MotherReader

In the National Book Awards, the award for young people’s literature went to M.T. Anderson for The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, Vol. 1: The Pox Party. From the Washington Post:

In his acceptance speech, Anderson made a point of noting that Gene Luen Yang’s American Born Chinese was the first graphic novel nominated for a National Book Award. “There is a lot of dithering in the blogosphere,” he said, about whether graphic novels are worthy. This can now be laid to rest.

The other finalists in young adult literature were Martine Leavitt for Keturah and Lord Death (don’t know it), Patricia McCormick for Sold (haven’t got it yet), and Nancy Werlin for The Rules of Survival (Amazing).

The Washington Post also reported:

Yang said he thinks we’re “in the middle of a renaissance for the graphic novel” — finally seeing “an entire body of work” in the form that aspires to be literature.

My favorite part of this whole thing? That M.T. Anderson talked about the blogosphere with regard to books. That’s us, guys!

I hadn’t made any announcement about it being Children’s Book Week, because on this blog every week is Children’s Book Week. I mean, when has it not been a week about children’s books since I started this thing? However, some bloggers including Bloomability (home of my retired dots template) and Fuse#8 (home of the Hottest Men in Children’s Literature) have celebrated by posting about a list of the Teachers’ Top 100 Books for Children. It’s a great list, even though it’s seven years old now. It hits across picture books, easy readers, and chapter books as well as a variety of styles. The blogger game is to copy the list and bold the ones you’ve read, put an asterisk by the ones you liked, and a minus by the ones you hated. And then there is the all-important number reflecting how many you’ve read.

I did the bolding and asterisking and minusing, but I left the document on my work files. I’m not sure if I feel like putting the whole list up here anyway. I’ve read seventy that I can remember, but I have a terrible memory. I’m guessing I read at least five more. I liked most of what I read, or had a pretty neutral reaction. The only books I didn’t like were The Veleteen Rabbit because I hated the idea of the kids stuffed animals getting tossed (which explains some of my Tulane distaste). I didn’t like Sylvester and the Magic Pebble because the idea of turning into a rock freaks me out. As a kid I found Jumanji creepy, and I stick by that assessment today.

There are some mistakes on the list that should have been corrected. Both the Little House series and a couple of individual books from the series are listed. That’s just wrong. Some huge notables are missing from the list that show up on the kids’, books like Holes and Redwall and Harry Potter. The list tends toward books that teachers maybe read as children, rather than reflecting newer titles. Plus a 1999 list is kind of showing its age.

I’d love to see the American Library Association take on the process of an online survey of children’s librarians. There are tons of lists over at ALA’s site, but it would be cool to have one book popularity contest, but from knowledgeable people. I know some of you librarians must have some pull and could urge the association in this direction.

After about a week without working, I’m going back to the library tomorrow.

I am not happy.

Since I had so much leave to spare and so much to do at home, I took a little sabbatical. It’s the first time I’ve taken time off for anything other than a vacation or a school break. Just time off for its own sake, to clear my head and clean up some projects.

I really liked it.

I liked having time to think my own thoughts without rushing from one place to another. I liked giving some extra attention to my blog and catching up on the blogs of my peeps — and their peeps. I liked reading books on the back porch while the kids were at school.

I’m going to miss it.

Don’t get me wrong. I like my job. I do. But there are times I miss summer vacation. You teachers will know what I mean, and everyone else will probably remember looking forward to school ending for the summer. As a kid you could look forward to long, fun, empty days with time to play, dream, and read. Sometimes you need a break.

I still need one.

I had hoped to do more around the house — as it sorely needs some attention — but I ended up drifting among unfinished projects. I don’t know if more time would have allowed me more focus, or if I just expected too much of one week. I looked longingly at NaNoWriMo. Ideas for books were jumping around in my head, but with a mind swamped with stuff, the ideas were hard to hold onto. I can imagine why a writer would quit her or his job and stay home to write, because it’s hard to write — or even think clearly — when you have so many things competing for your attention.

I want more time.

In thinking about writers and writing, I’m amazed by the energy and confidence and drive it must take to commit yourself to writing. On one side there is the security of a steady job with a consistent paycheck. On the other side is the possibility of financial reward and a creative outlet. I’m impressed that anyone would take that whole-hearted plunge into writing books.

And I’m thankful.

Because if writers didn’t keep taking chances, we’d be missing these incredible books born of diligence, perseverance, and intelligence. I don’t know how you do it, people, but I’m glad you do. And I’ll keep reading your books and telling folks about them.

I’ve got work to do.

Finally! A new beginning reader book that is interesting and funny. Lisa Moser might be poised to join the ranks of Cazet and Rylant if she can bring us more books like The Monster in the Backpack.

Annie has a new backpack with pink and blue flowers. It also has a monster. When Annie goes to unzip the backpack, the monster yells, as does Annie. When she takes another peek inside, the monster yells again.

“Do you ever whisper?” asked Annie.

“Do you ever knock?” asked the monster.

“How can I knock on a backpack?”

The monster scratched his head. “You’re right," he
said. “Next time, ring the doorbell.”

Annie questions the small monster about being in her backpack, but decides to continue on to school with him. I guess as monsters go, he’s pretty cute, even if he did eat Annie’s lunch. Except for the carrots, because carrots make him burp. The monster creates problems for Annie all during the day, but in the end, she finds that having a troublesome monster is better than having no monster at all.

The simple, bright illustrations by Noah Z. Jones add to the sense of fun and whimsy of the book. The story is just enough for young readers to enjoy, and the silliness throughout will keep them reading.

Notice anything different?

I’ve been sick of the dots for a while, but couldn’t find a template I wanted to use. My kind husband changed one of the basic Blogger ones to accommodate my title in the sand. Beauty.

I made some changes to my blogroll as well. I took out some blogs that weren’t updating, and added some that I’ve been reading but hadn’t listed. In the interest of keeping things simple, I decided not to add writers’ blogs to my blogroll. While many of the book blogs list writers, none list parent blogs, and I want to bridge those worlds. I’m still visiting my writer friends so, y’know, no offense.

I’m especially proud of my tagline, since it just came to me today after months of thinking about it. Well, not constantly thinking about it, but still a great last-minute save.

Every once in a while, particularly after eating about half a loaf of French bread on my own, I think about bringing down my carb intake. While cutting carbs seems impossible, I try to reduce my carb-loaded breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It’s then that I stock up on Atkins and South Beach products, until the next French bread attack hits.

I picked up some South Beach Diet Denver-Style Breakfast Wraps because it seemed like an easy way to add variety to my breakfast. It being a new product for me, I read over the microwave instructions.

Microwave Cooking Instructions:

1. Tear open one end of pouch. Okay, got it.
2. Place one wrap (in pouch) fold-side down on microwave safe plate or paper towel. Fold-side down, makes sense.
3. Microwave on High for 1 minute 45 seconds. Sure.
4. Remove wrap from pouch before eating. What the...?

The instructions could have said Remove wrap from pouch and eat. Or Remove wrap from pouch and enjoy! But, no. It was Remove wrap from pouch before eating. Which begs the question, was this a problem as they rolled out this product? Were people coming back from the marketing studies saying, “This wrap is disgusting. It tastes like plastic. Oh, you take the plastic off. Great, now it just tastes like eggs rolled up in cardboard. Much better.”

I may make this a periodic feature here at MotherReader, so if you have any great product text to share, send me an email or comment below. I’m willing to bet that this decade can give old Lather, Rinse, Repeat a run for its money.

Yesterday I had the perfect book for Poetry Friday, but it was an incredible seventy-three degrees outside and I didn’t feel like sitting down by the computer to write an entry. Journey Woman did a wonderful round-up of the bloggers who probably didn’t have perfect weather (or who may have written in advance like organized people). But back to me.

It was warm and sunny on my front porch, or concrete stoop if you want to be more accurate. I went outside with some Poetry Friday possibilities, one of which I ended up liking. I was so taken by the look of the fantastic yellows and oranges of the leaves against the blue sky, that I took a couple of pictures. Today the top of the same tree is already faded and brown, which just goes to show how ephermal those moments of beautiful clarity really are.

After my short photo session, I delved into a teen book that looked promising, Fringe Girl. I planned to set aside the afternoon outside to finish it.

(Now, in case you are thinking with a snarky tone, “I wish I had that kind of time to sit outside and read,” let me explain something. I took off a few days of work this week since I had a lot of leave and needed a breather. I had planned to use the time to tackle some house projects, but how could I have predicted two freaky warm days at the end of the week? I’d be crazy to work inside on those days. And I didn’t really have that kind of time to sit outside and read. The mess inside my house puts me one notch away from a visit from Social Services — or Mental Health Services. I certainly can’t have anyone over anytime soon. But just like the top of the tree turned brown in one day, these perfect days are also fleeting and you can’t take the chance on missing them.)

Anyway, I was reading Fringe Girl sitting on the concrete porch/stoop, and it was pretty warm outside. Wearing a T-shirt and capris, I also took off my shoes. As I sat there with the sun beating down on my back, I started actually getting hot. And while it was lovely to be in the sun, the front-yard view of my lawn and another house had nothing on my backyard view of trees and more trees. Plus the concrete was not being kind to my butt.

I decided to retire to the backyard, which doesn’t get the full sun and has actual chairs. I walked through the house to the back porch, which was already covered with brown oak leaves. In my bare feet, I stepped outside.

There was a lump under my feet that signaled to me that I had not stepped on just a layer of leaves on the mat. With instincts sharp from years of stepping on things in my daughters’ clothes-covered floors, I wondered what toy I had crunched with my feet this time.

It was a dead chipmunk. A. Dead. Chipmunk.

A gift, presumably, from my lovely white cat. Also, presumably, not the same one that she brought into my house months ago. And one of the worst things I have ever stepped on with my bare feet, presumably.

After an extreme attack of the willies, and a run for shoes — any shoes — I threw the poor dead thing into the woods behind my house. I left my shoes on for the rest of my reading afternoon and only occasionally had shivers with the force of an electrical shock go through my whole body.

Is it irony that I took my shoes off to enjoy the beautiful day and then stepped on a dead chipmunk in my bare feet? Probably not in the most pure definition of the term. But I do believe that it’s a result of my irony-prone nature. In fact, Irony Prone would be a great band name.... or book title. Oh, DIBS!!!

What a beautiful day we had here! After two days of rain and drizzle, the sky cleared. The temperature went up to seventy degrees, and the bright sun made it feel like summer. The orange and yellow leaves were brilliant against the cloudless blue sky. And I was soaking this all in from the the concrete porch of my house with a book in my hand (of course).

Then a UPS truck pulls up in front of my house. A package? For me? Yes indeedy. It’s special delivery for MotherReader. Now, I don’t get many books from authors or publishers. If I’m asked to look at a book, I generally do. Once in a while, I ask the author or publisher for a book — but only if I have some confidence that I’ll like it.

In this case, it was a book I had requested — Rickshaw Girl, by Mitali Perkins. I had loved her book Monsoon Summer and had recommended it for my county’s 2006 summer reading program. Monsoon Summer was such an interesting and engaging look at India through the eyes of an Americanized teenage girl. I loved the way the reader could get a feel for the problems of India, without the book feeling preachy. With the new take on another culture and the accessibility to younger teens, Monsoon Summer was a great choice for our summer reading list and continues to be a standard recommendation of mine.

So, when I opened today’s package and found Rickshaw Girl, I did something I never do. I stopped reading the book I had out, mid-chapter — maybe even mid-sentence — and read this book.

I was not disappointed.

Naima is a girl on the verge of heading out of the salwar kameez (long-sleeved tunics over cotton pants) and into a saree (yards of fabric wrapped around and over the shoulder), living in Bangladesh with her mother, father, and little sister. Her father drives a rickshaw to support the family, but without a son to help with the work, it’s hard to make enough money to pay back the cost of the new rickshaw. Naima wants to help, but as a girl she isn’t allowed. She does make lovely alpanas, the painted patterns done on the family’s paths and thresholds — even winning a prize for the best alpana in her village on International Mother Language Day.

Knowing her family is in trouble, Naima tries to help. Unfortunately, she only succeeds in making things worse. But after pulling back into her domestic role, she finds that her drive, her mind, and her talents can push her toward success for herself and for her family.

Rickshaw Girl is written for a younger audience than Monsoon Summer, which did throw me for a few pages. I was expecting another Young Adult book. But after I got into the book, I really enjoyed the story. As an adult, I could certainly see where the plot was going, but I wasn’t bothered by it. The strength of the book is in showing another culture without it feeling like a lesson. While Mitali includes a glossary in the back — with pictures — she relies on context and short descriptions in the story to keep the reader informed. She also has an author’s note in the back about the importance of mini-loans in these developing rural areas, and the strong role that women are playing in the local economies.

I’m looking forward to giving it to my daughter to read, and perhaps even to her teacher to read to the class. For everyone else looking for a good book on South Asian culture and Girl Power, Bengal style, put Rickshaw Girl on your wish list for 2007.

It’s seventy glorious degrees outside. It looks like I picked the wrong day to put away my kids’ summer clothes. I’m bagging that project, writing a bit here, and then going outside to read a book in the sunshine. Who can blame me? But before I go, here are some odds and ends to keep you busy. I promise an actual book-related post tonight. Really.

I heard about this distraction at Bookshelves of Doom and Fuse#8, and had to post about it here. Because it’s sooo cool. Try it.

Bill and I saw Borat (the preview’s on the page) over the weekend. Unbelievably funny. And I pick the word unbelievably very purposefully, because as you watch this movie you cannot believe what you are seeing. Borat takes everything to its most offensive level — and then pushes it one step further. It’s comic genius.

Virginia may not be a total wash as it looks like we may have turned the entire Senate around by a margin of about 7,000 votes. Sometimes it’s hard to live in this state, but there are times when it really hits home how much your vote does count.

Beyond Rivalry linked to me because of that Book Meme, and in reading through her blog I found this list of Things I’ve Done. Now, I hadn’t done many of them, but at the bottom of the list is a link to a cool site, 43 Things, where you can set your own goals. Whether you want to swim with the dolphins (yes), lose weight (yes), or shave your head (uh, no), you can pull together a list and see what other people are doing. I can see myself wasting a lot of time there, y’know, reading about goals instead of, like, achieving them.

I have always thought that I am not a lucky person. I am lucky in having a wonderful family, good job, nice house, steady income — all those important basics. But when it comes to the little things, stuff just kind of happens to me.

If I leave early for an important meeting, I will get a phone call, have trouble parking, and take the elevator to the wrong floor. If I happen to have the coolest distraction for kids in my very own car, I will break it within five minutes. And the list goes on and on.

But yesterday I realized the true nature of my state of being. It’s not that I’m unlucky — a label that never really fit anyway — it’s something more, something that accounts for the unique quality of my brand of unluckiness, which is three parts bad luck and one part funny.

I am an Irony Magnet.

Let’s look at the example of Kids Lit Happy Hour, shall we?

I had planned to go to New York City for the weekend, but my long-time friend was unable to accommodate my family and me. We looked for hotels, but couldn’t find anything close to reasonable. At that point, we had to bow out of the visit. I debated taking the train up Monday to attend the Sweet & Vicious party and stay with a friend who recently moved to the city. But I’d have to spring for the round-trip train ticket, which seemed a little much basically to go to a Happy Hour, even if you’ll meet some cool authors.

Taking off the five percent discount my friend assured me that one can usually find on the Internet, it would cost $171 for the train.

We decided to go to Virginia Beach to visit my mom, brother, and baby niece. We had to board our diabetic cat, since she needs shots twice a day.

(Quick Irony Magnet Quiz. Which cat requires the twice-a-day shots, expensive medicine, and routine vet check-ups? Is it:

1. the beautiful white cat the girls got as a kitten who curls up next to any sleeping person and is a joy to watch?
2. the sweet older cat who never scratches or bites and purrs when you just look at her because she is so happy to be with you?
3. the neurotic cat who lives under our bed and only comes out at night, when she alternately climbs all over us wanting attention while we sleep and jumps down to barf on the carpet?)

The boarding at the vet isn’t much, but they charge eight dollars to give her each shot. Then, as it turns out, she had fleas — already ironic enough, since she never goes outside — and had to be treated with special vet stuff. Then the vet included in the full course of flea treatment for the next six months in her discharge package. The final cost of my cat’s stay at the veterinarian so we could go home for the weekend and I wouldn’t spend money on the trip to New York City?

It was $171.38.

You see? Three parts bad luck, one part funny. MotherReader, Irony Magnet.

(Oh, and you’re right. The answer is c, the neurotic, needy, barfing cat.)

There are many things I don’t “get.” Uncrustables, for instance. Was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich ever such a time sucker that we needed a frozen variety? Hummers are another head-scratcher for me. How much rough terrain are these drivers handling on I-95? I mean, other than the occasional Hyundai. And then there is the Constitutional amendment that just passed in the state of Virginia. Did people not read it? Did they read it, but believe what they were told anyway? I can’t imagine a rational argument in support of this amendment, but it passed.

I don’t get it.

While Susan and I were runners-up (runner-ups? runners-ups?) in the mock-election posters contest proposed by Defective Yeti, Adam at Literary Gas won with his mighty clever entry. See the whole enchilada at The Morning News. Then get out there and vote.

I just want to make it clear that I would far rather be here typing up this list of recent picture books than joining Fuse#8 and The Longstockings (that would be a great band name, btw) at Sweet & Vicious in New York City. And even though I was supposed to be in NYC today meeting said personages, along with other authors and editors who would have undoubtedly been floored by my charm and clever turn of phrase and would have offered me (a) a co-authorship opportunity, and (b) a book deal, I am extremely happy to be (a) cooking brownies for the Girl Scout bake sale, and (b) summing up some books recently added to my library system. So, freakin’ enjoy them.

• The Gingerbread Cowboy, by Janet Squires
  The gingerbread boy with a cowboy twist. Okay variation.


• The Three Witches, by Joyce Carol Thomas and illustrated by Faith Ringgold
  Kind of freaky-looking witches. Seems like a folktale of some sort. Oh yes, there it is on the inside cover, a folktale from the Gulf States. Doesn’t do anything for me.


• The Best Kid in The World, by Peter H. Reynolds
  Sugarloaf tries to be helpful, but it doesn’t work out well. She gets the Best Kid in The World award for trying so hard. His other two books, The Dot and Ish were much better.


• Bats at the Beach, by Brian Lies
  Rhymes are just okay, but the idea of bats at the beach cracks me up. I like it.


• Hansel and Diesel, by David Gordon
  Hansel and Gretel with pickup trucks. Follow-up to The Ugly Truckling. Neat twist on the old story.


• The Costume Copycat, by Maryann MacDonald
  Angela’s older sister Bernadette always gets the breaks when it comes to Halloween. Cute siblings story and would have been a good story to tell at school for Halloween, if I’d remembered it.


• I’m Dirty! by Kate and Jim McMullan
  Just like I Stink! but with a construction truck. Cute for truck lovers.


• Farm-Fresh Cats, by Scott Santoro
  Something hits the ground from outer space, and instead of cabbage, the farmer finds he is growing green cats. They start growing everywhere, so the farmer decides to sell them at a roadside stand and — because they are no more trouble than potted plants — the city people buy them. It’s a very strange concept. The title creeps me out. I know they are saying that the cats are just grown there, but doesn’t that also imply they are eaten?


• The Curious Demise of a Contrary Cat, by Lynne Berry
  Good as a Halloween book that’s not about Halloween. Odd — but interesting — black-and-white illustrations. The witch orders her cat around but the cat won’t listen, finally with dire consequences for the cat.


• Toot and Puddle: The One and Only, by Holly Hobbie
  This book is really about Opal. A new girl (pig) is in Opal’s class, and she likes to copy Opal. But she can’t seem to copy her dance moves to make the chorus line look perfect, so Opal helps her. Cute, as Toot and Puddle books always are. Maybe I’ll pick it up later.

Of these books, I took home Bats at the Beach, The Curious Demise of a Contrary Cat, and Farm-Fresh Cats (to investigate further).

Now, I’d better get the brownies ready for the bake sale. And I’ll get ready for my exciting Girl Scout leader meeting with lots of moms and no, repeat, no alcohol at all, while I think how lucky I am to be here in lovely — if somewhat socially conservative — Virginia, instead of dirty and smelly New York City drinking with bloggers, authors, and editors. (Oh my!)

.,./,.,./,/////;//., (Sorry — my fingers slipped on the keyboard wet with my tears.)

I try not to get political, but frankly this post is as much about reading — and reading carefully — as it is about politics. Below is the proposed Constitutional amendment for Virginia.

That only a union between one man and one woman may be a marriage valid in or recognized by this Commonwealth and its political subdivisions.

This Commonwealth and its political subdivisions shall not create or recognize a legal status for relationships of unmarried individuals that intends to approximate the design, qualities, significance, or effects of marriage. Nor shall this Commonwealth or its political subdivisions create or recognize another union, partnership, or other legal status to which is assigned the rights, benefits, obligations, qualities, or effects of marriage.

Now, I haven’t paid too much attention to this amendment for two reasons. One, I think that there are more important issues this country faces than whether the gay couple who has lived next door to you for fifteen years can call themselves married and making double-dog dare sure that can’t happen. Two, I think that making a Constitutional amendment for the sole purpose of limiting rights of an entire group of U.S. citizens and Virginia residents is... what’s the word?... wrong.

I had noticed that Virginia Democrats were focusing on telling people that the text of the amendment went farther than people were thinking, to basically outlaw arrangements between unmarried couples. Before reading the text, I thought this approach was a cop-out. It shouldn’t be in the Consititution because it sanctifies discrimination. I believe we will look back at this period of time in the same way we now look back at making marriages between races illegal, and we’ll be ashamed.

But looking for the first time at the text, I am horrified by the extent of the language that many people won’t even read. Let me break it down in verse style, so you’re forced to read it slowly.

That only a union between one man and one woman
may be a marriage valid in or recognized by
this Commonwealth and its political subdivisions.

This Commonwealth and its political subdivisions
shall not create or recognize
a legal status for relationships of unmarried individuals
that intends to approximate
the design, qualities, significance, or effects of marriage.
Nor shall this Commonwealth or its political subdivisions
create or recognize another union, partnership,
or other legal status
to which is assigned the rights, benefits, obligations, qualities, or effects of marriage.

Don’t blindly trust what your politicians or church or friends are telling you. Some of them may not even realize the extend to which this amendment — and other amendments in other states — will go.

Read. Think.

Apparently, there’s still time to participate in this great contest from Defective Yeti and the Morning News (of Seattle, it appears). The deadline has been extended to Friday, November 3rd (and I’m only a little bit upset that he thinks that the funniest sign so far has been pen on posterboard, which means mine is not the funniest). Now, I know Chicken Spaghetti and Literary Gas have put up their signs, but the kidlitosphere has a chance to REPRESENT! If you can’t do a full sign, you can do a flyer or banner and post them on some streetlight or bulletin board. I know we have some creative and quirky people out there, so get right on it. In fact, I’ve got another idea percolating. Do you think I can submit two entries?

Remember how I proposed sample questions to Printz-winning author John Green when he left me out of his blog tour, and then how he so nicely answered them as if I was a legitimate questioner instead of a freakin’ nutball? Good times. You can enjoy that post all over again as a part of the Eighth Carnival of Children’s Literature over at Scholar’s Blog. There are lots of fantastic posts you probably missed, some — unlike mine — actually relevant to the theme of Halloween. Michele also took on the challenge of the 100 Things list, which is so very cool. What are you waiting for? Break down the essentials of your very being into 100 bite-sized chunks.

Eisha from Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast mentioned her complete and utter enjoyment of my “Pinter tea lights” comment, making her blog my new favorite. Because I’m that easy. Honestly. Having trouble remembering to what I am referring? Here it is:

It’s Teen Read Week, and I haven’t even taken down the Nobel Prize decorations yet. I think it was said best at Defective Yeti about the hype and tension of the Nobel Prize for Literature. And I have to agree. I mean, it used to be that you didn’t even hear about the Nobel Prize for Literature until the week before it happened. Even the chocolates with the faces of Naipaul and Morrison were only available on the day of the announcements. But now the coverage of the event is just insane, and I can’t even pass a Hallmark without seeing the Pinter tea light holders left over from last year.

Eisha’s comment: i thought the “pinter tea lights” line was hilarious. shoulda said so at the time, but the fact that your post reminded me that it was teen read week, which i’d totally forgotten, so overwhelmed me with shame that i couldn’t bring myself to type.

Eisha is forgiven.

Speaking of hype, I dissed Halloween decorations and then felt a little bad since so many nice people, like Nancy, enjoy them. I recanted a bit in my own comments, and now here, because I’m not really that much of a Grinch about Halloween (what would the Halloween equivalent?). I don’t mind seeing the decorations around so much, I just get tired of the constant pressure to make everything so much MORE. I just would like a little simplicity once in a while.

Speaking of Nancy, Journey Woman is coming along nicely with her best passages in children’s literature contest. The most Poetic passages needs the most love, so you people of lovely words, stop on by. I submitted lines from Clemency Pogue: The Hobgoblin Proxy in the funniest lines.

The hobgoblins, the girl, and the increasingly impatient fairy watched from behind the bottom half of a door that opened like a scandalous bathing suit, in two pieces. This being France, the top was open.

I could have found dozens of Junie B. Jones passages for the Funniest category — ’cause I love the Junie B. — but I also put Junie B. Jones in the memorable category as well with this comment:

Okay, when I think of memorable, I think of a passage that I can actually remember, accurately. Now, I admit to having a terrible book-memory, but one passage I can quote, without a doubt, is from Junie B. Jones. It starts the beginning of most of her books (can’t remember — hah — when it stops showing up).

“My name is Junie B. Jones. The B stands for Beatrice. Except I don’t like Beatrice. I just like B and that’s all.”

While recently I listed the joys of Junie B., this month I got back to the funny book list. If you haven’t finished reading the new Edge of the Forest, there’s still time before it self-destructs. At least, that’s what I was told would happen.

I like Halloween. I really, really do. The concept is so pure. Kids dress up. Kids say trick-or-treat. Kids get candy. The end.

But what the hell has happened in the last few years?

I’m okay with the store-bought costumes. Busy parents don’t have time to make a robot out of a box. I’m okay with the buttload of candy that is pushed in the stores, because when it is all left over on their shelves after two weeks I buy it at 90% off and bring it to work instead of pumpkin bread. But when did it become such a thing to decorate for Halloween? You used to just buy a couple of pumpkins, carve them, and put them on the porch. Maybe, if you want to go for that spooky feel for trick-or-treaters, you put some fake webs on the bushes or a Halloween picture on the door.

But now there are the gravestones, and the skeletons, and creepy bloody hands. There are orange blinking lights and ghost lights. You can go scary Halloween or cutesy Halloween or silly Halloween. There are towels for the bathroom and decorations for all inside the house. There are the shirts and the socks and the month-long marathon of Halloween shows on Nickelodeon.

This used to be the easy holiday. One day. Two costumes. Three bags of candy. Four pumpkins. Five hours of fun. Done.

I’m bitching, but I really do like Halloween, and we’ve kept it simple. We carved our pumpkins on Sunday, because it was so warm outside. We’ll get dressed about 5:30 and stop at a couple of neighbors’ houses. Then we’ll head to our old neighborhood to trick-or-treat with our friends. It’s a townhouse development, so the kids come home with tons of candy — which we dole out as their after-dinner treat for months. After they’ve made the rounds, we go back to a friend’s house where the kids watch movies and count their stash. The adults sit around a fire pit and drink beer and eat chili. For a few years, we had neighbors who would do a fire-eating show. I kid you not. After it all, we come home way too late and way too full. And it’s awesome.

In school today, my fifth grader will have nothing special going on. Maybe a spooky story. The second-grade teachers have come up with a great way to celebrate the day, without actually doing a Halloween party — which is now quite taboo in our safe, politically correct schools. Since the second grade studies bugs as part of their curriculum, October 31st is Bug Day. The kids come in bug costumes. They play bug games. They have bug crafts and snacks. They do bug math. And they have a great time. I went this morning to help out with the crafts and it was the cutest things to see all the creative costumes. You won’t find many store-bought bug costumes other than butterflies, so there were interesting spiders, ladybugs, beetles, and bees.

I usually read to the class around Halloween, but I just didn’t get around to arranging it. I did give the teacher two books to read during the day, and she was happy to take them. One is a favorite of many librarians and teachers, The Hallo-wiener by Dav Pilkey. It’s the story of a dachshund who is always teased by his doggie classmates, but especially after his well-meaning mother gives him a hot-dog costume for Halloween. But when his doggie friends are spooked by a ghoul, it’s the little dog who saves the day. It’s a funny book, but you can add a little spooky suspense when the ghoul comes into the picture.

The other book that I suggested is The Ugly Pumpkin by Dave Horowitz. It’s about a pumpkin that isn’t picked for Halloween because he looks so strange. As he travels through November, he comes upon more like him and realizes that he’s not a pumpkin at all. He’s a squash! And he’s just in time for Thanksgiving! Cute twist on the ugly duckling story with a nice transition to the next holiday on the calendar.

Speaking of transitions, let me transition my way off the computer and into the real world, where it’s sunny and 72 degrees outside. I think I might have time to read a book before I get the girls from school. Have a Happy Halloween with full-sized Kit-Kat bars and chilled Coronas. And if you’re lucky — really lucky — maybe even fire-eaters.

Yesterday was supposed to wind up my week of responses to the Five Interesting Things meme, but I was too wiped out to deal with postings. It is Sunday morning on the U.S. East Coast, and perhaps is still Saturday somewhere. I never did understand that International Date Line. I’m struggling with “spring forward, fall back” and will be for about a week as I change clocks and watches and try to remember what time it is.

Anyway, on Friday night we showed our film to the cast and crew. While Bill and I have seen it dozens of times as he adjusted music, color, editing, sound effects, and about twenty other things I don’t understand, no one else had seen it. While not everyone was able to make it, many of the cast and crew came to lend their support and see the final product. I think it is safe to say that everyone was pleased, if not impressed, by what we were able to put together. Sure, there were some small things that could have been done better, but not within our three-day window (with just one day of filming).

I think it’s the best thing we’ve done so far. And it’s up on the web now for your viewing pleasure. Pop by Tohubohu Productions for our new title, “Machinations.”

This film was done as part of the National Film Challenge. Our assigned genre was Science Fiction and the required elements were a character — Bobbie Soxer (candidate) — a prop — oil — and a line of dialogue — “If it doesn’t work, give it a shake.” We would love to do a non-competition film, but don’t have a script. So, if writers out there would like to send us something to look at, please do. We won’t actually pay you, because we’re not making any money ourselves, but still.

And the last from my 100 Things About Me list (have I convinced any of you to do your own yet?)

57. I’ve seen 90 of the 100 top-grossing movies.

And for my last tag of this meme, I pass it to my editor, my director, my friend, my gravy-train, my lawn-care guy, my sperm-donor, my husband, Bill.

From Chicken Spaghetti (who, incidently has someone interesting running for office in her town), and being passed along alllll through the book-loving world:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next four sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig around for that “cool” or “intellectual” book on your shelves. (I know you were thinking about it.) Just pick up whatever is closest.

Joanne had gotten married, had a son, lived within two miles of my house, and liked being a housewife because she could smoke all day and watch TV. My rival had also gotten married, moved to Ventura, gotten divorced, hated her job as a special-ed high school teacher, and had to borrow a cotton floral number to wear to the occasion. Her life was still “really great,” though. She also had some girlie freak-out idea that she and I were soul sisters during high school. The only reason I might have liked her then was because she had a butt bigger than mine, and, standing next to her, I was a dish.

From a very funny book, The Idiot Girls’ Action-Adventure Club, by Laurie Notaro. I had wanted to read this book after reading a later book of hers, I Love Everybody (And Other Atrocious Lies), but my library didn’t have this title. I put it on my Amazon wish list, but no one bought it for me. Then one day, it showed up in our library’s book sale. Hurray! I bought it, brought it downstairs for my mom to look at on her visit, and never finished it. But what I did read, and have read before from Ms. Notaro, is hilarious.

Today brings us part four of my five-post response to the Five Interesting Things meme. Pulling this from my 100 Things About Me list is especially on-target for today’s book review.

66. In college, I was a psychology major.
67. I used my major after college for one year.
68. Unless you include counseling my crazy family.

My childhood as the last hippie child was fairly stable, but there did seem to be such a strong emotional current to everything. Now, as my parents have gotten older, I’ve noticed the current being more like actual waves, and in the case of their divorce, one might call it a tsunami. Sometimes I look back at childhood now with a much more adult perspective and wonder about all the stuff that was going on while I was worrying about friends, and later about boys.

Susan Taylor Brown has tackled the angst of a girl in a dysfunctional family in her book, Hugging the Rock. Rachel watches her mom pack the car to go away. She’s heartbroken by the idea, the reality of her mother leaving her. What’s more, her mom is leaving her alone with her father, who has never had much to say to Rachel. Now trapped together and miserable, they must each find a way to regroup and recover. What makes it even harder for both of them is their own awareness of the mother’s troubles. Rachel has known for years that her mom needs her medicine to be close to normal, and sometimes even the medicine doesn’t work. Dad has his own secrets and pain he’s been hiding, but in the end it all needs to come to the light.

The book is told in verse form, which — don’t argue with me here — qualifies its inclusion in Poetry Friday. It will have to count, because after carrying this book around for two weeks to make time to read it and then to write about it, I’ve misplaced it in this disaster of a house. You’ll have to trust me that the poems are lovely and moving.

And continuing with the Five Interesting/Little-Known Things About You Meme, I tag the author at Susan Writes.

Also in the post about the ridiculous commercialization of the Nobel Prize for literature was a reference to a fun contest for book-lover types. Do you know any? Anyway, the writer behind the blog Defective Yeti proposed a contest for putting literary figures in political posters for funny results. He invited the world at large to make their own posters, place them on the street, and send him pictures. Well, I couldn’t resist the opportunity, especially given how much enjoyment I get out of his blog on a daily basis. He does have some overlap with books if you consider his coverage of the Nobel Prize or his post on Bush, punctuation, and the Iraq War. Now, he is a top-level blog with like 100,000 hits a day and I am... well, not that. But in keeping with the theme of the week I’ll have to tag Defective Yeti with the Five Interesting Things meme. (But it’s okay if he doesn’t do it, because me even asking him is like asking Tom Cruise to the prom. I mean, Tom Cruise before he went insane.) Either way, I’m sending in my pictures, but for you fine folks, I’m including them here.

And continuing to dole out Five Interesting Things from my 100 Things About Me List is today’s list addendum:

101. I’m pretty much a left-wing liberal.