thought that I have nowhere to be and nothing to do other than that which I want to do. Weekends like this NEVER happen and I am going to make sure I make the most if it :) Happy Friday everyone!!!

p.s. love you grandma

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. ~Albert Camus

October's Party
George Cooper

October gave a party;

The leaves by hundreds came
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,

And leaves of every name.

The Sunshine spread a carpet,

And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.



Leaves
Elsie Brady

How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.

At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow.


Autumn Poem
S.K.Lindeman

Honied yellow dripping gold,
Leaf of autumn
in the cold
Dancing on
in crisp despair
Whirling on
enchanted air
Falling silently to
earthen tomb
Away from tree's
rooted arm
Perhaps the silence
broken then
By hollow cries
of autumn grief
Synchronized with
the falling leaf


Nature XXVII, Autumn
Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.

Accio Finale!

TEN DAYS AND COUNTING!!! I don’t care what anyone says, IIIIIIII am Harry Potter’s #1 fan! Just kidding (I’m probably only #44). I just recently discovered within the past few years that reading IS FUN (pathetic huh)! Harry, Ron, and Hermione helped me in that discovery and I have been hooked ever since. I'm sure that I share the same feelings with other Harry Potter lovers of mixed anticipation of the final installment and sadness that this extraordinary journey is ending. However, my excitement outweighs my distress (obviously from the fact that I am blogging about it for heaven's sake). I can’t stand the wait, and I felt a desperate need to use this as an outlet for my overwhelming anticipation! Okay I’m excited … and now that all of you are aware of that, have a wonderful day!