Captain Underpants versus Voices from a Medieval Village

I laughed when I first read of the  growing disenchantment surrounding The Newbery Medal, the literary award for children's books. I wasn't wholly convinced to take it seriously by The Washington Post's take.  Of 25 Newbery winners and runners-up from 2000 to 2005, most of them dealt with issues some would consider too heavy for young minds to process. Four of the books dealt with death, six with the absence of one or both parents and four with mental challenges such as autism. The rest centered on tough social issues. Okaaay. 

This piece in the online magazine, Slate, convinced me that a literary war is brewing. (That or the winter storms left some of us with a tad too much time on our hands.

I get that prizes are big business. Since Oprah doesn't read children's books, the Newbery is one of the few ways sellers of children's books have of generating buzz and boosting sales. The golden seal of the Newbery affixed to the cover of a book is enough to get me to pull it from the shelf and peruse the pages. Whether I buy the book or not depends on if I think my 7-year-old will be interested in the storyline. My son is an emerging reader whose motivation to do the heavy lifting of reading depends on the literary reward. Some of the Newbery choices are hits with him, others are, in his words, snoozers.

So many of his choices, Junie B. Jones, Henry Huggins, Encyclopedia Brown and Cam Jansen aren't award winners. But my son loves them. So I guess it says something that I have more of those books on my shelves than those bearing the golden seal.  But what it says, in the grand scheme of things, isn't much. 

Winter at its best

I haven't taken that walk yet. A spot near the fireplace and the Sunday paper caused a delay. But my son is taking in enough of the outdoors for both of us. 

Of Winter Storms and Time Well Spent

I woke up this morning to twenty-five degree temperatures, high winds and a landscape blanketed under snow. The last week has been like this meaning I can never again say I live in a region of milder climes. There is nothing mild about having to empty the outdoor water systems and drag in the grill and all of my potted plants. The bird bath froze with water in it before I could move it so I just have to pray it doesn't crack. We're use to grilling year round so storing it for even for a week or two is a bummer. My husband went out and stocked up on flashlights and candles but he also did himself one better and made reservations at the Four Seasons in the city. I knew there was a reason I married that man!

 

I'm sitting here clutching a cup of hot coffee with a winter scarf wrapped around my neck wondering how much longer the skinny, tall tree in front of my window will last before the wind muscles it down like a high-school wrestler.  One of the new Mercedes-Benz hybrids just came down the hill, rounding the bend and passing my window, rolling smoothly along the icy plane and chunks of snow and dirt as though it were July. That Benz seemed to say, "neither sleet nor snow will keep me from going about my day!"  Reality check: Just looked up the sticker price and guess I'll stick with what I have in the garage.

If the weather is too bad for mere mortals, I've got plenty to do here. One of the reasons I started this blog was to take a personal look at several areas I write about professionally. The first is education. By the time I finish sorting out the best educational options and services for my 7-year-old I'm certain I'll be either crazy or qualified to write a book. (Hmmmm. The two could work hand-in-hand.) I want to do this over the holiday break so he returns to school, and I to work, with maybe not all of the answers but at least a new direction. The old route is a dead-end and I don't want my beautiful boy stuck there. Second thing I've got to do is finish a compilation of essays on fiber art. Part of that process includes making a square that will be part of a quilt for an artist friend, a fierce sista who favors Hawaiian batiks and tranquil hues of the ocean. She is also one of the smartest public advocates for children in this part of the country. She deserves a quilt so gorgeous all she and visitors to her home can do is stare at it.

But maybe a walk first.

There is something bracing about freezing cold air. I feel like I burn more calories when I'm out in it, even if I just went to the end of the driveway for the newspaper. My plan is to slip into my ski wear and see how far outside I get. The options are that in an hour or two I could be sledding down some of the mountainous hills we have around here, or I could be as I was last night, reclining on the couch under a shawl with a book in one hand and a beverage in the other. There's no shame in my game. Either way I'll let you know.