a sort of story book review

I'm trying really hard to concentrate right now: It's light and it's late. X needs to fall asleep so we can go to fireworks at midnight (they have to be around that time up here, since it never gets fully dark in the summer). Once again, my neighbor is vacuuming at quarter of nine. They do it every night, and it lasts a solid hour.

Officially putting my stodginess on the back burner; I wanted to take the blog back and do a review of The Curious Garden by Peter Brown. I wanted to say it reminded me of a cross between David Lucas (my favorite being Halibut Jackson) and Uri Shulivetz (namely Snow). They share a rich simplicity, a sense of calm, a unique illustration style that continues to prove my point that storybook art is an art form to be admired and respected.*

I wanted to say that it's helping to plant the seed of a changed childhood (for the better) much like Wall*E: a subtle but not preachy sort of respect for our home on Earth. Further, I wanted to say that we are the first in all of Anchorage, Girdwood, and Eagle River to get to check it out from the library - I am still the advance hold/new volume queen that I learned to be from my library work. This fact has made X's little chest swell with pride, and the book has that wonderful crisp smell of the new. We've read it twelve times already.

I really wanted to say all of that and more. Maybe later.

A side note: I might be doing story times again soon. There is a new book store in Eagle River and it specializes in Children's Literature. I've spoken to the owner and told her my background and she seems really excited about the possibility of me doing some Saturday story times. I have been ITCHING to create more. Word is that the story time I created in Knoxville is going really strong and consistently has 30 or more children every Tuesday evening.


*What's so wrong with art for children or literature for children anyway? I've met several literature snobs who don't see it as a worthy medium...don't see that it can be discussed and held up. How else are we to entice children to love art and reading? You can't tell me that Peter Pan, The Oz books, the Chronicles of Narnia, Where the Wild Things Are, Goodnight Moon, etc. etc. aren't worthy of respect. The Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art is helping to legitimize the form. But guess what? The art form is ALREADY legitimate in the minds and hearts of many, and the crusty old buggers who think it's rubbish can keep their negativity to themselves. Same goes to those who think Young Adult Literature is "beneath" them. Picture books are for everyone, and where would we be without the books of our youth? Catcher in the Rye would probably be Library of Congressed into the YA category now. If you think YA is all like Twilight than you'd be mistaken. Check out The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian or Bog Child. All right, book nerd rant over.

Is there a device which would drill small, pinpoint holes in my skull to allow all of this sunlight to get in the dark corners of my brain?

I'm afraid my dark hair isn't letting it in. The Vitamin D can't get a foothold these days. The creeping vine of my esoteric thoughts is reaching beyond the corners, up the walls, across my face, down the stairs, out the door, and almost out of my mouth. How do you beat down this kind of weed?

I'm the worst of voyeurs. Not meaning that I have a problem with voyeurism: meaning that those I chose to peep at are boring. Further meaning that I'm only a narcissistic voyeur - I'm constantly spying on myself.

Did anyone ever find a girl up in a tree with a pair of binoculars? Did that really happen in the fifties or did I see Back to the Future one too many times? Has the internet erased the art of the peeping Tom? I find myself combing craigslist's Missed Connections looking for some hint of a secret admirer: "Saw you walking splay-footed down 40th in inappropriate shoes for walking. You looked as if you thought all eyes were on you when in fact none were and that made you appear pouty. I think you're swell."

If, in fact, I were to be the star of a missed connection I would probably vomit all over my inappropriate splayed-feet. Like seducing easy prey in my earlier years. Fun while it lasted but side-ways-heart-beating wrong.

All the while knowing that I'm growing into R. Crumb's ideal woman...and while it's not a bad thing, my body is not growing into MY ideal woman - to put it in a vaguely superficial way without any icing on the top. Or nothing but icing. I can't decide: it's midnight and I'm still up and I use "it's" too often.

The girl who haiku'd
All through her roaring twenties
Now, gets stuck on one



From Urban Dictionary:

Crumb girl:

a woman with largish, rounded features, particularly in the posterior and breasts. a woman who resembles the woman of cartoonist Robert Crumb

Wire mesh, some aluminum wire...this kinetic butterfly of shrunken cashmere is going to fly.

Found her at the SCPA Thrift Store, that teems with cats and cute Japanese tchochkis...Everyone had to come visit her straight away.

I think I'm going to start doing the Corner View thing...next week is music.

On my mind today: "But gypsies do not like to stay, they only come to go away..."

I feel like that all the time.

Waiting to Pick Gary up from the Airport

I just want to crawl into a small grove of weeping willow and have Neil Young play me his songs all day long.

Young Neil Young. Young Young Neil.

Neil Young. Young.

I had such a small grove in our house in Knoxville. Not the recent one, but the one when I was a kid...the one with the creek full of leeches and crawdads. And the sinkholes full of snakes. Apple orchard full of silk worms. That one.

Jesus, that yard. The yard in my grownup Tennessee house pales in comparison. Excepting for the lavender and rosemary up front. The butterfly maples. The Moses-in-his-basket. The praying mantis. The mortgage. The giant fucking spiders:



Best not to get nostalgic. Remember the spider.


(be patient...about 1 min 39 seconds in...it starts)

What a pretty way to start the day!

Just got word that our photos from a recent hike at the Eagle River Nature Center is being featured on Imagine Childhood's Nature Walk blog!

They're a beautiful company, I recently got Xander an Audubon bird-call whistle to and some crayon rocks to ferret away for his Christmas stocking. I'm really pleased they picked us, and plan on purchasing this for Xander for Christmas this year as well. Come to think of it, this will be purchased even sooner! Boy needs his own backpack.

:)