Good Old-Fashioned Books

I love to read.  I teach elementary school.  I get lots of gift cards to bookstores.  Add these together and you get one happy Lisa.

But I'm old-fashioned in some senses, and while I think the idea behind e-readers is really cool, they will just never be for me.  There's something about the smell of a new book, the feel of turning the page, and seeing your bookmark move from steadily through the pages.  I love the look of hardback books, I love knowing words have been printed onto a page, and I love thinking about type-set letters being painstakingly put into place hundreds of years ago to create the magic that is a book.

Yes, it's true that e-readers save trees and that you can carry hundreds of books on one small piece of equipment that will save space in your tiny apartment or on your cross-country trek.  No matter, the cons far outway the pros for me.

I was at a friend's house last night.  She has story time before putting the kids to bed.  I sat there looking at her two young children flipping through books and pretending to read.  For me, this is one of the most precious things to see, and I just can't imagine the thrill of holding a book being the same using one of these.

Artsy Fartsy

I'm an art lover. Not the go-to-the-art-museum type of art lover. Not the eclectic dye-your-hair-and-wear-weird-clothes type of art lover. Just the curl-up-on-the-couch-and-enjoy-some-good-music/reading/movies/musicals type of art lover. I danced for years, I still sing in the shower, and I find my fingers often tapping like the airline counter workers when I have a Word document open.

So what's with the little artsy fartsy bio? A local playhouse by my parents, the Bucks County Playhouse, has now closed. This was my own personal Broadway, as I saw a number of performances there with my family over the years. It was special treat for us. A fancy dinner beforehand, squishing lots of cars in the tiny parking lot, waiting just outside the theater for the show, and being mystified by the performers who were so close you could reach out and touch them.

The "BCP," as known around my house, has never been a showy place. The seats were old and worn, the theater a bit on the chilly side. It wasn't about making money (at least, it never came across that way). It was about the love of performing arts.

Then recently, the playhouse was closed. My understanding (found through word-of-mouth) is that they showed up at the bank to pay their loan a little before closing time. The bank then told them to sit and wait, refusing to see them before the end of banking hours. Once banking hours had passed, they said, "Sorry, Charlie" and refused to process the payment. I don't know if this is 100% factual, but just the thought of that being reality is so Scrooge-esque. Bah humbug!

But there's good news. (Yay for a Christmas miracle!) Jed Bernstein is stepping in to save the day. The playhouse that featured Robert Redford, Alan Alda, Angela Lansbury, and Walter Matthau, to name a few, looks to be making a comeback. Long live (my own personal) Broadway!

Take That!

It's about time people in role model positions are being held accountable (especially in sports)! In case you missed yesterday's Jets/Miami game, one of the Jets coaches made the oh-so-wise decision to trip one of the Miami players. He was suspended for the rest of the season and fined. THANK YOU NFL FOR STEPPING UP TO THE PLATE! And we wonder why kids (and unfortunately, adults) these days don't know how to solve their problems or resort to violence as the solution. It's like I told my student teacher - kids will copy whatever they see. If you want them to be kind, you have to show them how.

Super Stars, kids look up to you. If you want to make a (positive) difference, show them how to act by doing it yourself.

The Beauty (?) of Broccoli

I have come to the conclusion that my parents are psychic. That may sound silly, but here's why. They always told me to eat my vegetables, especially my broccoli....and now I see why.

I know my parents weren't the only ones out there to make that common threat at the dinner table, you know the "no-dessert-till-you-eat-your-broccoli" threat. It didn't matter if you had chopped it up into tiny little pieces and spread it around the plate, trying to hide it in the little bits of other food you left. Oh no, they had broccoli-sensing radar. Don't misunderstand me, I loved some vegetables. I would eat an entire box of spinach at the dear old age of 2. And butternut squash or asparagus - bring it on! But broccoli...the moldy-sock, sweaty-foot smell of it overcooked and simmering still makes my stomach turn when it's oozing through the halls at school.

We live in the age of genetically-altered everything. Turkeys that are raised to have more white meat for Thanksgiving, oranges that have no seeds, corn that is able to withstand pests better than it should. Scientists, here's your project for that Nobel Prize you're trying to win: infuse the goodness of broccoli into yummy-tasting vegetables (or anything, really) so I don't have to eat it, but can still avoid cancer, arthritis, and prescription medication for stomach infections.

Run, Edison, Run!

Just found this article on CNN. How is it I had no idea a Chilean miner was running in the NYC marathon?

What an uplifting story for anyone who ever feels like life has gotten in the way of their plans! I can't imagine what it must have been like to have been trapped in a mine for 69 days with all those other men, initially not even knowing if you were ever going to get out alive. And here's this guy, running every day to keep his spirits up, determined to beat the mine and the crappy hand he was being dealt at the time.

My favorite quote from the article: "I told the mine, 'I'm gonna outrun you. I'm gonna run till you're tired and bored of me.'" Next time something in your life has gone completely opposite of how you were planning, run till it's tired and bored of you! If Edison can do it trapped almost 1/2 mile underground, you can do it on land (or on water if you happen to be at sea for quite some time).

Julie, Julia, Lisa

I just finished watching Julie & Julia. I know, I should be writing about what I read and not what I watch, but someone had to write the screenplay, and the movie was based on a book, and really, what good is having a Netflix subscription if you can't use it?

That being said, what a cute movie (and so related to this whole blogging thing). So here's my blog to blogging. I'm right there with you Amy Adams, is anyone even reading this? It's funny how writing to the invisible someone out there can help you find yourself, and lose yourself, and find yourself all over again. While I doubt this blog will lead to a book deal (especially since my books are children's books and not necessarily related to my blog), if anyone has a dear friend Avis, or any other literary guru, let me know!

But back to why I love the movie - I love how it emphasizes the journey and not the destination. It's those little moments where the characters are smearing chocolate cake all over their faces or dressing up like Julia Child at a birthday dinner. Those are the moments that matter in life; they're the ones we remember and make us who we are. So here's to smearing chocolate all over your face at your next dinner, birthday party, or dessert tasting! (A lesson, I find, that we're learning over and over again because we never seem to get it right.)

Weight Gain

Before I get started on this one, I apologize to my dear blog followers (though few you are) for being so quiet over here the last few weeks. While I've been reading plenty, I'm assuming most of you don't want in-depth (or even basic) coverage on my student teachers' lesson plans. That being said, let's dive in.

October 4, 2010, Time Magazine, page 20:

0.5lb (Weight gain of freshman women with obese roommates)

2.5lb (Weight gain of freshman women with slim roommates)

There are a few ways to look at this...

1. The small weight gain with obese roommates is because they beat you to all the goodies in care packages your mom sends you.

2. The larger weight gain with slim roommates is because they don't even eat their own goodies from care packages. Instead they sneak the goodies into your care package pile and you eat double the goodies (nothing wrong with double homemade cookies!)

But my favorite way to look at this...

Only "Freshman 2.5?!?!?!" What's changed since I was in school? I would have killed for the "Freshman 2.5!"