Archive for the 'books' Category

The Read-Aloud List

Sharon October 18th, 2011

I will finish my 150 Children’s books list one of these days, but one of the great things to do when times are tough, nights are late, power is out or when everything’s normal for that matter, is read to your kids.  If you don’t have any kids, I encourage you to borrow some if you can, because frankly, reading to children is one of the great pleasures of the universe.  There’s nothing like reading an old favorite (or one you never knew about) and watching someone discover it for the first time to make you happy.  If you don’t have any kids, reading aloud to a partner can be lovely as well, but  a small person snuggled on your lap is nice addition.

With my oldest at 11 1/2, I have now read My Side of the Mountain, the entire Little House series 3 times (and will shortly embark on the fourth), Winnie the Pooh and the Mary Poppins Series four times.  We’re still discovering new books to read and re-read, but I thought I’d mention some of the best, including a few less obvious ones than the classics above.   I’ll also mention a few classics we’ve had less than total success with, although, of course, your mileage may vary.

Every kid in my house gets a story at bedtime (sometimes both of us reading simultaneously) most nights, and the range of preferences is pretty large.  Isaiah likes animal stories and  adventure, Simon likes everything, especially stories that seem real to him,  Eli loves poetry and Asher jumps back and forth (at nearly six) between picture books and chapter books, and has a taste for magic and fantasy.

Good books and good read-alouds are different, I find.  There is considerable overlap between them, of course, but some books that aren’t quite as compelling read to yourself are fabulous read-alouds if you hit them at the right moment in childhood, and some wonderful classics aren’t ideal read-alouds unless you do considerable on-the-fly editing.  Different families will have different opinions, of course, but I find a few ingredients make books especially good for reading out loud.  Many of them come from the virtue that for most of us, reading out loud slows you down, and forces you not to skim over anything.  As a fast reader, what I find is that I am required to take full notice of parts of the book that I might not attend to fully were I not simultaneously reading (or listening to Eric read) and listening.

1. A certain kind of dry humor.  There are some books that are simply funniest when you read the jokes out loud.  My favorite example of this is _Cheaper by the Dozen_ where much of the humor involved is most effective when you hear it read – even the reader will find it funnier that way.  _Three Men in a Boat_ which incredibly wonderful anyway, is another book where simply slowing down to read it out loud makes the comedy more effective.

2. High adventure of a certain sort – storms on boats, pirates, sword fights, horseback races, etc… all demand to be read aloud in minute and meticulous detail – every sword slash or adventure is detailed.  For someone reading silently to themselves, it can be hard to fully savor every detail in the way you can when voices and description beg to be read outloud.  _Treasure Island_, Howard Pyles _Adventures of Robin Hood_ and _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ are obvious examples, but this is, of course, one of the appeals of the Harry Potter books and books like _The Tale of Despereaux_ as well.

3. Certain kinds of style and language.  There isn’t one kind of writing style that is suited to being read out loud to children – wonderful children’s books come in all sorts.  At the same time,  it is harder to hide weaknesses of style when reading aloud than reading to oneself.  I know for example, that I wept at _Black Beauty_ as a girl.  I made a stab at reading it out loud to my kids, however, and we were all bored stiff.  Some children’s books substitute extensive description for good description, frankly.  Particularly for younger children (or for everyone when it is well done) I’m partial to a certain unadorned quality in my language – just good, clean, elegant bare prose (of the kind I never write myself, sadly).  Laura Ingalls Wilder (particularly in _Little House in the Big Woods_ which was the book of hers least amended by her daughter), Robert Heinlein (whose juvenalia like _Have Space Suit Will Travel_ makes for delightful read alouds) and Patricia MacLachlan are all very different practitioners of the art of producing amazingly clean prose for children.  When the writing is more elaborate and stylized, there’s a certain flow and grace to it that allows for good reading – why children who don’t really understand all the words can enjoy _Ivanhoe_ or _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ or _Robinson Crusoe_.  There are some children’s book authors who really have this gift down – Sterling North, E. Nesbit and Jane Yolen can be counted on for stylized prose universally perfect for reading aloud.

I do have one rule for reading children’s books – never assume you want to read a sequel – and never start a book with a thousand sequels unless you are ready to read the other ones.  I admit, my children’s passion for the _Redwall_ books has worn me down some – they are all exactly the same, and while one is delightful, nine is not better.  Also, beware the tagged on sequel – _Ella of All of a Kind Family_ (the last of Sidney Taylors series about a Jewish family in WWI era NY), _The First Four Years_ , _Jo’s Boys_ and all the books after the second Anne Shirley book get old pretty fast for the reader.  Some children are content to say “ok, this isn’t very good, let’s stop” others must complete a sequence.  It certainly won’t kill me to read books I find dull, and I do (and hey, it is better than the years of reading _Green Eggs and Ham_ nine times a day, or worse when Eli at about a year had to read the thrilling cliff-hanger _Who Says Quack?_ over and over again), but it can save someone some trouble to establish a stopping point early on.

The Birchbark House by Louise Erdrich  A wonderful, charming, funny book about growing up among the 19th century Ojibwe.  Frankly, if I was going to read the _Little House_ series, with its problematic relationships to Native Americans and westward expansion, I thought it was important that my kids read books that were just as compelling and brilliant about the Native Experience – and this is a glorious book to balance the expansionist, manifest destiny narrative that underlies so many westward bound children’s books.  Elizabeth Speare’s _The Sign of the Beaver_ is another good one.

Understood Betsy by Dorothy Canfield Fisher.  We first read this on a car trip into Vermont (if you can read in a car without getting sick  (I can, Eric can’t)  and have an adult or teen to do so, it is a wonderful way to make trips pass) and read the entire book.  It is a wonderful story for younger kids about a little girl who has been denied competence by her loving aunts, and who gains it when she comes to live with a Vermont farm family.  Simon has asked us to read this several times, even though he’s really a bit too old for it, because it is so beloved.

Snow Treasure by Marie McSwigan  There is no real evidence that this ever happened, but that doesn’t change the fact that the story of young Norwegian children sneaking gold past Nazis on their sleds isn’t just one of the most enjoyable children’s books out there.  I adored it as a child, and after reading it out loud to my sons, it received the encomium “It is just too short.”  It also has a somewhat unique narrative in that this is a story not about children shedding the adults in their lives, or about malicious or foolish adults, but about adults and children of both genders working in tandem together, and respecting each other’s capacities.

Rascal by Sterling North  I loved this book as a child, and particularly enjoyed reading it to my sons.  Isaiah, especially adored the stories, which are tinged with both nostalgia and sorrow, and regard the adult world with a critical eye that I think resonates with children.  Rascal is Sterling North’s pet racoon, and his stories of growing up in a world only marginally touched by adults are glorious.  This is the ideal animal story book.

Meet the Austins by Madeline L’Engle.  My kids liked here Wrinkle in Time and the Murray/O’Keefe series a lot, but somehow the Austins, without the science-fictiony details have appealed to them more, perhaps because they feel very real.  We picked this one because it deals with some of the issues of adding difficult children to your life, but it also is a book that simply describes what it is like to be a kid in an unusual family very well.  Unfortunately, most of the sequels deal with Vicky Austin’s love life and aren’t of any particular interest to my boys, all of whom are too young to regard that as anything but revolting.

Captains Courageous I admit, I’ve often Kippled. I like Kiping’s children’s literature quite a lot, and this is my favorite – perhaps because I grew up along the New England coast in a family that included a number of fishermen, I have a taste for boat literature.  We’re working our way on this now, and loving every second of it.  This is the perfect children’s adventure story in many ways.

Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis – my sons loved this story of Great-Depression era wanderings of an orphaned Michigan boy seeking to find his father.  Through tent cities, bad foster homes and into the jazz world, Bud is just a delightful character and again, very real seeming.

Some failures:

The Swiss Family Robinson I remember liking this one, but my kids hated it.  Besides the heavy handed Christian moralism, which didn’t bother me as a kid, but does annoy my children, their main objection was the perfectly correct statement “but every time they see a new animal, they shoot it.”  Plus, they correctly thought that it was too convenient that everything anyone could want was always available on the ship.

On to Oregon by Honore Morrow.  You know, I’m a big proponent of addressing the problems of racism and sexism in older children’s books by discussion, rather than demanding that all great books be untroubling in those regards.  At the same time, there are a few books we’ve taken a shot at that turned out to be so appallingly racist without having much else to redeem them that I simply couldn’t read them.  _On to Oregon_ was one of them – the “all indians should be murdered” rhetoric is just to revolting to bother with.  I found _Half Magic_ (which I’d loved as a kid) and _Hitty: Her First 100 Years_ to also be simply without sufficient virtue to justify working through the worldview they arose from.

Heidi by Johanna Spyri  I’ve never been able to get my kids into this, even though they should like the goats, the reasonably light-handed German romanticism and the story.  I admit, when I was a kid I kind of skimmed lightly over the long section about Heidi’s exile in the city myself, preferring her life on the mountain, but my children just got bored there and started to wander off.  I don’t think it is the gender thing (plenty of books about girls in our repetoir, giving the lie to the claim that boys won’t read about girls – although if they start kissing, boys or girls are right off Simon and Isaiah’s list), and I’m not sure what it is.

This is only a partial list of some of our favorites, but perhaps you’ll have suggestions of your own!

Sharon

Quick Update

Sharon August 18th, 2011

Just to keep you all updated, we learned yesterday that the children’s social worker has decided to separate the children, and place them in three homes.  Two will stay with the current foster mother, one with one home, and they are seeking a home for one child and the newborn – since we will take larger groups than two and there are very few homes that do so, they don’t want us to take those two, saving us for a larger group.  I admit, I’m relieved not to have to make a decision about taking these kids – it isn’t the numbers, so much as the ages – I realized about myself that while I would happily take a baby, we really would prefer to work mostly with a slightly older group.  That said, it would have been very hard for us to say no if we were their only chance at staying together, and otherwise were a good fit.

As much as I’m relieved that my gut intuition that this wasn’t the group for us didn’t come up against any actual decisions (and as much as I’m grateful that it isn’t my job to make decisions that hard about small children!), I’m terribly sad for the kids who are losing each other.  Unfortunately, of course, that kind of sad happens all the time, but it doesn’t make it better.  The only consolation is that at some point some other larger group that would have been separated will be able to stay together.  But oh, how sad for them.

This was a really good experience for us, in a lot of ways.  It revealed several things we hadn’t actually figured out before – when faced up with the decision, it was useful to know them.  First, we found out how much both of us really secretly want a daughter or two out of this.  When we first talked about it, Eric and I both said that we were wholly contented with our boys, and that in some ways, it would be easier to take a sibling group that was male.  We even talked about submitting our homestudy for a legally-free group of three boys available downstate, although our homestudy wasn’t done before they were placed.

Despite all that,  most larger groups are mixed gender.   We expressed no gender preference in our homestudy, but we did sort of have in our head that once we got up to three or four, there probably would be a girl.  One of the possible scenarios we were being asked to consider had us taking three of the kids, and not the only girl – and we both had to admit that while three more boys would be entirely wonderful once we got our head around it, we both sort of wished that there was a girl included.  I don’t think either of us had realized (although I probably should have gotten a clue when I went to goodwill and bought a range cheap girl clothes in a large range of sizes so that I’d have some if we got an emergency placement – some girls are fine with wearing boy clothes, some mind, and I didn’t want to have nothing pretty for a girl who needed something new – but I’m not sure I needed quite so many things ;-) ) that we’d allowed ourselves to dream about a daughter.  I don’t think that means that we wouldn’t accept an all boy group, and with enthusiasm, but it was good to talk about the images we have in our heads.

It is funny, because for years I wasn’t aware of any desire for a daughter – I love my boys, I love having a big group of sons and in many ways, I think I’m a really good boy Mom.  I was never disappointed when I learned I was having boys (actually I was sure from the beginning with everyone).  Eric initially wanted a little girl, but by the third boy had gotten over it, and was happy to have more boys.  The big revelation of this isn’t “we’d only take a group with girls in it” but “sometimes you have dreams that you aren’t even fully aware of.”

The other thing that was useful was that this was a good reminder of one of my own worst failings – intellectualizing things I don’t especially want to do and talking myself into them.  Sometimes this is a good quality, when there’s a strong moral case to be made for doing the thing you don’t enjoy – and this may have even been one of those times.   But over the years, I’ve periodically made major, and inevitably mistaken life decisions because they made rational sense, even if at a gut level, they didn’t seem right.  Many years ago, we almost bought a house that in retrospect, we all would have hated, because it seemed to have so many rational good qualities.  Fortunately, the friend we were purchasing with (this is many, many years ago) backed out – again, to my sudden relief.

In the end, we’re probably only going to take one sibling group (hopefully, but at least one at a time) – that is, we’re not going to be able to save all the kids in the world, and we know that intellectually.  That means that we might as well trust our instincts – historically speaking, whenever I talk myself into things, I usually am making a mistake – but I suspect  I will know when a match feels right.  I would like to go into this with more enthusiasm and energy than I could have gone into this particular arrangement.

It is hard to say that those things are necessary – thousands of kinship placements begin in ambivalence “I thought I was done with children…but they are my grandkids.”  Most foster placements begin too little knowledge for enthusiasm – “Sure, three kids, you think they are all boys but haven’t checked the little one’s diapers, yes it is 1 am, ok, c’mon over…”   I don’t have to have those feelings to take children – and I know that you can grow to love children you don’t start out loving.  Unlike those who at the moment of birth felt instant adoration, I remember looking at Eli after my long labor with a “Ok, he’s pretty interesting, but I don’t adore him or anything yet.”  Love came along somewhere later in the process.

In this scenario, however, it was necessary –  I could have imagined my pushing harder, telling the social worker not “I would need X and Y more information, and then may we would consider it” but “I really want these kids, and would like you to think about placing them together with us, because they sound right.”  In that case, they might have kept them together (or not).  This time that didn’t happen – but I suspect I will know when it is right. I just have to listen, and pray for happy homes for those children I didn’t know but who might have been.

I know I owe y’all some content, and you’ll be getting it, but not today ;-) .. In other news, I’ve agreed to push up the deadline for _Making Home_ my adapting-in-place book to this fall (since I’ve got all this free time now ;-) ), and the book will be available next spring!  So there’s some good news!

Sharon

Hey, Check this Out!

admin July 19th, 2011

I’m a great admirer of FEASTA (Foundation for the Economics of Sustainability), and was pleased and flattered to see a review of Depletion and Abundance. Check it out!

What used to be called “women’s work” or “home economics” will and must gain respectability and appreciation. Astyk notes that women have “historically inhabited the space of private life where food, clothing, cooking and childrearing were the work of women, and that men inhabited “public life — the world of economics and politics and other ‘important things.” Women’s work was devalued and still is. Many still believe that the clarion call for change in light of the serious challenges we face today are only resolvable in the big public arena of government and economy, in the world of men. This devaluation of domestic work and the private life of women essentially, she argues, perpetuates the belief that “private actions have minimal public consequences.” Yet, she admonishes, it is women and “women’s work” that will spearhead real change, and the subsistence economy or “informal economy” as opposed to the formal or official economy (“where the rich of the world live”) will take on increasing importance as a source of sustenance in our everyday lives.

How cool is that?

Sharon

Angelina’s Ark Excerpt – Fiction

admin March 17th, 2011

I’m not moving to any farm.

Daddy Ham says we’re going home for good, and that things will be better there for all of us.  They don’t have worry so much about money there.  We’ll have good food. It will be cooler, and safer.  When the power goes out, people up there live too far apart to smash things and fight.  It will be home.

It will never be home.

Papa James says that he knows there have been lots of changes, but that I have to be brave for Grace.    Gramma says she’ll miss me but we’ll visit and won’t it be wonderful to live in the country with all that wonderful fresh food and animals.   Grammy Rose says she’s proud of how adaptable and brave I am.  Uncle Reg says I should eat a ripe red tomato for him.  Nanny says she can’t wait a minute until we get here, that the chickens need me to collect eggs and that I can have a lamb to take care of for my own.  Grandpa Noah says “Right” when Nanny says all that, but I don’t think he is really listening.  Moses is jealous of us, and signed that he wishes he could go to the farm.  I told him I wish it too – he can go instead of me.

I’m still not moving to any stupid farm.  I don’t want to touch eggs that came out of a chicken’s butt.  Lambs poop everywhere – everything on a farm poops all the time.  There are tomatoes in the supermarket, and Grammy Rose grows them on her balcony.  And I don’t want to leave my home and my school and Gramma and Grammy Rose and go where there’s nothing but trees and white people.  I don’t see why we have to.

Papa James still has a job, at least some of the time, although they don’t call him out to work so much anymore at the hospital.  Daddy Ham hasn’t been working, but he could get a job any day now – this is Atlanta, there are lots of jobs here, right?

Besides, when they adopted us, they promised the judge that they would always act in the best interest of the children.  I told Papa James that moving all the way to a farm in freezing cold New York was not in my best interest, and that maybe the judge would come and take me away.  I didn’t mean it though, about going back, and I think he knew, because he laughed and told Daddy Ham what I’d said.

Daddy Ham feels worse about it than Papa James, I know, because even though he laughed too, just for one moment he looked really upset.  Grace is excited about the farm, and she’s so little that she doesn’t really remember before we were all a family, or understand why Nanny and Grandpa Noah are different.  But I know Daddy Ham knows that this isn’t fair to me.

“Angie, we’re going to lose the house.  We can’t pay for it anymore.”  He looks miserable, and I feel a little bad about it, but I still don’t want to go.

Daddy Ham is really thin and not too tall – I’m only twelve and I already come up to his nose.  He has really dark blue eyes with pale skin and a ton of curly dark hair and glasses, and he’s the one who takes everything seriously and worries a lot.  Papa James jokes and calls it “neurosis” and says it is a “Scottish-Jewish thing,” but I don’t really know what that means.

“We could live with Grammy Rose – that’s what Uncle Reg is doing – you can have Grammy Rose’s office for you and Papa James, and Grace and I can sleep on the floor in the room with Uncle Reg.

“No, honey, there’s not enough room for you girls.  And if I could, I’d take Grammy Rose and Uncle Reg and everyone with us.  That neighborhood isn’t really safe anymore and it gets hotter every year, so hot it makes Grammy Rose sick sometimes.  And Uncle Reg doesn’t have a job either.  We need a good, safe place for you girls to grow up and be safe and healthy, and the farm is the right place.

I get nervous because Daddy Ham looks like he’s going to cry again.  I heard him once say to Papa James when he thought Grace and I were watching tv that he felt like a jerk because he couldn’t support his kids anymore.   Then he cried and I didn’t know what to do, so I just pretended I was watching my show.  But I kept feeling like I was supposed to do something, and it made me want to throw up inside.

I almost asked him if maybe I could stay with Gramma for a while, but I didn’t.  And I know that she’d say no anyway.  She always says that if she could have taken us girls, she would have, but it is hard for her even to take care of Moses with her knees and her eyes, and the place she lives is really just for old people.  Most of the folks there aren’t happy that even Moses is there. They get mad at him if he jumps or runs, and it is a lucky thing that he can’t make much noise anyway because he can’t hear, or they’d probably kick him out and Gramma too.  It’s only because she’s so nice to the boss guy that runs everything that she can even keep Moses.  Once, and she told me it was a grown up secret, she said that she only took Moses because he wouldn’t have made it in foster care, and she knew Grace and I would be ok.

I told my friend Mikky that I had to move away, and she said I could come live with her and her Mom, but I don’t think that’s real, and I didn’t even bother telling Daddy Ham.  Nobody ever really means it when they say you can come live with them when you are just friends.  People only do that when they really, really want a kid, like Papa James and Daddy Ham, or when they are your family, and lots of times not even then.  Those people in the foster homes who said I could stay a long time never really meant it.

When we were playing video games I told Mikky everything I remembered about the farm and the mountain.  How there are only six neighbors on the whole road up the mountain.  How Nanny is nice, I guess, but Grandpa Noah doesn’t really seem to like kids, and he talks in another language a lot and prays all the time.  Nanny says he talks more to God than he does to people sometimes.   About the animals that are always pooping (which made Mikky giggle) and about the dirt that always needs digging, and all the work, and how Grandpa and Nanny were trying to get us excited about these boring little packages of seeds.  About how Uncle Jeff lives in a trailer with a little house built on the side that looks like he put it together out of old junk.

Mikky was sad I was leaving, but she was a little jealous too – she said she’d never been to a farm and kept asking me about the baby goats and sheep and rabbits and whether they were cute.  She asked if maybe she could come visit me, and I said sure, but I don’t think she could buy a train ticket, since she’s a free lunch kid just like me, and her Mom won’t let us play at my house anyway, cause Daddy and Papa are that thing that isn’t in the Bible. I don’t really think she’d let Mikky stay overnight with us.

I went home after that, and Grace was sick again and Daddy Ham was helping her with her inhaler, and the house was full of boxes, and Papa James gave me a couple and told me to start packing my stuff.  I got mad and said I didn’t want to go and didn’t want to pack, and that he was just like everyone else, telling me to pack up my stuff and leave again.  He told me to get to work packing and save the drama for later, that we had work to do.

Papa James is very tall and strong, and he’s really dark, almost as dark as me, and much darker than Grace whose father  was white anyway, at least I think so.  He spends all day at the hospital lifting sick people and taking care of them, and he’s got big muscles and a very quiet voice.  He’s older than Daddy Ham, going gray a little bit, and where I sometimes mess around with Daddy Ham and don’t always listen to him and try and make him mad, I don’t usually try and make Papa James mad, because it seems like if he got mad, it might be for real.  With Daddy Ham you always know that he’s going to forgive you and not stay mad, but I don’t know about Papa James.

This time I really wanted to make him mad, so I told him that the boxes were just like the garbage bags all the social workers used to make us pack our stuff up in, and he was treating me like trash too by making me move after he said we could stay.  The I said that he and Daddy Ham were just like Miss Edie.  I was really yelling by then.  That was the meanest thing I could think of to say, since they both knew that we had to be taken out of Miss Edie’s house really fast after she smacked Grace in the face so hard she left a mark and twisted my arm hard when I tried to fight her to keep her from getting at Grace.  Miss Edie’s was the next-to-last place we were before we came to their house and finally, we thought, got to stay.

Papa James looked really mad at that, and I thought for a minute he might hit me, even though he didn’t move. I was ready to run into my room though and lock the door, just in case, even though neither Papa nor Daddy has ever hit me, and they promised they wouldn’t ever.  Lots of people did, though, even though they always said they wouldn’t do it, or do it again, and I figure better safe than sorry, so I got ready to run.

But Papa James didn’t even yell, and when I turned like I was going to run away from him his face changed and he didn’t look mad anymore,  just sad.  I saw Daddy Hamish standing in the doorway, looking at me like he was worried about me or something, but he didn’t say anything.  Papa James just put down the boxes and sat down and told me to sit too.  He told me that this was not the same thing as when Grace and I were foster kids, that he was sorry if it made me feel bad to move, but this was everyone going together, that he and Daddy Ham would never go anywhere without me, and that sometimes you all have to do the best thing for your whole family even if it is really hard.

He talked to me about things that I sort of know about – about no rain and why everything gets hotter and dryer ever y year, and the diseases he sees people in the hospital with that never used to be here.  He talked about jobs, and being afraid there won’t be enough food for us, and how hard it is to find work.  He talked about things being dangerous, and oil, which I didn’t really understand.

I didn’t mean to cry, but I did, a little bit, and I yelled that my whole family was here, and I was leaving everyone – and that I couldn’t go away from Moses, because my whole family doesn’t live in one house, and I have to take care of my little brother even if we don’t live together, because Gramma can’t really. What will Moses do when the other kids are mean to him without me to tell them to go to hell?

“Oh, Angelina!” Now Daddy Hamish came over and got down on his knees and put his arms around me, even though I don’t usually like to be hugged, because I’m too old.  I let him this time.  “Oh, sweetie.”

He looked up at Papa James like he was about to ask him a question, but he didn’t.  And then Papa James nodded anyway, as though he already had, and Daddy Hamish told me something amazing.

“Honey, we can’t take Moses with us right now, because your Grandmother wants him to finish out his year at the school for the deaf, but we’ve been talking to Etty and to Moses’s social worker, and we want to bring Moses with us too – to have him as part of our family.    It isn’t definite, but you are right, it isn’t fair for your family to be in so many places, and we want Moses to be part of our family.  We’re going to move now because we need a place that isn’t going to be foreclosed on anyway, to adopt him, or they wouldn’t let us but once we get back to the mountain, we’re all going to start getting ready for Moses to come.”

I admit, I’d been hoping since the very first day they told me that they wanted to keep Grace and me forever that eventually they’d take Moses too, but except for once, a long time ago at the beginning, when they’d said they couldn’t, I never asked.  It isn’t smart to ask for too much. They might be just telling me what I want to hear, or maybe they’ll forget about Moses when we’re gone.  It still leaves Gramma here, and everyone else.  My family still isn’t all one piece.   I  feel a little better, though.  A little.

_Prelude_ Circulation and Apprentice Weekend

Sharon December 20th, 2010

I broke my little toe this weekend, which I mention because while it is completely unimportant (the only things you can do about broken toes is tape and whine, I’m good at both ;-) ), I’m using it as an excuse to take some time off this week and post lightly over the next couple. Don’t ask me to explain how a broken toe affects my ability to type, or why I’m using it as an excuse to spend more time on my feet baking cookies and cleaning house instead of sitting quietly at the computer. It makes no sense, but after a busy, hectic first half of the month, i figure the majority of my readership is probably too tired too to notice the logical inconsistencies. So while I will post the second part of my review of The Witch of Hebron and my 2011 predictions and probably some other stuff when the spirit moves, I’m going to be quieter than usual since everyone else is going on vacation too, and because I have a perfect, if incoherent excuse. If it helps, I give you all official permission to use excuses that make no sense either for things. Try it out! “Sorry, I can’t come to the office Christmas Party because there’s a llama in my parlor” or “I forgot to get you a present because spleen’ might actually be more satisfying than the real answers.

Meanwhile, I do have two announcements. First, the first three people to request our round robin copies of Kurt Cobb’s _Prelude_ (kindly donated by Kurt to make it possible that low income folks with no copies at their library get to join in next month’s book club selection) be sent to them (send me an email at jewishfarmer@gmail.com and I’ll hook you up with the person who had it last) will get it – the first round of readers is done with it. I’ll post a “they are taken” update on this post after the first three, but won’t respond to all requests, so if you don’t hear back, try again when I announce the next round.

Second, over Martin Luther King weekend in January, I’m going to run my second annual winter Apprentice weekend. Last year 10 of us gathered at my house in upstate New York to talk, eat, knit (or whatever) and to learn woodstove cooking, livestock care, goat milking, herbs, and a host of other projects. It was a blast, and I made some wonderful friends, so I’m very excited about doing it again. Cost of the weekend is by donation, and I have one for someone who would like to barter for a spot in the class by doing some dishes and general help keeping things from all going to pot ;-) . I’ll ask everyone to bring some food and help with meals. Weekend begins Friday evening and ends on Sunday, and the exact agenda will emerge once the participation is in – I’m hoping we’ll make cheese, run a mini-adapting in place class and share a lot of knowledge as well as a host of other things. This is an adult weekend, although obviously parents that can’t be parted from nursing infants are welcome to bring them. I will be running a family weekend in May, that people are welcoem to bring their kids to, but this is for grownups (mostly because it is January and the thought of a bunch of cranky kids stuck in the house doesn’t seem super compatible with the adults doing anything useful ;-) ). I can house quite a few people at my place – last year everyone was able to stay with me, but there are also local hotels and bed and breakfasts I can hook you up with. Email me at jewishfarmer@gmail.com if you’d like to come to my place for a weekend and join us!

Sharon

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