A quote for my husband on our wedding anniversary
“I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough..”
From The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks
Celebrating my Nineteenth Wedding Anniversary.
Honey, I’m nothing special, but I love you, and I know you love me, and that’s more than enough.
Wow, I’m getting quite personal here. Let me take a moment… Sigh.
A little disclaimer to very old friends who might find this choice of homage to my husband surprising, coming from me.
I used to disregard quotes as self-help anthems to say or write when we can’t come up with anything fresh on our own.
That was a couple of decades ago, maybe more. That was the arrogance of my youth speaking, and sheer ignorance.
Words are essential, and when someone puts them together in that perfect harmony that resonates with our deepest wishes – or touch that secret short come we try to hide and suddenly discover another soul shares in our pain – when someone writes something so right, that feels so real we see ourselves jealous of that nearly mystical knowledge, we must admire its author, and pass it on.
And that is the word of the day.
The Last Bedtime Story
“I don’t want to read today,” Claire said.
“It’s all right, I’ll read to you,” I said.
“No, no one will read today,” she said and looked to the short bookcase that sat under the window by her toddler bed. “I’m too tired.”
“Me too, so good night then,” I said and stood up from the armchair in the corner. I leaned over her and kissed her forehead.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I’m going to rest a little on the sofa, and read on my own.”
“But I don’t want you to leave, can’t I sit on your lap? Like when I was little?”
“Oh, of course you can. You said you didn’t want to do that anymore, you know, that thing about being a big girl and all,” I answered.
“Today, I want to,” she said and sat on my lap. Her feet hanged over my knees half way through my shins, and her head rested on my shoulder.
I need to update her furniture. A nine year old shouldn’t be sleeping in a crib converted into a toddler bed anymore. Tomorrow, I thought as I hugged her tight.
“Do you want to look at illustrations?” I asked. She loved doing that until only a couple of years ago. Did I just blink my eyes?
“Sure, let’s.”
“Pick one,” I said.
“The bunny book, I love this one. Oh look at that soft white fluffiness,” I smiled. “Tell me a story for that picture, may you?”
“Oh, all right. Once upon a time there was a white bunny that lived in a hole by a big fir tree. He loved leaping around the forest and eating lettuce. The end,” she told in a quick pace, a very quick pace.
“That doesn’t count at all,” I boxed her ear gently and she laughed, that defenseless hearty laugh that invites me irresistibly to laugh with her, and spreads a delicious warmth that spreads from my heart to my fingers and toes, and reaches the back of my nape all at once.
“Mom, you’re squishing me,” she wiggles her shoulders.
“Am I?”
“Your turn,” she says.
“The white bunny leaped such long distances hunting for the softest lettuces, that could only be found in the tender patches of the farms by the edge of the forest, that by the time he came back to his cozy nest the sun was about to set.
His mama cleaned his fur gently and held him on her furry lap. He snuggled against her softness and she told him it was time to go to sleep. Then she touched his little mouth and said, “This little mouth is so tired of eating lettuce, and drinking water from the spring by the boysenberry bushes, and talking all day long, it’s time to be very silent and rest.”
The white bunny smiled, but didn’t say a word.
Then mama touched his nose and said, “This little nose smelled so many lovely scents of berries, and flowers, and all the fresh smells of spring, it now must be content with the smells of home.”
The white bunny took a deep breath and exhaled slowly relaxing his little body against mama’s chest.
Then mama folded his ears over his eyes and said, “These little eyes saw so much adventure today they should stay close all night long to be ready for more tomorrow.”
The white bunny sighted and fell asleep. Mama gently placed him on his bed covered with fresh grass and kissed him goodnight. The end.”
“Seriously mom, SERIOUSLY?”
“What?”
“Do you expect me to fall asleep now, just like the bunny? P-LEASE. I’m a big girl. Remember? BIG.”
She stood up, took her copy of Harry Potter from the shelf and sat on her bed.
“You decided to read, now?” I asked
“I need to read something real to recover from all that baby stuff.”
“Since when is Harry Potter something real?”
“Since he’s eleven and not a silly baby bunny.”
“But you told me the beginning of the story yourself,” I nearly stammered.
“I was being sarcastic. You can leave now. Enjoy your book on the sofa mom, good night.”
“Of course, good night then. Have a good read.”
No more babies in the house. Oh well, at least she’s reading above her grade level.
I came back an hour later to check on her and found her fast asleep, hugging her stuffed bunny. I folded its soft white ears over its pink eyes and kissed them both good night.
I’ve been through this with both my daughters, and as happy as I am too see them growing stronger and more independent every day, I miss our bedtime stories so very much.
Luxurious Book x E-Book – But what about simply a book?
Here in the US, printed books are becoming luxury items. Special editions, not just in hardcover, but also sets in beautiful boxes, are displayed in privileged shelves in the still existing bookstores. I’m part of the crowd that still buys printed copies, specially from my favorite authors, you know, the ones we know we’ll read again and again. But there are those who consider printed books, which are not elevated to a work of fine visual art, a waste of time and especially money.
Journalist Daniel D’Addario from Salon is among many who think so. In a recent article he highlights the value of books created by masters in visual arts, like “J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst’s S., a book full of inserted cards bringing one an immersive multimedia experience, or Chris Ware’s Building Stories, a box containing 14 discrete volumes that can be read in any order.” D’Addario questions the value of buying a printed book that is simply based on words saying, “If a book isn’t immersive and incredibly visual, is there much of a point in seeking out a paper copy?”
His abrupt conclusion ignores the value of experience and the power of touch, it discards the rituals of reading developed in centuries of relationship between humans and paper. The smell of a new book, flipping through its pages, visits to a well stocked bookstore, or a charming used book store, the delicious sound of pages being slowly turned, as we are about to finish the last paragraph, and already wonder what lies ahead. Of course I appreciate a book with impeccable art, but I don’t need to have an ultra sophisticated copy in hand to enjoy the pleasure that holding a physical book gives me, or the well-written prose.
I do own a Kindle, and I particularly appreciate its convenience, especially when I’m not reading at home. Dentists’ waiting rooms, waiting for our kid’s swimming, ballet, violin, you-name-it lessons, airport lounges, these are the kind of places e-readers are perfect for. I own plenty of digital book copies, but do believe that both technologies have their moments in our lives. Even the software engineers responsible for the platforms that support e-books have already discovered that our relationship with books has an undeniable emotional charge, as this article from The New York Times shows, “…the features unique to e-books had largely fallen away. A format that had originally promised all manner of functionalities was now fairly restrained, similar to an actual book — goodbye, public comments on books, multimedia elements and hyperlinks! Hello, potential embedded author autographs, just like the signed first edition on your shelf.”
We, readers, are not interested in graphics jumping in the middle of the page, or electronic buttons with links, or any kind of allegory that interfere with our immersion in the story. What we want are words that excite our imagination and transport us to another dimension; words that take us away from the realities of our busy schedules, the bills to pay, and the office commute. As readers, we want to be in communion with our favorite authors through their words. And we want to say: “I treated myself to a signed copy.”
Not to mention that the physical book won’t run out of batteries right when you are in the most exciting part of the story, in the middle of an airport, and far from a power outlet.
Note to self: Buy external battery backup.
A Toast To Professor Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien was born on January 3rd 1892. And every year on this date his fans raise their glasses To The Professor. The Tolkien Society started this tradition on 2002 on Tolkien’s 110th birthday and his vast fan base immediately embraced it.
There are plenty of events planed in the UK and other parts of the world, from São Paulo in Brazil to Los Angeles in the US, but you can join in the fun from your own home. Just take your favorite Tolkien novel, or pop in your favorite Tolkien movie, pour yourself a nice glass of your favorite drink (doesn’t need to be alcoholic; soda, tea or hot cocoa would do just fine), and at 9pm GMT stand up and say: To The Professor.
In Brazil, to celebrate the date the website Tolkien Brasil put together a beautiful video using images from the documentary The Origin Of The Rings by Sean Buckley with the song Nella Fantasia (In This Fantasy) from the Italian Ennio Morricone interpreted by Javier Fontana. Take a look: Tolkien Brasil
Nella Fantasia In This Fantasy
Nella fantasia io vedo un mondo giusto, In this fantasy I see a world that is just,
Li tutti vivono in pace e in onestà. There, every one lives in peace and honesty.
Io sogno d’anime che sono sempre libere, The dream of souls that are always free,
Come le nuvole che volano, Like clouds flying,
Pien’ d’umanità in fondo all’anima. Souls full of humanity.
Nella fantasia io vedo un mondo chiaro, In this fantasy I see a clear world,
Li anche la notte è meno oscura. Even the night there isn’t so dark.
Io sogno d’anime che sono sempre libere, I dream of souls that are always free,
Come le nuvole che volano, Like clouds flying,
Pien’ d’umanità… Full of humanity.
Nella fantasia esiste un vento caldo, In this fantasy there’s a warm breeze,
Che soffia sulle città, come amico. That friendly blows through the city.
Io sogno d’anime che sono sempre libere, I dream of souls that are always free,
Come le nuvole che volano, Like clouds flying,
Pien’ d’umanità in fondo all’anima. Full of humanity.
Blog Challenged – I heard using an Editorial Calendar helps
Hi, my name is Adriana Gomes, and I’m Blog Challenged.
I know I’m supposed to post regularly, pick a day of the week and bam! Do it. I should write every week, every Monday, or Friday or whatever day of my choice, as long as I’m consistent. Then something happens and I’m derailed, just like that. My father gets sick and passes away. My husband gets transferred from the East to the West Coast. I must find good schools for my daughters. I need to sell my lovely spacious home in Atlanta and find a small fixer-upper we can afford in the San Francisco bay area, all sorts of messed up stuff, the stuff of life, or in my father’s particular case, death.
Tentative dark humor apart, this year was ridiculously tough on me, and if it was an absurd one for you as well, I’ll share my plan to get this blogging thing going next year.
First; work on my personal forgiveness, you know, letting go of the heaviness that has pulled me down in 2013. Then work on an editorial calendar, like the magazines do. I’ll create a list of topics, greatly influenced by seasons, holidays and book launches. I’ll spice it up with quotes, short stories, favorite old books, and some personal adventures and crises (I have a plethora of the latter to share). Then I’ll spread the ideas on a calendar and keep it updated as interesting news come up. It seems quite straightforward, yet tricky. I’ll give it a try.
To make things easier there are plenty of editorial calendar templates available on line:
For Google Docs:
https://docs.google.com/templates?q=editorial+calendar
A Plugin for WordPress:
http://wordpress.org/plugins/editorial-calendar/
And if you are planning to add multiple contributors, meaning you’re way ahead of me, hubspot has a nice option for you:
http://offers.hubspot.com/blog-editorial-calendar
You can also create your own Editorial Calendar on Excel:
These are just a few interesting options for your consideration. I’ll be using the WordPress plugin. And may the Muse be ever so kind to us all in 2014.
Remembrance
Word of The Day
Remembrance
– The state of bearing in mind, an act of recalling to mind.
– A memory of a person, thing, or event.
Lettuce and Chocolate Wrap
“Mom, why do I need to eat the salad before the chocolate?”
“The dessert comes after the meal, honey.”
“So, if I eat this lettuce I can eat a piece of chocolate afterwards?” Claire asked holding a big green leaf over her plate.
“If you eat a plateful of lettuce, and tomatoes, and grilled chicken, we’ll enjoy a nice bonbon later. How about that?”
“How about this?” She asked as she wrapped a chocolate square with the lettuce, and before I could say anything gobbled it all up.
My chin dropped and I was speechless for just a second, but that was enough for her to get another one of those monstrosities into her mouth.
“Ok… How does that taste?”
“Very good actually. You should totally try it,” she said as she neatly wrapped another one and offered it to me, “Mom, remember your own rule, we can’t say we don’t like something without trying.”
And that’s how I learned that lettuce with chocolate is downright disgusting.
Big Fish Small Pond
Word of The Day
Big Fish Small Pond
In The Phrases Finder
Meaning
People who are important but only within their limited circle of influence.
Origin
The converse phrase is of course ‘small fish in a big pond’. The phrases are often used to convey the degree of ambition a person holds. There are fewer ‘big fish’ and they have kudos and power locally. Those with wider ambitions swim amongst the more numerous but relatively less influential ‘small fish’. The implication behind labeling someone ‘a big fish in a small pond’ is that he/she is content to stay in that position whereas the ‘small fish’ have the chance to become ‘big fish in a big pond’.
The phrase is American and the earliest reference I can find to it is in The Galveston Daily News, June 1881:
“They [local vested interests in Galveston] are big fish in a small pond.”
Big Fish Small Pond / Small Fish Big Pond
In the Urban Dictionary
When someone is the most skilled at an activity out of a relatively small or otherwise novice group of individuals in regards to said activity. Often used to denote that the “big fish” is not as skilled as those inside of the “small pond” would make it appear. Commonly used as an insult to the person being described.
Jim: I am the smartest one in my class!
Hank: Yeah, but you go to community college so… big fish small pond.
Me, I’m a tiny fish in the smallest pond.
Wildwood
by Colin Meloy
with illustrations by Carson Ellis
Prue is the big sister every little kid would like to have. She’s brave and adventurous, and in trouble when she looses her baby brother to a murder of crows. (Isn’t it just fabulous? A flock of crows is actually called a murder. Pardon my delighted amusement; English is my second language and I collect its curious words as a pastime.) After a brief moment of excitation she realizes she must go and search for him in the Impassable Wilderness.
Curtis is lonely, kids at school don’t get him, his sisters bug him and he feels his parents see him as nothing but trouble. When he hears Prue planning her rescue mission he decides to follow her, even if that means annoying her into accepting his company.
These unlikely partners cross into Wildwood and discover a magical world where animals talk and plants listen. Chased by a group of coyotes dressed in army uniforms, they get separated and through their journeys the reader will meet the many extraordinary peoples of The Wood, and get involved in their battles. Besides being a fun adventure for children and teens, the politics in the story flavored with a healthy criticism to bureaucracy and lack of leadership will please adults also.
The illustrations by Carson Ellis are absolutely lovely and add an extra dimension of whimsy to the work.
Claire The Doctor?
“Mom, when I grow up, I want to be a pediatricitian.”
“A PEDIATRICIAN, a doctor? Wow, that sounds great, why?”
“Mom, did you see the amount of lollypops Dr. Khan has in her office. I bet she can have as many as she wants ALL DAY.”
“Well, candy makers live surrounded by all sorts of candies too, but I don’t think they eat them ALL DAY.”
Claire’s eyes were as big as golf balls, “Oh, I want to become a candy maker.”
Why, oh why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?