The new salt and pepper set is courtesy of my father. I’ve been so focused on getting ready for PLA that I keep forgetting that it will just about be Easter when I get back from the Pacific Northwest. At least I have my decorations taken care of.

Now we get into the book itself. It starts out much as one might expect, with pictures and short sentences that talk about the things we use shoes for—walking a long way, kicking a ball. The narrative begins to break down on the page, “Shoes are for dancing the tango.” I have nothing against the tango or even wearing shoes while you’re dancing the tango, but I do have a problem with a monkey wearing ballet pointe shoes while dancing the tango because that’s what’s happening here, and that’s just wrong. When you’re dancing the tango, you’re supposed to wear something like this. When you wear pointe shoes, you are supposed to pirouette, which, incidentally, is what the monkey is doing in this illustration instead of the tango. It is true, I know, that this level of detail is certainly not going to be appreciated by the babies chewing on this book, but, still, this is a book that consists of exactly five page-spreads. There’s no reason not to get all five of them right.

And, okay, so I have a thing with shoes that is maybe impacting my evaluation of this particular board book. BUT STILL.

The rest of the book goes on just fine from there, with shoes helping the monkey dress like daddy and providing some chew-time fun for some puppies.

I feel kind of harsh and judgey about this book, but it’s the attitude behind it that bothers me more than the particularities, an attitude that’s something like, “Eh, it’s just for babies.” You see this a lot in board books, but it seems to me that babies are the ones you give the very best things to, and there are certainly better board books.

Bow-Wow Hears Things by Mark Newgarden and Megan Montague Cash is an example of an author successfully navigating this transition. You could make the argument that Bow-Wow is not an established character, since he’s only had the one picture book, but Bow-Wow Bugs a Bug was striking enough to establish Bow-Wow in my mind, so we’re going to roll with that one. In Bow-Wow Hears Things, Bow-Wow is facing a little chick. The chick makes various non-chick-like noises, and Bow-Wow keeps saying, “No.” In the end, the chick peeps and Bow-Wow barks, and the book is over. This is nice—a simple, concrete storyline with repetitive elements. Bow-Wow’s books have a very spare aesthetic, with exactly the kind of art I look for in a board book. The characters themselves are drawn with thick lines filled in with solid colors. Bow-Wow’s emotions (surprise and annoyance) are effectively conveyed through one curved eyebrow, and the characters and text are all that appear on each page. Eye-catching, short, and even a little funny.

Olivia’s Opposites by Ian Falconer is another example of a picture book character working in the board book format. Falconer uses thin, fine lines in his illustrations, so babies will have a hard time making them out, but what will interest their eyes are those red dashes of color here and there. The book is very much a concept book—opposites illustrated—but Falconer handles it with his typical flair (you really need to see the illustrations for “quiet” and “loud” to see what I mean), making for a book that will amuse adults as well as children.

Skippyjon Jones Color Crazy by Judy Schachner is my favorite of the bunch. It follows the intrepid and much-beloved Skippyjon as he draws a picture utilizing a number of surprising color choices—pink for the sky, yellow for the grass—and, in the end, he colors himself, all rainbow-like. What I love best about this book is that it in no way acknowledges that Skippyjon is using an unconventional color scheme. Schachner is slyly making a point about creativity and freedom to her child and adult listeners that I have to love. Babies who enjoy this book will like it for its cute little kitty and bright colors, toddlers can use it as a way to start helping them learn their colors (and other vocabulary, like some nouns and numbers), and older toddlers who are more solid on their colors will catch on to what Skippyjon is up to and think it’s funny. Heck, *I* laugh every time I read this book. Rock on, Skippyjon.

What song can YOU make into a fingerplay?

#1 - Is Jack going to do anything right ever again?

#2 - I understand that there has been a lot of foreshadowing (and by "a lot," I mean, "significant storylines every single season") about the situation with Sayid, but, still, couldn't this all just be some kind of misunderstanding? In both timeframes???

#3 - Uh, Kate? Wrong way.

Jayne (from Firefly)

Axle Annie

Someone Who Obviously Forgot that It’s Winter

Someone Who Stole the Hat and Scarf Jen Made Me for Christmas Several Years Ago and Who Is Probably Just Moments from Getting Beaten Up Because I Really, Really Like that Hat and Scarf

After a While, I Got Cold and Hungry and Went Back Indoors

Now I have a policy of not accepting review copies of books (or anything else), and the ones publishers send me without asking me first tend to go to the library, on account of that’s my public address. This one, from HarperCollins, is completely out of the blue. What made them decide to send me a My Little Pony beginning reader? True, I was an avid My Little Pony fan when I was ten, but how does HarperCollins know that?

Well, curiosity got the better of me, and I read it. When I was done, I knew that there was nothing I could do but review it.

For something different, I thought I’d run it by one of the beginning readers I live with, but she was a little meh about it:

And then she attacked my camera cord:

As you can see, this book is a rebus:

I think what stumped Ella is the fact that the picture that is supposed to signify “snow” looks more like a cloud. Melting clouds are a kind of disturbing/surreal idea to include in a beginning reader, a little more Stephen King than Arnold Lobel. You’ve also got to wonder why the author decided to use an icon for “snow” when you see the pony’s names: Cheerilee, Scootaloo, and Toola-Roola. Yikes. Any reader who can make sense of those can handle “snow.” (Also, and this is not as incidental to me as the parentheses would indicate, who the hell are these ponies? Where are Minty and Butterscotch? You modern toymakers are RUINING EVERYTHING.)

While I have to admit this has some weaknesses as a beginning reader (level one, no less), it’s not a bad book. My Little Pony fans will enjoy leafing through it whether they can read it or not, and it’s not such a bad read-aloud, either. (What? You want to know the plot? Really? Fine. It’s about how the ponies decide it’s going to be Green Day (as in environmental, as opposed to the band (which would have been FREAKING AWESOME) or something with St. Patrick’s Day (which is what I had first assumed). The girls wind up having a little problem with Green Day, though, because Cheerilee gets a little overenthusiastic and Toola-Roola feels like no one’s listening to her. Scootaloo is… uh… I don’t know what she’s doing in this story, honestly. Just kind of riding about on her scooter when she could totally be walking and SAVING THE ENVIRONMENT. Way to go, Sootaloo.) Just because the book’s not perfect doesn’t mean your library couldn’t use a copy or two to fill a high-interest need.

I enjoy reading “Cooking with Dexter,” but the recipes don’t normally tempt me, and I have never eaten a soft pretzel I’ve liked, so it’s hard to say what, aside from the weather, made me want to try this. The photo? In any case, the pretzels are amazing, especially with mustard, which I am not particularly fond of, either. There’s just something about soft pretzels, though, that makes the mustard absolutely necessary.

The other thing I did today was run to the store to get a few turnips and some nice Gruyère for a dish I intend to make tomorrow—potato, carrot, and turnip gratin. You could really rewrite that as, “carbs, carbs, carbs, and fat.” It is going to be awesome, completely the reason I’ll be getting out of bed. (Well, that and the fact that Lucas will be here at 6:30 am, and we have Harry Potter to read. Between the swearing and the occasional grammatical issues and the, you know, plot, it’s been quite exciting. Lucas has become increasingly aware of the differences between British and American English, too. Just today, he decreed that “vicar” is “a really weird word.” Someone please alert the UK.)

Obviously, I am also going to have to go to the gym.

The film that is going to win best animated short this year is called “Granny O’Grimm’s Sleeping Beauty,” and guess what? You, too, can be oddly informed about an Oscar category most people are completely unaware of and watch the cartoon here. And by suggesting you “can” watch the cartoon, what I mean is, “Go watch it now. It’s only six minutes long.” Just so we’re clear.

It’s hard to say what I like best about this piece: the two animation styles paralleling the two narratives, the writing and splendid voice work by Kathleen O’Rourke, the subtle but perfect music, the fact it made me laugh so hard the first time I watched it that I almost choked on my popcorn.

My second favorite in this category is “The Lady and the Reaper,” which you can also watch online. There are dead spouses in, I swear, just about everything I go to see these days (Shutter Island was a big ol’ sucker punch in this regard), but this made me feel better about the whole thing. Funny and brave and inventively animated.

Speaking of funny and brave, there’s “Logorama,” a cartoon in which Ronald McDonald is portrayed as someone who would be quite at home in a Quentin Tarantino film. “French Roast” is a solid cartoon with a moral that doesn’t make you want to gnash your teeth. (“French Roast” is available on YouTube, so I linked to it, although I suppose they could take it down at any moment.) Plus, there is the new Wallace and Gromit cartoon, “A Matter of Loaf and Death,” which I have been waiting FOREVER to see and was everything a Wallace and Gromit film should be (available on DVD).

All in all, it’s as excellent a year for animated shorts as it was for feature-length animation, a category I hope to get to talking about in the next couple days, but we’ll see.

First, I have to tell you that I am ever-so-sorry that you cannot see my high-heeled Mary Janes in this photo. It is a rare day when I wear shoes with both backs and heels. Usually I wear clogs, but I felt like I had to break out with something extra-fancy for our tea parties. It says something about my day-to-day attire that almost no one commented on this particular ensemble, which also included a string of pearls.

Second, our Olivia is very postmodern, because Olivia is inside the Olivia costume.

Third, the tea parties that Olivia visited went very well. They were 45-minute programs. I decided that instead of buying tea sets, we should get real tea cups from thrift stores, which we did. (Jason was not sure about this idea at first, but I managed to talk him into it. I think he was sold once he saw the selection at the thrift stores.) The cups were all between fifty cents and a dollar a piece and were a nice balance between fancy and affordable. For the program itself, we played classical music and had the tables all set up when the kids came in with white tablecloths, the tea cups, and red plates and napkins. We also had a handful of red heart confetti on the center of each table. I insisted on going with this white-with-touches-of-red color scheme to recall the Olivia books. It was, I’m sure, lost on the children, but *I* found it very satisfying, and that’s what matters. We served lemonade and animal crackers, and then after a bit, we brought out Olivia. A while after that, Jason read two Olivia books. Then we gathered everyone in a circle and played circle games, including a version of Simon Says called “Olivia Says.” That was the program. The kids and parents really seemed to enjoy it, and we did, too. Many of the children came dressed up—I saw sweater vests and tiaras and Easter dresses and hats and even a kimono. The atmosphere seemed to make the kids a little more subdued than we’re used to seeing them, but in a good way. They were very busy looking at things. I definitely want to run more tea parties; Jason and I are talking about maybe this summer.

It’s February Break week here this week, so all day long, the library is a-hopping. This morning, we did our Winter Campout program, which is about a half hour of stories and songs followed by s’mores. We do this just about every year, and every year we do it, all the kids say their favorite part is the s’mores. This morning was no exception, although one kid did say my telling of “The Mosquito” was “amazing.” And, okay, so maybe I forced all the children to say “ooooo!” like they were watching fireworks before I would stop retelling the story, but still.

Thursday night, we have the Star Wars costume people visiting the library, and Friday morning, we’re running a couple tea parties with special guest Olivia from the books by Ian Falconer.

Break weeks are like the summer—tiring, but I am really glad to see all those school-aged kids hanging around the place all day long. I often wish the school year were shorter. Then we could have more tea parties. Now, though, really, I have to rest up for tomorrow.

See that blue slip of paper in my pocket? That is the list I made telling me what I should say in my introductory remarks at the ribbon cutting ceremony we had last night for our new area for older kids at the library. When this photo was taken, I was making those remarks. I might have, you know, LOOKED AT MY NOTES. When there are a lot of people around, I just kind of lose my head.

Also? The only reason you can see my head in this photograph is because I am standing on the stool we keep around so little kids can reach the sink.

Jason's prep work:

And I quote: "It's not like this is the first time I've ever vacuumed."