Some folks are complaining about American aid to Haiti and now Chile.  My initial thoughts:
It’s what neighbors do – we help one another.  If there is a death we make casseroles and baked goods.  If there is a birth we make blankets and booties.  If there is a graduation we write a check or give a dictionary.  If there is a disaster, we help rebuild.  It’s what we do.  We help our neighbors and friends, often regardless of how well we know them.  It’s what we do.
The world has become a smaller place.  Haiti is our neighbor.  Chile is our neighbor.  Afghanistan is our neighbor. (I am not going to the place where we seem to think that shooting our neighbors is a positive response.  Not now, anyway.)  Then I thought about how much international aid the United States received after Katrina.  Take a look at this:
http://www.nationmaster.com/graph/dis_hur_kat_int_aid_res-hurricane-katrina-international-aid-response
Our neighbors helped us.  They came.  They pledged money.  They sent doctors and divers and builders.  Our neighbors helped.  Our neighbors live farther away now than they did fifty years ago, but they are still our neighbors and we help one another.  That is who we are and it is who we should be.
And so it goes.

A snow day yesterday was a gift.  The library was actually closed and I got to stay home and do not much of anything.  The snow came and came and came.  We have two new feet and the only good part is that the gray and black sluch and muck is covered up with a new coat of paint.  The bad part is that I fell – again – and jarred the hell out of my back and neck.  I have a pounding headache this morning.  Whine.  Piss.  Moan.
I did make wonderful soup – homemade stock and chicken, carrots, celery, parsnips, onion.  I think it wanted tomatoes but no one like it when I do that.  Sigh.
Another earthquake!?  Tsunami watch?!  It feels petty to complain about a few feet of snow when I have hot soup and electricity and heat and coziness.  My heart aches for these people.  Would that I could bring a handful of them home and feed them.
And so it goes.

A glorious five days full of good friends and refreshing conversation.  I didn’t read much of anything but the paper and have decided that I should write grants for a living.  But that’s another post.  In fact, this short trip has provided fodder for about a week’s worth so I will spread them out and not try to write it all at once.  In between the conversation and laughter we saw The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1054606/
This was the movie being filmed when Heath Ledger died.  What a waste of a life and a loss to the cinematic world this young man’s death was!  The movie is wonderful.  Honest.  I don’t usually get farce and feel really stupid after seeing it but this one was hilarious.  I loved it enough to buy it because I think repeated viewings will allow me to pull back layers that I most certainly missed thie first time out.  The interweaving of various actors to fill in the blanks left by Ledger’s death were seamless and brilliant and I cannot imagine it done any other way.  Johnny Depp playing Heath Ledger playing a character was a sight to behold.  See it if you can.  I’d be interested in your thoughts as the film got ho hum reviews.
I missed it here, in this virtual cafe.  Sometimes it strikes me as odd to count as friends people I have never met and probably won’t in any “real” time.  But the rest of the time, most of the time, it doesn’t bother me one bit and feels as natural and normal as real time friends and compadres.
And now off to shower and the first bout of physical therapy and then the nose goes straight to the grindstone.  Ouch!
And so it goes.

I am away for 5 days for head clearing, old friends and Picasso. 
I shall return renewed and ready.
Must pack.
And so it goes.

“You’re only in control of how you say ‘No.’”  Sandra Bullock on Morning Edition today.  And when you say “No.”  Learning to say “No.”  It’s a two letter word.  How hard can it be?  Very.  And still, it is viewed by many as a crime to say, “Gosh.  No.  I won’t/can’t do this/that/the other thing.”  Learning to say “No.”  I’m still learning, learning to stop and think before I blurt out my knee jerk reaction of “Sure. I can/will do this/that/theother thing.”  It’s not a crime to say ‘no.’  It’s not a shame or a sin; nor does it need some justification or explanation.  It’s okay to say “No,” kindly, gently, firmly, not with anger or frustration or guilt, but simply and gently, “No.” 
I am learning to think of ‘no’ as a choice.  “I choose not to.”  That’s easier to say, somehow.  It requires thought to make a choice.  And choices should be thoughtful.  ‘No’ is choice.  A liberating one.  And I think once one learns to say ‘No’ that ‘Yes’ becomes more celebratory, more ecstatic, more “YES!”

And so it goes.

We had a junk food dinner last night – fish sticks and frozen macaroni and cheese and cheese and crackers and fruit.  The prepared stuff was the worst but in a household that does not consume much dairy at all, this morning is a little wonky that’s for sure.  Sometimes though you just have to remind yourself why you don’t eat like that anymore.

I watched Julie and Julia last night and loved it.  Streep is brilliant of course.  I don’t know why I heard a truckload of complaints about Amy Adams’ performance.  I thought she was wonderful and not at all whiny.  Maybe I am the one who is whiny and that character can’t hold a candle to my abilities in that area.  The film did make me want to work my way through Ms. Child’s cookbook.  It could be a project for next winter except I don’t eat beef or organ meats or lamb or …. But boning a duck sounds like fun.  And I love that she smelled everything before she purchased it.  Mmmmm.

The oxymoron of eating junk food and watching Julie and Julia is not lost on me.

The New England Town Meeting is a wonderful tradition that it was my privilege to witness annually during my high school years.  It was and remains a lesson of democracy in action.  As students we tended to pick one Town Meeting and attend the same for our tenure in high school.  I cannot remember the name of the village meeting I attended every February and indeed I am not sure it was in February.  What I do remember is that no matter what the issue there was one woman, always the same woman, who stood up and shouted quite loudly, “I’m against it!”  It didn’t sound like that though.  It can out as “Imma agin it!”  In fact her shouts were such a certainty that the phrase became a mantra through our small high school whether faculty and students attended that particular meeting or not.  That’s what the Republican Party reminds me of these days – that woman, large and unruly, dressed in a rather scruffy house dress shouting “Imma agin it!” It could be a proposition to give everyone healthcare or $200 or a better education and she would shout, “Imma agin it!”  She wouldn’t have a reason, just didn’t like it because it wasn’t her idea or it was someone’s idea and her life might change a little bit.  She might actually be able to buy a new house dress or learn that the good of the whole trumps her own self-interest.  Or it could be that she just liked to be against things.  The other thing I remember from that experience was that the potluck dinner was incredible.

For some reason this Village, the one I live in has a celebration on the beach in July and they call it Mardi Gras.  Yup.  Mardi Gras in July.  Go figure.  On Tuesday several folks celebrated the last day of indulgence before the meditation of Lent by wearing beads.  When told it was to celebrate Mardi Gras one student asked, “Why are you celebrating Mardi Gras NOW?  It’s in July.”  Head.  Bang.  Desk.

And so it goes.

It’s kind of fun to leaf through magazines and see what’s out there….

This looks like it might be kind of fun to play with.  Courtesy of Woman’s Day March 2010 – 10-second style using Happy Tape:

http://www.happytape.bigcartel.com/

Longing for spring made me believe I can grow it all!  This helped – from Body + Soul March 2010 – Six Veggies to Plant Now:

http://www.wholeliving.com/photogallery/six-seasonal-all-star-vegetables?lpgStart=1&currentslide=1&currentChapter=1#ms-global-breadcrumbs

Do It Yourself magazine is fun to wander through.  I didn’t love the color palette this month, but you might, and paint’s cheap so why not play around….

http://www.diyideas.com/

And still….Mental Floss remains one of my favorites.  There are too many little pieces to send individual links, so enjoy in the entire issue with your morning beverage:

http://www.mentalfloss.com/

And so it goes.

The coffee is strong and good this morning.  More snow fell in the night – light and soft – glistening on the earth’s floor.  It should be magical but frankly, I’ve had enough of this season.  February should be easy because it is so short.  It never has been for me.  Those twenty-eight days seem endless.  My mother hated March – the cruelest month according to the poet, but I will take those teasing days that promise spring if it will melt some of this stuff.
At almost 60, it seems silly to miss my mother, but I do.  There you have it.  I hear her voice as I sit here.  That is a comfort.
Random thoughts on a Tuesday that feels like a Monday.  Should I post this when I’ve nothing to say?  I suppose.  We seem to enjoy one another’s meanderings on this little virtual island that is Xanga.  Why do we stay on this one when most folks have moved to other parts? 
I watched Like Stars on Earth last night and cried.  I always do during those films of children overcoming challenges and the adults who help them and believe in them.
I am listening to Eat, Pray, Love read by the author and loving it.  I canot imagine what Hollywood will do with it and especially with Julia Roberts playing the part of the main character – the author.  I believe Roberts’ is more than just a pretty face and have watched her work with appreciation but I cannot imagine the book as a film.  If you haven’t read it you should before you see the film.  I have a bad feeling about the transposition into another medium.
I spent most of the weekend resting my back – going slowly.  I did however manage to change the cloth on the kitchen table and with the pale green placemats and flowered cloth it seems that I am ready for the lightness of spring.  The table makes me smile.  A single rose sits in a fruit jar.  It’s enough for now.
I should probably check the weather and see what the week holds.  Sigh.
Lunch to pack.  Work to do.
And so it goes.

OK, so maybe a book review about a teen angst book wasn’t the best choice for Valentine’s Day, a holiday I always forget.  Let me make it up to you today and throw a handful of picture books into the mix.

Mo Willems’ books are a delight.  Honest.  Especially when shared with young children.  The pigeon is right up there with that mischevious cat of hat fame.  However, when Mr. Wilems began writing beginning readers I was dubious – very – until I turned the first page of the first book and met Elephant and Piggie.  I roared.  Loudly.  Sitting at my desk.  As the tweens and teens looked up to shush me I passed the book around and giggled “Read this!”  They too, cynical little wretches that they are, laughed out loud.  The latest offering, Elephants Cannot Dance! is another raucous experience as Elephant really tries to find the grace and understanding to perform Piggies’ various dance moves.  Wilems’ deceptively simple illustrations and his ability to capture mood with a single stroke of the pen never ceases to amaze me.  These are books to share and share again.  Not even kidding!

I am not generally a huge fan of picture book biographies.  Usually I want more details and more gossip.  That being said, I genuinely enjoyed Barbara Kerley’s The Extraordinary Mark Twain According to Suzy.  Taken from Twain’s eldest daughter Suzy’s childhood biography of her father, the story delights and has a very real sense of Twain’s wry humor.  Edwin’s Fotheringham’s illustrations add depth and dimension to the text.  The addition of little books within the book are offer surprises on every spread.  Check this one out on your next trip to the library and look at Kerley and Frotheringham’s collaboration What to Do about Alice? while you’re at it.  P.S.  There’s a wonderful teacher’s guide on writing an extraordinary biography at the end of the Twain bio that might even help seniors get that pesky college essay out of the way.

Maybe you have to own and love a herding dog but I think Mircea Catusanu’s The Strange Case of the Missing Sheep is giggle inducing whether you do or not.  This twist on the wolf and the sheep and the dog tale is just entertaining and, well, twisted enough to engage the wiggliest listener and the details in the illustrations will keep everyone engaged in observation, laughs and page turning.  Being the proud owner of an Aussie mix who insists that all her sheep stay where they are supposed to, the portrait of Doug the sheep dog had me in stitches.  I swear if I ever get another one I’m naming him Doug. “Sheep!  Get in line!”  Yup.

I don’t know under which rock I’ve been living but I just met Fancy Nancy and she is too much fun!  Nancy loves to be fancy, never wearing a plain shirt when a glittery one is so much better and always properly accessorized.  The fact that her family isn’t fancy at all – they don’t even ask for sprinkles for heaven’s sake – frustrates her sparkly soul.  Lessons in fancy save the day and her loving and willing family pays rapt attention as Nancy sets out examples and lists.  If you haven’t met her yet, introduce yourself to Fancy Nancy with bows and formality the next time you visit your favorite book repository.  See!  I can be fancy too!

And so it goes.

I promised myself that I would catch up on book reviews and reading this weekend.  It’s at least something I can DO since spring won’t come and my body is being painfully uncooperative -still.

“It’s something I have come to call privately the kaleidoscope of crazy – shimmering and beautiful in certain lights, paisley and horrifying in others. …  I know him as well as myself and not at all.  All I can figure to do is hold on.  He is my only brother.”  After her brother Will attempts suicide in a very public way and not for the first time, Katie Kittrell is sent to boarding school to start a new life and do the only thing she feels she CAN do – swim.  Katie makes friends, keeps secrets, gets a boyfriend, loves her roommate, and generally behaves in a manner expected and acceptable to parents, peers and teachers.  But under the surface of her life is Will, always present, always there.  Katie loves him and hates him, holds on to him even as she tries to let go of him.  What moves this novel out of the realm of “typical teen angst/coming of age novel” is that love/hate relationship, the constant presence of Will in Katie’s life.  Warman does a brilliant job of drawing real characters and real situations.  Without sentimentality or saccharine she pulls the reader into Katie’s world and life.  It is only in the water that Katie can truly breathe.

Every once in a while one of the kids gets their hands on a book before I do and insists, with an insistence that is both annoying and demanding that I read this book right now and follows it up with days of “Have you finished it yet?”  Sometimes they are right on the money and Courtney was with this one.  Breathless is Jessica Warman’s debut novel and a beautiful one it is.