Steamcon III

This past weekend, the House of Glee attended Steamcon III, an annual steampunk convention. This year's theme was 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. We were all dressed nicely, though Lucia was the only one who had a proper alt-Victorian ensemble. Then again, as Steampunk empress Diana Vick says, "Steampunk needs historical accuracy like a dirigible needs a goldfish."

Alisa's Totally Random Blog has a nice overview of Steamcon III, plus many great photos. Favorite costumes of mine included a friend's deep-sea diver costume for the bathing suit competition, the lady with the ship on her head, and the humorous deep-voiced fish. Lucia made a couple of friends, one of whom you can see here. She was enchanted with a lady who went by the name of Princess Eugenie, and they had a spirited talk about which of Princess Eugenie's castles would be the best place for the next ball.

One of the highlights of Steamcon III was the Amphitrite Society Afternoon Tea, during which the bathing suit competition took place, followed by the gorgeous cello playing and singing of Unwoman, a.k.a. Erica Mulkey. Visit her site, listen to her music, feel the chills.

One of my few purchases of Steamcon (and don't think I wasn't tempted by many beautiful, wonderful creations!) was Unwoman's album Casualties. Lucia lucked out with a portrait by silhouette artist Kerry Cook:


Silhouette by Kerry Cook

We have plans to attend Steamcon IV, which will take place closer to Halloween. Its theme is Victorian Monsters. I joked that I planned to go as a Morlock, but in actuality, I'm drawn more toward aviator chic. It would be fun to dress as Deryn Sharp from Scott Westerfeld's Leviathan trilogy, and make a badge ribbon that says, "Barking Spiders!" (There's even a Leviathan contest going on to win Deryn's flying cap and goggles, which you can enter here.) Then again, sometimes I just want to wear silk bustled skirts. In lieu of fabulous dressmaking skills, I am keeping my eyes open for inspiration in thrift shops.

How I spent (the first part of) my summer vacation

Go to Sleep, Gecko! a Balinese folktale retold by Margaret Read MacDonald, has a message that is oft-quoted in our house: "Some things you just have to put up with." I heard geckos for the first time this past week when I was in the Florida Keys for a wedding. I smiled when I heard them. However, I was not smiling when I attempted my daily walk, only to come home with scores of mosquito bites. Geckos eat mosquitoes, but the mosquitoes ate me. I got some relief when we sailed out on a pontoon to arrive at a sandbar:



What you don't see in this photo: dolphins, tiny starfish, intricate coral, stingrays, herons, and fish that dive out of the water.

While we were in the Keys, we visited the Hemingway Home and Museum. Bede, Lucia, and I enjoyed exploring the grounds of Ernest Hemingway's last residence. Bede and I were comforted to learn that this was the only residence where Hemingway had his own separate writing space (in other words: No Whining about our lack of writing space!). I read a lot of Hemingway between college and graduate school, and while I didn't care for his novels besides For Whom the Bell Tolls (The Old Man and the Sea was a novella, and well worth the fuss), I enjoyed many of his short stories. A Movable Feast is a favorite too, though one has to keep in mind that Hemingway did not write that memoir with a critical eye. It's fun to read for all of the name-dropping.

A piece of mosaic at the Hemingway house:



I have jetlag. Like Gecko, I'm going to Go to Sleep.

In Which I Kvetch Some More

You wanted more kvetching instead of sweetness and light... you've got it. I'm going to spend the rest of the week being thankful, though.

1. It is not fair that some people get to live full, long lives, while others die much too soon. Coupled with that is the quality of life. While there will probably always be those who have more than others, it seems that the least we could do as a species is to make sure we all have the fundamentals to survive: food, clothing, shelter, love.

2. I want to be the writer I always planned I would become. I lost momentum in my twenties when the work I put into writing did not evolve into the great stories I wanted to tell.

3. I wish I could hold my daughter when she was a baby without the overwhelming fatigue, hives, thrush and other detractors from the joy of being in the presence of a wondrous new person. I remember my husband briefly posting on his blog a photo of Lucia with the title, "The Sweetest Creature in the World." She was. She is. She's got a bit of spice to her, too.

4. Educating the whole child should be a priority, regardless of the child's parents' income. Just where do we think we're going to get critically-thinking, compassionate adults who take care of the environment, make educated choices and are fiscally responsible? Do we think conscientious, responsible citizens are going to leap from Zeus' head fully-grown and brimming with wisdom like Athena? Please. Look how Athena turned out. Her wisdom was not infallible and contributed to the fall of Troy.

5. Public libraries are a common good. While library systems should always be able to justify their expenses, they shouldn't have to fight for funding year after year. Speaking of libraries, I am still steamed about the razing of the library of Alexandria.

6. I wish I hung out with my friends more.


Okay! Enough kvetching. My family is in town, and I'm going to enjoy their company.

Blessings to everyone, whereever you may be.

In which I kvetch

In the comments of the last post, Tanita suggested, "Why not write complaints for a couple of weeks? You certainly don't have to be all sweetness and light." I don't plan to alienate potential customers or lay out my struggles with politics and religion, but I think I can muster some proper kvetching. Thanks, Tanita! Here goes:

1. At the top of the list is my frustration and dismay at the staggering levels of cruelty humans perpetuate upon each other. We are capable of so much kindness and compassion. It is inevitable that we are going to disagree on beliefs and issues, but why do people have to insult, degrade and damn each other? What earthly or spiritual gain does it bring?

2. Here is what I say: "Please provide a comfortable space for the children where battery-powered toys and media devices will not distract attention from the performance." That's not a joke. If battery-powered toys and media devices with tempting buttons cannot be removed or hidden for 30 minutes, my musical storytelling program may not be the best choice of entertainment for the venue.

3. Regarding The Mommy Wars: Cut it out. Every family has to do what works best for that family. See #1.

4. I had friends assure me that my pregnancy weight would come off from nursing my baby. I should have realized that these were friends who had never had weight issues to begin with. Every extra pound I have ever lost has come through sheer sweat and denial. To every person who has ever given me a hard time about my weight or indicated that I was only lovable when I was slender: You were no help at all. To every person who has been supportive over the years: Thank you.

There! That's just for starters.

Third Annual Kidlitosphere Conference

I thought I had already written about the Third Annual Kidlitosphere Conference, or "KidLitCon" as people are starting to call it. Then, I realized that I'd had it as part of a post in draft form that I never published. MotherReader is organizing it this year. The conference will be in Washington, D.C. on October 17.

I grew up in the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan area and also lived there for two years during library school. There are a number of good things about that area. Free admission to museums is at the top of the list. I remember the first time I ever visited the Air and Space Museum. I was thrilled. I was in love with outer space. The piece of moon-rock at the entrance is probably the closest I'll ever get to touching the moon, but there was a lot of "scope for the imagination" as Anne of Green Gables would say. I saw my first IMAX film there (To Fly) and was introduced to the short film The Powers of 10. As the years passed, I had the privilege of viewing a number of traveling exhibitions. The penultimate special exhibit I visited was the Vermeer exhibit with my grandmother in 1998. We had free advance tickets and then stood two hours in the snow before admittance to the gallery. I wore two pairs of woolen socks and was still frozen through. It was worth it! The following year, I almost had my first date with Bede when he invited me to go the Pre-Raphaelite exhibit. I wasn't able to go when he asked me, as I was working*, but I went later, and kept the flyer. (Even though we wouldn't get together for another two years, I still thought of it as our "almost date.")

Unfortunately, I will not be in attendance this year. I would have liked to have met those of you who live in that area. I'll be heading East for a wedding the previous weekend and will have a chance to spend time with family a little further north.

*Why we didn't try to get together for another excursion probably had to do with each liking the other person but not knowing if the feeling was mutual. A few weeks later, Bede headed off to Seattle and I went to New York.

Fourth Annual 48HBC Results

It's past 1 pm, and my part in the Fourth Annual 48 Hour Book Challenge is done. I'm glad for the chance to have given myself permission to read in lieu of other activities. For awhile now, I've focused on guitar and sewing to the exclusion of reading, and while I don't regret that focus, reading has always been my first love. When I was very little, I was puzzled by grownups quietly holding rectangular objects in front of them. When I grew older, I memorized books so thoroughly that I thought I knew how to read. I was a bit disgusted in first grade when the teacher called me up to read to her and I didn't recognize the words. My mom told me that she said to someone, "I'm afraid Farida will never be a reader." [Edited to add: What I should have clarified with this vignette was that she was worried I wasn't going to be a reader because I didn't show much interest in reading in first grade, not that I wasn't going to be able to read. My mom at first didn't recall this vignette, but once she realized the intent of my words, the memory started to come back.]

Between first and second grade, I moved from the suburbs where I'd lived at my grandmother's house back to the house on the mountain in the middle of the woods. I looked at the familiar books on the shelves and realized that this time I really did know how to read them. I was seven years old, and still stumbled over a lot of words, but knew enough to be able to figure out words in context.

My mother brought home a stack of books from the library, and I read them. She brought home more books, and I read more. Books became an escape. I trust that plenty of good readers have had satisfying school experiences, but I was not one of them. In looking back, I wonder if I would have been such an avid reader had I not been so miserable in school. Summers were a welcome relief. Aside from one interesting week at a Brethren bible study camp*, I had unfettered time to read.

Enough preamble! Here is the finish line and here are the results of my 48 Hour Book Challenge:

June 5, 2009

The Princess and the Goblin—George MacDonald
I first read this book as a child, and enjoyed it just as much as an adult. I didn’t realize as a child that Princess Irene’s great grandmother in the book was a powerful Mary figure, but I do remember then as now longing for such a wise, magical presence in my life. I’d forgotten some of the humorous bits in the story. My favorite one is when Curdie, the miner’s son, grabs at a goblin’s foot and the goblin thinks a beast from the wall came out and licked him.

Total time: 1 hour 10 minutes

The Lizard Cage—Karen Connelly
Months after it was loaned to me, I finally read this gripping story of Teza, a Burmese prisoner jailed for his political songs and the 12 year old boy he befriends and helps set free. I’ll be thinking about this story for awhile. It’s beautifully written but brutal. My friend begged me not to rush through this book, so I slowed down a bit so I could prove to her that I retained important details.

Total time: 4 hours 20 minutes

June 6, 2009

Salt: A World History—Mark Kurlansky
I grasp history so much better when I read about it with a particular focus. The history of salt is as much a history of condiments as it is about the one rock we eat. My favorite apocryphal story told in this book: a shepherd in France left his cheese and bread sitting in a cave for a week. When he returned, Roquefort cheese was invented.

Total time: 2 hours

The Story Biz Handbook: How to Manage Your Storytelling Career from the Desk to the Stage—Dianne de las Casas

I wish I’d had this book two years ago! Fortunately, I’ve already done some of the things de las Casas recommends in terms of the website and online social networking. However, why did it never occur to me to have a preprinted introduction card to give to presenters? I am going to read this book more in-depth after the challenge is over, make notes, and begin to implement some changes bit by bit. I need a boost to my storytelling career, and this book is going to be key to helping me. I think Adrienne Furness would appreciate this book.

Total time: 2 hours

Colman—Monica Furlong
I bought this sequel to Wise Child when it first came out, read a couple of chapters, and then put it down because it didn’t engage me. Years passed, and library books took precedence over purchased books. I loaned this book out twice without having read it myself! Now, for the 4th annual 48HBC, it’s read. I didn’t love it, as I still wasn’t engaged in the way I was with Wise Child and Juniper. Was that because this one was largely plot-driven whereas the others allowed for time to discover the characters? Is it because I am reading it as a 37 year old instead of as a teen? I don’t know. It’s Furlong’s last book, and I want to love it more, but as it stands, I appreciate it for bringing some closure to the Wise Child and Juniper stories.

Total time: 70 minutes.

By These Ten Bones—Clare Dunkle
This spooky story about a werewolf in a Scottish town was published between Dunkle’s 2nd and 3rd books in the Hollow Kingdom trilogy. I didn’t enjoy it as much as the HK trilogy, but I appreciated Dunkle’s weaving in of the supernatural with Catholicism. I found the werewolf love story to be evocative of how women can rationalize relationships with dangerous men. There’s always a gentle side to them that no one else sees!

Total time: 50 minutes

Urn Burial—Robert Westall
This book always makes me hope there really are aliens in the universe. I first read it as a teen. A shepherd discovers a gravesite of an alien that looks like a cat, only much more evolved, and soon after, large dog-like creatures start terrorizing the village where he lives. The big revelation about the nature of the universe is not unexpected, but it's still exciting nonetheless.

Total time: 1 hour 45 minutes


June 7, 2009

The Herb of Grace (also known as Pilgrim’s Inn)—Elizabeth Goudge
This is the middle book in the Eliots of Damarosay trilogy, reprinted by the Elizabeth Goudge society. Goudge has a knack of giving her characters far more prescience than most people would have in real life. It’s an alternative to third-person omniscience that is sometimes intrusive but mostly works. Whether writing for children or adults, Goudge’s best stories involve children in some way.

Total time: 3 hours

***
Total Reading time: 16 hours 25 minutes
Social networking time: 1 hour
Writing time: 90 minutes
TOTAL for 48BC: 18 hours 55 minutes

*Regarding that camp: On day five, I asked a camp counselor, "Are we ever going to learn any regular camp songs?" I'd read Yours Till Niagara Falls, Abby, by Jane O'Connor and expected from camp a large assortment of new songs. The "Austrian went yodeling..." cumulative song was the only non-Praise song I learned that whole week. Don't even get me started on the Letter from Jesus that a camp counselor read and my nine-year-old self took quite literally. Oddly enough, I didn't have access to a chapter-book that whole week.

I'm So Glad You're Not Famous

When I picked up Neil Gaiman's picture-book called Blueberry Girl, I read through it and thought, "It's nice enough, but it doesn't grab me." Then I listened to Gaiman read the poem for the book's animated trailer, and the words began to circulate in my mind:

Ladies of light, and ladies of darkness
And ladies of never-you-mind
This is a prayer for a blueberry girl.
First, may you ladies be kind...

As I began stitching a Blueberry Girl doll as a companion to a Strawberry Girl doll, I started thinking about how cool Gaiman is, not so much because I enjoy his writing (I do) but because how kind and thoughtful he has been with his fans. Like many others, I wish we were friends, but he is now way too famous for me even to show up at a booksigning to chat. It's not that Gaiman wouldn't want to chat with everyone who showed up, but that the lines are so very, very long.

I suddenly remember now how I would show up for the book-readings of the author Jane Hamilton, who was a college friend of my aunt's. I didn't really care for books in Hamilton's genre, but she was such a splendid person to talk with that I wished everyone else would go away. I would wait while people got their books signed so I could have Jane to myself for 45 minutes after. She reminded me of my aunt, who was not famous but seemed to be equally busy with all of her commitments.

As a child, I assumed that everyone I loved who came to visit was coming specifically to spend time with me--remember, we were living in a remote location, and there were long stretches of time when we didn't get any visitors. Our nearest neighbors were an elderly couple who lived 1/2 a mile away, and they were wonderful, loving people who understood how much I craved undivided attention. When our visitors came to stay, I was incredulous when they would want to spend time talking to my parents instead of playing with ME. As I got older, I had to learn to pretend to realize that most of the time I wasn't going to be the center of attention. By the time I was an adult, I didn't want to be the center of attention at all unless I was presenting a storytime. Even now, it's not so much that I want you to pay attention to me as much as I want you to enjoy my stories and songs. But I digress....

There are those of you who are not famous but yet you are "micro-famous" or otherwise sought after by a bunch of people. I would love to have your undivided attention for a significant amount time every now and then, but when you're beloved by so many people, it's hard to have more than a quick, passing conversation with promises to sit down and talk "really soon". This is why I'm grateful for the truly wonderful, thoughtful, funny, delightful people in my life who are not famous and have time for me. Of course I wish for you to be as successful as you want to be, but selfishly, I don't want you to become famous or overly sought-after. I really appreciate those one-on-one conversations we have, and I am grateful that we can sit together in public and drink our coffee without your adoring hordes descending upon us. I'm thrilled that we can have those internet chats (which are no excuse for real, live conversations, but are better than no conversations) and when I ask, "Do you have a moment?" you respond, "For you, always." Thank you for that.

Most of all, I am grateful for my husband, who is the best friend a person could ever hope to find. I think of the line from Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are: Max grew lonely and wanted to be where he was loved best of all.... Bede is that place.

Early May Catch-Up

Here's the thing: ever since I opened my doll shop on Etsy, I've been a lot busier. Things have been going really well this first week, and I'm having to work hard to list more dolls in the shop without getting into an assembly-line mentality. All the while, I'm conscious of how far behind I am on reading blogs, and I feel badly, because you all have been so supportive. I don't want to disappear into a sea of textiles! I realize that when I catch up on blog-reading, I have to start from different places each time. If I always start out with a wrung sponge and Amish Guitar, I will never get to What Adrienne Thinks About That and Yorkshire Pudding in the same evening.

This past weekend was Lucia's 6th birthday celebration. We got to attend a mother-daughter tea on Saturday, and then celebrate her birthday on Sunday, May 10. Rather than open up presents all at once, we spread them throughout the day. When she woke up, she found this handmade princess doll from Silver Acorn.

After breakfast, Lucia went out to the playhouse where she found a snow maiden marionette her teacher made for her in trade for a daffodil nature table doll I had made last month:



After lunch, Lucia opened up the package my niece sent, which contained a book of Russian fairy tales including the "Snegurochka" snow maiden story and this dress that my niece made:



You read that right, my niece made the dress! She makes her children's costumes and sews their Easter dresses. Yes, she's awesome. Last May, when we visited the family in California, Lucia was smitten with the "exiled princess" blue and white dress of one of her cousins. This purple dress is sewn in that style.

There were other lovely presents, too, and a festive gathering later on that afternoon. It was Mother's Day yesterday, and Bede and Lucia brought me tea and toast plus a hand-made card. I got to sleep in a little, and then work to clean up the house for guests. The house has become more of a shambles in the past couple of weeks. For now, it's clean. Would that it would stay clean!

I'll close with two phtoos. One is of the shade garden in early May:



The other is of a ladybug doll I made on Saturday, was featured in a treasury of ladybug related listings, and then sold on Sunday along with the Fuchsia doll:

Hey ho, the wind and the snow (and the snow, it's snowing every day)

We've got a bit of snow, and we're supposed to prepare for more snow this weekend. I'm not worried about the snow, but I am a bit uneasy about the windstorms predicted. Two years ago, we stayed with some friends when the power went out, but temperatures weren't below freezing. This is one of the times in which I am really glad to be in the city. Yesterday, when I helped push someone's car up a hill (the driver had to turn around anyway, but at least he got moving), I remembered the times in my childhood when hunters' trucks would get stuck on our snowy, unpaved mountain road. The family would be snowbound, too, and we wouldn't know when we'd next be able to make the trip into town for groceries. Fortunately, we had a deep freezer plus canned produce.

All this is not to romanticize my childhood. Far from it! I longed for the day when I would see paved roads outside my house. This morning, those roads are covered with ice under snow. Even though many businesses had closed and I couldn't drive out for my Friday morning gig, I was prepared to walk up the hill with my guitar and felt board to our local library branch to perform this morning. Last night, I got a call from the children's librarian that the gig would have to be postponed. No matter. For a brief time, I was on the Seattle Public Library homepage, and I have the screen captures to prove it:



Metro bus service has been suspended in a number of areas. It's really frustrating for people who have to go to work. The article Metro still scrambling as riders grow frustrated, by Ruth Teichroeb, documents one driver whose approach I appreciated:

One Route 18 driver did his best to entertain passengers Friday morning, singing the children's song "The Wheels on the Bus" and referring to the storybook "The Little Engine that Could."

"I think I can, I think I can, I think I can," the driver chanted, inching up a steep stretch of Mercer Street on Lower Queen Anne.

You may think, "Well, that could get old really quickly," but consider that that driver's first priority was to keep his focus on the road. I find it challenging to come up with something original when I'm not dealing with adverse weather conditions and my daughter is demanding, "Tell me a story!" on the way to school. I won't do it, but I will sing simple songs with lots of repetition.

Impossible Questions

A few years ago, I took part in an interview for a library job where one of the questions was, "Tell us about a situation in which there was no possible solution-- what you did in response?" I thought of the most impossible situation I ever had, where a patron who spoke English as a second language wanted a book about the Headless Horseman and followed the plot-line of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and yet was not Washington Irving and not in the children's section because her 13-year-old son was far too advanced for children's books. After doing an extensive search, another librarian and I figured out that the woman may have read the book in translation in her home country and thought the translator was the author.

There were copies of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow in both the children's and adult sections of the library, but when it was apparent that none of the librarians on staff could produce the book she described that was not written by Washington Irving, the woman stormed off with her embarrassed 13-year-old son in tow. It felt like an impossible situation.

Later on, it occurred to me that I hadn't answered the interview question correctly. What the interviewers may have wanted to hear was a chirpy, "There are no impossible situations! Here is an example of a situation that might have seemed impossible to someone else, but I was able to solve it using the know-how of my library science degree plus years of experience."

One of the major challenges a library staff person can do is to figure out what a patron really wants when it's different from what a patron says s/he wants. In that same job interview, I talked about another patron who wanted information on an ancient form of Judaism, and I figured out that what she actually wanted was Janism, an offshoot of Hinduism.

Have you ever dealt with the impossible questions, either in your work environment or in an interview? What did you say? What do you wish you had said?

Why I Ask You to Vote: a non-partisan note

This post was originally published on September 29, 2008.



When I was in third grade, my teacher gave us two questions to prepare for debate: The first one was, “Should children have homework?” The second one was, “Should children be able to vote?” I thought that children shouldn’t have homework but that they should be allowed to vote. Since I brought the questions home to prepare for debate the following day, my mother saw them, and offered her thoughts. She said that children shouldn’t vote because they were still too easily influenced by their parents. She was pretty convincing, because I came to school with an argument about why children shouldn’t vote. Half-way through the debate and away from parental influence, I reverted to my original eight-year-old viewpoint.

I had to wait more ten years to participate in real elections. Of all the cities in which I lived, my favorite place to vote was New York City because of the old-timey lever system akin to the ones I watched my parents use. For most of my voting history, I’ve filled in bubbles next to my candidates’ names, referendums and initiatives as if I were taking multiple-choices exams.

It can be hard to get excited about voting if you think your vote doesn’t matter because it’s only one of many. It is easy to stay home (or not mail in the ballot) if you think that you’re stuck with choosing between Lousy Choice A and Lousy Choice B. I get that.

However, a couple of elections ago, a friend of mine convinced me that my civic duty was to deal with the candidates we had rather than holding myself aloof because none of the candidates fit exactly with my ideals. I also decided that I had to show up—in one way or another— to let my elected officials know what I think of the way they run my government and to help bring in other people if they don’t listen carefully enough.

As we prepare for another American presidential election, I want to encourage you to think about our candidates and do the research to find out when and if they’re telling the truth (Factcheck.org is a good, non-partisan source). Think about what is important to you. Listen to what other people say, but don’t let them tell you how to vote. Your vote belongs to you.

You will find a roundup of voting posts on Chasing Ray.

Project for Poetry Friday and a few tidbits

This photo of my daughter at the dentist has nothing to do with the post.

I've been working on music for a poem that I'm going to feature in this week's Poetry Friday roundup. That's the reason this blog has been quiet for the past couple of days. In a time where so many people have the tools and abilities to post home videos, I am very much a Joanie-Come-Lately. Musically, I am still far from where I want to be, and am working on enriching the tone and range of my singing voice. My plan is eventually to put together a 2-3 minute promotional video. I would love to be able to hire a professional, but in the meantime, I want to see what I can do on an operating budget of zero. Currently, I film during the day with all the windows open and lights focused on the area of the video. Through the lens, it all looks well-lit, but when I look at the footage, the light is still dimmer than I like. My respect and admiration for good filmmakers continues to grow.

A few tidbits:

*Thirty-four people subscribe to this blog. To those 34: thank you. I appreciate you. If there are any lurkers I don't know about yet, please post a comment, so I know who you are and where you blog.

*I've been brooding about Colleen Mondor's post, Faces in the Crowd (just so you know, there are several photos of lynchings in this post).

*I am glad for ABCGirl's blog happy stuff, and that she refers to her husband as "mr. happy stuff." ABCGirl's blog isn't about denying the pain and struggle in life, but about finding the grace in small, good things. Limpid photographs of yummy food items accompany many posts.

*I wish I were as whip-smart as LoneStarMa. Here is her About Me profile: Lone Star Ma is a working mama of two Lone Star Daughters. She loves Texas dearly but is sadly underachieving its average of 3 guns for every man, woman and child. She eats mushroom fajitas instead of beef ones and has been known to breastfeed during City Council Meetings. Lone Star Ma has a pathological need to read a LOT and is into peace, equality and the Gulf of Mexico.

*This was posted awhile ago, but I still smile when I think of Adrienne's colleage Jason performing Little Miss Muffet. Scroll down to see the video.

*I depend upon Urban Mennonite to keep me up to date on all the hijinx and merriment going on among the Mennonites and the Amish. In case you didn't know, my mother's side of the family is Mennonite, and her father's stepmother was Amish. (My grandfather was the youngest of 13 children, spoke Pennsylvania Deutsch as a first language, and started high school when he was twenty-two years old.) My favorite feature is the Menno Roundup. I have a feeling I should know Urban Mennonite, or at least have friends in common, but I'm satisfied with maintaining the mystery.

Kidlit '08 in Portland, Oregon, Part II

Here is Part One

SATURDAY
The conference started at 8:10 am. Here was the agenda.

I’ll admit that I had reservations about attending such a heavily structured gathering. Back when Robin Brande and friends were daydreaming about what it would be like to meet up, we had visualized a grand potluck and little more. However, I appreciated what different speakers had to say about blogging and book-reviewing. My favorite presentations were the pod-casting session by Mark Blevis of Just One More Book, Promoting Your Book and Yourself On Facebook/My Space and Other Social Networking Tools by Greg Pincus and the “Kick Your Blog Up a Notch” piece by Pam Coughlin, a.k.a. MotherReader.



Afterward, I enjoyed milling about and meeting people afterward during the social hour and dinner followed by the raffle. I won three times, and chose a set of Madeleine L’Engle books for myself, a bag of coffee and a bar of chocolate for my husband, and a copy of Ellen Emerson White’s Long May She Reign in reserve for anyone at the table who didn’t win--I already had a copy, and I didn’t want anyone at the table to go home without a prize.

Attending this conference reminded me again of what I’ve given up to pursue other ways of doing things. I obtained a library degree, and at one point, I thought I was going to retire as a librarian. I’ve been writing all my life, and at many points, thought I was going to earn my living as a writer. This conference was filled with writers and librarians who are going over and beyond expectations to do fantastic things with their careers. Sometimes I felt like the slightly socially-awkward person who blurted things out with enthusiasm, only to wish that she had just kept her mouth shut. There are times in my life when I wish I could have been cool. I’m 36, but high school is still in my head. Still, I was glad to be one of the people who could beckon others to the table who might have also felt a little shy or out-of-place. In the end, everyone had a place to sit and be welcome.

At the Readergirlz party afterward, I continued my Cat’s Cradle education with Adrienne, admired the Edward the Vampire sock-puppet donned by Betsy Bird/Fuse#8, and resisted the temptation to drink another hot toddy. I retired on the early side, as my voice had shrunk to a squeak, and hoped for the best for Sunday.

SUNDAY
We slept late, and barely made it to breakfast on time. After a visit to the Saturday Market (yes, it’s open on Sundays), Adrienne and I said our goodbyes and I walked to the train station. I was quite early, but it was good to have some time to sit and read before the train arrived. Since I got my seat-assignment early, I avoided the crush of a train filled to capacity. I read a good portion of The Omnibus of Science-Fiction (edited by Brian Aldiss) on the train ride back to Seattle. Here is one of its offerings that was a favorite from my teen years: Answer, by Fredric Brown. I appreciate the chill of these science-fiction stories far more than their graphic horror counterparts.

At 7 pm, I was glad to be home. I arrived just in time to put my daughter to bed after first giving her the puppet I had picked up for her in Portland. Bede got his coffee, chocolate, and Powell’s Fup Wars tee-shirt.

I’ve got two storytelling gigs for which to prepare this weekend, and possibly some new stories to tell from books I picked up at Powell’s. Life continues. Even if I don’t make it to the next Kidlitosphere gathering (to be headed up by MotherReader in Washington, D.C.) I will remember the people I met and the friends I made. Thank you.

I now return to my regularly scheduled blog themes of songs and stories.

This post has been edited since its publication.

Kidlit '08 in Portland, Oregon, Part I

Preamble...

You can find all sorts of in-depth coverage of the 2nd Annual Kidlitosphere Conference in Portland, Oregon here. You’ll see a lot of the micro-famous bloggers mentioned like MotherReader, Fuse#8, Jen Robinson, and others who write an abundance of in-depth posts, know a lot of people, and yet manage to find moments to talk with the newbies as well as the lesser-known participants. They’re micro-famous for a reason, and I salute them. However, I was particularly glad to meet people I hadn’t yet heard of, or knew existed but didn’t read their blogs (due to the overwhelming number of posts on my RSS reader, not because I was avoiding them). I know I’m not going to get everybody, but in no particular order, I was happy to meet and speak with: Mark Blevis of Just One More Book, Gregory Pincus of Gottabook, Nancy Arruda and Kim Baise of Bees Knees Read, young adult author (as yet unpublished) Bridget Zinn, Sarah Stevenson a.k.a. "Aquafortis" of Finding Wonderland, Maureen Kearney of Confessions of a Bibliovore, Lee Wind of I’m Here, I’m Queer, What the Hell Do I Read Next?, and authors Dia Calhoun, Holly Cupala (both Readergirlz), Deb Lund, Kirby Larson and Christine Fletcher.

Amidst all the bustle, there was a little time to touch base with the co-organizers of the event, Jone MacCulloch and Laini Taylor (hooray for them!). There were more people I met, but I’m having a hard time placing the faces with the cheat-sheet, so if you come to this blog and say, “Hey, where am I in the list?” please remind me of what we spoke about, and it’ll all become clear, I’m sure.

THURSDAY

The highlight of the Portland trip was rooming with Adrienne Furness of What Adrienne Thinks About That. A month ago, I wrote to her and said, “I don’t want this to be weird, and ’No’ is a perfectly reasonable answer, but if you’d like to split the costs of a hotel room, let me know.” Almost immediately, I got the response that she had been thinking the same thing. We got to meet a few weeks ago, so when I showed up Thursday evening in order to have a full-day in downtown Portland, we were already at ease around each other. We showed each other string games from Camille Gryski's books, and I played a few songs on my little travel guitar. I had a mild cold, and I noticed my voice begin to crack.

FRIDAY

Friday morning, I definitely had the onset of laryngitis. I was in denial, which ended up being unwise. I practiced a little guitar in the morning, and then Adrienne and I took MAX, the light-rail train, from the Portland Airport to downtown Portland. Adrienne had on her list two specific missions: eat a maple bacon doughnut at Voodoo Doughnut, and visit the studio of Queen Bee Creations, the maker of her favorite bag. Adrienne’s bacon-fiend friends wanted proof that she actually ate one of these artery-hardening doughnuts, so I obliged:



Then, we walked to the Queen Bee studio, where Adrienne deliberated among a number of choices, finally settling on a computer bag with a bicycle design. I hadn’t actively planned on following suit, but when I saw a limited run of a previously popular ginkgo leaf design, I caved. Aside from an embroidered hand-bag used for special occasions, this ginkgo leaf bag might very well be my first grown-up (i.e. functional and beautiful) purse:



After a stop at Powell's Books, we headed over to The Tea Zone. My favorite tea shop in Portland shut down 7 years ago, so I’d wanted to find a new afternoon tea place. I did the research, and The Tea Zone seemed to fit what I wanted: a variety of teas, a relaxed atmosphere, and cozy chairs. At this point, we glad to hang out for a few hours, drinking Assam and doing the cross-word puzzle, until it was time to meet up with the first batch of bloggers at Powell's. We gathered people together and headed toward the bar across the street. After dinner and drinks, Adrienne, Mark Blevis and I took the light rail train back to the hotel, and Mark told us about Andrea (whom he says is the driving force behind the Just One More Book podcasts) and the beauty of Ottawa. We arrived at the hotel to see that others were staying up for “just one more drink.” However, Adrienne and I were too tired, and went upstairs to sleep. Moments later, the alarm rang. Crivens! It was Saturday, and the conference was going to start in an hour.

I opened up my mouth to speak, but all I could do was squeak.

To be continued in Part II.

In which I go to Bumbershoot and name-drop...

Four years ago, I was at a New Year's Day dinner with a lot of people I didn't know all that well. At one point, I mentioned to one of the guests that I was a children's librarian who loved Young Adult literature too, and she said, "Hey, my cousin has a YA book you should really check out. It's called Teen Angst? Naaah... by Ned Vizzini." I got the book from the library, read it, and enjoyed it. Then, I checked out Ned's website and sent him an email. We maintained an email correspondence through the publication of Be More Chill, and then after a hiatus, I finally got to meet Ned and his fiance at the Bumbershoot festival yesterday, where he was one of three YA authors on panel called "The Kids Are Alright: Ellen Hopkins, Francesca Lia Block, Ned Vizzini with Deb Caletti." Ned read from It's Kind of a Funny Story and talked about Angstpiration, i.e. "how you can use art to get out of the increasingly insane psycho-social academic climate that's sending more and more kids to doctors and hospitals."

Ned had kindly put me on his guest list, so I was able to get in for free (Thanks so much, Ned! I felt like a big-shot for 30 seconds), but I was a little bit shy about meeting him, as I usually am before meeting people who are, in essence, pen-pals.* When I introduced myself, he gave me a big hug, and after signing everyone's books, we got to hang out for a little while backstage. I was glad also to meet the lovely Sabra, Ned's fiance. Sabra took this photo:



In addition to enjoying Ned's painfully humorous talk, I also decided that I needed to read all of Ellen Hopkins' books and give Francesca Lia Block another chance. I'd read Weetzie Bat years ago without it making a strong impression on me one way or the other, but after Block read "Skin Art" from Blood Roses, I realized I'd been missing out all these years. I'd also been avoiding stories of drug use and novels in verse for awhile (yes, I'm a curmudgeon, what's it to you?), but after listening to Ellen Hopkins and a teen guest she'd invited to help read parts of Crank, I thought, "Okay, you've reeled me in."

By the way, Ned signed a copy of It's Kind of a Funny Story for the Second Annual Kidlitosphere Conference dinner raffle, and expressed interest in the conference in general. I hope he can show up for a future conference.

*I'm meeting Adrienne Furness next week for the first time, too. Yea rah!

Dreaming of prehistoric-themed confections

Last week, my daughter woke me up out of a deep sleep and asked, "Mommy, what song were you singing in my dream?" When I protested that I was asleep and had no idea what I was singing in her dream, she chimed, "Don't be grouchy!"

Lately, my daughter has been telling me her dreams, and then asking me what I've dreamed. There is no way that I am going to burden her with the deluge of images and themes that go through my sleeping mind, so I'll tell her only the vaguest snippets of what I remember. "I dreamed I was in high school," I've told her, and "I dreamed I was planting bulbs outside a house that wasn't our house." Once, when I was still just waking up and was willing to say anything in the hopes that I could go back to sleep, I told her that I dreamed we had gone to our favorite restaurant and I ordered an Ammonite creampuff. Despite all that I did to try to convince her that (as far as I knew) no such confection existed outside of my dream, guess who tried to order a prehistoric themed bakery-item the next time we went out to dinner.

Jack Be Nimble: Theme and Variation in American Lit

In my junior year at Goshen College, a small, liberal arts Mennonite school, I took an American Literature Survey course. Our big project for the end of the semester was a term paper (I wrote mine on E.E. Cummings), a timeline, a few other things I can't remember but which seemed important at the time, and a creative piece. In the class, there was a quiet guy who had transfered to my college as a senior, although I didn't know it at the time. When it was time to share our creative projects, he pulled out a series of poems based on the nursery rhyme, "Jack Be Nimble" as if it had been written by different American authors and poets.

I thought it was funny. I thought it was brilliant. I wish I had written it myself. So did my classmates! When the English department newsletter printed it, I stuck it to my bulletin board. The following year, I found out that the American Literature professor had everyone in his class write parodies in a similar vein.

Years later, I looked for the Jack Be Nimble project among my papers, but couldn't find it. I wanted to share it with other people, but I couldn't remember more than the gist of the Walt Whitman section followed by Emily Dickinson and Gwendolyn Brooks. I couldn't even remember the name of the guy who wrote it-- all that I knew was that he had shown up one year, and was gone the next.

Then, K.Jay of Amish Guitar wrote to me after finding the chords to a Mennonite hymn I had posted, and pointed out that we were English majors together for a brief time. I didn't really remember him, but we had enough in common that we struck up an online friendship. Earlier this week, after discussing poetry, K.Jay wrote, "As a treat I pulled out a old assignment from American Lit. I hope you find amusement in it."

It was the Jack project! Suddenly, I remembered K.Jay perfectly, and told him how much we all enjoyed his poems. K.Jay gave me permission to publish them here for Poetry Friday:

The Mother Goose rhyme:

Jack be nimble.
Jack be quick.
Jack jump over the candlestick.

* * *

Walt Whitman

Jack and Jane, Bill and Sarah
Mike, Lisa, Fred and Barney.
All of us
and me
and you.
We are nimble, quick, and agile.
Lively, spry, deft and dexterous.
For the impulsion to lift ourselves over the candlestick.
We can. We can do it.
The challenge is ours.

Emily Dickinson

Jack.
Stick.
Jump.

Gwendolyn Brooks

That Jack. He
Be nimble. He
Be quick. He
Jump stick. He
Fall down. He
Hit ground.

e. e. cummings

@jack is jump
nimble, bimble, up, down.
all over town%(>>
candlestick over jump he
nimble, bimble, up, *down.

J. D. Salinger

Well, you know, Jack. I mean, Jack, He is quick and all. I mean quick and nimble and all. God. I mean he jumps over candlesticks and everything. That is, a candlestick. I mean Jack could, if he wanted to, jump over the candlestick and all. God.

Edward Albee

THE STORY OF JACK AND THE CANDLESTICK
I looked at the candlestick and I think it looked back at me if you know what I mean. At first I tried to be nimble. But soon I found that I also had to be quick. But then I took another look at the candlestick as it dared me to jump over it. I jumped over it. And then the candlestick and I became friends.

* * *

©K.Jay 1993, 2008

By the way, there is an unofficial saying among the Mennonites, based on a potato-chip commerical: "Mennonites. You can't meet just one." Although there may be only one and a half million Mennonites in the whole world, chances are that if you (1) are Mennonite (2) meet another Mennonite, you will find out that (a) you are cousins (b) someone in his or her family dated and/or is married to someone in your family. As far as we know, K.Jay and I are not cousins, but one of his wife's ancestors broke his engagement to one of my ancestors! (We don't harbor any hard feelings about the matter.)

This week's Poetry Friday Round-up is at The Well-Read Child.

This is All A Fairy Tale: a Quiz

I made one of those "how well do you know me?" quizzes purely for amusement. This formatting on the original quiz website is funkier than I'd like, so I'm revising this post to include it as plain-text. Answers will be revealed when you highlight them at the bottom. It really doesn't matter what score you get, but you do get extra points (added in the comments section) for spotting the jokes sprinkled throughout.

Question 1:
Clocking in at 19 pages, what is the name of Farida's first "novel?"

A) Squid's Eyes and Boy-Burgers
B) Murder in the Mansion
C) The Discovery of the Golden Unicorn
D) Joan Jett Battles the Robots

Question 2:
My obscure-sounding teenage poetry was first influenced by what lyricist? (Feel free to snicker.)

A) Simon LeBon of Duran Duran
B) Jim Morrison of the Doors
C) Paul Simon
D) "Weird Al" Yankovic

Question 3:
Which Disney adaptation of a fairy tale irks me the most?

A) Beauty and the Beast-- where are Belle's two sisters? Also, the whole Gaston subplot did nothing for me.
B) Cinderella-- I would have liked to have seen the sisters' eyes get pecked out. The whole thing ended too abruptly.
C) Sleeping Beauty-- What part of "sleeping for a hundred years" did Disney not understand? I'm guessing Aurora was asleep for 2 hours, tops.
D) Snow White-- where are the red-hot iron shoes and the three visits from the Wicked Queen?

Question 4:
Why is "Sleeping Beauty" my favorite fairy tale?

A) I just want to take a nap without being pestered.
B) It's an ensemble story in which different characters briefly have important parts.
C) I empathize with the wicked fairy because like her, I never get invited to parties.
D) The idea of getting 12 birthday presents makes me giddy.

Question 5:
What prompted me finally to start taking guitar lessons at the age of 33?

A) I watched a video of Sister Rosetta Tharpe playing "Didn't it Rain?"
B)I kept beating my friends at games of Guitar Hero.
C)My daughter's favorite musician offered guitar lessons for grownups who work with children.
D) I was asked to join a band called Mitzi Drives the Bus.

Question 6:
What song do I like to play on the guitar when I need to cheer myself up?

A) On the Sunny Side of the Street
B) Ring Around A Rosy Rag
C) Sidewalks of New York
D) One Meatball

Question 7:
What is one of my guilty secrets?

A) I read Cosmopolitan magazine for the quizzes.
B) I crave peanutbutter sandwiches made with marshmallow fluff.
C) I enjoyed the Lord of the Rings films more than the books.
D) I don't think Mr. Darcy of Pride and Prejudice is all that special.

Question 8:
What pie do I think is synonymous with love?
A) Apple-pear
B) Rhubarb-strawberry
C) Chocolate chess
D) Lemon meringue

Question 9:
Which fairy tale character am I most like?

A) The Old Woman Who Lived in a Vinegar Bottle, who is never happy with the house she lives in, no matter what the fairy gives her.
B) Kate Crackernuts, who saves her step-sister Anne from the curse of having a sheeps-head.
C) Molly Whuppie, who tricks a giant into chopping off the heads of his own daughters instead of her sisters and runs away on the bridge of one hair.
D) Clever Elsie, who sits on the steps of the cellar and weeps over what she imagines will happen in the future.

Answers: I took out one question, I admit. (1) B (2) B (3) D (4) B (5) C (6) D (7) A (8) C (9) B (10) D

Summer Reading and the Scourge of Beach-Balls

This post was inspired by Adrienne's post in her Unpopular Library-Related Opinions series called, “To the Left,” or How to Ditch Your Summer Reading Program and Find Something More Fulfilling:

As a child, I was completely unaware of my local library’s summer reading program. I was too busy trying to read all of the books in the children’s section to be aware of anything but the next book. I’m not exaggerating. My first exposure to the library’s summer reading program happened when I was 14 or 15. My mother, who was trained as a children’s librarian, started working at our local library as a shelver, then as a reference librarian, and finally as a children’s librarian when that position opened up. The schedule of the previous children’s librarian’s summer reading program with all its prizes was already in place. For some reason (probably having to do with staffing issues), my mom could not oversee the film showing of “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” and had a library staff person host the program. [Correction: She was not yet the children's librarian.] My mom The librarian asked me to help with the distribution of the prizes afterward: beach balls and Frisbees.

After the film was over, it became quite clear that almost everyone was there for the prizes. They swarmed up and loudly clamored for the beach balls. One boy said he’d forgotten his summer reading program sheet, but he had read all the books. I believed him, and gave him a beach ball. Soon after, the patrons started yelling at me. We had run out of beach balls, and only had Frisbees left. The parents said they had come for the beach balls, and I was ruining their child’s summer reading program experience. (No, I don’t think they actually said that, but they were quite whipped out of shape.) After scolding me, one of the moms told her daughter, “You don’t get a beach ball after all,” and radiated triumph when her daughter started to cry.

My mom will probably point out in the comments that I got parts of the story wrong [Yes indeed! Corrections are noted], but I definitely know that she was appalled by the behavior of the patrons. She said, “They watched a movie that addressed kindness and selfishness, and the message didn’t sink in at all. I can’t believe they came to the program just to get a 3 dollar plastic beach ball.” The next year, and all the years after that she was a children’s librarian at the local library, my mom had more mellow summer reading programs with books as prizes.

As the sole children’s librarian in a branch independent of the county library system, my mom was able to make those kinds of decisions without having to wrangle with a centralized system. When I myself became a children’s librarian, I worked in large systems where the themes, programs and prizes were already mandated. I do appreciate the benefits of large systems (being able to place holds on books that are then delivered to my home branch, online full-text periodicals databases), but I wish that the children’s librarians had more of a say in how they oversee their summer reading programs. Frankly, I wish they wouldn’t be run ragged by the intense schedules. When I worked in the libraries, I was always so grateful when the summer was over and the school schedules began. As busy and lively as the libraries were during the school year, it was nothing in comparison to the frenetic intensity of summer.

I'm happy to say that Seattle Public Library has a low-key, simple summer reading program. The reader writes down ten books read during the summer, and then gets to choose a free book and enter his or her name in the "Breakfast of Champions" drawing at the end of the summer. Subsequent groups of ten don't warrant more prizes, just more chances to enter the drawing. Lucia loves choosing a free book for her prize. The reward for her reading (i.e. being read to) is more reading.

The Cat Ate My Peppers

This is the first year that anything has thrived in this shady part of the garden, as you can see here. All that changed when I realized that the soil was choked with tree roots, and removed all that I could. Here's an idea of how that part of the garden around this time last year.

I have been spending just about every spare moment in the garden. It's a young garden. Last year was the time to beat down the knee-high weeds, figure out which of the plants my mom had planted in 2003 actually survived years of benign neglect, and bring in new plants and seeds to see how they would fare in various parts of the yard. This year has been the time in which I liberated the soil from the vast amounts of roots left over from the trees that were taken down prior to our moving in (to make way for the improved sewer line), moved plants to where they would seem happier, and start building up the spaces for more permanent perennial gardens.

Inside, I planted yellow and red roasting pepper plant seeds and placed the peat pots on the windowsill. I myself am no fan of peppers, but Lucia loves them and I love Lucia, so that's where the logic lies. I was pleasantly surprised when the seeds actually sprouted. A few weeks ago, I gave away some of my seedlings. I was looking forward to putting the peppers in pots outdoors when the weather warmed up.

Yesterday, the cats bypassed the homemade "cat-alarm" of soda-cans and strings in order to eat the pepper plants.

[Fill in the space here for all of the rotten, outrageous things I said, the things I threw, etc.]

Today, I went out and bought two yellow pepper plants. The plant specialist recommended that I put plastic bags over the plants at night, because there was no way I was bringing them indoors for the cats to destroy.



I wonder if the cats eating my peppers was karmic justice for my having stolen cucumbers? I just found out that my own garden thievery wasn't very sophisticated in comparison to how it could have been. Bede's brother would eat all of the carrots in their mother's garden, then plant the carrot tops to make it look as if they were still growing.