“I sent a message to the fish:
I told them ‘This is what I wish.’

The little fishes of the sea,
They sent an answer back to me.

The little fishes’ answer was
‘We cannot do it, Sir, because –‘

‘I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,’ said Alice.
‘It gets easier further on,’ Humpty Dumpty replied.

‘I sent to them again to say
‘It will be better to obey.’

The fishes answered, with a grin,
‘Why, what a temper you are in!’

I told them once, I told them twice:
They would not listen to advice.

I took a kettle large and new,
Fit for the deed I had to do.

My heart went hop, my heart went thump:
I filled the kettle at the pump.

Then some one came to me and said
‘The little fishes are in bed.’

I said to him, I said it plain,
‘Then you must wake them up again.’

I said it very loud and clear:
I went and shouted in his ear.’

Humpty Dumpty raised his voice almost to a scream as he repeated this verse, and Alice thought with a shudder, `I wouldn’t have been the messenger for anything!’

‘But he was very stiff and proud:
He said, ‘You needn’t shout so loud!’

And he was very proud and stiff:
He said ‘I’d go and wake them, if — ‘

I took a corkscrew from the shelf:
I went to wake them up myself.

And when I found the door was locked,
I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked .

And when I found the door was shut,
I tried to turn the handle, but –‘

There was a long pause.

`Is that all?’ Alice timidly asked.

`That’s all,’ said Humpty Dumpty. `Good-bye.'”

— “Through the Looking Glass,” by Lewis Carroll

“Tomatoes and oregano make it Italian; wine and tarragon make it French. Sour cream makes it Russian; lemon and cinnamon make it Greek. Soy sauce makes it Chinese; garlic makes it good.”

–Alice May Brock, author (1941-)

“When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it, always.”

— Mahatma Gandhi

Happy now?

You know, it would help if the Oregon Live site, you know. Worked. If it was easier to navigate, if the keywords for searches actually took you to the articles you were seeking. If the links didn’t go dead after two weeks. Anyway.

Now comes Anna Griffin, with an article titled “The Inner State of Interstate.” Do tell, Ms. Griffin — how would you describe my neighborhood after spending two hours here?

“Undeniably ugly,” she says (that’s her lead.)

“From the driver’s seat, Interstate Avenue looks like just another long stretch of urban landscape — busy, cluttered and, at times, undeniably ugly.”

That’s sweet, honey. Glad you could stop by.

Next? She compares it to a petri dish. Awesome! The phrase she was looking for was “melting pot.” (Editor: “But we need something more… more… original than melting pot…” Reporter, eager to please: “Petri dish?” Editor: “Good!”)

“On foot, however, Interstate is much more — a vast social petri dish where Caucasians, African Americans, first-generation immigrants from Fiji and third-generation Polish Americans do business side by side; where senior citizens, young families and newly arrived hipsters mingle over coffee and antique furniture.”

No Mexicans, though. (Yes, there are Hispanic-owned businesses in my neighborhood — she even interviews the owners of Jesusito grocery, where “neighborhood folks” shop, according to Griffin. See? We all get along.)

“With all this uncertainty, it’s no wonder the people of North Interstate Avenue are feeling a lot of things these days — and happy is not among them.”

Kent Brockman: “‘Twas the night before Christmas, and in this house a creature *was* stirring. But the only thing he was stirring was: up trouble.” — The Simpsons, “Homer the Vigilante”

The street history? It’s called Interstate Avenue because the street leads to the Interstate Bridge, connecting Oregon to Washington. Although this has been corrected in the online version of the article, there was nothing in the print edition about the street’s original name, North Patton Avenue (after landowner Matthew Patton). (Old-timers still call it Pacific Highway, or 99W.)

Hockey God is blogging over at MetBlogs now, in case you were wondering what he has going on. Stop by and tell him hey.

How will this affect his hockey game, is my question.

“Preservation of one’s own culture does not require contempt or disrespect for other cultures.”

— Cesar Chavez, Mexican-American labor activist and leader of the United Farm Workers

Reviewed today:

Well, well, well. What should appear recently in the Wacky Mailbox but “How The Grinch Stole Christmas!” by our dear Dr. Seuss (Random House, 52 pages, $14). (Yes, I know it’s too early for Christmas for some of you. Please bookmark this page and come back in a month.) The story of the Grinch is fifty this year — how can that be? That makes Cindy-Lou Who fifty-two. Yikes. And her anntennas are still so darn cute.

We received the “Party Edition,” which means, “brand-new clean and no Christmas cooky crumbs.” My favorite page? This one:

“And the one speck of food
That he left in the house
Was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse.”

Wacky Girl’s favorite page? The last one, of course:

“…HE HIMSELF…!
The Grinch carved the roast beast!”

We also received a commemorative Christmas ornament, which is just about perfect, and as if that weren’t enough, a copy of “How The Grinch Stole Christmas! The 50th-Anniversary Retrospective” (by Dr. Seuss and Charles D. Cohen, 85 pages, $24.99). My son is partial to this brand-new edition, but he cannot have it, it is all Mama’s. It contains everything a Grinch addict like myself could possibly want, including info on his international appeal (he’s der Grinch in Germany, il Grinch in Italy and o Grinch in Brazil, did you know?), details about the route Dr. Seuss (aka Theodor Geisel) took in creating the Grinch (he wanted to combine Santa, his reindeer, the Stork, the Sandman and the Boogeyman — why mess around with so many characters when one would do?), and background on how Chuck Jones storyboarded the book. The old drawings are spectacular.

These are both great additions to my, I mean, our Christmas book collection — I think you’ll enjoy both copies as well.

I heard about “The Book of Story Beginnings,” by Kristin Kladstrup (Candlewick Press, 360 pages) when my daughter read it for the first time, when it was released last year. Her review went something like this:

“There’s this kid, Oscar, and he uses a magic potion and a book, The Book of Story Beginnings, to make an ocean appear. In Iowa. In Iowa!! Mom, there’s no ocean in Iowa!”

I told her I’d love to read it, too, but then someone else had it on hold, I forgot to reserve it again and you know. It’s a year later. But we’re finally re-reading it — it’s as fantastic and magical as she told me.

Now, Wacky Girl:

“It’s interesting, because Oscar turns into a cat, and then turns back into a boy and wooooooooooooo… woo-woo! Ha ha ha. Erase that woooooooooooo ha ha ha part, okay?”

(me: “No.”)

“And my favorite part is when they ride on the boat to…”

Yes, the ocean comes back, along with Oscar. Now, I must stop her because this book — I am not going to spoil this book for you. The plot? Amazing. The writer? It’s her first book and she gives us this? More, more, more. The writing about writing? I love writing about writing. I love a book within a book, a play within a play, a poem within a poem. The characters? Well-developed. The heroine’s parents? Always in a fight. (One of the biggest conflicts in the book is how the heroine, Lucy, grapples with how much she should do independently and when (and how???) she should ask her parents or other family for help.

Fabulous read, your kids (boys or girls) will love it. Best for ages five or six and up. (To adulthood.)

“The Daring Book for Girls,” by Andrea J. Buchanan and Miriam Peskowitz, with illustrations by Alexis Seabrook, was just released. It’s a partner to “The Dangerous Book for Boys,” (Collins Books, 279 pages). Wacky Girl got her mitts on it and I hadn’t seen it since — until today. I spotted it on an end table where she had carelessly left it in my grabbing distance. I will now review, with help from my dear daughter, before it disappears again.

What do we like about it?

You can learn how to read palms (my daughter wants to know how), or play fourteen kinds of tag (“That looks cool!” sez one Wacky Girl). You can figure out how to put your hair up with a pencil, perform first aid, learn about Zenobia, Queen of the East, do yoga, build a tree swing, or learn to spy. And there is much, much more, but I will not be able to tell you because there goes the book again, out the door.

I cannot remember where I found this, but I didn’t write it. It does come in handy, from time to time.

WM

Worry Reduction Techniques

1. When I find myself worrying, I will divert my attention from the future (or past) to the present.

2. The worst is very unlikely to occur, even if it does, I will handle it.

3. I will try to take one thing and one day at a time.

4. Relaxation will reduce both worrying and anxiety.

5. I will do planning but reduce my worrying.

6. Worry is irrelevant.

7. I am not in charge of anyone else’s thoughts, feelings and behaviors.

8. People and situations do not upset me, I do.

9. I will recognize and let go of those things that I cannot change.

10. I will stop worrying now.

I posted this comment on Planet Nomad’s blog (interesting discussion going about favoritism) and wanted to leave it here, too.

Oh. My. Gosh! Hockey God just made coffee, and the kids have the day off school so I’m in my pajamas still, not rushing out the door. Glory halleluJAH!

happy friday, everyone!

The best parenting advice given to me and my husband was in the middle of an ultrasound, when the tech told us, in a speedy fashion, that her son was three, and “Here’s everything I know about parenting so far. After the baby gets here, your dog will be just a dog; it’s not the terrible two’s it’s the terrible three’s; and give specific choices: the blue cup or the green one? The yellow shirt or the blue? OK, that’s it, thanks you guys!” I was laughing so hard.

So… what’s the best (or worst) parenting advice you’ve ever gotten?