Peter Sieruta

Yesterday, I found out from Jules of Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast that Peter D. Sieruta, blogger of Collecting Children's Books, and co-writer (with Jules and Betsy Bird) of the upcoming  book, Wild Things! The True, Untold Story Behind the Most Beloved Children's Books and Their Creators, died suddenly. We don't know the details of how he died. Of course, there is no "why." There is no reason. There is, however, a loss.

Here are two blog posts by Peter's co-writers:

Jules' tribute: In Honor of Peter
Betsy's tribute: Goodbye, Peter

I thought I'd had no connection to Peter Sieruta other than reading his blog and Horn Book article, and hearing bits about the co-writing process from Jules. This morning, I realized that Sieruta's piece in the Horn Book, Dear Clueless: The Rejection Letters of Edna Albertson, inspired my Children's Books That Never Were series. I am grateful for the humor in that article, and the subsequent enjoyment of creating those posts, both on my own and as a collaboration with Bottom Shelf Books blogger Minh Le.

Happy Families

Happy Mother's Day! Today is sunny, I've gone for a run, and the House of Glee showed their Mother's Day appreciation with jam, popovers, a milk aerator, and a lighthouse. The lighthouse is a wooden model, hand-painted in class by Lucia.

I have two bookstore storytime gigs next week, and I'm looking forward to the Saturday one in particular because I shall pick up my copy of Happy Families, the newest book by Coretta Scott King Honor winner Tanita S. Davis (and no, I will never get tired of writing that). Happy Families is told from the point of view of older teen twins Ysabel and Justin Nicholas, and their father's revelation to them that he is actually a transgender female. The Amazon link here has an excerpt from the book, and you can read the Kirkus review here. While I always look forward to my friends' new releases, I am particularly interested in Happy Families because of the subject matter. I have a friend and a family member who are both transgender women, and keep a look out for teen/YA books that treat transgender people with respect and consideration.


Other things I'm looking forward to: more sunny days (I can hope), increased strength and muscle-tone with kettlebell training by my Cast Iron Strength friend "Kettlebell Kate," and visits from family and friends who cannot resist the lure of the Cascade and Olympic mountain ranges.

Maurice Sendak 1928-2012

Illustrator and author Maurice Sendak died today. You may read his New York Times obituary here: Maurice Sendak, Author of Splendid Nightmares, Dies at 83 

My father enjoyed reading Sendak books to us kids, especially Outside Over There, whose protagonist, Ida, he read as "Farida," and In the Night Kitchen. I got to meet Sendak in New York City in 1998, when HarperCollins threw a "birthday party" at the Rainbow Room to celebrate 35 years of Where The Wild Things Are. When I met Sendak, I'd only expected a brief "Hello, nice to meet you" exchange, but we ended up chatting, and he introduced me to a few other people in the room before heading on to greet other guests. 

In the 2011 Fresh Air interview with Terri Gross, Sendak said,  “I’m not unhappy about becoming old . . .[it's] what must be. I only cry when I see my friends go before me. I don’t believe in an afterlife, but I do expect to see my brother again , like a dream life . . . but I am in love with the world."

 - "Maurice Sendak: On Life, Death, and Children's Lit," Interview with Terri Gross, Fresh Air, September 20, 2011

There are those poignant, reflective words. And then, of course, there is the interview with Stephen Colbert. Colbert asked, "What’s it take for a celebrity to make a successful book?” Sendak replied, “You’ve started already by being an idiot.”

I am grateful for Sendak's life, and the art that came from that life.

Take Children's Songs Literally

I laughed a number of times when I read Sarah Schmelling's McSweeney's piece Mom Takes Children's Songs Literally.  Who among us hasn't thought, "You’re paying far too much attention to that very, very small spider"?

Read the examples in the link, and then add your own in the comments. Here are some of my off-the-cuff responses:

Is "Eeyi-Eeyiyo" the name of the farm or the sound the old farmer MacDonald makes when s/he has to get up in the early morning to feed all of those chickens, ducks, sheep, etc?

Three words for Henry: Stop Making Excuses.  For those who think that Liza is overly demanding, consider that Henry started the whole scenario with his whining.

I know those examples are not as clever as the ones in Schmelling's piece. That's why I'm looking to you.

Why Storytellers Lie (article link)

Why Storytellers Lie, an Atlantic Monthly piece by Maura Kelly, highlights a new book by Jonathan Gotschall, called The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human. The article addresses some of the main reasons why we might tell stories: for courtship, for instruction, and for a sense of higher purpose. Kelly writes, "We like stories because, as Gotschall puts it, we are 'addicted to meaning'—and meaning is not always the same as the truth."

40 Year Fizz

Half of a Ramos Gin Fizz recipe

I had a wonderful 40th birthday party organized by my husband and friends. My wish was to dress up and eat delicious appetizers with my friends. Just about everyone attended the party, and I was able to visit and talk with them. One friend revealed that her favorite drink was a Ramos Gin Fizz, which involves raw egg white*, orange blossom water**, lemon and lime juice, and other ingredients, all shaken for 12 minutes. Of course, my mixed-drink enthusiast friend had to make one on the spot. I had a sip, and was hooked. It's akin to drinking lemon meringue pie, only not as sweet.

 Master bartender/mixologist Chris McMillian shares the history and demonstrates the assembly of the drink here. I tried my hand at making the Ramos Gin Fizzes yesterday during our Easter brunch. (I skipped the cream, however.) There were times when I had to hand the shaker over to my husband or another guest in order to serve food, answer the phone, or simply take a break. I ended up making four servings, but fortunately, some people were willing to split a serving. The work and the wait were worth it.

*Read New York Times article Things Get Messy When Bartenders Crack an Egg, by Glen Collins.


**I have a bottle of orange blossom water that will last me years. I'm going to start cooking more from the dessert sections of my Middle Eastern Cookbooks.

The Big Climb to 40

For last year's Big Climb Seattle, I ascended the 1,311 stairs of the Columbia Center as an untimed climber. This year, I went as a racer. Last year, I passed a number of people on the stairs. This year, I stepped aside in the landings for the faster people. I didn't share my goal with anyone, but now that it's over, I can say that I wanted to make it up the stairs in less than 20 minutes. My time: 17 minutes, 19.04 seconds.

Bede and Lucia did the Big Climb this year as untimed climbers. Bede said that Lucia went all the way up without complaining. At the top, she said, "I am so proud of myself." This utterance is not the result of the Too Much Self-Esteem generation, but of being teased for being the slowest runner in her class.  She is welcome to invite all of those faster runners to join her for next year's Big Climb.

Tomorrow, I turn 40. When I was a child, I thought that by the time I became "middle-aged," I would have to wear yellow polyester shirts, beige polyester pants, and Dr. Scholl's wooden sandals with socks. My hair would have gone completely grey, and I'd wear it up in a bun with a lot of hair escaping to create a frizzy effect. I suppose that in the 1970s, some people did look that way. I can't say now if those people were middle-aged or not, as 12 seemed practically grown-up to me.

I'm in better shape than I was as a teen, or for most of my twenties. I plan to continue my fitness plan, and introduce strength-training so that I don't lose muscle as I age. And age I will. I'm not resigned. Despite all evidence to the contrary, a part of me still thinks I'm going to beat this concept of mortality.

At the very least, I want to be around when humans land on Mars!

Optical Illusions and the Ames Room

A few weeks ago, I watched the Temple Grandin HBO movie with Lucia, my daughter. Temple Grandin grew up with high-functioning autism, and is known for her work with the livestock industry and autism awareness.

Lucia and I had already watched Temple Grandin's TED talk plus a few interviews. I'd already seen the film without her, and knew the few scenes where I wanted her to avert her eyes. I wasn't sure what Lucia would take away from the film, but I wasn't surprised that the film fanned her interest in optical illusions.

After we watched Temple Grandin, Lucia tried to make an Ames room model (named after ophthalmologist Adelbert Ames), in which two figures that are the same size look different when viewed through a peep-hole. All afternoon and into the evening, she bustled about with cardboard, paper, scissors, and tape-- lots and lots of tape. She got frustrated at several points, and fumed that Grandin had gotten it right so easily. I reminded her of how often Grandin's temper flared, and said, "We can get some optical illusion books out of the library." One of her favorite books was Walter Wick's Optical Tricks.

Yesterday, Bede printed out a template to make the Ames room, and Lucia noted that she needed a much larger layout for her satisfaction. Here are her notes from her composition book:

Seven Years of Blogging

...And lo, today my blog-iversary. When I started a blog in 2005, I had meant it to be only a place-holder so that I could comment on the site of my friend Blogapotamus Rex. I had no expectation of readership, nor of making online friends. By the time I had written my first Children's Books That Never Were post two years later, I had online friends, an active readership, and the storytelling blog had expanded to include music, sewing, and children's books.

My blogging life has quieted down a lot since then. I still maintain my online friendships, and have been fortunate enough to meet some of my blogging friends in person, but I feel like Virginia Lee Burton's The Little House. I'm small potatoes on a small farm.

These days, I perform my storytelling gigs at two main bookstores, and pick up the occasional birthday party. My doll shop, Alkelda Dolls, is the online equivalent of the fresh-produce stand at the weekly farmer's market. I've resumed learning the finger-picking DVD course I started two years ago (I'm still on "Skip to My Lou!"), plus I've finally started teaching myself music theory through Bruce Emery's Musical Principals for the Skeptical Guitarist. I made myself a sticker chart that corresponds with the 40 days of Lent with double points (i.e. double stickers) on Sundays.

Green Springtime Traveler with Sister (wooden foliage by The Enchanted Cupboard)

As I think about my 40th birthday next month, I acknowledge that there are certain plans and ideas of which I need to let go. The thirties did not go as I planned. I didn't write my first novel. I carried my pregnancy weight for much too long. I lost a brother.

But!

I learned to play guitar. I learned to sew. I became more physically fit than I ever have been in all years prior to 2010. I had a daughter.

Plus, and this joy cannot be expressed fervently enough, I made new friends.

Blog Birthday Party?

While I revved up this blog seven years ago today, I wrote my first true blog post on February 27, 2005, with Root Vegetables. It seems fitting that I should do something to commemorate the occasion next Monday. I thought about a giveaway, but I dislike the randomness of picking one person to receive one crafty gift from me. I would make a cake, but few of you would be able to eat it.

I have an idea. I'll see if it comes to fruition. In the meantime, browse the beautiful food pictures I found on Pinterest. Here's what I like about Pinterest: I can admire other people's food creations with impunity. Here's what I don't like about Pinterest: It's a distraction.

I Rethink Valentine's Day

"Heart-shaped tofu! Are you kidding?"

The first year I lived in Seattle was my "gap year" between college and graduate school. I was a full-time volunteer at a daycare center for homeless children, and I lived in a group house in which I was the only one who didn't have a Significant Other. When Valentine's Day came, I decided not to let the smoochiness bother me. However, I exclaimed to a long-distance friend of mine, "Can you believe that Housemate Charlie made heart shaped toast for Housemate Beth?"

My friend laughed and said, "I have to confess, Chris made me heart-shaped tofu."

It was then that I realized I needed to get over my sneering contempt for Valentine's Day smoochiness and reinvent it for myself. The week of Valentine's Day became a time to write letters of appreciation to people and to do something thoughtful and materialistically indulgent for myself. One year, I bought myself an Italian fountain pen. Another year, I bought myself a little red flashlight. I benefited from my good taste in gifts.

When Bede and I got together, we decided we wanted the Valentine's Day Experience. I remember the restaurant where we had dinner, but I don't recall what we ate-- except that when the waiter told us about the heart-shaped chocolate torte, Bede and I said, "Yes, THAT." After dinner, Bede paid the bill and led me out through the large open window.

February 14 must have been warm that year.

As this Valentine's Day rolls around, I've started writing my letters again. I've got presents for Bede and Lucia, because I like to give and make presents. Since Lucia doesn't read my blog, you can peek here to see what I got her by special request. I'm pleased that some of the dolls in my shop are going to be gifts for other people, too.

I've even become resigned to the sugar-overload that's going to happen on Tuesday in my daughter's class. Before every class party, I caution her, "Don't drink the juice-boxes,"* and fill her lunch with fresh vegetables. Which reminds me-- how factual do you think it is that she is the only one to go to school with a healthful lunch every day? She says all the other kids get candy and chips in their lunches. Is she pulling my leg?** Bede and I work to balance Lucia's need to eat food that's good for her with the desirability to be part of social events.

We have no plans for heart-shaped tortes or anything sugary that night. Valentine's Day is a choir day, and Business As Usual. However, I might make heart-shaped tofu. Or steak.

*Sugar + water= what's the point?


**Remind me to tell you someday of Lucia's tall tale about how all the other children brought Barbie Dolls to a Waldorf kindergarten. I had a hard time keeping a straight face.

Creativity, Links, Sprinkles, and Moomins

These links are all related somehow, I'm sure:

Adrienne Furness of What Adrienne Thinks About That made me laugh with The Rainbow Magic Books Are Never Going to End, Are They? My almost-nine year old daughter is attracted to the predictability of the stories, I think. She counteracts the sugary overload of the Rainbow Magic books with the Captain Underpants series, so Bede and I hear about "talking toilets" and "wedgie-women" instead of wands and sprinkles. When does potty-talk stop being funny? Never, probably.
As I was pondering the sweet perfection of petit fours, I asked Tanita Davis if she had ever worked with fondant. Oh, yes she had. Her husband, David Macknet, documents their Fondant Follies here, here, here, here, and here. As commenter Kansas A. noted, "We so often post our successes and hide our failures. It was great to read this."

I posted part one of what I hope to be a blog post series on the Natural Kids Team: Why I Made It: Artisans tell the stories that inspired their creations.

Russian designer Maria Yasko created a series of rooms for a family entertainment center called Moomin Valley, based on the Moomin books by Tove Jansson. The link comes by way of Drunken House.

Chemistry and Computer Science Gnomes

I am a bit incredulous that I only wrote two blog posts for January, not including this one. I've been better about reading other people's posts, even if I've only lurked. During the January 15 week of snow that shut down much of the city, I hung out with Lucia for most of the days, sewed, strummed guitar, and sewed some more. We walked in the snow quite a bit, too, and I was glad that we were able to visit a friend's house two miles away with no complaints from the girl about getting tired. It was during that week that I made this color wheel of flower basket babies.

 This past week, I decided it was time to make the chemistry gnome for my science and math gnomes series. I used a purple felt that the color swatch guide called "orchid" but that I deemed would have to serve as a shade of mauve. Mauve, named after the mallow flower, was the first dye created in the chemistry lab. Eighteen year old chemist Sir William Henry Perkin, was trying to synthesize quinine, when a particular purplish residue as a result of his work caught his attention. Perkin patented the dye and made his fortune, helped along by the popularity of Queen Victoria's mauve silk gown.

My attempts to embroider a mauveine molecule on the back of the doll's cape were abysmal. Hexagons are challenging to get right. Then, I thought about how important chemistry was in the kitchen, and decided that the sodium bicarbonate/baking soda molecule would be a fitting symbol for my chemistry gnome. After I completed that embroidery, I added little embroidery representations of carbonation fizz. That's why the chemistry gnome has a tassel-- it's more "fizz."

Chemistry Gnome with sodium bicarbonate skeletal molecule model

The computer science gnome is an homage to mathematician and "mother of computer science" Ada Lovelace, whose notes for Charles Babbage's analytical engine are considered to be the first computer algorithm. Lovelace loved bright colors, and the red of the gnome's cape was inspired by the portrait painted by Margaret Sarah Carpenter. I made felt gears for the cape, and framed the gears with zeros and ones, the binary numerical system used in computer coding. I thought about a circuit board motif, but decided that it would require green embroidery on a black background. 
I'm currently reading The Bride of Science: Romance, Reason, and Byron's Daughter, by Benjamin Woolley. I also have Ada: a Life and a Legacy, by Dorothy Stein, in my to-be-read piles.

Computer Science Gnome

There are still a few science gnomes I'd like to stitch. The Physics Gnome currently has me stumped. I know what I want to do with the Entymology Gnome, but I am saving that one because it will be fun to revisit the embroidery of insects. I'd like the Geology Gnome to make an appearance, too. Maybe it's time to learn some shading techniques?

Science and Math Gnomes

Botany, Math, and Astronomy Gnomes upon a stage made by Willodel

I used to make Math Gnomes inspired by the dolls used in Waldorf schools, in which the four processes (Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication, Division) had personalities that helped children comprehend their duties. Ruling over the four processes was a royal personage who went by "King Equals" or "Empress Equals," depending upon the teacher. As enjoyable as math gnome sets were to make, I stopped sewing them for the shop when I realized that I had never actually sold a single set-- every set I made was for home use, a school auction, or a trade.

 I decided to make single math gnomes for children and adults to have nearby for encouragement and inspiration. I wish I had secretly carried a math gnome in my pocket when I was in school. I struggled with math, not because of lack of aptitude, but because I needed more time to work through equations and learn to understand them than the curriculum allowed. Later, chronic absenteeism (or rather, dread of school literally making me too sick to attend school) compounded the problem. A math gnome in my pocket would have kept me company and in my imagination would have encouraged me.

My daughter's teacher has her second graders say, "I am a brilliant mathematician" while stroking their imaginary beards. How can I help but think of math gnomes? (Though to be fair, brilliant mathematician Ada Lovelace was beardless.) I've started to sew STEM Gnomes. STEM is an acronym for Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math. In the past, I've made variations of astronomy and entomology dolls, but this is the first time I've made them with a series in mind. I'm sewing them for creative whimsy. I enjoy making fairies and maidens with flower baskets, but I want to develop my sewing skills as well as the stories in my head.

Speaking of stories, I remember perking up when I first heard about "story problems," only to find out how tedious the plot-lines were. There's not much dramatic tension in figuring out the rate at which a car will overtake a bus, for example, unless it's actually a car chase. Then, I'd like to know why the passengers in the car were chasing the bus. Did someone steal a painting? Did someone forget her keys? The human interest angle is important!

In the year of 2012

Valentine Heart Fairies listed January 2, 2012

Happy New Year! Like many of you, I've got plans and daydreams. For my shop, newly renamed on Etsy as Alkelda Dolls, I've made a few changes. I'm now listing my creative offerings once a week: Mondays by 8 PM Pacific Standard Time, unless otherwise indicated). I'm taking a break from custom orders, though suggestions, requests, and recommendations are always welcome.

In 2011, I was so concerned about promotion and sales that worry clouded my enjoyment of the creation and presentation of the dolls. Now, I've acknowledged to myself that the modest profits I make after materials and fees help justify the time spent in creating dolls for children and grownups. Reports from customers reveal that both boys and girls enjoy the dolls I've made for their pretend play and storytelling.

This year, I would like to resume visiting and commenting on blogs in a more focused way. My online friendships are as important to me as the "off-line" ones. At the same time, I want to refrain from getting sucked into the "Facebook minute", i.e. "an elongated and obscure period of time spent distracted on Facebook when the original intent was to merely check your messages" (Urban Dictionary).