Fablehaven, Harry Potter VI and VII, and Second Growth

It became apparent to me how long it's been since I posted when I realized how many books behind I am.

I read the Fablehaven series (twice). They are delightful. And the third in the series is fantastic. Brandon Mull, in the introduction to his fourth book, thanks those who recommend his books on their blogs.

I officially recommend them.

You're welcome Mr. Mull.



I saw the movie and realized that I had forgotten major plot points, so I read Harry Potter 6 and 7 again. They are wonderful. Better than I remembered.

And I believe our next son (if we have another son) will be named Severus.



I just had a reaffirmation of why I enjoy writing about books on my blog.

This book is about a small and stagnant New England town, mired in its history, mired in its prejudices, and mired in a lack of change. There is a several decade feud between the villagers and the visitors, those who admire the town because it is quaint and picturesque, and those who resent being called quaint and picturesque. The narrative follows three protagonists, all who find the town a trap. It ends with a town tragedy, a tragedy which liberates some, but only at terrifying costs.

Anyway, as I getting ready to post this, I did a google image search on "second growth" and came up with all sorts of pictures of second growth forests, forests that regrow after a major disaster, like a forest fire, an insect infestation, or something else that seems to devastate the area. Looking at the pictures, I finally got the whole metaphor for the book (the village that can regenerate once the history, prejudices, and stagnancy have been burned and infested). Even more shocking, is that I didn't even realize I had missed the metaphor.

I enjoy having this space to stop and to reflect and to construct meaning out of the minutia of books. I enjoy having this space to stop and to reflect and to construct meaning out of the minutia of life. Hooray for blogs.

It's Really In Your Best Interest if You Honor My Quarantine Rules and Stay Home

We are all sick. Very, very sick.

Except for Tyler, which is obnoxious because he, as an elementary school teacher/administrator/whatever he is right now, he should be the one bringing home all the diseases. Actually, maybe he is bringing home the diseases but is encased in a protective bubble of immunity so that just me and the children get sick.

I think I'm on to something.

Anyway, we are sick, and as you well know if you know me at all, I get sicker than the average person. There are times when I am the toughest girl you know. Hiking Mt. Olympus, maybe. Spitting out argumentative essays. Grading those same argumentative essays. Being sick, however? I'm more the wussiest girl you know, wussier than a four-year-old made to walk around the block while drawing on bent paper. THE HORROR!! I believe that modern medicine excuses me from all responsibilities and tells me that I am sick, I am very sick, and I need to get into bed and cry about the injustice of viral infections. And I mean that crying literally. Yesterday, I was in bed reading the Ensign about Joseph Smith in the Liberty Jail what with the cold and the starvation and the poison and the delirium, and I thought, I understand. This cold is meant to be my trial.

Yes, I'm a little dramatic when I'm sick, too.

Anyway, the only thing more pathetic than me sick is little sick Asher. Poor baby. His little nose is constantly runny and that matches his constantly running, swollen baby eyes and he just looks pitiful. He looks up to me with that frantic look that says "What is this horrid feeling? And why won't you make it go away?" I wish I could say he's being a trooper, but the problem with being the happiest baby in the world is that it's very apparent when you are unhappy. Yesterday he was gnawing on the remote control and when I moved to take it out of his mouth, he screamed like I had poked him or scratched him or otherwise maimed him.

"Son," I said. "That was an overreaction."

Yep, I recognize the hypocrisy.

Apparently I Can't Get It Together To Write An Actual Post, So In The Meantime, This Is What You Get.

"Mom?"
"Yeah?"
"Let's play a game."
"Okay. What game do you want to play?"
"Let's prettytend you are the mom, I'm the boy, and Asher's the baby."
"That's sounds a lot like real life."
"No. I'm going to prettytend I'm the boy. I'm really the BIG boy."

Eight Matches

Alright. These seven video represent what's been bottled up while I've been in school. Drink them in slowly because I may not post many more for the rest of the year.

The Wonder Years

Talmage the Magician

Weird Noises

Asher's form of speech

Tag

Croquet

I think Talmage has got a future.

Washington 2009

I think, judging from this, Laura did not keep her word that she would not have any fun on the family trip to Washington without me.