Tuesday, May 10, 2016

#TwinTuesday


Mac has the world famous Poetry and Punch event on Friday.  Good news: he's 100% ready and has been reciting his poems for us nonstop.  Last night after dinner (vegan macaroni and cheese!  But, #truth, I sprinkled real cheese on top), he walked to the middle of the family room and did all four pages and two voices of "I am Phoenix" by Paul Fleischman straight-up from memory.

The skinny on Poetry and Punch is that the kids do an adorable and impressive program of poetry recitation and performance.  And then, parents also have to share poems from memory.  When Shef was a second grader, I recited a charming little ditty called "Nose Pickers."  I was feeling pretty good about myself, and then Dan brought the house down with "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air" by Willard C. Smith.

Show off.

This year, I've decided to write an original poem about Mac, who in his entire person just screams out to be the subject of a few lines of verse.  Yes, I sort of hated the parents who wrote original poetry when Shef did P & P (show offs), but I'm older and more mature now. Also, I've been writing poems with the sixth graders, so I'm all warmed up.  We'll see how this goes.

The #TwinTuesday today, then, is totally on-point.  It's two things that start with P - Poem (draft, in this case!) and Peas. Betcha want to see what Lee has!  I do, too.
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Monday, May 9, 2016

Annals of Poor Dog Ownership


Remember when I talked about how cute Teddy is and how everyone loves to stop and talk to us when we walk the neighborhood?  Well, I fear that will no longer be the case.  This is the story of what happened:

Everyone knows that doodles need extra coat maintenance.  They don't shed, which is a plus.  The trade-off then is that you have to brush your animal to limit tangles and mats.  Further, you have to bring him to a professional groomer to be clipped and otherwise beautified.

Sadly, I failed in these essential obligations, and Teddy became horribly matted.  By the time I got serious about the situation, the only solution was to have him shaved.  I told Liz the Groomer this much when we arrived at the pet salon.  Still, when I picked him up, she forced me to look at tangled dog shaped sweater of fur she'd removed from my animal.  "This is how bad it was," she said. I nodded and squinched up my mouth.  "Ugh," I said.  Then, she made me hear about how the mats were so terrible for his skin and how he was clearly suffering during the shave.  Obviously, I was so, so sorry.

"Oh my gosh," said Mac when he saw the damage.  "He's a rodent of unusual size!"

"He looks ridiculous," Dan keeps saying.

I will admit that the shorn tail is especially off-putting, but I'm hella grateful for the fresh start.  This time, everything's going to be perfect.  Teddy, I'll never fail you again.

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Friday, May 6, 2016

I'm Just Trying to Write Something


This is a story about writing my next review for Literary Quicksand. I'm reviewing a book I've been meaning to read for eons. It's called Between Shades of Gray, and it's by the daughter of a Lithuanian immigrant whose parents escaped to Germany and then to the United States before many of their friends and relatives were shipped off to labor camps during World War II.  The book is a big and important work about Stalin's hidden murders - the genocide of millions of Lithuanians, Estonians, and Latvians.

So, the issue is... I don't love the book.  I think I'm literally the only person not to love it.  The New York Times loves it.  The Horn Book loves it.  Even Harlan Coben, the author of several sub-par (in my own opinion, of course) mysteries, loves it.

My lack of love for the novel is making me feel bad about myself and question my legitimacy as a reader.  Like, maybe I just don't like historical fiction?  And isn't that kind of indicative of my lack of appreciation for everything that's come before?  And, is it shallow of me to want the writing to be more lyrical?  More surprising?  But who needs beautiful language in a book about mass murder?  What kind of monster am I, anyway?!

These are the crises I'm butting up against as I begin to write my review.  But, I want to assure you that I'll embrace the discomfort and write my review honestly and with a commitment to authenticity.  That's just the kind of reviewer I am, after all, and you can count on me.

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Thursday, May 5, 2016

I Was Wrong


This is a story about being wrong.  It doesn't happen very often, but sometimes I'm just... not right. Yesterday was one of those times.  

My brother Devin thought it would be rad if he and I took our shared mother out to dinner for her birthday, just the three of us without our spouses and children.  Also without our sister, but only because she's in Croatia.  "Yes," I said.  "Great idea." I found myself looking much forward to this adult night out, chatting and sipping beverages, and maybe ordering some appetizers.

Imagine my surprise then when Devin was like, "Yeah, so tomorrow.  I was thinking bowling!"

Bowling?!

It's widely known that I don't like fun.  "Well," I texted back, "I don't like fun, so I don't like bowling.  But I will bowl." In addition to not liking fun, I'm also generally agreeable.

Now to the part I was wrong about.  The bowling was supremely fun.  We had some dinner, including sweet potato fries (insanely fun), drank some house-made IPA (what's not fun about that?) and then we bowled.  I improved my score from 70 to 118 between rounds one and two.  I think we can all agree that's an excellent rate of improvement.  It's fun to improve, as it turns out.

I was wrong about the plan, and I'm glad I cooperated.

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Wednesday, May 4, 2016

#TwinTuesday


As I was setting up for this week's shoot (yes, on Wednesday morning - oops!), I dropped my box of toothpicks and watched all 700 or so scatter over the floor.  Thankfully, I took this as a moment to model calm for the seven year-old who had eyes on the scene.

"Shoot," I said,  mildly.

And then, I quickly realized my opportunity. I pulled out eight inches of tape measure and plopped it down right in the middle of the mess.  After the photo, I scooped up the useless picks and threw them in the compost.

That's right.  We have organics recycling now, free of charge thanks to the City of Minneapolis.

And this is the story of this week's #TwinTuesday photo.

I'm going to add in a bonus story about Grammar Camp, a ridiculous teaching ploy to which I've resorted.  Basically, we got behind in our grammar instruction and to make a week of lessons and practice more palatable, I've made it campy, complete with "campfire" songs.  I put that in quotes because I'm not actually making a fire in the classroom.  Duh.

Anyway, you might be shocked to know how many adult musicians have gone in for making and recording songs about grammar, mechanics, and punctuation topics.  There are hundreds to choose from.  My students' current favorite is this little ditty from the Grammarheads.  They're singing it in the hallways, and I can't stop them.  Enjoy.

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Monday, May 2, 2016

The Panoramic Picture



I'm telling a story a day in May, inspired by the Story-A-Day Challenge.  For that awesome endeavor, people are writing fiction.  I'm doing the same type of mostly-nonfictionish that I usually do here at Word Savvy.  Speaking of, did you notice I have a new URL?  Yes.  After 11 years here, I finally purchased my domain.  Somehow that seems momentous. 

In any case, here's the story of The Panoramic Photo.  For some reason each year, we parade out of the building, line up, and cheese for a panoramic photo that includes every person in the Middle School. Inevitably kids try to make funny and/or inappropriate hand gestures in the photo.  Each year, the photographer gives the same speech, "Hey," he'll say through his bullhorn, "this is a picture.  If you do something inappropriate we'll know it was you.  Not a good choice."  Still, as I look around, I see kids doing all kinds of ridiculous things - dabs, peace signs, random finger patterns - on three.  To combat this, the photographer always takes photos NOT on three.  Like, he'll say, "7, 6, THREE."

Ha ha. Gotcha kids.

You might be picking up on my feeling of ambivalence about the panoramic photo.  On the one hand, okay, it's a long photo and everyone's in it, except for the people who were sick.  But on the other hand, can't we find something better to do than try to make kids line up silently on the soccer field and invite their adolescent behaviors?

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Sunday, May 1, 2016

May Day


After a week of doom, gloom, broken furnace, and frigid rain, we're finally at 60-something and sunny here in Minneapolis.  I'm celebrating by adding new titles to my Little Free Library, which is a constant source of happiness in my life. 

In last week's newsletter, I asked for help choosing my next read from a pile of never-cracked books I've had stacked in my nightstand.  I got recommendations for The One and Only Ivan, Savage Detectives, and Some Luck.  The Dinner, on the other hand, got a terrible review in response to its photo, so I decided to let it go.  I'm certain someone will want it, and soon.  

In fact, just a second - let me go check.

Okay, here's the scoop: The Dinner is still there, but Go Set a Watchman is off to a new home.  I hope the new guardian doesn't mind the hundreds of terrible reviews that kept me from reading it, but unfortunately, not from buying it.

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