The Library Lady Rants

The Apartment

2012-02-26T18:40:00.001-05:00

It's not impressive inside. Three small bedrooms, three tiny bathrooms. A galley kitchen with 50 yr old cabinets and no dishwasher. A long living room/dining room. And that's it.

But it's on the 21st floor, with a breathtaking view of the Hudson River and the George Washington Bridge. You can see the Little Red Lighthouse, beloved icon of my childhood, from the windows. At night, the bridge is a glorious string of lights shining on the water.

It's a neighborhood in transition. Not long ago pretty much everyone in the neighborhood was black or Hispanic and the crime rates were high. You occasionally heard gunfire at night. Now the rich hipsters are moving in and taking over.

For 40+ years my in-laws lived in this apartment. From that small kitchen came the miracles of Nanay's cooking, the rich smells of her baking. My husband and his brothers crammed into a small bedroom with bunk beds and filled the house with their sounds. My sister-in-law grew up and got married, but her small daughter came to stay for long periods.

One by one, the boys grew up and moved out. But at holidays the chaos resumed as everyone gathered at the house. I married the Man, and it became the place of my Christmases too, and soon it was my own daughter spending holidays and vacations in the apartment with Nanay.

And then Nanay was gone, and the family began to come apart. But we still gathered for Christmas in the apartment, shared food and laughter and family.

Then Tatay, failing ever since Nanay left us, could no longer live in the apartment. My sister-in-law, now the family matriarch, made arrangements to move him down here to Virginia, to the house where he was to spend just a few more months with us. Our cousin, who had lived with the family since coming home from the Vietnam war, made arrangements to move to Buffalo, near where my oldest brother-in-law had relocated.

And the dismantling of the apartment began.
The Man and his sister made multiple trips. At Christmas, SC and JR and I went to the apartment for the last time, to say goodbye.

Tatay left us a month ago. And today the Man said goodbye to his childhood home forever.

I'm not a believer. But somehow I hope that there is a heaven.
And I hope that in Heaven there is an apartment high above the Hudson River where you can stand at the window and watch the lights of the GW Bridge blaze at night. An apartment which smells sweetly of freshly baked bread and of tea rose perfume.

Even if it's not there, it's here with me. In Nanay's steel mixing bowls and her wooden spoons. In her picture on our wall. In the faces of my husband, my daughters, my brother-in-laws and my sister-in-law, my nieces and nephews.

It's here with me.
And I feel so lucky to have been there.

"Nitpickers Against Language Abuse"

2012-02-23T15:35:00.002-05:00

That's the name of a Facebook group I'm on. Someone posted this cartoon there recently:

We're thinking of getting a t-shirt made of this....................................

Hey Garrison Keilor: THIS Is What A Librarian Looks Like

2012-02-21T11:45:00.000-05:00

Dear Garrison Keillor:

I am sick,sick SICK of your blasted "Ruth Harrison Reference Librarian" skit.

Librarians are overworked, underfunded and under appreciated and always have been. And we are getting more crap than ever in this "libraries are outdated, it's all electronics now" baloney.

You are a reader and a writer--a writer, I might add, whose books are BOUGHT by librarians, PROMOTED by libraries. You owe a helluva lot to us.

Once upon a time, when women were generally not allowed to become doctors, lawyers, engineers and the rest, the professions open to to them were generally teachers and librarians. And since middle class women weren't expected to work outside the home, most of the women working in libraries were well educated, middle class spinsters who generally stayed in those jobs forever, with their hair in buns, wearing their sensible shoes and their reading glasses on a chain.

But Garrison, I've been a librarian since 1984 and even then, a quarter of a century ago, that stereotypical librarian was already becoming an endangered species.

Librarians come in all ages, both genders and a range of ethnic backgrounds. They have outside lives. They do everything from rock climbing to fine arts.

They're tech savvy--computers have not taken away from their work as Katherine Hepburn feared in "Desk Set":

In fact, they've opened our work up in all kinds of new ways--something I know well because of my fellow travelers on sites like Pinterest and the Facebook "Flannel Friday" group.

Librarians are not conservative, hidebound or rigid--except perhaps for catalogers, and I won't start on my opinion of ~~deviants~~ catalogers here. They adapt to new technology, they find ways to use it.

In the face of "Did you have to go to college to learn this?" "My taxes pay your salary", the folks who think all we do is stamp due dates and go "shush!", the families who use us a source of free programs and then go buy their own books, the daily dealings with the homeless, the mentally ill and the just plain rude, we smile and go on serving the public.

Want to see what a REAL librarian looks like Garrison?

You can find me HERE. And a whole lot of other librarians there as well, few who look or sound one bit like "Ruth Harrison".

Do some more joke shows, Garrison. Introduce me to some more great music. Make fun of the Republicans--tons of material there right now.

And send a nice large donation to the libraries of St Paul and perhaps all of Minnesota.
For that matter, if you could spare a bit, the state of Virginia could use some library funding too, especially with the current a-hole governor we've got.

Just enough with the "reference librarian" skit.
It's a stereotype, and we've got enough of those. And it's just not funny.

Sincerely,

The Library Lady
Librarian, Wife,Mother, Gardener, Bad Ballerina and a Whole Lot More......

Dear Teachers: Don't Include Cleopatra On Your "Black History" List

2012-02-15T20:23:00.002-05:00

Time and time again, I have gotten teachers sending kids in for book for Black History Month (isn't it ironic to segregate black history away from "white" history?"

If I am lucky, they have a list.

If I am really lucky, they have a list of people we will actually have books on.

If I am not so lucky they have included people like an obscure washerwoman who invented a new kind of iron or some such (all that's known is her name and her invention), pop singers on whom there are no bios, and Cleopatra.

Okay, let me get slightly off topic for a minute. I just read an article about Viola Davis's view of her role in "The Help" and found her comment interesting.

“The black artist cannot live in a revisionist place..The black artist can only tell the truth about humanity, and humanity is messy. People are messy. Caucasian actors know that.”

But then I caught this comment:
"They cast Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra and are looking to cast Angelina Jolie in the same role. Excuse me? Knowing history and understanding where Cleopatra came from I do not understand the passing over of black actresses for the role."

This lady does NOT know history. And teachers, this is YOUR fault.

Not all of you. I know plenty of history teachers who know better!

Those of you who have been misinforming students like this for decades, say it with me:

CLEOPATRA WAS NOT BLACK!

Cleopatra was the last ruler of the Ptolemaic Dynasty, who ruled Egypt for nearly 3 centuries. And they came from Macedonian Greece. Nowhere near Egypt, let alone the rest of Africa.

Not black. Nope, nope, nope.

The writer in the Times was right though in Elizabeth Taylor and possible Angelina Jolie being miscast though in one way.

Cleopatra was NOT beautiful. In fact, judging by her coins, she was downright homely.

Lesson over, children.

Teacher who taught this lady?
Stand in the corner a while longer...........

True Love

2012-02-14T13:51:00.000-05:00

I am wearing a tiny heart made of iridescent paua shell today that looks like this.

It's not an expensive piece of jewelry, but it was given to me with love. My Christmas gift from the Man, who after 30 some-odd years has apparently finally realized that I like small, delicate jewelry.

I was reading a piece in this week's Washington Post about adults who never seem to find true love and there was a quotation from Diane Keaton's autobiography that really spoke to me.

“I never found a home in the arms of a man.”

I found that home long ago in the Man's arms. As much as he drives me crazy (and I know that's mutual, by the way), for all the times he doesn't "follow the script", for all the things that can go wrong between us, time and time again the moments come between us when I understand how lucky I am to have him. To have "us".

As one of Rumer Godden's characters said--and I've quoted it to people--why have romance when you can have true love?

I just have to stand there with our arms around each other and know that I have the thing that matters most in this world, something that can't be bought with elaborate Valentine gifts, something that is there with me through joy and sorrow, through everything wrong and everything right.

It's the one gift in the world I want my daughters to have.

It's "The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of"

Seventeen

2012-02-13T09:09:00.003-05:00

Dear SC,

Happy belated 17th birthday. At least, it's belated here on the blog, which you don't read anyway, so I know you really won't mind.

.Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and I will be giving you the sort of silly Valentine that is family tradition. But when I was looking for that card, I found one that said something like this, and I wish I could make sure that you know this:

I know that things will not always go your way and I can't change that.But know that no matter what, I will always love you and always be here to listen to you when you need me.

Happy birthday, baby.

Love, Mommy

Enlighten the Gentiles:Shiva

2012-02-08T16:55:00.002-05:00

Not the Hindu goddess "She-vah", but "Shiv-uh", the Hebrew word meaning "7". It marks a 7 day mourning period after the death of a family member.

Shiva has a lot of rules but the basic idea is that the mourning family stay in their home for 7 days following the funeral. They sit low to the floor, symbolic of being "brought low" by grief, thus people are described as "sitting shiva".

People come to the house to pay their respects, speak of their memories of the departed person and to pray.
They usually bring food, though they do not expect the mourning family to serve any food to them.

I know of this from being from a Jewish family, but I've never experienced shiva. It's not something my family does.

Nanay, my mother-in-law died at home in New York. The family was there--those of us who live down here in Northern VA were able to get time off from our jobs.

My parents were there, to take care of the girls, to supply the meals, to let the Man and I do what we needed to do.We didn't have to manage our house, go to work.We were able to concentrate on mourning and on healing. It wasn't shiva in its traditional form, but it was a period set away from the everyday.

Tatay died here in Virginia. My brother-in-laws, niece and cousin were only here for a night. What needed to be done was done by my sister-in-law and by the Man, the youngest and oldest children and the ones who have managed Tay's care for the last few months of his life. The Man took off extra time and I was able to take off some time too, but for the most part work went on, as did school for the girls. The rhythms of daily life were inescapable.

A week past his funeral the Man and SC and I are still emotionally weary. It breaks out in odd moments--moments when SC reports suddenly feeling the grief, moments when I find myself somewhere wanting to burst into tears--in ballet class, at work, when I'm suddenly alone on my own.

Moments when the grief and the sorrow overwhelm the Man and he either needs my comfort, or when the grief turns into anger--like the other night, when he lost his temper with SC over something minor.

We didn't have much time to mourn until real life dragged us back again.

I think shiva, like many such religious practices, goes far beyond its religious aspect.
I get it now.
I wish I didn't.

Hug your loved ones.
Abei gezeunt............

A Rose For Tatay

2012-01-30T19:12:00.003-05:00

Dear Tatay,

Mel was so busy with her kids and everything else that she didn't get the rose petals her mom wanted to put in your casket. But there were some there when we said goodbye to you today.

I don't know if you remember me telling you so, but when Nanay died, we planted an "Aloha" tea rose outside our house on her birthday.

This November, when we thought its bloom was long over, a rose appeared. It started opening around my birthday.

Slowly, but surely it began to open. A week later, on the Man's birthday, it was still opening.

It finally bloomed around Christmas. With the cold/warm periods, it didn't bloom well, but it bloomed.

Last night I cut it off the plant. I tucked some of the petals in the envelope with the message JR wrote for herself and SC:

"You are now in a safe haven with Nanay at your side. But remember that no matter who you're with, love is there with you."

And I tucked the rest in with my note and with a picture from my wedding, January 30, 1994.
The one with the whole family, laughing and happy and together:

"Eighteen years ago today I became a member of your family. But I already loved you all. And I always will."

We'll plant something for you, Tay. I haven't figured out what yet. It won't be a rose. Tea roses are for Nanay--for their sweet fragrance that we all associate with her.

No, your plant needs to be something less sweet and more sturdy. Something that perhaps isn't lovely, but is strong and resilient and useful. Perhaps even fruitful.

I love you, Tatay. Thank you for the gift of your son. Thank you for the gift of your family. My family too.

I am very proud to be your daughter in law. To be the mother of your granddaughters.

I hope that I can raise them to be women you can take pride in.

Paalam Na,

Day To Day Through A Crisis

2012-01-29T21:04:00.000-05:00

"Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out."--Anton Chekov

Saw this on a friend's Facebook page and tonight answered:
"And the combination of a crisis and day to day living is truly exhausting."

Thursday was a day of going to work to tell everyone what had happened that morning, doing what I had to that day and going home. Waiting for SC to get out of school so I could get her and break the news to her. Making sure that dinner was ready when the Man finally got home from dealing with his own job, dealing with the funeral home.

Friday was time at work instead of ballet class because I needed to go in and do some stuff and had too many things to do in the afternoon. Grocery shopping, because we had to keep eating. Finding photos to send to my niece for the CD she was making for the funeral.

Saturday was back at work because I won't be back till Tuesday and will pretty much have to go straight into programs.Then in the afternoon it was running around with JR because she needed something to wear for the funeral. We don't have a lot of dress up things--we don't attend any sort of church or go to dress up places. And with no family Christmas at Nanay and Tatay's house, no need to dress up for Christmas. SC and I figured out things we could wear, but JR didn't have anything dressy aside from hand me down dresses from SC, and she doesn't want to wear dresses! It ended with my spending $60 on a pretty tunic from the women's petite department that looks lovely on her. Then I dropped her at home so I could wear myself out further searching stores for leggings (thank heavens for Target) and doing more grocery shopping.

This morning I made my sister-in-law's favorite cookies to take out to her. The Man got his funeral clothes and other things together, including a bunch of inflatable mattresses. My sister-in-law has a good sized house, but with my 3 brother-in-laws, our cousin and our niece all coming in to stay, she needed the space. And that doesn't even include our other niece, HER older daughter, who was coming home to stay--and doubtless break her parents hearts again. But that's another story.

This afternoon we all went out to the house, then everyone who was there went to dinner. Fifteen of us and my sister-in-law's dearest friend went out and laughed and ate and hung out.

And now we are home--the girls and I. The Man stayed out with the family and I hope that even though it's a sad reason for them to all be together, that it's a bit of a good time. I honestly believe we may not all be together again like this for a long,long time. Perhaps never.

Here at home it's assembling clothes and showers and writing cards to put in Tatay's casket tomorrow--he is to be cremated. It's going to be a long day, and some of it will be sad, and some of it will be joyful. I know that well from Nanay's funeral.

And then it's back to the simple, day to day, ordinary crises again.

3AM

2012-01-28T21:36:00.002-05:00

The call came in from my brother-in-law at 3 AM and jerked me awake. I knew what it probably was.

Earlier that day the Man had stopped in to see his father. Two months ago he and my sister-in-law moved Tatay down here to be cared for in the home of a caregiver. She was Filipino, she was great with him and they made him as comfortable as they could.

He turned 90 in December and we all gathered at a Japanese restaurant and I think he enjoyed it. We went to see him--the Man went often and three weeks ago he and I went together and spent the afternoon with Tay.

We've all know what was coming. "Palliative care" "Hospice care". The words were being used.

The truth is that when Nanay died, 3 1/2 years ago, he began to go away from us. She was the center of his world, and without that center, he began to diminish.

I've thought of him these last few years as waiting for God. His god, because I'm not a believer.

I wish I was. I wish I could believe that he and Nanay are together again, young and happy. That all the bad things in their lives are healed.

But I can't. I just can't.

All I can do is organize clothes for the girls for the funeral--it's Monday-- and support the Man and SC.
And cry. At the oddest moments, I find myself bursting into tears.

It's all horribly familiar. Not at all like when we lost Nanay, and yet still the same.

And I hate it.

And I fear that some day the phone will ring again at 3AM and it will be my mother calling. Or my father.

Paula Deen Is Appalling

2012-01-18T19:30:00.003-05:00

When "Galloping Gourmet" Graham Kerr's wife Treena had a stroke, he learned to cook low fat, low cholesterol food for her. His motto became "Min-Max"--minimum fat for maximum flavor.

He wrote cookbooks. He did all new television shows, sharing what he'd learned with the masses.

He's still doing so. He will be 78 on Sunday (happy birthday, Graham!).
And Treena too will turn 78 this year.

Which brings me to Paula Deen. I've disliked her for years. Her food is laden with everything people shouldn't eat to excess, she's sneered at healthy cooking, and her entire schtick is as phoney as a 3 dollar bill.

Today she disclosed that she was diagnosed with Type II diabetes. THREE YEARS AGO.

Did Paula Deen say to herself, "Hey, I could learn how to make things I love to eat in a more healthy way. I could learn how to cook things that might PREVENT some of those millions of people who watch my shows and come to my appearances and buy my cookbooks from developing diabetes. I could have a whole new series, all about healthy cooking. I'd make money and people would BENEFIT!"

Nope. She said to herself, "How can I keep doing this schtick AND make even more money?"

She kept on doing her shows with hamburgers on Krispy Kreame donuts, mayonnaise, butter and fats galore. Fried macaroni and cheese. Same old, same old.

Meanwhile, she found herself a sweet little deal with NovoNortis to hawk their $500 a month diabetes drug. Only when she had that contract nailed down did she announce her condition.

And she'll go on with her show, doubtlessly with commercials for the medication running in between segments.

Paula Deen is a poor excuse for a human being.

That's Bad, That's Good, Or:If You've Got Triskaidekaphobia Now, You'll Be A Mess in 2013

2012-01-13T23:23:00.001-05:00

As I've mentioned in posts over the years triskaidekaphobia is fear of the number 13, and I know a lot of people fear Friday the 13ths.

Things happened today that might have been considered bad luck by those folks. But each had a good side too:

1)The Man took his car in for an oil change and they discovered he needed a brake job. Bad news in terms of the fact that it was expensive. But good news in terms of the fact that it was discovered BEFORE he and SC head up to NYC tomorrow. Don't want to do a 250 mile each way trip that includes a lot of city driving with bad brakes!
]
2)I got stopped by a cop because I was going the wrong way on a 1 way street. Could have gotten a ticket. I explained that I was picking up JR from a friend's house, that the street was 2 way on the next block and I'd gotten confused and that I hadn't seen the one way signs in the dark. And he let it go--this after also letting go the fact that I didn't have my license because I did have the car registration!

3)The gingerbread man cakes I was baking to send to my nephews and niece (still haven't sent their Christmas stuff!) lost various limbs as they came out of the pan. But they taste delicious anyway, especially with whipped cream on top, and the girls enjoyed their dessert!

So a pretty GOOD day all in all. And you triskaidekaphobiacs can breathe easy.

That is, until Friday the 13th in April that is..............

Auld Lang Syne

2011-12-31T20:11:00.000-05:00

I was writing a pity party post to end this horrid year of 2011 and then I went to cover the reference desk and finished "The Ogre of Oglefort", the late great Eva Ibbotson's last book.

And there, as if a message to me were the last words, the last words of the last book I will read this year:

"Anyone who has an egg to watch over has a stake in the future, and the future--they were sure of it--was going to be good."

So instead of a rant, here is a look at all the good things of 2011 at my house--and yes, if you haven't seen me elsewhere, there are a few shots of me here.

The music is by Mairi Campbell. Amusingly, this was used in the first "Sex and the City" movie, and while I find those characters frequently irritating, this sequence was beautiful and I love how it worked out here.

We're going to cook lumpia (Filipino egg rolls) and pancit canton (noodles with pork, shrimp and vegetables) for our traditional New Year's Eve dinner. In fact, I've already made the lumpia filling and am waiting for the Man to start chopping pork for the noodles!

Later we are going to curl up on the big sofa, all 4 of us and perhaps the cats, and watch the ball drop in Times Square--where we just happened to have been last Saturday. And drink sparkling cider (with brandy added to the Man's glass) and eat my mother's yummy if healthy brownies, made a bit more yummy and unhealthy by whipped cream and chocolate syrup.

And we'll watch this.

Happy New Year to all. Here's hoping for that good future in 2012.

Gwen Is The Reason For the Season

2011-12-22T10:41:00.001-05:00

Saw a bumper sticker with an often seen saying today, "Jesus is the reason for the season".

Sorry, no!

Winter solstice celebrations are as old as mankind, I think. Certainly the Romans had Saturnalia (Lindsay Davis has a marvelous picture of it in her Falco mystery "Saturnalia", the Druids has solstice celebrations, and on through the centuries from religion to religion.

What they are all about is gathering in the darkest time of the year and bringing some light to things. Sharing with family. Helping those in need. The quote I've used every year from Charles Dickens says it:

"But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round ......as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.
"And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

Let me tell you about Gwen. It's really her name, but I know she'll never see this, never go on the Internet. Not sure if she's ever used a computer.

Gwen is about 60, a very large, sweet faced African American woman who has probably had a lot of hard things and very little love in her life. She came to work at the library via a program for older people that places them in jobs and gives them training, paying them an hourly wage.

The first thing Gwen WANTED us to know is that she is mildly developmentally disabled. She didn't put it that way, think she said something about not being "smart". But she also wanted us to know that she was willing and would work hard.

And work hard she does. If I am careless enough to leave something in the lounge sink after a party, Gwen cleans it up. She clears the mess that is the children's ref desk in order to clean it. She picks up books after the kids have made a mess of the place, even when I've told her I'll do it myself.

She cleans and cleans and cleans and takes great pride in her work. This fall we got another woman (this one library staff) sent over to help and when she didn't do what was needed, Gwen bristled and raised hell.
"She's not going to mess up MY library!" she declared.

We had our annual holiday party yesterday and I realized that we had not done anything to thank Gwen for all her hard work.

So with the help of one of our circulation staff, I took up a collection for her. Times are hard, but we collected over $100 for her. And I bought a money card to hold it last night.

We gave it to her this afternoon and she was so overwhelmed she broke down in tears and it took us a fair bit to calm her down!
"I don't think she's had much appreciation in her life,"our circulation manager commented to me afterwards.

"My day isn't going to get better than that," the staff member who helped with the collection told me. He and all of us had been moved to near tears by seeing Gwen's pleasure in our gift--and in what lay behind it.

THAT'S the reason for this season.

Happy holidays, no matter which ones you are or aren't celebrating.

NOT A Jersey Girl

2011-12-08T21:14:00.001-05:00

My father practiced optometry in Passaic, NJ for over 40 years, commuting home to the Bronx each night.

He got his optometry degree in Boston and was licensed to practice in Massachusetts and Jersey. For some reason, he never took the exam to get licensed in NY state.

When he and my mom got married, it would've made sense for them to move to New Jersey, but my mom was having none of it. And because my papa (then and now, 50 yrs later) worshiped my mother, they stayed in the Bronx.

Thank whatever gods there are to thank. Because I therefore missed being from that state and instead am a proud native New Yorker.

As a kid, New Jersey was where I went to go with my dad to his office and where we went for tax free shopping.

As an adult, it is the huge land mass that gets in my way going home to New York and coming back home here to Virginia. And if most of the state fell into the ocean tomorrow, there's only a few spots in it I'd mourn.

Which is why I HOWLED over this map today.
And if you've ever been stuck on the New Jersey Turnpike, you'll probably howl too.
Enjoy.

No Holiday Spirit

2011-12-05T09:06:00.001-05:00

I have loved December, loved Christmas (and Hanukkah) all my life, but this year the feeling isn't there.

I put up the decorations and put out the books at work. I'll do Christmas/Hanukkah story hours this week. Going to get out the stuff so I can do "Nutcracker" next week. Put up my sign for the Hanukkah lunch I throw the staff and will help put together the staff "holiday" party.

I'm figuring out Christmas gifts for the girls and other family members. Hung up the little "Peace" holiday flag and put the snowflake heads on my outdoor solar lights. Will get the Man to drag out the Christmas/Hanukkah box from the attic week.

But none of it excites me.

Tatay, my father-in-law is here in Virginia, living in what is basically home care with someone who isn't actually family. My sister-in-law and the Man are going up to NYC this weekend to clear more things out of the apartment the family has lived in for going on 50 years.

Our cousin, the family major domo, is moving to Buffalo. My oldest brother-in-law is already there.

At Christmas, we will be lucky to manage to see my other brother-in-laws and our niece. My sister-in-law and her husband will stay home for Christmas. My niece, her husband and her kids are planning to celebrate with friends.

Because of the trips to New York and the scheduling of everything else, I really don't have a Hanukkah party planned. We are thinking perhaps New Year's Day, but I'm not sure who will come.

We'll spend Christmas with my parents, but my brother and his family won't be there. They're never there at holidays.

My mother will fuss over a dinner that I could easily manage--but I have to let her do it--and my dad will be happy to have us there.

And the Man and the girls and I will be glad to be with them.

But we will be missing the chaos of Christmas with my in-laws. Even with Nanay gone it was still home and family, for me as much as the Man and my daughters.

And I find myself, for the first time in my life, not enjoying it all. Not wanting it to be Christmas.

Just wanting bleak January to close in already. Because it's the way I feel now.

Things To Be Thankful For At the End of Thanksgiving Weekend

2011-11-27T18:16:00.001-05:00

1)We were all tired and cranky we didn't do our usual halfway up to NY/stopover in PA Wednesday night so I didn't have to drive in the dark and the pouring rain.

2)It was sunny and clear on Wednesday and the trip to Lancaster County was easy, and our usual stopover places were amazingly uncrowded.

3)JR got sick in the car but there was a bag for her to get sick in, clean up was easy and she was fine for the rest of the weekend--just her carsickness thing.

4)The trip across I78 was a snap, we breezed across the GW Bridge and up the Henry Hudson Parkway to my parents house.

5)Though I think the Thanksgiving dinner I cooked was better than the one my mom did, my dad was there to eat it instead of being in the hospital! And that's all that matters, when you get down to it!!

6)My parents loved the carrot cake cupcakes I baked, and though my mother wanted to know if I could have used (feh)non-fat cream cheese in the frosting, I caught her wiping up her plate w/her fingers :D

7)I got to go downtown with my family to Manhattan for the first time in a while! We wandered through the Christmas Market in Union Square, ate pizza at Patsy's and had a lovely walk through Grand Central Station.

8)Though I'm not fond of the Chinese food from the restaurant in Riverdale my parents favor (it's bland stuff) I didn't get sick after eating it as I did several Thanksgivings ago (!)

9)My mother baked me one of the best birthday cakes w/my grandma's cocoa cake recipe ever.

10) My husband grabbed the package with the ring I wanted for my birthday and didn't let me know it had come until he gave it to me.

He gave me an inexpensive cladagh ring several years ago set with a turquoise. I loved it because I love cladaghs and because he got it for me--as I've said here before he's not good with gifts!

But the stone came out and I needed to replace it. My birthstone is a topaz, but in looking, I found this Russian amber, which I like even more, told him that's what I wanted and ordered it, sent to us with his name on the package. Never done anything like this before, but I love it!

11)The girls gave me a wonderful card, and the Man added art and funny captions to it.

12)Though my brother-in-laws couldn't make it, we were able to take the Man's cousin and our niece out to lunch in Queens at the restaurant Nanay loved.

13)We had a flat tire! But I'm thankful, because it happened just after we left my parents house. We pulled into Van Cortlandt Park near the place where I used to go on pony rides. The Man and SC changed the tire for the spare, I called my father and he told me a nearby place where I could get it replaced and they were able to help us.

14)So we left late but we sailed through New Jersey with minimal traffic (something to be VERY thankful for on Thanksgiving weekend), had an easy stop at the wonderful new Delaware Welcome Center and got home by 11PM easily.

15) And today I had time to shop, get the car washed, and thanks to the wonderful weather was able to go out to my community garden plot and plant tulips and daffodils for spring!

16)Most of all, I'm thankful that we made it through Thanksgiving and I made it through celebrating (!) my 50th birthday!

My Aunt

2011-11-16T09:56:00.001-05:00

I have always rejoiced in the large family my daughters have acquired. They have aunts, uncles, cousins and they have had four grandparents to love and remember.

I had two grandmothers I can remember and one grandfather I barely remember. By the time I was 14 they were all gone.I had rare contact with cousins--all of whom were older than I was.

But I remember Aunt Carol, my mother's younger sister from early on.

I remember her cats. They used to follow her home, she and her husband said. There was big fluffy Persian Anna Mae (perhaps I realize now named for Anna Mae Wong, the movie star) who wouldn't come out and associate with me. And Tippy, an adorable kitten who played with me and probably set up my lifelong affection for tabby cats.

I remember her being there for New Year's Day, and she and my mother cooking a ham, and helping put in the cloves. I remember Mom serving us all "hors d'oeuvres",putting out the "Lazy Susan" tray (my brother and I loved that name, since my mom IS Susan) with Ritz crackers and cream cheese with chives and carrot sticks and things that I wouldn't eat then, but love now--pickled herring and olives. Those were the rare occasions when I can ever remember us having company, or particularly a family party.

I remember when she and Uncle Wally moved to Dobbs Ferry or Ardsley or some such into a country cottage and being scared to climb a ladder to the attic. And I remember helping her plant seeds for a garden, something that has become a regular part of my adult life.

I remember the wonderful drawing she'd make for my birthday cards--she was talented with watercolors and colored pencils. And on my bookshelves of childhood books are copies of "Winnie the Pooh" and "The Wind in the Willows" with loving inscriptions inside.

Her husband, my Uncle Wally, was a ne'er do well and a dreamer who always had a plan. Shortly after their first son was born they left for Europe. They would live in Scotland and he would write great books. When that didn't work out, they moved to Spain, 2 kids in tow by then. By the time they came back they had 4 kids, had been teaching English for a living and were using fake British accents that made me wince--I was 18 at the time.

When they realized my parents couldn't support them financially (and wouldn't) they moved on to New Mexico where there were cousins with more means. And there they stayed.

My uncle died about 15 years later and my aunt and oldest cousin decided to move east. My parents were happy to offer them house room briefly but when it became plain they were in no hurry to move on, my parents did it for them and relations after that were strained. Eventually my aunt and cousin went back to New Mexico and they've been there ever since.

Earlier this week my mom called to tell me that Carol had died of a massive heart attack. She was 74, five years younger than my mom.

I hadn't seen her in 30 years, since that time they came home from Spain and stayed with us.She never sent me as much as a card when I got married, or when my daughters were born, though I know my mother must have done that for HER kids and her grandchildren.

I know my mother always had a hard relationship with her. My grandma was widowed before Carol was born and had to struggle to raise them. I think everyone must have spoiled cute little Carol and that a lot was expected of my mother.

She was the good, serious one. Carol was, as my mom puts it, "Bohemian"

But she was her sister. And as angry as my mother got with her, she loved her.

And many years later, as glad as I am to have my mom with her steady, secure love, I am also glad I had a little of the magic Aunt Carol gave me when I was little.

Her leaving us doesn't leave a big gap in my life. She left me long ago.
But I loved her. And I still remember her with that love.

Aleha Shalom, Aunt Carol.

Veteran's Day 2011

2011-11-11T19:26:00.001-05:00

This is my father in 1942, when he was 21 years old. He is 90 now.

He served in the Air Force and never flew a plane, but he instructed hundreds of pilots and in doing so was probably more instrumental in the war effort than a lot of those men actually at the front!

Happy Veterans Day to him. To my father-in-law, who will be 90 next month, who fought in the Filipino Army, is a survivor of the Bataan Death march.

To all the men and women who have bravely served our country, both in wartime and peacetime, including the Man, an Air Force veteran.

You don't have to support the wars to support the troops. Here's to them all, and may all of those serving now come home safely to their loved ones.

Dear Mother of An Adorable Little Boy

2011-11-10T17:05:00.001-05:00

When I first had your child at toddler programs and later at the 2 and up story time I wondered if he might be mildly autistic or suffer from attention deficit disorder.
But after 6 hellish months with him at my 3 and up story time I realized he just was a lively little boy who had never been disciplined much. And by the following fall, he was a great kid at my programs. Plus, he started going to a preschool with one of the best teachers I knew.

This fall you showed up with him and an adorable baby girl. And over the past 2 months it has become more and more obvious what was going on then, and now.

Plain and simple, you didn't want a boy, you didn't know what to do with a boy and now that you have a girl she is the center of your universe and he a satellite far out in space.

Remember last month, when we were out on the sidewalk outside the library, blowing bubbles and he disappeared? Any sane mother (me included) would have been semi-hysterical, but your comment was "Oh, that kid!' and you were barely alarmed. I was searching for him more actively than you were.

But when I got inside and saw him running across the main entrance hall of the library and yelled his name (yes, it's a library, but he was out of control) he STOPPED. He walked over to me, took my hand, and stayed with me until we found you.

How about the other week, when he headed out the door and you barely noticed he'd gone again? When I went outside and got him (because you did nothing) and told him to come in and be with mom, he did so immediately.

Then today, we were all doing a craft, and he was walking out of the area and I asked him where he was going.
"Mommy wants me to go wash my hands,"he said.

You total asshole of a woman, you were ready to send him wandering off on his own to a men's bathroom in an urban library, filled with homeless and/or mentally ill types, where the bathroom is way back in a corner just beckoning to the first child molester who comes along!

Have you been watching the news today about Penn State? Do you care NOTHING for your child's safety.

You didn't want to put down your little princess--one of the mom's could have watched her so you could take care of your son, or you could've asked one of them to take him to the bathroom while you watched their kid!

Instead, I took him into our back area and helped him wash his hands at my work sink, then made sure he came back out to you.

And you didn't even notice--or bother to say "thank you".

You're a nice person--I think you mean well.
But you are neglecting your son, and I'm not always going to be around to get him back safely to you.

And he's a really nice kid, who deserves as much love and attention as you're lavishing on that little blob in pink.

Sadly yours,
The Library Lady
(who loves her daughters, but missed out on a son and would take yours in a minute)

Halloween Is For Kids.

2011-11-03T22:46:00.001-04:00

It appears that the economy is doing fine in Northern VA judging by the incredible vulgarity of the Halloween "decorations" I saw this past week. We're not talking a good old jack o'lantern with a candle in it folks. We're not talking about a homemade ghost or two hung in the trees.

No siree bob! We can't do something so pedestrian.

We have to have large inflatable decorations--like this PacMan set that costs--wait for it--$100. That's a lot of Halloween candy.

And then there's these folks. If you think this is something, you should see the Christmas version of this display. I drive by it every day and I find it living proof that money does not bring good taste. Call it the "Paris Hilton/Kim Kardashian" theorum.

This is just the tip of the iceberg. There are the house bedecked in cobwebs, with things hanging everywhere. The bushes covered in orange lights. It goes on and on and on.

To me, this is more of adults taking away what used to be a kids holiday and turning it into a party for their own second childhoods--that is if they've left their first. And going to the party stores, full of severed limbs, fake blood, ghouls and zombies and all the rest makes me glad not only that I am not a kid any more but that my kids aren't little anymore. Scary stuff.

But what is really setting me off today is a piece in the Washington Post going on about how "parents spend the year working to offset cultural stereotypes. But for Halloween our girls dress as princesses and ballerinas and our boys as soldiers and superheros"

Look, lady, in the first place I am a sort of ballerina, and I know the dress up involves pink frillies, but REAL ballerinas tend to wear torn sweaty tights and ratty leotards and are athletes that would send oversized morons like the Washington Redskins to the showers whimpering if they tried to keep up with them. As for the princess thing,if you're spending all this time offsetting cultural stereotypes how is it your girls know all about every Disney princess and every stupid airheaded Disney Channel/Nick pop princess? How is it they have Princess and the Frog sneakers and a Hannah Montana backpack? Hmm....

As for the boys, good luck getting them to dress up as cute little animals and sensitive New Age males. Some of them will, but that's because they will WANT to. But most want to be firemen, Batman or pirates. Something brave and swashbuckling and right out of their imaginations. And good for them!

Look, cookie, when I was about 5 I was crazy about "The Andy Griffith Show". You may not remember it or have seen it in re-runs, but he played the sheriff of a small town called Mayberry. A cop with a cowboy hat and a star basically. And I wanted to BE him for Halloween!

Back around 1965 there weren't any party stores and most people made their Halloween costumes. And nobody talked about "cultural stereotypes". It was still, in those immortal words sung by "Archie Bunker" the time when "goils were goils and men were men".

So did my parents tell me, their girly little girl that I had to be a princess or a ballerina? Nope?
They made me a cardboard star and probably found me a cowboy hat.
There must be pictures somewhere among Daddy's slides, perhaps someday I'll find them.
And they took me trick or treating and explained to people who I was. And I was thrilled.

Did it scar me for life? Did it do anything but give me pleasure?

Nope. In later years I remember being the Statue of Liberty, a Japanese girl, and yes, oh, yes. A ballerina.
And I loved Halloween.

It's the just about universal kid holiday. They get to dress up and be whatever they dream about being. They get CANDY! They talk about it for months before and for all the months to come.

JR has been a princess, a black cat, "Dorothy" from Oz and this year, a hippie. SC has been a cat, a scarecrow, Amelia Earhart and this year again "Gir" from Invader Zim.

They've had a blast. They chose their own characters. They got to be whom they wanted to be.

Layoff, Ms D'Arcy. Let your girls be whom they want to be.Work on "cultural stereotypes" the rest of the year.

Give Halloween back to the kids!

And here's some pictures of OUR house at Halloween. No inflatables, no pirates, no severed heads or fog machines. The Charlie Chaplin/Homer Simpson pumpkin is by the Man, the "Totoro" one is by SC with help from the Man and JR made the 3rd one pretty much all by herself!

Candles and small tchochkes collected and set up by me.
Because I still love Halloween............
..

Dear Brother

2011-10-31T12:20:00.003-04:00

Happy birthday today! It was nice getting an e-mail from you the other day, though I'm pretty sure Mom shamed you into it. Wonder if I will get any comment on the package I sent you, with JR's knockout carrot cake cupcakes, belated birthday gifts for KE and AH and the card for you?

I doubt it. And since your email told me that you're going to hockey tournaments for your eldest and therefore will be in Lake Placid for Thanksgiving, the house in PA for Christmas and Ottawa a few days after that, obviously we won't be seeing you at the holidays.

Never mind that, Mom and Dad won't be seeing you at the holidays. Remember them--the nice old couple not too far away in the Bronx? The folks who aren't rich and shiny and cool, but who love you infinitely and long to be a part of your life and the lives of your kids?

You said "the kids don't have a lot of family", but part of that is because you've cut off our part of the family. You have Mom and Dad. You have us. But there's always a reason for us not to be together.

Saturday after next the Man is going up with his sister to New York to bring my father-in-law down here to live in assisted living, because our cousin can no longer manage his care. The apartment they have lived in for 50 years, where we've all gathered through the years for holidays will be gone. We will probably never all have a Christmas together that way again. And every time I think of it, I cry.

Every year I have bitched about traveling for holidays,but I have always known how damn lucky I am to have my parents, to have my in-laws, to have all those lovely family gatherings, and I have treasured them.

I will treasure this Thanksgiving with Mom and Dad, hoping that Dad is well enough to enjoy it.
I will be glad to share Christmas with them too.

But I will miss my Christmas with Tatay and my brothers-in-law and our cousin and my sister-in-law and nieces and nephews. With Nanay when she was with us but even after with her spirit hovering over us all.

The Man says you can't know what you've missed because you never knew it was there to miss. But I know that you've missed something that your wealth can never buy.

Family.

You have the money. We don't. But I think we are much, much richer.

I miss you and I love you

Your Big Sister

Dear Target: Halloween Programs Day 3

2011-10-27T17:40:00.001-04:00

Dear Target,

Today, my last day of Halloween programs I had planned on varying my Halloween garb and replacing my black pants with my black skirt and the cool orange and black striped tights I bought in your store.

The package was marked that it fit women " 5'5" to 6'0" ", weighing between 145 and 190 pounds. Great.
Since I'm 5'4" or so, and around 155 pounds these days, I figured they'd fit well.

Instead, they were so short I couldn't get them up to my pupik without tugging mightily. I know that I'm high waisted, but they wouldn't even reach my waist. And of course, tugging mightily produced a lovely run.

The solid orange pair fit. Barely. But not smoothly enough to wear them comfortably during programs when I am doing stuff like "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes".

So I spent day 3, the last day of my programs once more in black pants and orange Crocs.
And the orange tights and the black and white ones are coming back to you tomorrow.

Thanks for nothing, Target.

Wearily after 6 programs,

The Library Lady

Halloween Programs Day 1 Or: What Is the Library Lady Wearing Today?

2011-10-25T17:59:00.003-04:00

I am not noted either for my hip fashions nor for being one of those horrible types who wears little theme sweaters and earrings for story hours. For one thing, I don't wear earrings.

But Halloween is dress up time and I do like to pull out a few stops. Either it's a costume or something festive.
Today:
Orange tee shirt
Black knit vest with pumpkin appliques
Black pants
Bright orange Crocs
and a new bright orange watch which is partly due to the fact that my real watch is missing.

But that's a story for another day.........

Too TIred To Do Anything But Post This:

2011-10-21T22:00:00.002-04:00

From, believe it or not, the Facebook page of the REAL Star Trek's George Takei. I have fond memories of seeing him at a Trek convention in NYC circa 1978 or so............

Sweet Memories

2011-10-15T14:15:00.003-04:00

It's just a standard Danish butter cookie tin. For all I know our cousin just dumped the bag of brown sugar he was giving us into it when he gave it to the Man.

But it came from Nanay's kitchen. And every time I've used it, I've thought about her, baking in her apartment kitchen, and felt the connection to her.

JR doesn't feel that connection. She never was close to Nay, not like SC was. It's my mother to whom she is firmly attached.

But JR has become a baker. And I know Nanay, wherever she is, would be tickled to see that JR has inherited the baking gene from all of us.

And the canister is big and heavy. I can't keep it on the counter, it's impossible for JR to get it from the pantry and it's hard to scoop sugar from it. I broke a measuring cup myself doing it this week!

So I've bought a nice OXO plastic container that fits neatly with the other OXOs we've recently acquired for the flours. It holds the sugar easily. It works well on the counter.

But I'm finding it very hard to do away with the canister that holds such sweet memories for me......

Says It All For The Rest of Us

2011-10-14T19:03:00.001-04:00

Steve Jobs Was NOT God

2011-10-06T10:27:00.002-04:00

Steve Jobs was a brilliant innovator. His inventions did a lot of good.
But he wasn't God. And I'm getting sick of hearing the adulation.

I remember Apple products back to the early 80s when I had a college friend whose family went into the software business and had one of the earliest Apple computers running a basic kids program called "Lemonade Stand"

I had an Apple II+ running game programs 23 years ago when I came down here to work in the library.

I remember getting the money from the Friends to upgrade to a IIGS, and going to the computer store to buy it, and putting it together. And the thrill of the wonderful new games.

Back in those days Apple was reliable, AFFORDABLE and highly user friendly:

Steve Jobs and company used to make wonderful, usable, affordable educational products.
But bit by bit, or perhaps "byte by byte", their products became status symbol toys for the well to do.
Expensive and proprietary.

And they are planned for obsolescence, because they know that the Apple fanboys and girls will buy each super duper new model the minute it hits the shelves, so it doesn't have to last long.

Every time a new Apple product comes out and the NY Times does a piece like it's the Second Coming, I think of dear Oliver Wendell Jones of "Bloom County", trashing his "Banana Jr 6000" computer when the new model with "TINT CONTROL!" comes out. Sheesh........

I don't ever recall hearing about Steve Jobs making huge charitable contributions of the wealth his company produced. Indeed, when I went searching today, what I found was an article about how Jobs canceled Apple's charitable programs when he returned to the company and a lot of excuses to the tune of "entrepeneurs who make good don't owe the public anything" and "Jobs probably felt that he was helping poverty more by improving quality of life with his inventions".

Now, I'm not knocking what PCs have done for every part of our lives. Hell, I'm writing a blog on a computer while listening to the BBC World Service on the computer, so I'm part of that revolution.

But please tell me how a $500 IPhone is going to improve the lives of a family in the 3rd World whose annual income doesn't even come close to $500. How an IPad bought by a rich white American family to help enrich the lives of their privileged little offspring is going to benefit kids in places where the kids don't have books, or perhaps even pens and pencils and paper?

SC does have an IPod. But only because she managed to kill 2 or 3 MP3 players, and it's a heckuva lot easier to go and have an IPod fixed by a "genius" at the Apple Store than to deal with Sansa or other such companies.

But when her IPod's cord died--and it did within a few months, I also had to go to the Apple Store(a place that makes my skin crawl) to buy a replacement, because reliable replacements are ONLY available through Apple.
Meanwhile the rest of us have Sansa MP3 players that cost less than $100 and have cords so reliable we have extras from earlier players!

And the girls and I have Toshiba computers. Computers that run Windows. By Microsoft.

Where some of the profits go to the Gates Foundation, that helps kids all around the world. The sort of kids that Steve Jobs wouldn't have cared about.

Because their families wouldn't have been in the market for IPads. Or IPhones. Or IPods. Or I-anything.

This Morning, All Before 9 AM

2011-09-29T11:40:00.000-04:00

I woke at 7, ready to get SC up to go in to school early to take a quiz she's missing for a field trip, to get JR ready for the bus stop, to make lunches and to put a batch of challah rolls in the oven to take to work since it's Rosh Hashohna today.

And heard my glasses drop off my nightstand.

I am nearsighted. My papa is an optometrist, so he caught the problem when I was 7 or so and I have worn glasses since. And for the last year or so I've worn progressive lenses, mainly because the distance correction is so strong it screws up my close vision. Which is still pretty good.

But the upshot of it is that I cannot function without my glasses for long. And I couldn't find them!

I looked under the bed. In the bed. Under my nightstand and behind it and to the side of it, which meant pulling out a lot of stuff that has fallen behind or to the side, since I've been meaning to clean things up for weeks. I looked in my tissue box and my shoes. I looked around the storage boxes under the bed. Nothing.

I was in tears. The Man hadn't left for work yet, so I grabbed my old glasses,woke the girls, went downstairs to make lunches and drafted him into taking SC to school. The old glasses were making my head hurt, but I managed the lunches and went back upstairs to look some more, while JR ate breakfast.

I grabbed a flashlight and looked under the bed and FINALLY found them. They must have fallen onto the storage box and slid behind when I was moving the box to look for them!

They were under the Man's side of the bed and since he's got his side blocked with tons of crap (mostly stacks of books), I had to wiggle under the bed to get them. But I got them.

I got JR off to her bus. I put the challah dough into the muffin tins, brushed them with egg, got them in the oven. I went upstairs while they baked, thinking I'd grab a fast shower.

And no sooner did I have my clothes off than my wonderful cleaning team arrived--EARLY!

So I didn't get my shower. I had to rush around getting dressed and being underfoot while they tried to clean the kitchen. And they needed to clean the stove, but it was hot from the oven (!)

I pulled the hot rolls out of the oven, wrapped the whole pan in foil, put it in my thermal bag and scooted out for work.

On the bright side, my house is clean. The girls got to school. And everyone loved the rolls--recipe is on the cooking blog.

And my nightstand area is a whole lot cleaner. And it's going to stay that way.
Because I really, really, REALLY need my glasses in the morning!

Thou Shalt Not Kill

2011-09-22T10:58:00.001-04:00

Lawrence Russell Brewer was a white supremacist pig who killed an African American man by dragging him to death behind his truck.

Troy Davis was an African American man convicted--perhaps wrongfully--of killing a Georgia policeman.

Both of them were executed yesterday. And the Governor of Georgia may, like the a-hole Governor of Tex-ass, sleep peacefully over the decision. But neither should if they're the "Christians" they pretend to be.

Lawrence Brewer was clearly scum, and I don't know who Troy Davis was 20 years ago before he went to prison, but they were both human beings and I don't believe we have the right to put another human being to death.

Now don't mix this up with the abortion issue either.A fetus is not self sustaining. An adult man is.
As the incredible Queen of Spain tweeted today:"For people working so very hard to protect the unborn, there sure don't seem to be many working to protect potentially innocent adults"

I would far rather have seen Lawrence Brewer spend a long and miserable life rotting in a max security prison with no hope of parole. If there was the single shred of doubt about Troy Davis's guilt and he was still in prison, there would be a chance that justice might be done. Now that's gone.

Sleep soundly, Governors.
But please--and that especially applies to you, Governor Perry--stop pretending to be "Christians" and go back and read those Commandments from the book you and your fellow travelers use as an excuse for every action you take.

One of them reads "Thou Shalt Not Kill".

"Training" For What?

2011-09-21T12:42:00.002-04:00

Long ago,w hen I was a flat chested tween and teen (until I was about 15) a "training bra" was an unlined, basic bra worn by girls who were amidst girls old enough to need a bra, but not really needing it themselves. I wore one in gym to spare myself taunting and that was about it.

Walk into Target, or Walmart, or wherever these days and what do you see?

Padded bras for kids barely out of playing with Barbies. Underwire bras. Fricking underwire bras for girls who have no breasts that need support. Hell, there are probably "Barbie" brand underwire bras!

After 2 kids I am a 38C and the "girls" are not the sort you achieve with silicone for showgirl purposes.

More like the old lady who wanted to commit suicide, was told by her dr that her heart was "just below her left breast and shot herself in the left knee(!)

I could use an underwire bra. But because I regard them as the 21st century equivalent of a whalebone corset, because I can't move and breathe comfortably in one, I don't wear them. And again, I am a grown woman!

It boggles me that there are moms out there who want their 12 year olds wearing one of those things.
It disturbs me that there is lingerie out there for tweens that looks like what their older sisters and mothers would buy at Victoria's Secret.

There's every chance that JR will one day have enough breasts to want the support of an underwire bra. And if she does, fine with me if she wears one.

But until then, what we call her "developments" (family joke) can get plenty of support from a plain sports bra or an unlined basic bralet.

That is, if I can find them amidst the crap in the girls underwear department...........

The Good Father

2011-09-18T22:56:00.002-04:00

It was past 8PM and I was waiting in a short line to pick up a prescription refill I'd called in several days before. Saturday night and the big waiting room at the Kaiser pharmacy was quiet.

Until I started hearing the "bumps" and the giggles of a toddler in an area just behind a partition.

The guy in front of me started to twitch in annoyance. He was a beefy guy, with close cropped hair and a Pittsburgh Steelers football journey.

"This is just too noisy," he declared as the toddlerama continued.

I thought it was kind of cranky of him, but I also couldn't help mentally agreeing with him. It really wasn't bugging me in itself, but I am endlessly annoyed by the way small children are often allowed to act in public places. I see it all the time at the library where this week I've had at least 3 incidents with kids SCREAMING at the tops of their lungs or crying for long periods, and parents just subjecting the rest of us to it.

But then: "Michael, bring him here!" commanded Mr Steeler himself. And an 8 or 9 year old boy came around the corner with a blond toddler boy.

"I'll take him,"said Mr Steeler and hoisted the toddler up on his shoulder.
"You can't do that here,"he told him . There are sick people here. They don't want to hear the noise you're making."

Thank you, Mr Steeler.
Thank you to all the moms and dads who DO get it--that cute as their kids are, they're not OURS.
That there are times for noise--but other times when even a toddler needs to be quiet.

Thanks, Mr Steeler. And feel better soon.....

Dance Of A Decade

2011-09-13T16:38:00.000-04:00

Ten years ago this week we were still smelling the smoke from the Pentagon in our backyard, still having to keep the news off so we didn't have to explain it to six year old SC, still trying to deal with the whole thing.
It went on that way for weeks, I think.

So mid-month, it was wonderful when my dear friend the ballet teacher called me and told me she wanted to start an adult ballet class on evening a week at the local rec center and did I want to be a participant?

The class was small and not in a real ballet studio. We had a mirror, but no barre--we used chairs.
I didn't have ballet clothes--I hadn't been in a ballet class since college, and then only briefly. At that first class I wore loose pants, a t-shirt and socks.

I had never had a lot of ballet training--briefly at some point in elementary school, and then a few months in college, where most of the students were REAL dancers and I hadn't been able to keep up. But I've loved ballet all my life, and I knew a lot of the steps and the terms.

What I vividly remember about that first class is how good it felt. How I could feel myself smiling in a way I hadn't smiled in days, maybe weeks. How it took me away from everything into a happy place of my own.

I got real ballet shoes and leggings. We continued the class there for several years. No matter what else I did, I was there every Thursday night. I broke my foot, and had to take a break one winter, but aside from that, I was every week. I'd never done that with an exercise class before.

Patrons at the library started asking me if I'd lost weight. I hadn't--but I was standing taller and so I looked pounds thinner. And I'd probably gained a bit of muscle, which looks thinner!

We have had to move class several times over the years. Once Lynne didn't have class for about a year, and I tried taking another class. The teacher was awful and I wound up dropping the class. Lynne got a new space, and I was back and loving it.

I will never be much of a dancer. Not flexible enough, not built enough like a ballerina. I have breasts and hips.And fairly flat feet--no nice ballerina arch, though years of ballet have actually given me a little more arch than I used to have.

I SUCK at turns. Always have, probably always will. But I feel the music as I dance probably more than anyone in the room--I hear the steps in the notes.

And every class has that moment I've talked about before, when it all comes together for me. When music and movement flow and all is golden.

Went back to class yesterday for the first time since early June--we had a summer recess--and today I needed 3 Advil for the aches in muscles that had forgotten this work.

But yesterday in class, all I could do was smile. The sun shone in on me through the window, the sweat poured down my face, and all I could do was smile.

We did the slow opening floor exercise--the adagio--to the strains of "Oh, What A Beautiful Morning!"

And it was.

This Says It All For Me Today & For All September 11 to Come

2011-09-11T20:08:00.000-04:00

September 10, 2001

2011-09-10T09:52:00.005-04:00

I don't remember much about September 10,2001.
I have no written records from 2001. It would be another 3 years before I started blogging.
WERE people blogging in 2001? I don't remember it....

There's not much about I remember about an ordinary day like Monday, September 10, 2001.
I have to think about it,reconstruct it.

I was 39, not looking forward to my 40th birthday in November. I was finally settling into my new work location, but still desperately missing my old library.

The Man was working where he is now, but he hadn't been promoted. His job involved a great deal of outdoor work and it kept his weight down. I think it was good for him emotionally as well--I don't remember him being as moody or angry as I think he is now.

SC had just started 1st grade. I don't even remember her teacher's name, just that SC liked 1st grade except for the fact that they didn't have rest time like in kindergarten and she missed it. She had a best friend, who had recently moved from a different part of the neighborhood and now lived so close that they could run back and forth from one house to another.

JR was 2, still in home daycare. Saida, her wonderful daycare provider and her family were, like SC's former daycare provider, from Afghanistan. That meant they were Muslims and that during Ramadan the Man frequently was asked to join them in their post-fast meal, and that's about all their being Muslim went any more than my parents being Jewish or my in-laws being Catholic did. Their family was like family to us--when Saida went on vacation, her sister-in-law would take care of JR at her house and her daughters treated her like their baby sister. They were warm, loving people and I was glad to have them in our life.

I know that we'd just come back from Chincoteague, from our first week at the house that I think of as "our" house. I'd had my hands full with JR on the beach--she all but danced on the sand and loved the water. SC had become fearful in the pool--she'd lost swimming the year before after breaking her leg--but she loved the beach. We'd flown kites, eaten ice cream and seafood and loved it all.

I know I must have dropped SC at school that Monday, brought JR to Saida and driven to work. I know that I would have spent the day at work, then headed home. The Man would have picked up the girls. I would have made them dinner, maybe given them baths.

JR would have nestled on my shoulder as I sung to her before she went to bed. She loved a Cajun lullaby from Michael Doucet's "Le Hoogie Boogie" album, all about little hens settling down in various spots, so sweetly so that mon bebe faire dodo--my baby goes to sleep dans les bras ta mama in her mother's arms.
Clutching "Baby", her doll, she would have settled in her crib and slept soundly all night.

I would have probably read with SC. She could read very well on her own, but still loved sharing picture books with me and I think that's the year we read "The Trumpet of the Swan" and "Betsy-Tacy" together.
She had a big white metal daybed then, loaded with her stuffed animals and the afghan that I'd crocheted her as a baby, and it would have been a relief to see her get into it and go to sleep easily, after years of nighttime struggles.

I'd have settled in with the cats and a book or perhaps the TV. We didn't have Netflix then, of course. We didn't have laptop computers. Just a single desktop that took up a big cabinet in our bedroom. The Man often spent hours on it at night, which drove me crazy because it kept me awake.

But sooner or later, I'd have fallen asleep, probably with a cat curled against my feet. It was an ordinary day in September, and all I expected the next day was another such ordinary day.

It wasn't until September 12 that I realized how precious that last, ordinary day had been.
How precious every ordinary day is.

Raising "Thinkforyourselfees"

2011-09-09T14:46:00.000-04:00

Yesterday SC told me they'd been discussing something in school--what's more important, grades or learning?

SC said she could see a point for both. And as a junior in high school, with college plans looming, I know why grades might matter to her.

But for me, grades are worthless if all you gain by them is the ability to parrot what the teachers have stuffed into your head back on a standardized exam. And then you promptly forget it all when the test is over.

Learning, to me, is something you take with you for the rest of your life, that you use along the way in ways you've never have dreamed of.

I want my girls to be curious about the world. To see what they learn in school as a jumping off point for what they do on their own.

I want my girls to think about what they're taught. To question it, when it doesn't make sense to them. To ask more questions when the answers given don't satisfy them. To challenge my beliefs, their father's beliefs and the belief of anyone else when it doesn't mesh with what they've come to know as truths.

I came across this Shel Silverstein poem (from a new collection of unpublished poems) today in the NY Times. And it says it all for me.

YESEES AND NOEES

The Yesees said yes to anything
That anyone suggested
The Noes said no to everything
Unless it was proven and tested.
So the Yesees all died of much too much,
And the Noes all died of fright.
But somehow I think the Thinkforyourselfees
All came out all right.

September

2011-09-06T11:12:00.002-04:00

We came home from Chincoteague on Sunday, having stayed an extra day which was well worth it. After having to wait to get to the parking lot (normally there are almost 900 spaces, and now there are just 350 cleared!) we were able to spend a glorious 4 hours on the sunny beach. We brought in breakfast and ate an improvised lunch from various leftovers packed for the journey home. Then it was one last ice cream at the Island Creamery, a stop to buy Eastern Shore produce and frozen soft shell crabs. Two hours later, we were home.

Monday was gray and gloomy. Went to deal with my garden, where my tomatoes actually look a lot better than those of "Perfect Amber" the master gardener in the plot next to me. Not many to pick, but hopefully more before frost sets in. Beans have fallen prey to beetles again, and my huge cosmos plant got knocked over in Hurricane Irene, but there was basil to pick and some mini pumpkins. Then it was off to shop and restock. School lunches ahead and earlier dinners. Back to the usual school schedule, including earlier bedtimes for us all. I expected that this morning would bring something like this at my house:

But surprise, surprise, they both got up without a fuss. In fact JR got up before I could wake her!
Her bus came on time. Same driver as last year, so no route home worries for this afternoon.

Drove SC to school. The little girl I remember dropping at kindergarten with a green cast on her leg is now a junior in high school and as tall as me. Maybe taller.

Drove home. Drove to work. Trying to get ready for programs in 2 weeks. Trying to move into the fall routine.

It's gray and gloomy and raining. Supposed to rain all week.
Already, summer is beginning to feel far, far, away

Still At the Beach

2011-09-03T12:47:00.000-04:00

Hurricane Irene didn't do major damage here on Chincoteague, but she washed 18 inches worth of sand on Assateague Island's beach parking lots, the bitch.

Tuesday only the Man got to the beach, via his bike. But Wednesday-Friday, thanks to the wonderful folk from the Chincoteague Natural History Association, there were shuttle buses running along the "Wildlife Loop", leaving you just a 1/2 mile walk from the beach. So we had to carry a minimum, but SC, JR and I got there too.

It was a different beach really, but you could walk a bit and get plenty of privacy. The shelling has been incredible--all kinds of things washed up from the storm. More on all that later.

The house? Meh? More on that later too, save to say that I am DETERMINED to go back to "my house" for what will probably be our last late summer visit here for a bit. SC will be in college in 2013, and that will mean this week will no longer be free for us all.

We couldn't keep the house through the weekend, so the motel owners gave us a one room efficiency, which is sufficient for our needs today and tonight. And they gave us the keys YESTERDAY, we were able to shift our stuff here first thing this morning. Tomorrow (Sunday) we will have to head back home, but we've gotten some beach time and hope to get some more this afternoon and tomorrow morning. Not this morning though. The parking lot has reopened, but only with 350 of the 850 spaces, and when I went over this AM it was full already. Grr....

But we've had seafood galore, a fabulous sunset cruise (more on that later too) on the water, some nice beach time and one of our family favorite things, a walk on the beach around sunset.

And did I mention ICE CREAM? And more ICE CREAM?

And more tonight!

Goodnight, Irene

2011-08-28T22:33:00.000-04:00

Hurricane Irene brought us tropical storm conditions with 12 hours of pounding rain and winds that got up to nearly 60 MPH late at night.

The Man did a 12 hour shift, drove home just when things were really getting bad, and didn't know why I'd been worried at all. Grrr....

I spent the day cooking--spaghetti sauce, french bread with the cool new perforated pan I bought at King Arthur Flour in Vermont (more on that on the cooking blog when I can get to it) and a Nigella Lawson chicken with garlic and lemon recipe for when the Man got home.

Sometime in the early evening a large limb from the cursed silver maple in our backyard--a 60 year old tree that has made our patio unusable by its roots pushing up the bricks--came tumbling down on our next door neighbor's side of the patio. They fled with their 1 year old to a hotel for the night, but we stayed on, and SC didn't even move out of her room for the night. We all slept despite the wind and the power stayed on--our power lines are underground and even when other neighborhoods here lose power, ours tends to stay on.

We woke this morning to the sun struggling to come out, leaves and debris everywhere. When we went outside we could see that up the path behind the house was another tree that had been very badly damaged. We learned it had crashed against a unit on the side of a building and that both doors were blocked. The owner crawled in a window to rescue her dog, and both were unharmed.

Another large branch of the silver maple was hanging down, and the tree guys put up yellow tape. Later they came back and pulled the branch down. This one crashed promptly onto our patio, but it did no damage and was smaller than the first branch.

I was delighted to learn that there was minor damage on Chincoteague, and that the causeway to the island had reopened. By afternoon I had reached the owners of the motel from whom we rent our vacation houses and was told all was fine and the power was on.

So I have been grocery shopping, we are packing tonight and tomorrow we are off to the beach!

Irene Is Coming, So We're Not Going. Not Yet At Least.

2011-08-26T16:37:00.000-04:00

I should be getting ready to go home and pack for our week on Chincoteague,but instead I took the morning off and refilled our fridge with the groceries we need for the weekend and perhaps beyond.
Plus flashlights, because Dominion Power is much better than those morons at Pepco in Maryland, and our side of the neighborhood never seems to lose power. We were fine during Hurricane Isabel in 2004 and during 2010's snowstorms. But you never know.

I should be getting ready to carry out my master plan to get the Man moving early in the morning to pack my car so that he can pack his and go off scrounging at bookstores, yard sales and god-knows-what-else from Annapolis to Salisbury and beyond.

Instead I am helping him figure out what food to take to work tomorrow, because he has been called in for a 12 hour shift on a Saturday. And thinking that if it's as bad as it's supposed to be tomorrow night that I am going to urge him to stay in a hotel and not try to drive home after work.

Instead of nagging my kids to do their laundry and pack today, I am telling them to make sure the batteries on their computers are charged in case the power does go out for a while.

Instead of talking to my parents about our vacation plans I have been reassuring them that we're fine and rejoicing that they are in Pennsylvania at my brother's house, away from NY and the storm track
My brother and family had to leave the Jersey shore and are now heading to join my parents. Nice for my parents to actually see the kids for more than an hour or two, but not terribly restful for them having that locust tribe in the house!

Instead of dreaming about time on the beach, I am wondering if the beach will BE there after the storm. If the power will go out and how long it will be until it's restored and the restaurants, the ice cream place and the rest will be able to re-open. If the house we are renting will be damaged in the storm. If the other homes and stores, all the places we know on the island we love will be okay.

IF we will be able to get to Chincoteague at all next week and at least have a few days of our vacation.

And all we can do now is watch and wait.

Earthquake!

2011-08-23T18:43:00.000-04:00

I was sitting in my office eating lunch when the floor seemed to vibrate beneath my feet, as if a machine in the basement was thrumming.

When I got up and felt the whole floor shaking, I knew something was up.

Shortly afterwards, I learned it had been an earthquake--measuring 5.8 on the Richter Scale, with its epicenter about 80 miles south of here.

I then spent a lovely hour working with staff to evacuate the building and then in waiting outside for word on what to do. No cell phone service, but my much adored new Droid 2 phone gave me Internet service. So even though our home phone was out, I was able to get word that SC and JR were fine and to tell them I was okay too--via, of all things, Facebook. So the next time you hear someone sneering about it as a frivolity....

After our General Services guy came and told us there was no gas leak, and after we'd cleaned up the dozens of books that fell from displays on the second floor, we let people back in the building. Downstairs in children's, things were fine. A staff member and I agreed there was far less of a mess than,say, after a morning of children's programs.

We'd only been open for about 15 minutes when word came from the city that all non-essential services were being shut for the rest of the day, and after shooing all the patrons out again, we were able to go home. The girls were fine, but it took another hour before our landline came back and cell phone service wasn't restored until around 5 o'clock, when I was able to reassure my mother that all was well here.

I have already seen crap on Facebook from the "well, what a bunch of wusses--I've been in much worse earthquakes" set. But we don't GET earthquakes round here. The last one of this size was, I believe, in 1897.

And it's my sincere hope that we don't get another one for another 114 years.

So now it's back to monitoring Hurricane Irene. And praying that it doesn't mess up our Chincoteague vacation, as it looks likely to do.....

I Couldn't Say Goodbye

2011-08-19T14:44:00.000-04:00

Twenty three years ago when I left my job in NY and moved down here to live with the Man, my boss insisted on throwing me a farewell party. I had just wanted us all to go to lunch and be done with it--but she insisted on also having a cake and a fuss at the library. And I lost it and broke down in tears.

Twenty three years later, with my 50th birthday coming up this fall, you'd think that I'd be more mature about things. But I'm not.

When my boss of 14 years--probably the best boss I have ever had, and I told him so--left work this week, I managed not to say goodbye.

I had to leave early on Wednesday because JR had an orthodontist appointment AND because I was bringing the girls up to PA to be with my parents that evening.

So not only did I leave early, I left an extra hour early while my boss was uptown doing his exit interview.
Because I just couldn't say goodbye.

Viral Bronchitis

2011-08-12T14:09:00.000-04:00

Which actually necessitated a visit to my dr yesterday--he was thrilled to see me coming in voluntarily, so to speak--but is keeping me from doing all the things I need to be doing.

Including blogging.

More later.............

Home From Road Trip 2011

2011-08-08T20:32:00.000-04:00

Seven states. Two provinces. About 2000 miles of driving.

Ten days of vacation--one of the best we've ever taken. One I will perhaps remember at the "Tour d'Ail"
(garlic)--will explain later.

We are all exhausted, the cats are ecstatic to have us home, and having left her camera charger home, SC has apparently lost her camera somewhere. Augh.

Back to work tomorrow. Lots of photos and tales to tell as soon as I have the energy to tell them.

Road Trip 2011

2011-08-04T17:15:00.006-04:00

Been to Rome,NY via an ultra long trip through the mountains of PA (don't ask) to visit my dearest friend/almost sister and family, to Niagara Falls,NY where my brother-in-law and his girlfriend treated us to a stay in a fancy hotel/casino, into Canada all the way around Lake Ontario and now to Montreal. Saturday we will head back into the US with a quick stop into Vermont and an overnight stop in my old stomping grounds in Albany. Finally Sunday we head for Lancaster PA so we can stock up on PA Dutch groceries and stay at one of our favorite hotels before the final leg home on Monday.

Having a wonderful time, but Internet service has been iffy and I can't use my wonderful Droid 2 phone (JR calls it "Mom's new best friend" for much in Canada, so blogging hasn't been an option. But as you'll be able to see from a few photos--we're having a great time:

Lots more when we get back-A Bientot!-

Wackjob Mother of the Month

2011-07-27T14:08:00.001-04:00

The mom in question and I were having a conversation about her 7 year old, who is reading (ugh) the Babysitter's Club and how she's not as ADVANCED a reader as mom is. Mom made sure to tell me how she'd graduated from high school at 13 and has a PhD in Economics, ad nauseum. None of which impressed me at all.

We were talking about how much more there is to it than just reading level. How reading a book involves cultural literacy, emotional development, etcetera.
Which gave ME a chance to tell her I was reading at 3 and had gone off the reading level scale at 9 or 10. As I said, I'm not impressed by other people telling me how erudite they are. I've known too many people who were much smarter than me--went to a whole high school of them. And no one bragged about their test scores or their IQs, believe me!

"The thing with younger girls reading in the Young Adult section is that they get exposed to a lot of stuff their moms would probably NOT want to start discussing with them. Though from what you've said, your daughter isn't into the girly things--she probably wouldn't like all that boy/girl kissy-kissy stuff," I said.

"Oh, she LIKES that," said Genius Mom, who proceeded to tell me about her daughter's "boyfriend". Which would have made me shrug if she hadn't then come up with:

"And she likes to watch the "Twilighlight" movie and she keeps rewinding back to the part where they're kissing and to where the guy--I don't remember his name--has his shirt off," she said. "But it's just curiousity, I guess."

Which is when I made to end this conversation as quickly as I could and disappeared into the back as fast as I could before I exploded over the fact that "Twilight" is incredibly bad fiction, incredibly bad as a film and INCREDIBLY inappropriate in any way, shape or form for a 7 year old girl!

And I was still shaking my head over this parent when a short time ago our reference librarian came in to report with amusement that this same parent had come over to the circulation desk when I was doing story time this morning and asked if it was a "religious program". Apparently because I'd been singing my usual ending song "Teddy Bear" and she'd heard me sing the line "Teddy bear, teddy bear, say your prayers"

!!!!

Like I said. Whackjob Mother of the Month. Perhaps the year.

Different Verse, Same As the First: Annual Summer Rant

2011-07-26T13:08:00.000-04:00

Dear Patrons:

When the flyers, signs, etc all say "Ages 2 and Up", that does NOT mean "That means everyone but YOU, because YOUR child is the exception to all rules".
Especially when your toddler is totally indifferent to all programs and will spend his/her time either running around the room or wailing.

Those long aisles full of books are there so people can look at--and perhaps even BORROW(!) books. They are not there to entertain said toddlers as they run madly about, knocking down books throughout as they go.
And those books actually belong in certain, exact places on the shelf. Sticking them in randomly is no better and perhaps even worse than just leaving them there--though I know you'll do that too.

Those pretty blue boxes on the shelves--the ones that say in English and Spanish "This is NOT a toy!"?
They aren't toys--they're there because you keep letting your kids stick books randomly at the end of aisles.
That's why they also say "Please don't put books here". While I prefer this to your other habits of either leaving the books on top of shelves or leaving them on the floor and allowing your toddlers to step on them, I still have to clean them up. And put the blue boxes back after you've allowed your toddler to play with them.

And that purple truck? That's where the books go. Don't tell me you don't know that, because I've said it at the end of every program. Or are you too busy texting your friends on your blasted IPhone that I've asked you to turn off during programs to hear me?

You come early, let the kids run amok, ignore them during the programs and then let them run amok again. And then you leave without a single damn book.

You're doing nothing for my circulation--book circulation that is, or for that matter for my blood pressure.

So don't whine and bitch because I'm not doing programs after Thursday.
After 6 weeks of you and your kids, I need a vacation.
A looong vacation.

Sincerely,
The Library Lady

"Our" Beach House

2011-07-23T15:06:00.000-04:00

It's not really ours, but with a few exceptions we've stayed there year after year.

It's one of a group of 3 houses behind the larger house belonging to the folks who own them along with a motel up the street. They're close together, but since we go late in the season, it's always felt private.

There's the living room side of the main room with the sofa bed where first SC and later JR and SC slept together. The first few years there JR slept in a portable crib nearby. I remember the year she was 2, and with SC's help climbed out with a loaded diaper--what a job it was cleaning up the carpet! And the year she was 3, ran a high fever and lay there listening over and over again to her favorite "Wiggles" CD.

This picture is from August 2006--SC is 11 & JR is 7!

Then the rest of the room--the dining/kitchen part, with the breakfast bar counter with the sink built into it. We've taken pictures of the girls eating at the counter every year we've been there. The tiny kitchen part where the counter is crammed with all our supplies--no cupboards, and the mix and match plates and cutlery. Some of it is ours--we've bought pieces as needed and left them right there. And the glass topped table in the corner near the sliding glass door that leads to the tiny back deck. I've sat at that table countless times, eating bulgogi we'd made on the grill in the back, or feasting on Greek salads full of our homegrown tomatoes...

The one small bedroom with the shabby wicker furniture, the hard mattress on the bed, and the high ceiling with the fan that squeaks now and then. Since the girls are sleeping in the living room, the Man can't stay in there on the computer till all hours, and we spend time in there watching bad movies on TV, or DVDs on my computer. And on hot afternoons after a morning at the beach, I've curled up there reading or taking a luxurious, guilt free nap...

We've loved our house, but in recent years it's been harder to stay there. The sofa bed is uncomfortable for the girls--it's old and needs replacing and I know that the owners can't afford to do it. The togetherness of the house is lovely--but the girls are getting older. They need more privacy.

So we tried renting another house elsewhere last summer and it didn't work. And even if it had been nicer--I was homesick for "my" little house. I really, really, want to go there in August.

But instead, I've just called to reserve another house right down the block. Same owners. Similar decor. But 3 bedrooms and a porch for the Man to store his bike on if it rains. Right down the street from the motel pool if the girls want to go on hot days. Same neighborhood where the little island supermarket is 5 mins away and we can walk right into town.

It looks nice. I'm pretty sure we'll be fine there. I know that the girls having separate spaces will have definite advantages and that we will have PLENTY of togetherness next week on our Canadian road trip adventure.

I keep reminding myself that 2 years from now SC will be getting ready either to go away to college or to start classes locally in late August. That the days of these lovely, last week of August vacations are nearly over and that change is inevitable.

But I will go by "our" little house and miss it.
And sometimes, change sucks...

What Now, Senator Inhofe?

2011-07-21T13:57:00.001-04:00

Back in winter 2010, when we of the DC area had what we called "Snowmaggedon", Senator Jim Inhofe of Oklahoma and his grandkids had great fun building what he called "Al Gore's Future Home", a snow igloo up on Capitol Hill.

Well, it's July 2011 now, Senator and my husband and I were considering whether we should send you a nice ice sculpture for in front of your office building.

It is 95 frickin' degrees, it feels like 110, and we've got more of this to come until Sunday at least.
This is at least the 3rd and perhaps the 4th heat wave of this kind we have had this summer.

I have lived and worked in this area for 22 years, and for 21 of those years, I did outdoor programs every July and some Augusts, but this year I cancelled them and I am glad that I did.

It has gotten progressively hotter over the last decade, to the point where I had to move at least 1 program per series indoors because of extreme heat. If I had done the series this year, I probably wouldn't have been out at all!

It's NOT "global warming", it's climate change, Senator. Extreme weather of all kinds. And some of it IS due to the big businesses that back you--the oil companies, the manufacturers who pollute, etc.

So deny it as you will, because you can mock Al Gore and Co all you like.
But they're right.

It may be an "inconvenient truth" for you and your cronies. But a truth it is indeed.

Enjoy the heat, Senator.....

The Lessons of Preschool

2011-07-14T08:29:00.000-04:00

I read a bit in Marguerite Kelley's column in this morning's Washington Post about a mother who isn't sending her child to preschool this year because "he wants to play, not sit in a chair and learn to spell his name". But she's still concerned about the fact that kindergarten is much more about reading and writing than it was and that he may be unprepared.

Well, preschool prepares your child for a lot more than just reading and writing.

That sitting in a chair thing? Well, if it's a good preschool (and my girls was), they're going to be spending plenty of time moving around. But learning to sit in a chair at a set time is something that prepares you for school.

So is getting in line for the rest room. Learning to take turns on the playground (and there was playground time every day the weather was up to it, even in winter at our preschool) and to share the toys.

Learning to be part of a group--that there are all kinds of kids and some you will like and some that you won't. Learning that you are not the only star in the sky, the only fish in the sea.

And there is learning these lessons from a teacher who may love you dearly, whom YOU may love dearly in turn, but who is not your mother or father and may be able to teach you to do things in ways your parents simply can't. Or in some cases won't.

Yes, you can teach your child well at home. You can fill their days with group activities like my story hours, enrichment classes, hands on activities at home and learning experiences in everyday things as simple as a trip to the supermarket.

But there are things a preschool can teach a child that you simply can't teach them in your home.
And those years my girls spent at their preschool were some of the best years of their lives.

Eleanor and Betty

2011-07-12T17:35:00.001-04:00

I have been repeating a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt to myself a lot lately:"Do one thing everyday that scares you."

Eleanor has always been a heroine of mine for many reasons, but above all because she was such a fearful person and she overcame most of her fears in the long run.

Seventeen years ago this month I had tests that showed I might have lupus.I have never had a symptom, but over time I have developed a pathological fear of tests.

As a result I have heard the doctors tell me for years to get a mammogram and I've nodded and made appointments. And cancelled them.

I spend way too much time afraid of health concerns. And I'm tired of it.

Three weeks ago I had all the blood tests the doctor wanted me to have. He hasn't called me, and he released info about them on the Kaiser site. I didn't look at them, but I'm assuming that if something was really wrong, he'd have called me. And he hasn't.

Yesterday, I went in and had a mammogram.

I had to wait a while and was playing Jeopardy on my phone and what category came up?
"Breast Cancer Survivors". Eeep.
And the first question was about Betty Ford, who died Sunday.

She was age 93. She didn't die because of breast cancer. She survived it--and had the courage to talk about it to help save other lives.

I survived my mammogram--not fun, but not that bad. And thanks to my very understanding gynecologist, I got my results immediately.

I know it's just luck I have to thank, but I no longer have to be guilty about not doing it sooner--I'm fine.

I still have to see my doctor and the Ob-Gyn. I'm still not fearless.

But I know I can do what I have to do. I can be a grownup.

Thank you, Eleanor. Thank you, Betty.
I'm giving money to the American Cancer Society in your names today.

End of Month Roundup

2011-06-30T23:28:00.000-04:00

Since I haven't posted much recently--though lord knows if anyone's reading it:

SC: Managed to pass her Geometry SOL and therefore passed Geometry--with a D, but she's done with that horror. A tiny bit of me regrets her success in that her teacher gets the credit for it. Her other grades were none to impressive, but I have high hopes that her junior year will be better.

She danced beautifully at the ballet recital--her boyfriend came to see her dance! I'll probably post the footage one of these days-those of you who know me via Facebook have already seen it.

She's working with my friend Lynne at ballet camp. She has a real knack with the little ones--we both think she's got potential to be a teacher, poor girl :/

The Man: Goes up and down temper wise. Last Sunday he took his bike out on a 35 mile ride, came home pooped (won't admit that) and with knee and elbow bleeding from a tumble. He ended up staying home Monday to recuperate, but is planning an even longer ride one of these days. It's good for his mood and his weight so I'm all for it.

JR: Got braces 2 weeks ago and has adjusted well--we'll see when she gets to the rubber bands. She got a hold of my mother's old guitar that I had in my office that needs new strings and tuning but is attempting to play it. Won't take lessons, I'm betting. She is not in camp--refused to go and is beginning to get testy from boredom, but I'm not going to be sympathetic. She still has had a social life though--several sleepovers and a trip with her best friend to a water park. She's talking about joining the Girl Scouts in the fall, mainly I think because it's the only way to see her best friend on a regular basis.

AND she may have hives again--though I'm hoping it's bug bites. Sigh...

Me: Summer reading is in full swing and I'm busy with programs. My gardens are all flourishing and one day soon I'll post pictures. I'm missing ballet and fighting to make Weight Watchers work--the Points Plus thing frustrates me. And I am trying to deal with my medical fears. I went for blood work 2 weeks ago and am assuming no news from my doctor means things are okay. On to my next feared thing--a mammogram.

I am trying to plan a long road trip to Montreal, then to visit my friend Beth in upstate New York and my poor brother-in-law in exile in Buffalo before heading home. We'll see if this happens--first thing we need to do is spend a ridiculous amount of money to get expedited passports!

And if you've never tried my mom's "fruit tart" recipe, head to The Library Lady Cooks and try it with some of the peaches, blueberries and other seasonal fruits!

Today is my parents' 51st wedding anniversary, by the way. My dad just had another bout with pneumonia but he's keeping on keeping on and they are talking about spending August at my brother's Pennsylvania summer house. The girls may get to spend time with them there--we're hoping so.

That's June for us. And what's going on at your house?

The Courage of Their Convictions:Gay Marriage In NYS

2011-06-25T11:26:00.000-04:00

I am proud today to be a New Yorker, and only wish that the legislators of Virginia could have the moral integrity of those Republicans of New York who voted with their hearts instead of their agendas.

But I think there's hope. Look at this comment from "Ralph" in today's New York Times:

To be honest, I worried about whether it was really healthy for a child to be brought up by two parents of the same sex. And then I just read the comments of many of the readers of Fox News, remarks filled with hatred and bigotry and ignorance. What kind of environment will their kids have???? Our kids are much better brought up by people with compassion than people with hate.....what their genders are seems comparatively inconsequential.

Thank you, Ralph. Thank you to all the Ralphs out there who sat down, thought about it and realized the truth.
Here's hoping for more compassion, less hate, and a better day for us all.

Walmart Ladies, You May Have Helped Bring This On Yourself

2011-06-20T14:51:00.000-04:00

I would really like to know how many of the Walmart employees whose attempt to file a class action lawsuit was just shot down by the Supreme Court voted Republican in 2000?

How many of them voted Republican in 2004?

How many of them drank the Tea Party's KoolAid and voted Republican last fall?

If they did, they helped bring on what happened today.

They helped allow Bush II and his puppet masters to load the Supreme Court with pro-big business, anti-Union judges.

They helped allow people get elected to the Senate, to the Congress, to the state governor's houses and to their local legislatures that are pro-big business, anti-union.

What happened today will keep happening until people wake up from their reality TV dazes, from the garbage we get from Faux News, from the lies on the Internet and realize that their government is being used to take away their rights instead of to protect them.

I only hope it happens before it's too late.
I only hope it happens before November 2012.

On Father's Day

2011-06-19T10:52:00.000-04:00

I am so lucky to have my dad, still battling on at 90. And this, one of my all time favorite Peanuts strips, says it all for me. Happy Father's Day to all the dads!

Poor "Mr Popper"

2011-06-18T15:33:00.002-04:00

Years and years ago, I did a list of ten of my favorite books that the movies have ruined. Things like "Mary Poppins", "Stuart Little", "Doctor Dolittle", etc.

I had high hopes that the faithful adaptations of the first few "Harry Potter" books would teach the Hollywood ignoramuses that you CAN make a good movie without mauling the book. But by the time they got to "Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix" they obviously didn't care any more. "Half Blood Prince" was appalling and if that clip that seems to be Harry and Voldemort falling out of a high tower is supposed to be the key scene in "Deathly Hallows" where Harry does the Jesus/Aslan bit, I'm glad that I didn't see part 1 and won't see part 2 at the movies!

I bring this up today because having spoiled what might have been a pretty good "Ramona the Pest" movie last summer by casting pretty-pretty Latina girl Selina Gomez as plain, white bread Beezus Quimby (my girls wouldn't have anything to do with this movie), they have now gone after one of my favorite favorite childhood works, Mr Popper's Penguins. Complete with casting book killer extraordinaire Jim Carrey as Mr Popper.

What is it with Jim Carrey? Is he INTO killing kids books?
The Grinch? Horton Hears A Who?
And now, Mr Popper's Penguins!

Please note that the character on the cover of the REAL book looks nothing like Jim Carrey, and certainly doesn't look like he's circa 2011.
Because he's not. This book has been beloved of kids since 1938, just as it is.

Mr Popper is a kind, dreamy, ne'er do well housepainter. He has a loving, understanding wife and 2 nice children, Janie and Bill. Mr Popper loves to listen to the radio and is fascinated by tales of the Antarctic. So he writes a fan letter to one of the explorers and is surprised and delighted when he receives a gift--a live penguin!

"Captain Cook" becomes a member of the family, once the Poppers have figured out how to accommodate him. But he gets lonely. The result is the arrival of Greta, the second penguin and eventually that leads to 12 penguins living in the Popper family's basement!

But all that penguin care is more than the Poppers can afford, until they get a chance to take the penguins on the road in a vaudeville show. Which leads to a very happy ending for Mr Popper and his penguins.

There are no flatulence jokes. No penguin poop jokes. No mean villain. No angst over a neglected childhood. Just a sweet funny story about a family.

Note that Newberry Honor sticker on the cover? I'm not much for awards, but back then those librarians knew their stuff. They picked this as a book that would last through the generations and it has.

My own copy, circa the 1940s, was read by my mother and her sister, by her cousin (who apparently tried to draw over some of the drawings) and was read with equal pleasure by me. It's still on a shelf in SC's room, its binding worn, but still loved.

"I read that book, Mom," JR commented when she saw the ads. "It was great. They're going to ruin it as a movie, aren't they?"

JR is still indignant over what they did to "Percy Jackson". As for SC, she STILL loves the picture book "Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs", but declared she'd never want to see the movie. Or that travesty made of "Where the Wild Things Are", her favorite book when she was 2 and 3.

You know, it CAN be a pleasure to see your favorite book as a movie or TV mini-series if it's done right. The original "Anne of Green Gables" was one of the most satisfying adaptations I've ever seen. I now see Colleen Dewhurst every time I read those books. I had high hopes for the sequels to be done with equal loving care and faith to Maud Montgomery's characters.

But then Kevin Sullivan and Co took the rest of the books and ruined them.

Get "Mr Popper" off the shelf in your house or library and read it with pleasure. Make sure your kids read it, or read it to them--it's one of my favorite read aloud suggestions.

Then, if you want to waste your money on this movie your kids will see for themselves--it's no match for the book.

Poor, poor, Mr Popper!

Dear Garlic Thief

2011-06-07T14:40:00.000-04:00

I don't know who you are. My guess is that you are someone who knows what fresh garlic looks like growing because you passed by all my neighbors neat rows of onions. Or perhaps you thought they were onions but figured that it would be less noticeable to pull a dozen from my raised bed rather than from someone's neat rows.

All I know is that I went out to water my garden this AM and found 12 of my lovely garlic plants missing.

This wasn't just store bought sort of garlic. This was Nootka Rose garlic. My husband's favorite garlic, the sort that cost $10-20 a pound plus shipping to get him from garlic growers in the west. Special organic garlic that I'd carefully soaked overnight in baking soda and water (kills parasites), dipped in alcohol (disease prevention) and frozen my fingers of digging into my garden last fall. Garlic that I'd rejoiced to see sprouting this March. That I'd watched proudly all spring, promising my husband weeks of garlic feasts all fall.

And to add insult to injury, the garlic you took wasn't even ready to harvest yet. Probably won't be for a month or even more!

Here's hoping there's enough sun in my backyard to grow successful garlic. Because I am going to set up some growbags or a planting trough and planting them there next week where they are safe from people like you.

I've gardened 20 years in that garden. I hate to think I'm now going to have to worry about losing my produce to pond scum like you.

But now I am.

Angrily,
The Library Lady

Hell Is A Laser Tag Arcade

2011-06-05T21:10:00.000-04:00

JR has had several crappy birthday parties over the years for various reasons, so last year I made sure she had a wonderful party. And when she wanted a laser tag party for this year, I went for it.

I knew what I was in for. I'd dropped her off for her best friend's party last summer, so I knew it was going to be in a LOUD building filled with screaming kids, noisy shoot-em-up games, etc, etc.

And it's expensive. You HAVE to have at least 9 players--and you pay for 9 even if there aren't 9.
And we didn't end up having 9--JR's best friend couldn't come, and neither could 2 other friends.

None the less we did it.

They had fun. It was a success.

And it's over.And I never, ever, EVER am doing that again.

Now all I have to do is look forward to what she wants for her 13th birthday. Oy............

Dear Head Start Teachers

2011-06-02T11:18:00.000-04:00

Thank you so much for bringing your kids today. I far prefer working with your kids, the kids who really don't get a lot of stuff like what I do, than my sweet but jaded toddlers and their bored nannies/parents who go to multiple programs a week.

Just one thing. If you visit me again, could you please either tell me that you have to take some of the kids out for a potty break at a certain time or not do it until we're done? Especially in the middle of a great dance activity that the kids were really enjoying.

I mean RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF IT!!!

Half the kids were gone and the kids still there got distracted.
Hell, the teachers got distracted!

It was great till then. The kids were wonderful with the stories and participated well. And then you did that.

I've got to tell you that I've been doing this (eep) a quarter century, and I've never had a group do that before.
It really spoiled things.

Sincerely,
The (Very Tired) Library Lady

Todd Palin's Hands

2011-05-31T13:02:00.000-04:00

The office nebbish, who I have mentioned in the past has obsessions. One of his current ones is 60s era Schwinn bikes. He'll save money by not ordering a soda in a restaurant, but he'll drop a grand on a Stingray bike with a banana seat that looks much like the one my best friend was riding in 1970. He'svery tall and these bikes are small, so the effect is absurd, especially since he likes to (really) wear an old bike patrol sash and he's well past 50.

I bring this up because he told me this morning that he rode across to DC yesterday where they were having the "Rolling Thunder" motorcycle rally. It's to honor veterans and promote veterans/POW/MIA issues, so it's a good cause, but it's also a freaking nuisance, because it ties up traffic all over our area--motorcycles everywhere.

So anyway, Nebbish rides his bike into DC and parks at a staging area and who should pull up but the former half-governor of Alaska-- Sarah "Ignoramous" Palin and her family and entourage.

Now Nebbish is even more of a Democrat than I am--attends lots of local events, is often at Democratic headquarters on Election Night,etc. But he's also impressed by celebrity. So he was delighted to tell me that he'd spoken to Todd Palin, who'd liked his bike (probably wanted it for one of his KIDS) and that he'd shaken his hand.

I was grossed out by the whole thing--if you've read this you know I despise Sarah Palin and all that she stands for. And I was later talking about this with the circulation manager and the manager of our Local History division--who goes right up there with my brother-in-laws in my esteem and affection.

"I wouldn't have shaken his hand--or if I had, I'd have spat in mine first," I said vehemently.

George just looked at me and shook his head.
"I wouldn't have touched his hand at all,"he said in his deadpan way. "Think of where it's BEEN....."

Aloha For Nanay

2011-05-28T21:57:00.000-04:00

Three years ago when Nanay, my mother-in-law died we had pink roses at her funeral because she loved them.

That summer on her birthday the 4 of us planted a pink tea rose bush near our front door.

The first year, it only had one or two roses.
Last year, it had 3 or 4--we cut one and brought it up to my mother at Mother's Day.

This spring, I cut the plant way back. I've given it feedings of the castings from my worm box.

And it grew. And it grew. And many roses began to bud on it.

They are not long stemmed. They are growing clusters. A lot of them have bloomed over the last week or so.

Yesterday, before we left for NY, I cut one that was just opening and a bud or two.
And today, at Nanay's memorial Mass, I gave them to my sister in law, Nanay's daughter, in a small lapel pin vase.

Her name, appropriately enough, is Roseanna.

And the name of the flower is "Aloha"

Which means "hello", "goodbye" and above all "I love you".

Love you, Nanay. Miss you.

Aloha................

The Third Time Will NOT Be The Charm For Harold Camping. But It Might Help Him Rake In More Earthly Wealth

2011-05-24T13:37:00.000-04:00

Harold Camping, the shyster who has unsuccessfully predicted the Apocalypse twice, and managed in the process to create a radio network that has made a whole lot of money ($114 million just in assets)has come out with an excuse for why we're all here on May 24, 2011--he miscalculated(!)

May 21 was a silent judgement day of some kind, and the real Apocalypse is coming on October 21.

I don't know who should be going after Camping. Perhaps the IRS as he claims to be a non-profit. Perhaps the FCC, though he probably has the right to pollute the airwaves and scare millions with his mishegosse.
|But if nothing else, it is my sincere hope--probably in vain, for the same folks who follow Camping are the same poor sad folk who believe the Tea Party liars--that folks will recall the immortal words of Lt Commander Montgomery Scott of the USS Enterprise:

AMEN!

A Successful Birth= Healthy Mother + Healthy Baby.

2011-05-23T15:56:00.006-04:00

JR, my darling younger daughter, is 12 years old today, so it's always the day I think a lot about my experiences in childbirth. And a recent incident in my area makes me think about it all the more today.

A woman in her early 40s, having her first child, insisted on a home birth. The local midwives licensed to practice in Virginia refused to take her case--the baby was in breech position. But Karen Carr, a Maryland midwife NOT licensed to practice in Virginia did agree to deliver her.

The baby died, and prosecutors felt that Carr had waited too long to get help and charged her with child endangerment. And though I know they would never have done it, they could have charged the mother, because she is guilty of the same crime.

Childbirth is not, not, NOT about your "birth plan". It's not about whether you have a home birth or a hospital birth, about whether you're induced or go into labor on your own, have 36 hours of drug free labor or an epidural early in, whether you have a vaginal birth or a c-section.

It's about a healthy baby and a healthy mother.

Yes, women gave birth "naturally" for many millennium. Yes, women didn't have hospitals or medications and somehow they gave birth.

And a lot of them died. And a lot of babies died.

Carr says "“When you work with birth, you’re going to run into death.It’s just inevitable.”

True. But it didn't have to be so in this case.

I've had a c-section. I've done a VBAC. And both births were a "success", because SC and JR were healthy babies, and I was fine.

Sixteen/twelve years later, that's all that matters..............

Goodbye,Thomas. Hello, JR.

2011-05-22T19:15:00.001-04:00

"You're like the annoying brother I never had. Except your name isn't Thomas, and you don't have curly hair."

I heard JR saying this to our big black tomcat one day a few months ago. Because she knows that if she or SC had been a boy, her name would have been Thomas. Thomas Martin.

The day after Christmas 1998 a kind woman called me from the genetic testing place where I'd had my amniocentesis because she knew I was on tenterhooks waiting for the results. And I learned I was having a healthy baby girl.

I'd wanted a boy. A son to be a brother to my daughter. A son for the Man to do boy things with. A grandson for my parents and especially for Nanay and Taytay, whose one grandson was estranged from the family thanks to his bitch of a mother.

Instead, I was having another girl.

I wonder about Thomas sometimes. Would he have looked more Asian, more Filipino than my girls do? Would he have had the Man's black hair or curly brown hair like the girls inherited from me? Would he have been chubby as the Man was as a little boy?

Would he have been another serious quiet boy like the Man, or a silly jokester like my own brother? Would he have wanted to play soccer, or memorized dinosaur names, or made us read "Mike Mulligan" over and over?

I mourned his loss the day I knew I was having a girl.

And yet, I got a sister for SC, a sister whom she fights with, but also often has good silly times with. A daughter that the Man adores in the most foolish ways a man can adore his little girl.

A granddaughter who never really got to know her Nanay, but who loves her Grandma and is very much like her in many way.

A daughter who is so like me in so many ways that it amazes me. Who has a totally different hold on my heart than SC does, each beloved in her own special way.

And now, the day before her 12th birthday, though I still miss Thomas who might have been, I could never trade him for JR who is.

My special, special girl.

Staff "Education" Day--FEH!

2011-05-21T12:33:00.001-04:00

What I wanted to do on Friday was go to ballet class and enjoy the sun streaming in through the windows as I did ronde de jambes and fondus and the other steps that I love.

Head to McDonalds for my crack of choice--a small frozen mocha frappe--no whipped cream.

Sit home in my breezeway in my comfy wicker rocking chair, sip my frappe and admire the roses starting to open on Nanay's rosebush. Admire the blue sky.

Instead, I was locked into the main library branch--the big ugly building that I call "The Mausoleum" and forced to sit through "Staff Education Day".

Now Staff Day has been a fixture in the library for years. Long ago, it was FUN! We would all bring in something for a buffet lunch, have an idiot speaker or two, but spend a good deal of the time in things that were fairly library related. We all knew each other because it was a smaller system. It was fun to see the folks you normally knew only on the phone.

But over the years, "Staff Day" has morphed into "Staff Education Day". Which would be fine if only we actually got something that was EDUCATIONAL!

Instead I sat through several interesting-but- irrelevant- to- my -work talks and a 3 hour workshop given by an overpaid outside trainer who was very entertaining, but talked about either things anyone with half a lick of common sense should know after just a few weeks in a library and about "learning styles", which I find to be a total crock, right up there with "personality types"--which LAST time's overpaid trainer went on about!

I used to work for the NY Public Library and we went to children's training 3-4 times a year. And it was something I looked forward to. I always left with something new, having seen someone who talked about storytelling, or about children's literature, or providing services to children in general.

Here there is no coherent, consistent training. In fact, I know that my colleague the "Children's Coordinator" doesn't think her staff needs much training. Years ago, I did a story telling workshop for my staff and opened it to the other branches. Sorry, her staff was "fully trained".

You never stop learning. I have been at this 25+ years and I still learn new things all the time. And I would like Staff Education Day to reflect that.

Instead we get crap. And I leave every time feeling that I have wasted a day when I could have been off, doing the things I need to do, or at work, serving the public. Feeling cheated and angry.

And above all, relieved that it's over.

Happy Birthday To My Mother

2011-05-17T12:28:00.000-04:00

This picture was taken in 1974. I was about JR's age.

And I know that my mother loved me then and loves me now with the same intense, all encompassing love that I have for SC and JR.

It's why no matter how much she infuriates me--and she does--I can never get that angry with my mother any more.

And my wish on today, her 79th birthday, is that I can be as good and loving a mother to my girls as she has always been to me.
Less infuriating perhaps. :D But just as loving...............

"Here Comes The Sun"

2011-05-05T20:44:00.000-04:00

Today is the first day in a week that I have been to work for a full day.
It's the first time in a week I'm not trying to figure out what to feed a kid who won't eat, or watching a thermometer.

JR had a sinus infection and Monday we visited the pediatrician who is very nice, whom the girls think of as "the doctor in the tight pants". His selection for the day was a spiffy black leather pair!

Now on antibiotics, a steroid nasal spray and antihistamines, JR is back in school.

That same morning SC apparently had a recurrence of the stomach bug. This time it was diarrhea (sorry) and she stopped eating for several days. I spent Tuesday spooning yogurt and other such into her. She kept complaining that everything tasted wrong, that she felt full after a few bites and that she wasn't hungry. Finally, yesterday afternoon, her appetite began to return.

I made her get dressed and after we picked JR up at school we went on a short errand to buy Mother's Day cards. Just going somewhere with my 2 recovering girls made my day.

This morning I made 2 lunches, waited with JR for her bus, drove SC to school and went to work.Normalcy.

Heaven.

I stopped for my favorite addiction, a McDonald's Mocha Frappe w/o the whipped cream. In the car I played this song. I love the George Harrison original. but I discovered this on a CD donated to the library and I may love it even more.

And the sun shone.

What HE Said

2011-05-03T09:44:00.000-04:00

I ranted here and in the NY Times yesterday at Motherlode, where I was relieved to find that rather than getting flamed for my comment, I had the top "recommended" comment.

But someone else said it even better and someone quoted it in their comment. So here are the words of Dr Martin Luther King Jr:

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Nine Years Too Many

2011-05-02T11:35:00.000-04:00

I'm sorry, but I can't jump up and down and wave a flag over the killing of Osama bin Laden and chant "USA" as if I'm at a ball game.

In fact, I find the crowds out "celebrating" as offensive as they (or rather mostly their parents) did when they saw Palestinians cheering in TV footage after 9-11.

Osama bin Laden was evil incarnate. I'm not sorry he's gone. I've got full, sharp memories of 9-11 that I've talked about before and won't go into now.

He was the architect of that day. He deserved to pay for it.

But 9 years after the fact he was an old man who from what I've been reading has been little more than a symbol in recent years. He was no longer running the show.

A new generation of terrorists has arisen. And they haven't been extinguished.

And the last 9 years in Iraq, in Afghanistan, the entire Bush show that began on September 12,2010 and sadly in large part is still in play 2 years after Obama took office, has done nothing but fuel their cause. It has fed the hatred of millions. It has been a recruiting tool.

It's 9 years too late to have the death of bin Laden mean a lot in the long run.
It's 9 years of the deaths of too many innocent civilians and too many young American soldiers.
It's 9 years of fueling wars that have wrecked our economy and taken us from a nation united on September 12,2001 to a nation where the sort of vile hatred that fuels groups like AlQaeda thrive on the evening's cable news.

They can scream "USA" and wave those flags again.
But I suspect that in whatever hell he has entered, bin Laden may be laughing right now....

And Now It's JR's Turn

2011-05-01T12:03:00.001-04:00

Only instead of a stomach bug, she's got some sort of respiratory thing that is making her sniffle and snuffle and run a nasty fever. The fever part scares me a lot since she's done these before. Bad ones.

But it comes down with ibuprofen and for about 4 or 5 hours yesterday she had no fever at all. She's eating pretty normally and she slept through the night last night without needing more fever meds.
Slept the night in my bed, while the Man slept in her bed, but at least she did sleep and I slept too. Mostly.

But I really want her well and back to school and things to go back to their normal madness......

It's NOT the Arroz Con Pollo

2011-04-28T10:20:00.002-04:00

Seriously. It's delicious stuff, that recipe I posted yesterday on the cooking blog. Nothing wrong with it.

I mean, I know durn well that the reason SC is puking her sweet guts out this morning is the same stomach virus that I didn't mention here that I had myself Easter Sunday!
Lot of fun that, going out with our family to a lovely Brazilian restaurant with fabulous food, and suddenly feeling so sick I couldn't stay with everyone at the table. Luckily, the worst parts were kind enough to wait until some hours after I'd gotten home.....

It's a bug going around. One of my patrons told me her whole family had had something similar last week. I may have to look forward to JR having it in a few days, and perhaps even the Man, though in his case it's unlikely--nothing gets through the garlic in HIS system ;)
And I guess our trip to NY tomorrow to see my dad is going to have to be postponed. But better because we're sick than because HE is!

I've served arroz con pollo before in recent times and SC hasn't gotten sick. She's been fine.

But this is the second time she can remember getting sick after having eaten it. So, just as I associated hot dogs for years with a virus, I think arroz con pollo will remind her of this, and I may not be making it again for a while.

Not at least, till SC goes off to college.
Poor baby.............

New Blog!

2011-04-26T17:03:00.001-04:00

It's "Story Time With The Library Lady", though I will cross post things from that blog here. It can't ALL be about my miserable kids and my husband's book addiction :D

I am HOPING to be able to start a real, non-anonymous blog for my children's room soon--I've been begging and pleading to do so for years. Meanwhile, this will help a lot, and be a good place to keep track of my story time stuff.

I've just posted a piece on dos and don'ts for story time using President Barack Obama's performance at the 2009 Easter Egg Roll for some tips. You'll find it HERE.

NINETY!

2011-04-23T13:40:00.003-04:00

Last year at his 89th birthday dinner.

Nine years ago today my dad had triple bypass surgery--done by THE Dr Oz himself, BTW.
He had aneurysm surgery 6 weeks later.

He has asthma and C.O.P.D. He's had prostate issues in recent years. He's had pneumonia more times than I can count. He's not driving the car much, and he uses a cane outside the house sometimes, and oxygen inside.

But his mind is sharp and clear, and his wonderful sardonic sense of humor undiminished.

And today is his 90th birthday!

Happy Birthday, Daddy.
We love you--the Man, the girls and above all ME!
And we'll be there next week to celebrate...........

Passover Explained

2011-04-18T19:02:00.002-04:00

We used to celebrate Passover at my Grandma Esther's house in my earliest childhood. What I most vividly remember of those holidays is the fact that I wouldn't eat most of the food!

Fool that I was, I didn't like my grandma's homemade chopped liver--though that was probably because it contained raw onions, because I loved my own mom's sauteed chicken livers--or her matzoh ball soup. Ironic because SC LOVES matzoh ball soup and I've now taken to keeping the mix in the house and learned how to make a good quick version of the soup.

I remember her special dish set for Passover--gold edged and printed with pink roses. In fact, I now own, that set,though everything except one platter is in storage, a platter that is now my special occasion plate for birthdays and Chanukkah parties.

I remember candied fruit slices and a bowl of walnuts--I liked the nuts. And the boxes of thin mints that teens from some Jewish benevolent organization always sold around Passover that we had both at home and at Grandma's house.

My own mother has always served a "Passover" meal, but we never did the full seder, and over the years I think it's mainly serving hard boiled eggs, matzoh and that icky gefilte fish as part of the meal--Mom never made the soup. But we've never up there at the holiday and the girls don't know much about Passover.

It's one holiday we've never observed. The Man likes matzoh, and I often make Sephardic style macaroons (even though I'm Ashkenazi), but somehow I've never felt the need to observe Passover. Partly because I love carbs so much and especially since I HATE gefilte fish. And if you've ever smelled the jarred kind, you probably get this.

What do YOU know about Passover? Ever wonder what Jews do at a seder, the meal that was probably Jesus's "Last Supper"?

Here then, for your reading pleasure is a link to a piece on Slate entitled "The Two Minute Haggadah: A Passover Seder for the Impatient"

And if you're having gefilte fish tonight, please eat my share too. All of it..............

Happy 95th Birthday, Beverly Cleary!

2011-04-12T13:54:00.024-04:00

One day soon, the "Wimpy Kid" books will be found by the bushel in library discard piles and used book stores.
Vampire books, zombie books and angel books will be gone, gone, gone.

I'd venture that the dystopian novels, the fart joke books, the "clique" books will be just memories of those of us who had to spend the taxpayer money on them.

Most of the recent Newberry and Caldecott winners so beloved by the librarians who voted for them will still be around because they won the medals. But they will just be books read because teachers assign them, not because they are loved by the kids who have to read them.

And yet, some of the books on my shelves right now will still be on those shelves forever. Books that are loved, generation to generation, passed from parent to child, kid to kid. Books read for the sheer pleasure of reading them because they speak to children.

Technology changes, but kids remain the same. They still have school issues. Sibling rivalry. Clashes with their parents. Fears and hopes and dreams.

Books that reach out and speak to those fears and hopes and dreams--that speak to children's hearts--are truly what you can call "classics". Books like some of those written by Beverly Cleary.

Mrs. Cleary started writing about Henry Huggins in the 1950s. He was a typical boy of the times with his paper route, coonskin cap and love of radio shows. His friend Beezus and her little sister Ramona were just side characters, with Ramona there for extra comedy. Eventually Cleary began spinning Beezus and Ramona off into their own books.

The Henry Huggins books dated. He aged. I sort of imagine that he grew up, went to the local college, married some girl next door other than Beezus and is now out there somewhere newly retired with grandchildren.

And those grandchildren would probably read Ramona books!

Ramona and Beezus haven't aged. Over the last 50 or 60 years Cleary has continued to chronicle their adventures. Because despite small changes in the details, Ramona and Beezus feel just as REAL to kids today as they did decades ago.

Here, for your viewing pleasure, is part of one of the episodes of the wonderful "Ramona" series done for public TV in the 80s. Please note that Beezus doesn't look like Selena Gomez, but like a nice, ordinary girl--the sort that other girls could identify with. And of course Sarah Polley made a perfect Ramona.

Happy Birthday, Mrs Cleary. And on behalf of the kids who've read, and all the kids who will read your books, thank you!

Tina Fey CAN Juggle It All

2011-04-10T15:06:00.001-04:00

Now don't get me wrong, I LIKE Tina Fey. Love, love, love her Sarah Palin lampoon. Have greatly enjoyed her recent New Yorker pieces.

But having written a piece about how she was agonizing over having a second child and now being 5 months pregnant, the NY Times had a piece written by Curtis Sittefield called "How DOES Tina Fey Juggle It All?"

And in the Motherlode column, you got someone (a guy) sneering about how having a nanny solves this and "being a full time mother is harder than having to juggle", and how his SAHM wife is so exhausted that he has to take care of the kids and never has down time.

Give me a break!

Tina Fey has a full time nanny. She also undoubtedly has a regular housecleaning service--if not a daily maid--hey, my lazy rich sister-in-law has one of those and doesn't work at ALL. She can pay someone to cook meals or to prepare them for her, or order takeout every night. She can get an assistant to run out and buy a gift from a birthday party. She can hire someone to do the shopping, plan a birthday party, anything else she needs to hand off to someone else.

So perhaps she can go to work, leave her child and take a "break" from being a parent.
But that's not the case for those of us who are real, ordinary working mothers. And here's my response:

My job may have given me a "break" from dealing with my own small kids, but instead I was doing (and still do) story hours for kids with their nannies and/or SAHMs, which isn't exactly restful, to say the least.

I spent my lunch breaks running errands, grocery shopping and doing other errands. I spent my evenings doing things that needed to be done long into the night. If the kids were sick, or restless, I was up with them just like any other mother.

I spent my weekends balancing caring for my kids and getting everything else done that a SAHM can do during the week.

The kids are 11 and 16 now and you know what? I'm still juggling their needs, running my household and holding down that full time job.

And I'm writing this on Sunday afternoon having spent my morning grocery shopping and errand running, with tons of laundries to do, a daughter to shuttle back from a date and dinner to think about. I still haven't eaten lunch yet and it's almost 3PM!

Time out? Tina Fey, with a full time nanny and all the household help she might need probably can squeeze one in. A REAL working mother? Not even a chance!

She's Got A "D" In Geometry. But It's the School That's Failing Her.

2011-04-07T20:52:00.002-04:00

SC has a "D" in geometry. And that's what I've told her she has to maintain. That she needs to fix her mind just on not flunking the course. That and trying to pass the damn Standards of Learning test in Geometry.

You would probably recognize the name of my daughter's school if I mentioned the movie that was based on something that once happened in the school. It's the one school for our city and serves a diverse population, including a huge number of ESL students, kids who themselves are not ESL, but come from immigrant families, and African American families who live in public housing.

It's also got plenty of rich white kids whose parents drive Mercedes SUVs--kids who succeed brilliantly and go on to all the prestige colleges you can name.

But because of the ESL and project kids, because in my humble opinion (from 20+ years observing the schools in this town) the schools have done a crappy job of getting kids ready for high school, of reaching out to the neediest families, the high school was classed as "failing" by the damn federal No Child Left Behind program.

There has been much talk about this. Much hiring of high priced consultants by the school superintendent, whom I have meet and determined to be an asshole in love with the sound of his own voice.

There are pep rallies, endless pep talks and every damn memo the school gives the kids is printed with "This is important. We are not going to give up on you."

So what has happened when I've tried to reach out and get her some help?

From the "Assistant Principal For Math":

Mrs. M is a very diligent teacher who is more than willing to assist SC with any additional support that is required to help her have greater success in Geometry.

In regard to her tests, this year we have implemented common assessments. In order to protect the integrity of the test among teachers students only have access to the test in the classroom. Mrs. M is very diligent about providing class assignments, homework, and review materials that mirror the test.

From the chairman of the Math Department:
Mrs. M has helped with the development of the tests and taught Geometry for many years. Her students consistently score well on the SOL tests and in her course. I am puzzled by SC's comment that the tests don't cover what is taught in class as it seems very inconsistent with Mrs. M's teaching style.

According to SC, Mrs M spends more time dealing with kids who are disciplinary issues than she does teaching, no matter what her "style". So much so that the class is apparently behind, because when she recently had them do a mock Standards of Learning exam (the test they have to pass here in VA) the kids commented that there was a lot of stuff on it that they hadn't done yet. And the next day, Mrs M admitted that this was so.

Then there's that thing about tests. Last year, in 9th grade (and SC did well in Algebra I) I was floored to hear her teacher say "If the students don't do well on a test, I have to think that I didn't teach them well. So we have to go over the material again and then I retest them."

SC doesn't get her tests back. She doesn't see them AT ALL unless she makes an appointment to go in and go over them with her teacher. No review, no correction. How do you learn if you don't know if you've done things wrong?

SC does has severe test anxiety in math. But it has been much better in recent years. Now I think it's back. And she is failing every single test.

It was suggested by everyone that SC go to the "Math Center" for help. It is open morning, lunchtimes and after school. Since she values her lunch times with her friends and has work 2 afternoons a week, I drove her in both Monday and Tuesday early for help.

No one showed up Monday. I fired off a note to both Asst Principal and Math Center director who insisted that someone is ALWAYS there, that someone had been there that morning. Okay, SC had left to go get her computer fixed. Perhaps someone came just after she'd gotten there.

We went back Tuesday morning. Same thing. And this time SC waited as long as she could before going to class.

At this point I called her counselor. She had suggested talking to the Asst Principal and the chairman, but also said "call me if it doesn't work". And I told her what I'd been told.

She is helping SC to find a tutor--a peer, who'll actually be there to help her.

Hopefully SC can maintain the "D" with her homework and class participation. If she misses the SOL by a few points she can repeat it immediately. If she misses it by more she'll have to take it again next fall--and again in spring if she can't pass it then.

Knowing that if she passes the class she won't have to repeat it is a relief to her.
But how pathetic is that?
And how pathetic is it that I have to tell my smart, wonderful, capable girl that getting a "D" is okay?

I am at fault on this because I didn't swing into action months ago. I should have, and I've apologized to SC for letting her down.

But the school has let her down too.Here is a girl taking honors and AP classes, doing well in everything else. She draws a "D" in math 2 quarters running and a red flag doesn't go up somewhere?

Her teacher makes excuses. The other math folk make excuses. No one says "This girl should be doing well. What's wrong and how can we help?"

I can advocate for my child. I am doing so now, late as it is in the school year.

But what about those many other kids who have no parent who knows enough to advocate for them?

She may be on the edge of failing math. But the school is failing in much more than that.
And we all pay for that in the end.

TGI April

2011-04-01T13:03:00.000-04:00

March is the longest month of the year. Always, especially when it's been cool and wet and gray most of the month.

I did 30 programs in March and they were largely a bitch because of senseless parents, nannies who text and poor hyperactive little boys who would much rather be playing somewhere than in story hour, but their parents/nannies bring them anyway.
BTW, I instituted (with my boss's blessing) my no cell phones AT ALL during programs. If I see a cell phone, I will ask them to leave. And I mean it!

And then there's home life--JR's back issue (pulled a muscle we think from an overloaded backpack), SC's school worries and the Man's Eeyore moods. Plus fun with the joys of perimenopause--feh.

But it's April. I'm off from work. Went to ballet this morning and didn't have to stop like I did Monday when my sciatic nerve decided to speak up.

Came home with my crack of choice--Mocha Frappe from McDonald's--though without the whipped cream--and sat on the couch watching stuff from Netflix with the cats.

Going to have mussels with tomato sauce for lunch, take a shower and head out into the burbs for a shopping and the semi-annual kids consignment sale I consign to and shop it. Probably won't find much--SC is too old and JR has too much taste for what's sold there. But there's usually a goody or two.

The cherry blossoms are still at their peak, and the weather looks better for Sunday. We're going to take the girls, plus "Mr Wonderful"(SC's boyfriend) and go back to the Tidal Basin. SC and Mr Wonderful can go off on their own and JR may bring a friend.

The weather looks better for next week, and I'm hoping that what I planted in my garden is surviving the wet. Peas and onions and spinach!

And 2 weeks till Easter break!

Sheer Beauty

2011-03-30T21:29:00.001-04:00

Up close to the cherry blossoms at the Tidal Basin.

Taken last Saturday, not by me, but by JR,
who looks to have inherited my dad's eye for a photo!

Triangle

2011-03-25T19:46:00.001-04:00

If you want to know why we need unions, strong unions, just go back in time 100 years ago today to the Triangle Shirtwaist factory in New York City.

Hundreds of men and women worked in a building with no automatic sprinklers, one flimsy fire escape and most exit doors locked to prevent theft.

When a fire started in a bin full of cutting scraps and spread rapidly, workers were trapped. The one open staircase became smoke filled. The elevators stopped working.

People in the street watched as woman after woman jumped to their deaths.

When it was over 146 people were dead, most of them young women ages 16-23.

The unions of this country fought for safe working conditions. They fought for child labor laws. They fought for fair working hours, vacation time, sick time.
And yes, health care and pensions.

Unions helped bring American workers a standard of living that at one time was unparalleled in the world.

The people screaming against the workers of Wisconsin, with their crap about cushy government jobs and the nerve of employees to want pensions, health benefits and a decent salary are the same people who once upon a time would have had cushy jobs themselves in American industries that have now gone overseas to places that don't have unions.

Those jobs are not coming back.
And people cheering the anti-unionist from behind are the industrialists who care about nothing but the bottom line. They'd gladly bring back industry to this country IF they could put American workers into the sort of conditions workers face in places like India and China.

The sort of conditions the unions saved thousands of American workers from enduring.

The sort the 146 women (and men) at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory lived and died under.

THAT's what unions are about.

And here's Pete Seeger singing a song that is sadly still valid.

Dear Stupidest Mother I Have Ever Had At A Program

2011-03-23T09:44:00.000-04:00

Look, lady, the reason I asked you and everyone else to turn off your cell phones during Mother Goose was so that they would not distract you from interacting with your kids.

Personally, I don't GET distracted doing Mother Goose. Heck, I can keep 2 little girls from pulling "Baby" off of my lap, sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" AND simultaneously be worrying about SC's geometry problems and what I need to buy at the store for dinner, all at the same time. I've done this a while, I'm good at it.

However, having cell phones beep, squawk, etc is annoying to everyone else. And having someone TEXT (as a nanny did last week) when you're supposed to be interacting with your kids is counter to the point of the program. It's damned rude.
I'm going to be repeating that "shut off your phone" message at today's programs. I know folks use them for cameras, and I've put up with that. But that nanny doing that last week frosted me. Especially since her sweet little boy gets restless--who wouldn't when it's his SECOND program of the day after Gymboree. Sigh..........

And handing the phone to your kid, so she can turn it on, make it beep repeatedly, etc, instead of either letting her wander around the room (normal for one year olds) or trying to interact with her yourself, is ridiculous.

As for that crap after the program about "Well, I have 2 kids in school,", it's like I told you. So do I. And somehow, I've managed to get through 2 programs a morning most mornings without being called by their schools. If your kid is sick or something, either stay home, or stay somewhere else away from my program!

Frankly, if you never show up again, it would be too soon for me. After all, you're the same silly parent who told me you weren't borrowing books because you were afraid your 4 year old might rip them.

So you're not doing my circulation any good. And certainly not my blood pressure.

Sincerely,
The Library Lady

NOT TGIF

2011-03-18T14:29:00.000-04:00

I had to drive JR and her fellow bus stopper to school this morning because their bus didn't show up.

I had a massive sinus headache that kept me from going to ballet, and despite caffeine, a hot shower and 3 ibuprofen is STILL with me.

My work computer has probably died and unless a miracle occurs, I will have lost 2 years worth of reports, forms, bibliographies, calendars and other signs of all kinds and music from the hard drive. And the hard drive I may have backed up my recent files on disappeared in my house and is probably gone forever. Meanwhile I am stuck working on an even slower computer on which I don't have the library circulation software and on which I don't have administrative rights so I can't even install my printer or other software that I use all the time.
Hopefully I will get that authority from our IT guy who has known me since he was a teenager and knows that I know what I am doing. As long as his boss doesn't find out (!)
The one bright thing is that I may get a new computer. My boss just did, and it sounds like the same thing as what happened with my computer!

The city recreation department director called and told me that I can't use the local park I wanted to move my summer program to. She's right, it IS too sunny there, but there's no other location in this side of town that she'll let me have. Apparently our waterfront is bustling constantly with weddings and ship arrivals even at 11 AM on a Wednesday morning in July. Yeah, right.....

I've done the park program for over 20 years. Love doing it. But it's at the other end of town where I USED to work. Most of the patrons at it in recent years have been families from this end of town. And I've had a lot fewer families, because so many of my patrons here are nannies without cars. They walk here--would've walked to a waterfront park.

So I'm having to revamp my summer schedule. That park program will just have to move indoors here. Not as much fun. But I'll manage.

But this is NOT a good day.

Happy St Patrick's Day!

2011-03-17T07:54:00.033-04:00

This is Fred the Sock Monkey, who lives with JR.
Today he is known as Fred O'Banana and couldn't care less about green beer. Now green BANANAS are another story.

If you'd like to wish Freddie a happy St Paddy's Day, you'll find a link to his blog on the left side of this blog.

Fred may be the most Irish thing around here. But I worked in an Irish neighborhood in NYC for 4 happy years, I love Irish music and I wear a cladagh ring that the Man gave me.
So though it's another of those holidays I like to commemorate at least a little bit.

I've baked soda bread for today--if it's any good the recipe will go up on the other blog. We've got corned beef since we all love it except JR , but I'm saving it for Friday night since today is the day our lovely cleaning lady comes in. Not a day to be using the crockpot, and that's the best way to do corned beef IMHO.

I just spotted this button and think I'll have to buy it for next year. As a matter of fact, I AM a Cohen on my mother's side of the family:

Hope you have a happy St Patrick's Day, no matter where you're from!

Teaching Moments In Books

2011-03-15T10:11:00.000-04:00

Let me start by saying that I think what is called "bibliotherapy" is a crock. Mom comes in, wants a book to help her 2 year old reconcile himself to the fact that she is no longer the center of the universe because mom has a new baby girl. Nanny comes in and wants a book to teach a spoiled, undisciplined 3 year old to hold her hand when they cross streets.
My response to that nanny was "Tell her she has to hold your hand or ride in the stroller. She's a smart kid, she'll get it." Sheesh!

Books to deal with moving, toilet training, pacifiers. Culminating with such wonderful titles as "Hands Are Not For Hitting" and "Teeth Are Not For Biting". Really useful stuff--hell, I had a mom whose daughter LOVED "Teeth Are Not For Biting". Loved it because she LOVED biting other kids--had made up a song about how she loved to bite kids. Yup, really helpful.

But I am not in the world of toddler/preschooldom today. Instead, I am thinking about parents, teachers and other adults who try to keep books from their kids.

Harry Potter, because "witchcraft" conflicts with their religious viewpoint. Huckleberry Finn, because of the "n-word"--have you seen that idiot who created an edited version of Huck Finn that replaces that word with the word "slave"? Dude, those same kids see that word all over MTV and YouTube. Every rapper uses that word. It's fine for kids to see it in dreck like that, but not in a book that has something meaningful to say about hate? Poor Sam Clemens must be out there somewhere shaking his head and yearning to write about it.

What really brought this to mind right now was seeing Al Capone Does My Shirts on one of my return carts today.

It's a terrific story for elementary kids, about the son of a prison guard on Alcatraz Island in 1935. The whole family lives on the island, including the boy's sister Natalie, who has a condition that would now be diagnosed as autism.

I happened to see a review a mother had done of the book on Amazon.com She was horrified by the book because she has an autistic child herself, and is disgusted by the family's attitude towards Natalie. She said that the book:"permeates the message of segregation of people with disabilities in society. "

I feel for this mother. But what I told her in a comment is that this book is not set in 2010, it is set in 1935. That it's a wonderful chance to look at how attitudes have changed about autism since then. That the feelings of shame and discomfort Moose has about Natalie, the guilt he has because she is his sister whom he is supposed to love, the efforts he goes to in order to help her, are all worth discussing with our kids.

Are your religious values so weak that you don't dare to bring Harry Potter to your kids and discuss why you feel witchcraft is evil? Can't you read the book and realize that while you may find witchcraft offensive, that Harry's struggles with the choices between good and evil are something that we all struggle with, something that your religion is supposed to be all about?

Can't a group of school kids read Huckleberry Finn and think about how that "n" word was used commonly in 1850-something, but is totally unacceptable today and WHY that is? Can't they talk about how it is used in black culture, but why it is so repugnant for Caucasians to use it? Can't they look at how Clemens/Twain shows us Huck as someone who is utterly conflicted by what he KNOWS society tells him about black people versus how he feels about Jim?

Books aren't written just so we can nod our heads sagely and agree.Let me quote again something I've quoted before, from the play based on the Scopes Trial, "Inherit the Wind"

Drummond: Then why did God plaint us with the power to think?! Mr. Brady, why do you deny the one faculty of man [that] raises him above the other creatures of the earth: the power of his brain to reason? What other merit have we? The elephant is larger; the horse is swifter and stronger; the butterfly is far more beautiful; the mosquito is more prolific. Even the simple sponge is more durable. Or does a sponge think?

Brady: I don't know. I am a man, not a sponge.

Drummond: Well, do ya think a sponge thinks?

Brady: If the Lord wishes a sponge to think, it thinks!

Drummond: Do you think a man should have the same privilege as a sponge?

Brady: Of course!

Drummond: This man wishes to be accorded the same privilege as a sponge! He wishes to think!!

Let our children THINK.
Let them read...........

Dear Politicians Who Set Daylight Savings Time

2011-03-14T14:57:00.000-04:00

Obviously none of you have11 or 16 year old girls who have to get up at what feels like 6AM instead of 7AM.

Especially when it's dark outside. And cold.

I'm not sure that having light until 7 is worth this. Even if it does convince my cats that I get up at 7AM, not 6AM and prevents Bart from wailing for his breakfast an hour early.

Sincerely,
The Library Lady

This Has What America Has Come To--And It Says It All

2011-03-10T20:22:00.001-05:00

A Presence

2011-03-09T16:51:00.000-05:00

I was making that King cake dough Monday night, rolling it out on the counter, filling it with cinnamon sugar. Rolling it up and folding it up and shaping it into a log.

And then I began to stretch it into a long rope, stretching it and rolling it, patting it and pressing it. And I had the strangest feeling.

It was as if my hands were being guided by other hands. They moved with the sort of speed and ease that I am experiencing as I type this.

As if I'd done it over and over again.

Now I've made doughs like that before. Not often, but quite a few times.
Mainly when I've made Sticky Buns.

Nanay's recipe.

I think about my mother-in-law every day. It's odd, because when you look at it I spent so little actual time with her over the 15 years I was privileged to know her.

But somehow there are moments every day when I think of her, and miss her presence in the world and want to let her know how much she meant to all of us.

Monday night, shaping that dough, I felt as if that unseen presence telling my hands what to do was Nay.

Weird idea from a agnostic/atheist.

But there none the less.

Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez!

2011-03-08T13:30:00.000-05:00

Not from Louisiana. Not even a Catholic.

None the less, there is a King cake on the counter at work that won't be there much longer at the rate the staff is eating it--and another one at home. More about this on the Library Lady Cooks blog.

At story hours, the theme is "Swamp Romp". Lots of Cajun music from Michael Doucet (Le Hoogie Boogie), Johnette Downing (why hadn't I heard of her before) and a lovely, funny version of "Mama Don't Allow" from a duo called "Fox and Branch":

And even the penguin has gotten into the spirit:

Follow Up To Yesterday

2011-03-03T15:51:00.001-05:00

Just think about this.

I was raised in a two parent house with a SAH mom who cooked dinner every night.

I've cooked all my adult life and I LIKE it.

I'm a educated type with a Master's degree and have plenty of access to information about nutrition--and the knowledge to sort fact from fiction.

I have a full time job that pays decently-though contrary to popular belief, as a government worker, neither the Man nor I has a fabulous salary.

Speaking of the Man, I have a spouse who brings in a salary besides mine, who has always been an active partner in child care and does the dishes. Every night.

I have a car and access to some fabulous grocery stores and a great small farmer's market that is open on Sundays.

I garden--organically.

I have a shelf full of cookbooks, a pantry stuffed with canned goods, a microwave, a slow cooker and stuff in the freezer.

And yet, after 3 days of programs and household matters, it's Thursday night, and I have no idea what we are having for dinner.

It's not going to be McDonalds--though it MIGHT be a sub from Wegman's. But that's not my point.

My point is, if with all the ways I am blessed I can still find it a struggle to cook and serve healthy dinners every night, what do you expect from the folks who DON'T have some of these things?

Pieties From The Privileged

2011-03-02T10:04:00.001-05:00

This rant was brewing weeks before Bittman's latest crap about how bad the oatmeal at McDonald's is. Sure it's not organic steel cut oats garnished with locavore honey and fruit, but it's a step in the right direction in families where chips and soda really are common meals for kids. Getting just the IDEA of oatmeal is a step forward. Time then to start saying "Okay, this is something, but it could be a lot better"

I am cross posting this as well at "The Library Lady Cooks"

I am really, REALLY tired of Mark Bittman, Michael Pollan and every other "foodie" who piously pontificates in the NY Times about healthy eating.

I am even more tired of their Greek chorus of synchophants who chime in after every ~~sermon~~ column to agree and explain their own perfect, healthy lifestyles and to decry the people out there who eat fast food, processed food, non-organic produce, etcetera.

"People are just too lazy to cook," they smugly opine. "Poor people can EASILY eat a healthier diet. In Third World countries people eat mostly fruits, grains and vegetables." Etcetera, etcetera.

Well, foodies, let me clue you in to a few realities that don't penetrate North of Central Park or out of the sort of Brooklyn neighborhood where my brother's family lives, or out of the rich suburban/urban sorts of neighborhoods the Washington Post now pitches their Wednesday food section to:

Cooking is WORK. I love it, and I can do it efficiently and quickly, and so can anyone else with practice.
But it takes planning--first to have items in the house--which means shopping--and it means meal planning. No matter what end of the process you put it at, time is involved. Time that can be precious if you work a 8-10 hour work day and then come home with kids in tow who need entertainment, homework assignment help and clean clothes for tomorrow!

Third Worlders eat lots of fruits, veggies and grains because they have ACCESS to them. That's what's in the little market they WALK to near their house, that's what's in their local stores and that's what's AFFORDABLE. And yes, they cook from scratch because that's what everyone does. There aren't a billion fast food choices or prepackaged foods out there as an option.

On the other hand, if you step out of the bubble and go to any community here where there are plenty of third world immigrants you will find the stores loaded with the same packaged processed foods available in any supermarket, plus a ton of other stuff. Try checking the package for a curry mix or some ramen noodles and see that they are loaded with salt, fat and chemicals. Look at the sweets aisle and find tons of candies and cookies loaded with high fructose corn syrup, artificial colors, etc.
And these are IMPORTED items I am talking about. Not American brands--Filipino brands, Korean brands, Indian brands, etc....

Go into an inner city neighborhood-- if you dare. Go into the corner markets and see if they are chock full of fresh vegetables, fruits and healthy grains. See if you can find any pure fruit juices or organic baby food. Somehow I doubt it.

The foodies are starting at the top and preaching to the choir. But where we need to start out is at the bottom, with the poorest of the poor.

When they have local easily accessible markets with fresh, affordable produce (and people to teach them how to cook it quickly and easily), when community gardens are a basic in every community, not a luxury, when kids learn to cook and eat healthy foods in school and bring that knowledge home to their parents, then perhaps McDonalds will have fewer customers and the processed food aisles in the store will dwindle.

Until then, Bittman, Pollan & Co will continue their pieties about a healthy diet. Their followers will sneer at the ignorance and laziness of those less privileged then themselves and wax nostalgic for their impoverished childhoods where their mothers did it all with no money.

And our school kids will continue to prefer french fries to baked potatoes,drink sodas at breakfast and grow up to be over weight, poorly nourished adults.

Goodbye February

2011-03-01T13:54:00.001-05:00

This was a crappy winter for the snow loving section of my family--me included.

First, we left NYC Christmas night to avoid getting trapped in the oncoming storm, but got none of it for ourselves. This was followed by two months of watching our friends and family to the north get storm after storm when all we got was the accompanying cold air!

But if you can't have snow, make your own. Hence these little snow people, inspired by Lois Ehlert's fabulous book Snowballs, that have been decorating my big bulletin board this winter.

I made them by cutting styrofoam balls of various sizes in half. I discovered that a large bread knife someone had left in the drawer where we have our work sink worked perfectly as a saw.

I had a box of weird craft things our director got us somewhere, and one was a bag of tiny little wire coils of different colors, seen here as tails, whiskers and the baby's hair. I also used yarn, foam shapes, chenille stems, buttons and pins. The kids have small ice cream wooden spoons for hands, and next year I'll use something for mom and dad--maybe craft sticks.

I'm sure that someone much craftier than me could have done far niftier folks. But I'm sure they wouldn't have had any more fun with this than I did!

I HATE Bras

2011-02-27T14:23:00.006-05:00

Dear Bra Manufacturers:

I hate you.

I have hated you since back at JHS143 when I was flat chested, but ALL the girls wore bras for the horrible gym classes and I had to get my mother to buy me nasty scratchy training bras when I was perfectly happy in my undershirts. Though truthfully, I was perfectly happy in those undershirts all the way up to about age 14 or 15, when my much taller, well developed 3 best friends told me I NEEDED a bra!

I have hated you since I had 2 kids and my cup size went up one level, and the sort of miserable droop that is a combination of childbirth, weight gain and the fact that I have a real working life and can't spend most of my week in the gym with a personal trainer like freaking Heidi Klum or those other skinny bolink models/actresses who have 4 million kids and still look like poster children for eating disorders.

I HAD a reasonable good bra from Warners. No under wire to pinch me. Boning on the sides, just enough to make me look less wall eyed. Enough support for everywhere but ballet class--and for that I've found that a good cheap sports bra from Danskin that I can buy at Walmart does the trick.

I had a dozen of those bras. Replaced them as needed. So what did you do? Discontinued them. And left nothing similar for a replacement.

I've been shopping via Her Room, a great on-line web site. Thank heavens for free shipping, because I've ordered, returned and re-ordered a number of times. And I've managed to find a few, reasonably comfortable bras, but nothing with the comfort AND support of my old favorite.

And now it's not just me. First there was SC, who at 16 is NOT generously endowed. Probably never will be. But she is also not skinny. And the combination of a wide body and small breasts has made finding bras for her dang near impossible.
Try finding a 38A bra in say, Walmart. Or Target. Or for that matter, Macy's or Nordstroms. Pretty much, you can't.

After a lot of frustrating shopping we finally found her a brand that is reasonably supportive AND comfortable. Found her a sports bra for ballet. Hopefully she's set for a while.

But now there's JR.

She has my body type, which means that right now as a tween she is slim as can be and developing slowly. That's likely to change soon--as an adult I'm betting that she'll need bras a lot more than SC does. But right now, all she needs is a sports bra--or a simple bralette.

Certainly she doesn't need wires. Or padding. I mean she's ELEVEN years old. But what pretty much is all you find when you start looking?

Padding. Wires. UNDER WIRE bras in size 32AAA, intended for little girls!
What the f*uck does a little girl need with a padded bra?

I have a nice, average, almost 12 year old who just wants something she can wear in gym class and elsewhere. Something that's comfortable and helps with the beginnings of jiggle--not something to make the boys ogle her figure!

Like I said, bra companies. I hate you.
And odds are, my kids will too. We're weird that way I guess.

Uncomfortably (in all senses) yours,
The Library Lady

Guest Ranter

2011-02-22T19:36:00.000-05:00

No programs this week and I'm off tomorrow, just because. No plans, just probably going to veg out as much as possible. Probably not that much, since, as always, there are too many things that I need to do,

So, since I am feeling too lazy to rant, here is "The Ranting Swede" from Mo Willems TRUE chef d'oeuvre, "Sheep In the Big City".

Enjoy!

A Union Maid

2011-02-18T15:26:00.000-05:00

I am NOT a union member. Haven't been one since I lived in NYC. And I have a pretty cynical view of unions from that experience.

But I am the granddaughter of union people. Know what the unions did for this country. Without them workers in this country wouldn't have a lot of the rights and protection that they'd enjoy.

If the unions went away, we wouldn't lose so many jobs to overseas companies. But the jobs would be just like those in countries like China. Dangerous working conditions, paltry wages, no benefits and no pensions.

But the people currently protesting in Madison, WI do the sort of jobs you CAN'T export. They are our teachers. Our firemen and policemen and our sanitation workers. Perhaps even our librarians.

And having been a public servant all my working life I can tell you that these folks are NOT making cushy wages!

So here's a song from the man who is always a voice for the people, Pete Seeger, along with Arlo Guthrie.

Stay strong Wisconsin workers.
And I just may have to make some campaign contributions to those Democratic senators. That is, if they're ever able to come out of hiding..........

Valentine's Day 2011

2011-02-14T15:17:00.000-05:00

Rather than ranting about Valentine's Day today, I instead want to offer you a link to this article in the New York Times entitled "When Love Outgrows Gift-Giving On Valentine's Day"

Happy Valentine's Day. May you all have someone in your lives to love and be loved by as richly as I know that I am.

SIxteen Years Of Motherhood

2011-02-10T14:37:00.001-05:00

SC turned 16 yesterday.
That's SIXTEEN. Really.

I meant to write a birthday post about it yesterday. But I was up at 7AM baking her cake. Then I went to work for the morning. I came home for the afternoon so I could frost her cake, and went out to get her a card and balloon. Next it was off to her school for some teacher conferences. And when I got home I made lumpia (Filipino egg rolls) and helped the Man make pancit (Filipino dish like lo mein).

Her boyfriend came over for dinner and birthday cake. And by the time all that was done and JR was in bed it was time for me to go to bed.
And the whole day was a microcosm of what parenthood has been like. What it is like.

Exhausting and nerve racking. Scary at times. Exhilarating at others.

Shocking to look at that tall girl and realize that I gave birth to her.

Sixteen years and counting.
The hardest job I have ever had.
And the best.

Dear AARP

2011-02-10T14:17:00.001-05:00

In the immortal words of many a Monty Python character: PISS OFF!

I am 9 months from being 50. I am 5 years and 9 months away from being 55.
And I am 15 years minimum, all things willing, from being anywhere near retirement age.

I don't want your discounts. I can get plenty of other ones that don't involve you.
I don't need your health care plan--thank heavens, I have Kaiser, and yours involves United Healthcare, one of the nastiest of the nasty health care monoliths out there.
I don't want "Modern Maturity" magazine.

I resent your lobbyists who grab for everything for seniors with both hands, not mindful that successive generations, including my own, are the ones who care for and support them.

I sent your card application thing back marked "REFUSED" and "Please take me off ALL mailing lists" and I meant it.

And the same goes for my 8 day younger husband.

Sincerely yours,
The Library Lady
(Who loves the seniors in her family but is nowhere near being one!)

Battery Free Books

2011-02-05T20:37:00.001-05:00

There's a piece in the NY Times today about kids and e-readers and their growing popularity. Kirkus Reviews now has a section for picture book apps.

Day by day, I keep hearing that books will be replaced by e-books.

Perhaps. And as the long suffering wife of a book collector, I know that I would be delighted if his hundreds of big heavy books on everything from tofu to WWII atrocities could be compacted onto a hand held device or two that we could store on a small shelf. And then we could take all those bookcases out of our living/dining room and have some REAL furniture!

But to those who keep insisting that the children's book will go the way of the dodo, I say, pish and tosh!

You can interact with a child on your lap who is playing with an e-book or the like. But will their mind be boggled by the illustrations? Will you re-read your favorite parts together? Will you read it over and over again in a bedtime ritual?

We are tactile creatures, we humans. For all that we love our computers, they don't replace the feeling of a book, of turning the pages.

Of holding a child in your lap or in the crook of your arm and the two of you interacting with each other AND the book. No batteries needed.

So here for your consideration is a recent flyer I made with a list of 25 picture books that have needed neither bells nor whistles to entertain generations of kids and their grown-ups.
Read and enjoy. Repeat frequently.

Doldrums

2011-01-31T17:42:00.000-05:00

I have talked about wanting to hibernate, but the more time off I have had lately, the less it seems to benefit me.

When I am in ballet class, or doing a program at work, or engaged with my family I am fine. But when I am just sitting here, as I am now, the whole world presses in on me.

I am stressed out by everything. By SC's upcoming birthday and any celebration to go with it and by her school struggles--she's failing geometry and not doing well in a lot of her other classes. By JR's tween tantrums, which are increasing. By the Man's periods of depression.

By the fact that it looks like we are going to owe tax money again. By my dentist, who is going to take the equivalent of a month's pay from me to do 2 more crowns--and I pray he doesn't find damage enough for a root canal into the bargain.

By my damned doctor, who apparently wants me in for an appointment so he can take my blood pressure (which only rises in his office) and listen to me breathe, when I haven't had anything remotely relating to an asthma problem in years. Why else does he keep cutting the amount of my thyroid prescription--last time he gave me 30 days, this time 21! His concern about my health is HURTING my health.

By Weight Watchers, who have revamped their program.Now when I am back up 10 pounds and really need to use the on-line stuff, they've made all the values different.What worked for me in the past no longer seems to be helping.

And by this damned weather. New York and north get snowstorm after snowstorm. All we get is last week's traffic snarling nightmare that left us with this lumpy excuse for snow. And that will be washed away tomorrow and Wednesday by freezing rain and plain old cold rain. Feh!

I have always loved winter. But right now I want it to be spring, allergies, hives and all.
I want to go out in my gardens and feel the dirt between my fingers.
I want to stop feeling cold all the time when I go outside--it just bites into me.
I want to stop eating too much chocolate and drinking too much soda.
I want it to be warm enough so I can grab my MP3 player and walk outside in the sun. Warm enough so the Man can get out on his bike and JR's and so that they can go off riding together.

And if it won't do that, I just want to crawl back to bed. And to stay there until spring finally comes.

Dear Office Of Personnel Management

2011-01-26T22:45:00.000-05:00

Okay, so you were listening to the local clowns who do the weather on the local news. Or you were heeding the National Weather Service, who until yesterday were very,very conservative about the bad weather.

But this AM, the clowns were warning the storm would strike around 4PM. The National Weather Service had us all under a Winter Storm WARNING as of 4PM.

So why in hell didn't you let the Fed workers go home around 1PM?

They left at 4PM right as the rain, and the sleet and finally the fast, fast snow began to come down. And with it the power lines and the tree branches because it's a wet snow.

As a result, the highways have been jammed all night.

My own spouse, who works for one of the local governments, left his office at 5PM and didn't get home until 9:30. Four and a half hours to do a 45 minute commute, most of that time actually sitting in traffic with his engine off because nothing was moving!

And if you HAD let the Fed folks go home, perhaps the local governments would've closed earlier too and I wouldn't have had to sit at the library until 6PM with no one there but the staff, and had to drive on dark, barely plowed streets for a half hour when the trip normally takes me 10!

If you can't deal with emergencies when you know they're coming, I've got no faith in your skills if we have a sudden disaster.

And right now, I'm going to bed. At least the kids don't have school tomorrow and I'm staying home with them.

Wearily yours,
The Library Lady