Easter Update

The other day, I was wandering through one of my favorite stores and something twitchy happened ... it was that sort of twitch that happens to me occasionally (and I dare say most women) when they see something that they just have to have.  Now, I restrained myself .. I only bought two of these cute little juice glasses.  But they were gorgeous .. all glittery in their shiny pinks and greens, blues and aquas .. with their bumps and pretty glass patterns.  I should have taken a picture in the store.  But failing that .. here's one I hope you enjoy.

I know its been a long while since I made a post ... I had a lot of difficulty with January and February and March blahs in the rain, rain, rain .. and more rain.  And then I realized one day (when I had been absent from my gym once again this week except for my weekly beating up by workout with Simone) that I actually had things on the go.  So I'll try to bring you up to speed ... not that there is a great deal of impetus there yet, but .. you know .. one can wish.

I continue to visit the gym and have a Thursday morning half hour each week with Simone, my Brazilian trainer.  She's been away for the past couple of weeks so I've been working out with Paul Pilates .. that's not his real last name, just a handy moniker that Bruce and I give him.  The first week, he damn near killed me.  I was going to text him on Friday and tell him that my upper abs weren't aching when I breathed .. that he "missed a spot, nyah, nyah" .. but the rest of my body wasn't so sure I wanted to push that button.  I'm pretty sure he could have delivered on that dare.  This week was a bit easier, thankfully, since we were off to visit Ilana and the girls on Good Friday.  Which brings me 'round to why I was in Chapters .. buying an Easter gift for the girls ... and then, apparently, being sucker punched by an effective display of glassware.

Sailboats near the coast of Vancouver.  You can't tell from this weather, but the ferry crossing was
a bit eventful, travelling through a thick white coat of fog, sounding the big ships horns every
two minutes as a warning to other boats asea.

I picked up a couple of books ... Elsa insisted hers be read to her immediately upon receiving it.  Elina was more interested in the unused diaper drawer and having her teddy bear dressed up in them.

We went off to the park with the girls in tow, along with Jordan and Lauren, Ilana's nieces  who were exactly what you hope all cousins will be when you're that age.. fun to be around, willing to slide with you and show you how to get to the high places on the merry-go-round.  They were also the right age to be watchful of the girls and perfect for Ilana who has preschooler whiplash keeping an eye on two active girls running in two different directions.  The park was as super busy as you might imagine .. gorgeous weather, if somewhat windy, on the first long weekend of spring during school break.

Kitsilano Beach Volleyball

Thumping rap music added counterpoint to the bouncing of the basketball and smack of their feet on the asphalt as players drove down the court for the layup, the bumps and calls from the volleyball nets as players warmed up their style for the summer, and over it all  ... a layer of children's laughter and shrieking joy as kids played on the merry-go-round, the swings, the obstacles, in the sandbox, with kites or chased frisbees and big soap bubbles.

Elina and Ilana on the slide that Elina was determined to walk up as the other kids were sliding down.
Fortunately, she was fairly easily guided by Lauren into safer pursuits.

This is a far cry from the girl who, last visit, was afraid to come down the slide herself.
This time around, Elsa showed the other kids how to be more daring, launching herself face first down the slide.
The hat comes as a result of a night at a Canuck's game with her dad.

Visits with them always seem too short in retrospect, but while you're around them, they certainly know how to fill the space with sound and movement, color and creativity .. even putting on a pair of socks and shoes can be an adventure.  Ilana, I'm zipping and sending you all the pictures that I took.

Liz and Ian Taylor met us for lunch at the Lantzville Pub while they took a day or two break on the island to get in touch with their Scorpio water sign.  Just kidding .. only Liz is the Scorpio.  But they do love their nature breaks and they gave me a couple of pictures so I'll show off my island to you through their eyes.

From the turbulent northern shores ...

... to the calm serenity of a mannequin enjoying the spring sun on a houseboat
deck along the Victoria shoreline in the south.  Home security takes an ingenious twist.

Liz recently forwarded this wonderful picture that a friend of hers took near Jasper.  Amazing story of struggle and survival in the wild.

I've been doing a bit more reading lately (I really should update my blog as I do that) and have gone through some books from two of my favorite Canadian authors, Charles de Lint and Guy Gavriel Kay.  It's funny .. the e-reader is the right size and has the right features to replace the paperback and I've even got a fold out case for it so it opens like a book and it's wonderful for the treadmill at the gym.  But it lacks two things that would make it better ... the brightness of the page, the contrast of the typeface ... and the feel of turning the pages of a book.  My birthday iPod manages to do that .. no, you can't actually turn the page, but as you flip from one page to another ... the page curls over and you can faintly see the type reversed on the rear of the page you just turned if the new one happens to be blank.  So it fulfills that tactile need.  I'll be jonesing for a iPad before too long, I expect.

In family news, I understand there will be a wedding up north this summer as Myranda and Ryan make their partnership officially official; Samantha and DeWynn are looking forward to parenting ...and may I just say that Maureen is a good name for a girl?  Dad and the boys are cleaning out the farmhouse toward the end of April .. they're taking away the more valuable items since Dad is living with Dorothy now.  Dad invited me up, but we have a few 'must go' events off the island this year and its always an expensive prospect.  2012 and so far, 2013, have not yet been generous to MRI (our recruiting business), so we're watching pennies carefully, especially since dentists and optometrist visits have been a familiar calendar item for both Bruce and I this first quarter.

Bruce's race season is underway, and I've got some nice shots of the recent Crazy 8 race where the Huligans competed and placed third overall.  Had some confusion not put them in the open division, they would have placed second in the more age-selective Masters.

LaDonne, Holly, Richard, Marcus, Toni, Bruce - the Huliguns in fine form

Paddling past some stunning shoreline scenery and catching up to another crew.

With all this gorgeous weather this weekend, I feel a bit guilty about spending time on the computer when we have bulbs to put in the ground.  However, tomorrow is time enough for that .. and for getting other parts of the garden ready for showing off.  My pretty little pots need a bit of a face lift .. and some replacement since one of them blew off the edge of the stairwell and broke.  Bruce was kind enough to put some foot stones in good spots in my rather soggy lily bed, so I'll be able to get in there more often; I need to prune back some heather shortly and continue spring cleanup.  I'm sure you'll hear and see all about it as I go through my season.

Until next time, my friends .. stay warm.  I hope that you don't have too many of last year's weeds to pull out of your own gardens.

Steven Brust

I was thumbing through an index of author's blogs the other day when Steven Brust's name popped out at me.  I immediately clicked that link and bookmarked that baby because he's the author of the Vlad Taltos series, one of my favorites.  As a matter of fact, I pretty much love everything this guy has done, but Vlad holds a special place in my heart.  He and his jhereg Loiosh.

I'm a bit dragon infatuated, truth be told.  My martial arts background really helped develop that because of the dragon's relationship to disciplines, none of which I actually practiced for more than, oooh ... a month ...  and it was called Green Dragon, if I recall.  White tiger, green dragon?  Something like that.  Anyway, I have a rather nice collection of dragons in my possession, most of whom have homes in my bookshelves when I do actually have bookshelves.

A place of pride on those shelves is my collection of Steven Brust.  Imagine a world where the Chinese 12-year cycle rules your lives, your personalities, your friends, your livelihood and vocation.  Dogs and Tigers and Horses would get along famously, but we'd have little patience for Dragons and their haughty ways or the rest of their triumvirate of friends.  We'd do business with others, but shy away from the Roosters and  their tight-fisted dealings with money.  We might worry about Rats sneaking into our homes at night or operating gambling dens or we might seek them out to hire them for a bit of dirty work.

Enter Brust's playground, the world of Dragaera and the home of Vlad Taltos, of the House of  Jhereg.  Here's a bit of alonger description from one of the fansites; 


"There are two major species: Easterners and Dragaerans. Dragaerans are an elf-like species who live thousands of years. Easterners are a more real-world human population with a life-span of approximately 100 years and have more human-like characteristics ... like facial hair. Both species call themselves "humans;" however, Dragaerans consider Easterners something less than human.

There are 17 Houses in the Dragaeran Empire each named after a species of animal in Dragaera. Each House has its own uniform/color-scheme and its own distinct personality. The House of the Jhereg is the only one that admits Easterners. It is the House of criminal enterprises, much like the mafia.

In Dragaera, there exists witchcraft (primarily utilized by Easterners), sorcery (which relies on the presence of the Orb), and then the illegal and volatile Elder Sorcery. The main character in this series, Vlad Taltos, plays with them all."

Vlad lives on the shady side of the street and has a real Jhereg as a pet, his familiar, Loiosh, who is as reverent a sidekick as, say, my brother George would be, which is to say "not at all."  An assassin by trade, he trusts completely in his knife and blade, and a bit less so in the magical arts he employs. 

The series .. there are more than a few, probably more than "a lot," are all stand-alone adventures.  It matters not which order you read them in because Brust hasn't written them in chronological order.

Words, Words, Words, The Dreamcafé.
Steven Brust's blog

Now .. if this hasn't yet convinced you, I'm going to take you to visit the site of a free downloadable book .. a fanfiction, if you will.  I think I may have purred when I discovered this.  Because Steven  Brust has made a jump to hyperspace .. to a ship that many of my family and friends already know.

I think I’m so civilized cause I’m living my life saying hello and good-bye

But all around me people make me so mad I could be spitting in their eye

So I’m no better than the bad criminals who hit, cheat, and burglarize

‘Cos compared to all of those neat super-heroes I am a mean-guy.

I always say please and thank you and you’re welcome, ‘cos I am very polite

But overdraft fees and automatic phone help makes me ready to fight

I don’t wanted to listen to idiots blab

I don’t want drink until I’m in rehab

I just want go into my secret lab and make like a mean guy.

I’m a mean guy I’m a mean mean guy

Oh, I’m a mean guy.

I’m a Green Goblin guy I’m a Venom guy, oh I’m a mean guy.

Cos compared to Spidey so strong and so brave

Compared to Batman in his bat cave

Compared to a boy who knows how to behave

I am a mean guy.

In man’s evolution he has created boundaries between every nation

Which is nothing but asking for guys like to me to go for world domination

Cos I’m happier than I might seem

When I’m with my hand-picked team

Making an invisible destructor beam

Cause I am a mean guy.

I’m a mean guy I’m a mean mean guy

Oh, I’m a mean guy.

I’m a Marvel guy I’m a D.C., oh I’m a mean guy.

I watch the world through my periscope

Hatching schemes that will work I hope

Maybe next week I’ll kidnap the Pope.

I am a mean guy.

Come on and join me, by my mean guy pal.

We’ll share the world, you can have Lonsdale.

I’m a mean guy I’m a mean mean guy

Oh, I’m a mean guy.

I’m a Green Goblin guy I’m a Venom guy, oh I’m a mean guy.

I’ll be your Joker you’ll be Harley Quinn

I’ll make you rich and you’ll make me win

If our plans our foiled we’ll just try again

I am a mean guy.

I’m a mean guy I’m a mean mean guy

Oh, I’m a mean guy.

I’m a Doc Oc guy I’m a Burglar guy, oh I’m a mean guy.

I want to own everything I see.

I’m Ayn Rand’s child by Bill Nietzsche

Until the superheroes catch up with me.

I’ll be a mean guy.

He always smiled when Serenity first kissed atmo.

That was the moment that separated pilots; a sloppy entry cost fuel, a perfect entry saved fuel, and the difference could be the difference between a healthy profit and a disastrous loss. When you kissed atmo, it was all touch; suddenly the number of variables increased by an order of magnitude: the shape of the ship, the tilt of her nose, the attitude adjusters, speed, direction, the density and exact composition of the upper atmosphere—all of it.

Mal never noticed, of course; none of them noticed. They'd only notice if he did it badly; then he would, no doubt, get all sorts of looks and remarks. And it would cut into his profits as it would the rest of the crew's.

But none of that was why he made his entries as close to perfect as humanly possible: he did it because it was what he loved doing. The challenges to a pilot in the black were rare, and usually involved some form of terror. But the first touch of atmo on a new planet, setting up the slide, the deceleration, balancing skin heat with fuel cost, inert-damp with gravity—feeling part of the boat in a way even Kaylee, bless her heart, could never know—those were the moments of living. That was the best.

He was aware of the first hint of rudder to port, and nose up, and then the thrust control was under his right hand; and after that for a while he could no longer follow the details, because he was no longer using controls—it wasn't cause and effect, it was just one long effect as distinctions blurred. Pilot to control, control to boat, boat to atmo, atmo to gravity, gravity to pilot: they were all the same thing as Serenity sang the song only Wash could hear. After an interminable twenty seconds that was over so quickly it may never have existed, the decisions were made, the hard part past, and everything was, alas, easy again. It was morning on this part of Hera.

From the co-pilot's chair, Mal said, "How's the entry?"

"It's an entry. They're all the same."

My Own Kind of Freedom
A Firefly Novel by Steven Brust

Yes, yes, click the picture for the link

And because I know we're all in a sort of blissed out Kumbaya state right now ... let's all hold hands and sing the theme together ... c'mon, it's okay, we'll geek out together.

Take my love, take my land,

                  Take me where I cannot stand,

I don't care, I'm still free,

                  You can't take the sky from me.

Take me out to the black.  

          Tell em I ain't comin' back. 

       Burn the land and boil the sea.  

              You can't take the sky from me.

Have no place I can be            

Since I found Serenity.  

But you can't take the sky from me.

A kindred spirit

Those of you who know me also know that I have weight issues.  When you see me infrequently, you can be greeted by almost any sort of body type .. thin, heavy or any of the stages in between.  I'm a regular Oprah in that manner, but without the expensive wardrobe.  Or the personal chef.  Damn, I need me a good personal chef.

I'm going to blame the genes that my mother passed to me along with the ones for curly hair and facial structure. (I'm not sure who gave me the short arms, but I'd really like to have a word with them about that.) Mom, however, had the luxury of being 5' 10" so her weight probably sat a bit more well distributed on the larger frame.  Be that as it may, I'm currently in a 'heavy' phase and am plagued by all the insecurities that go along with it.  I also know that I could easily turn this into a litany, but that's tedious and if you've been around any dieter or pre-dieter, you've heard them before, ad nauseam.

I tell you this only as a way of introducing you to an author new to me.  On the footer of this page, you'll see that I'm reading Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente.  The book was recommended to me by my fake French Montreal friend Eric and since we have a great deal in common, I thought I'd give the book a whirl.

I admit it's tough sledding for me.  The first few chapters have left me more than a bit confused with their shifting perspectives, yet I'm determined to get through because I trust Eric.  I'm starting to see the unifying thread that will drop all of the various stories into focus.  I think.  Time and more chapters will tell, but at least the thread that runs through the book is starting to pull at me as well.

I was somewhere on the 'net the other day and ran into a link to her website, which I followed because I wanted to see more about this author that Eric had recommended.  I was surprised .. often, author's sites are run impersonally by their publication companies or have been designed by a firm that allows little to no interaction with the author.  When authors do post, they are often very closed and private or simply regurgitate the information you can find on the back flap of any of their books; all of which discourages getting to know them.

The site is well designed and if you follow my pages, you'll know that I'm attracted by the steampunk genre.  Her site design spoke to that bit of geekery in me.

Catherynne M. Valente ... Cat ... is eloquent and blogs about day-to-day things in an open manner that manages to convey who she is, as a person and at the same time, excites me to read more of her works.  She paints the everyday on her page in strokes of interesting phrases.  She posted her views on dieting that forever linked us through the BS of dealing with all the crap that goes along with weight issues and the hyperlink I'm sharing with you now.

I hope you enjoy her blog as much as I do.

Here's the link for A Frivolous Post About A Girl, Her Thesaurus and Her Diet
Here's the main site link:  Catherynne M. Valente  or you can simply click on her site header above.

Eric, I owe you one introduction to an author you'll love but have never read.  Since your library is larger than mine, I'm not sure how I'll accomplish that.  The fun will be in trying.  :D 

Leaving the station

I currently have about 15 browser tabs open, as well as a graphics program.  That's because my entertainment is right here in front of me .. usually in words of some sort, sometimes in games, often in pictures or video.  Those little tabs are like train tracks departing my desktop station ... and they've taken me places today I've never dreamed. 

Here's what my day has been like:

I started out opening my mail to find that I had correspondence from Andrew Wheeler, the blogger behind Antik Musings, in response to an email I'd written him.  I won't go into the details of the mails, as most can be surmised by reading the column that my mail inspired, What Makes a Good Review.  From his page and linkbacks in comments, I discovered other sites that have since been bookmarked; so many bookmarks that I just took about five minutes to reorganize and categorize them.  (Can't be having bookmarks get out of hand and underfoot, but never there when you need them.)

In searching through the sites, I came upon this one from T.N. Tobias where authors discuss the need for likability in characters.  I brazenly huffed, in my review of George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire books, that books were supposed to "give me characters I can care about, despise or be intrigued with."  The TN Tobias post and subsequent viewpoints in commentary often concerned a more literary view of what the character does in order to make the story come alive, not necessarily so much for its own sake.  So now I wonder if I have a naive view of what it takes to make a good story.  Am I still pre-programmed to the happy ending and redeemable characters?  I think I need to know more before I blithely abandon my feelings about characters and what I expect from authors.  So my search to educate myself took me to farther pit stops on the internet, one that has been enlightening and delightful, if not always strictly on topic.  A note here .. I'm pretty sure that I'd make a horrible research assistant .. shiny things distract me.

So without further pre-amble, in no specified order, are things that caught my attention today.

Works of art created on Styrofoam cups. Cheeming Boey is the cartoonist.

The site of Jan Chipchase, whose office is literally the world.  "Today's Office" can be seen at Future Perfect.  When you click on the link on Mr. Chipchase's name, you'll find an interesting article on the Warren Ellis site that propelled me toward Future Perfect.

 

The Worlds Without End site where I played with the wallpapers behind their logo.  Shiny thing ...  'nuff said.

The King of Elfland's Second Cousin, which might actually teach me more about writing ...

An article about surprise scupltures appearing in different Scotland literary locales.  Please read the article .. its amazing.

The sculptor (wordsmith might be a more correct turn of phrase) is still unknown, but is speculated to be Su Blackwell.

2008-the-snow-queen-video from Su Blackwell on Vimeo.

indah-video from Su Blackwell on Vimeo.

Not sure of the song, but the imagery is amazing.

Websites of Wonder

As I mentioned, I've been reading more lately and this includes websites and web comics, on top of image searches for various things that lead me from one site to another .. a seemingly endless trail.  Its a good way to explore the world.

In the absence of anything interesting to tell you about in the goings on in my life, I'll share with you some of the sites that have fascinated me.

This site, The Antick Musings of G.B.H. Hornswoggler, Gent., is interesting for its name alone.  However, the icing here is that author, one Andrew Wheeler, has spent a couple of decades in the book biz, including some time at Science Fiction Book Club, which is why I recognize his name.  I followed a link about the author Steven Brust, who is one of my favorites.  You can download his Firefly novel from the link on his name.

This next link, for Jeff Vandermeer's Ecstatic Days, came about as a result of a comment I read about not needing to like characters in order to enjoy a book.  Like a spiralbound notebook used for too many things, the site seems to be much in need of some dog-eared page marking.  A task I don't mind taking on.

 

Lastly, the link to Tor Books which, while as yet uninvestigated, promises to hold hours and hours of entertainment.

Enjoy!

Let's hear it for the little guy ..

Delightful news ... Peter Dinklage has won an emmy for his work in HBO's Game of Thrones.

Now, I know I went on at length about the books yesterday, but that in no way diminishes the work of the actors and crew of the television series.  I was rooting for the show and pleased to see the man awarded who portrays one of my favorite characters.

Although the books assure us that the imp is an ugly little man, I don't think the same can be said for Mr. Dinklage.   I'd read the first four books before, but hadn't really paid attention to Tyrion Lannister.  This man's portrayal of Tywin Lannister's unloved youngest son changed that.

Bravo!

A Song of Ice and Fire

I've had occasion of late to be engrossed in books, as you might be able to tell from looking at my fingernails.  I can't help it .. I chew my nails when I read, no matter how much I admonish and remind myself not to do that when I first sit down with a novel.  It's a bad habit and yet, it's one I can't seem to break unless I stop reading.  When I go for long stints without a book, my nails grow out.  Not beautifully, but they get to the point where I have to file and shape them or risk permanent scarring when I scratch an itch.   I know you guys out there are doing the manly equivalent of tittering, but yes .. girls scratch themselves.  Just not their butts - at least not in public.

Anyway ... my computer has been fractious lately, which means I've had a lot of enforced downtown as I wait for my techhie Geoff to come sort out the issues.   It seems that 'issues' always occur on Friday mornings and I spend the weekend waiting for my knight in shining armour to come riding to the rescue with another piece of equally shiny hardware and accompanying invoice.

--- :: ---

 
I've just reread the entire George R.R. Martin "A Song of Ice and  Fire" collection because of the HBO television show "A Game of Thrones."  This last book has me alternately puzzled, pissed off and intrigued.

The story's scope is wide .. he's created a world that we can love; that is almost tangible in its feel.  We experience the heat of hard-baked dirt below our feet in the cities across the Narrow Seas, hear the sighing grass seas of the Dothraki plains and shiver in the pre-dawn chill above The Wall north of Winterfell.  The grey gloom of wartorn Riverlands, the high mountain passes of The Eyrie, and the bounty of Highgarden ... these all conjure up images.

For me, a writer has to first impact my sense of imagery to make an impression.  GRRM has done that.  In spades. So why am I unsettled by this last book?  Perhaps because of the second thing a book is supposed to do .. give me characters I can care about, despise or be intrigued with.  Our author has shown a flagrant capacity to kill or otherwise silence major characters just when their stories are good.  He brings back players that change the game of thrones only to toss their bloody body into a ditch just when you thought they were about to do something important.  He introduces characters and lets them die without us ever really feeling their role in the unfolding story .. he abandons main characters without a word .. what happened to Osha and Rickon?

I know this latest book was written in conjunction with the 4th book, as explained in the preface.  No clue why it took so long to come out, however, and Mr. Martin has been pretty mum on the subject.  Perhaps it had something to do with the television series. 

Back on topic though .. it seemed to me that I was being subjected to some distracted writing because he used the same phrases over and over.  "Much and more," "little and less," "kissed by fire," "I'm just a young girl," "a Lannister pays his debts," "you know nothing, Jon Snow."  Sometimes it just felt like a 'search and replace' function had been run. Also, I found his exuberant use of harsh language to be excessive through this last book and no more so than in the mouth of young Arya.  Its true that she is learning the art of developing alternate identities, but this tactic was roughly handled.  Mr. Martin is more adept than that.

I'm frankly confused by Mr. Martin's portrayal of women.  Or does he do this to all his characters and I'm just more closely in tune with how he treats women as objects?  Cersei Lanniser and the Sand Demons are interesting people, but they behave like men and are eventually called to task for it while men who commit more vile crimes somehow never have to atone.  Queen Margery showed a brief spark of promise, but turned out only to be a temporary literary foil for Cersei.  To this point, Sansa Stark exhibits little more personality than Hodor and uses about as much capacity for thought.  Catelyn Stark became much rounder due to Michelle Fairley's HBO portrayal than in the books, while her sister's monumental stupidity was played down.  Even Daenerys is, at the end of this 5th book, struggling to be important to her own story.

Mr. Martin seems to be in love with heraldry, but I have to tell you ... my eyes glaze over the descriptions and I find myself skipping ahead, because other than the Stark, Lannister, Targaryen and Baratheon colors which become a cliché, they just don't matter.

I have an issue with the entire world falling into a state of wanton and cruel debauchery in the wake of Robert Baratheon's death and the rise of the Five Kings.  I understand that life changes, but the knights of the Kingsguard don't all suddenly together abandon seventeen years of exemplifying all that is good and chivalrous in a kingdom.  The festering rot at the heart of the kingdom cannot possibly extend to every single man (and a great many women) within a three month span.  The bleakness and cynical outlook of the author in creating such a scenario had me wondering what was worth putting back together that people would fight for.


Is it the mark of a great writer to confuse us?  I admit that I love not knowing what's coming next, but there are things I simply cannot figure out.  About the time that I've determined what tale the books tell, Mr. Martin offs a character my theory revolved around.  And yet I keep on reading, to formulate a new plan .. only to have that dashed as well.

Five books in and I still don't really know what the hell these books are really about.  Unless it's "WTF Happened to the Starks?"

I'd be happy to hear your theories.

An old friend

Last night, I laid in bed, trying to sleep, but an occurrence from earlier in the day was bothering me enough that I kept replaying it and wondering if I handled it correctly and what I might have done better.  You know those circumstances when you think you did everything right, but somehow, the end result wasn't quite what you wanted.

Anyway .. as I lay there cycling through it time and again, and trying to distract myself with sleepier thoughts, the rain pattering down and the melting snow forming tiny rivulets that gurgled and chuckled below my window on its way to who knows where .. well, they caught my attention.  I remembered the Thornton W. Burgess books that we read as kids, particularly the one called "Along Laughing Brook."  Those books absorbed my attention, each new one was a delight and a treasure. I can still recall the names .. Reddy Fox, Grandfather Frog, Sammy Jay, Chatterer the Squirrel, Buster Bear, Joe Otter.

It struck me that our parents, particularly my mother, instilled a love of reading in me simply by having books around to capture my attention, the creative and free spirit longing for expression.  I remember those little books, I remember the Pollyanna series, the Hardy Boys set, the Enclyopedia set whose volume on Fairy Tales I quickly bookmarked and read voraciously.   Books and reading were never pushed at us ... I remember Ralph getting caught with a flashlight reading under the covers at night .. so I must not be the only one that has a love of a good story.

As we got older, the books we read matured a bit I suppose.  I took up the Louis Lamour westerns that Dad read, the Harlequins that amused mom and the Agatha Christie books that used to keep her up late at night, spooked by strange noises.  Yea, those spooked me in turn.  Even now, give me a good detective story with fantasy characters, and I'm hooked.

Seems to me that the best way to get kids interested in reading is simply to be a reader.


For those of you not introduced to the delightful whimsy of Laughing Brook and the Green Forest, I give you an excerpt from "The Adventures of Old Mr. Toad."

Old Mother West Wind had just come down from the Purple Hills and turned loose her children, the Merry Little Breezes, from the big bag in which she had been carrying them. They were very lively and very merry as they danced and raced across the Green Meadows in all directions, for it was good to be back there once more. Old Mother West Wind almost sighed as she watched them for a few minutes. She felt that she would like to join them. Always the springtime made her feel this way,--young, mad, carefree, and happy. But she had work to do. She had to turn the windmill to pump water for Farmer Brown's cows, and this was only one of many mills standing idle as they waited for her. So she puffed her cheeks out and started about her business.
 

Jimmy Skunk sat at the top of the hill that overlooks the Green Meadows and watched her out of sight. Then he started to amble down the Lone Little Path to look for some beetles. He was ambling along in his lazy way, for you know he never hurries, when he heard some one puffing and blowing behind him. Of course he turned to see who it was, and he was greatly surprised when he discovered Old Mr. Toad. Yes, Sir, it was Old Mr. Toad, and he seemed in a great hurry. He was quite short of breath, but he was hopping along in the most determined way as if he were in a great hurry to get somewhere.

Now it is a very unusual thing for Mr. Toad to hurry, very unusual indeed. As a rule he hops a few steps and then sits down to think it over. Jimmy had never before seen him hop more than a few steps unless he was trying to get away from danger, from Mr. Blacksnake for instance. Of course the first thing Jimmy thought of was Mr. Blacksnake, and he looked for him. But there was no sign of Mr. Blacksnake nor of any other danger. Then he looked very hard at Old Mr. Toad, and he saw right away that Old Mr. Toad didn't seem to be frightened at all, only very determined, and as if he had something important on his mind.