Something "light"...

(I struggle with post titles, can you tell?)
It's no secret that I read like I breathe, that our house is insulated by a nice layer of books on shelves and that....

True Confession #372:

I am a book snob.
(I may have confessed this before. I lose track.)

I don't know when this happened, because I read Danielle Steele in high school and freely admitted it in public. (*sigh* This post is chock-full of confessions...watch for 'em.) I bought paperbacks from the grocery store and *gasp!* left them laying around for all the world to see, even loaning them to friends!  (NO, they weren't Harlequins. Think John Grisham, Tess Gerritson or Robert Ludlum.)

I'm thinking it must have been in college sometime that I got snobby about books.  I didn't want to waste my reading time on anything that wasn't going to better me in some way.  In fact, now that I write this, I KNOW it was the summer philosophy class with a rather laid back professor who assigned an excellent reading list, then took our class out under the big old trees on campus to discuss the deeper meanings of the books and life.  I was never really satisfied with fluff writing after that.  (Except for Patrick McManus, who doesn't really qualify as fluff because he uses incredible words that add to my vocabulary every time I read his work.)  I wanted MEATY reading!  Reading that was worth my time!  Material that I could chew on, discuss, examine and argue over!

I became the worst sort of book snob, too.
I waded into "claahhh-sics, daaahhh-ling" and non-fiction, and seldom looked back.
I was (and still am, I think) a dud at a cocktail party when it came to contemporary reads...especially fiction.
Picture me, standing with a group of women, holding my dirty martini and trying to figure out how to tie Les Miserables in to the Fifty Shades of Grey conversation...
(THIS is why I'm better at parties with football.)

Fortunately, all was not lost.
Even book snobs can be rehabilitated.
Yes!
One day, after finishing a particularly snooty conversation with my sister about my disdain for popular, contemporary fiction, she quietly (and wisely) pointed out to me: "Maybe there's a REASON everyone is reading it..."
You ever have one of those cast-iron-frying-pan-upside-the-head-humility moments?

I also have friends who require me to read contemporary books.  It's a mutual growth thing...I've opened up the world of non-fiction to them, they've lured me into contemporary (soft-cover, yet!) fiction, we sweeten the deal with wine and appetizers...

And THAT is how I ended up reading the book whose image you see at the top of this post.  It's THE most popular book in the U.S. right now, across the board, because men AND women are buying it and reading it, talking about it, gasping and so forth.  I own a hard cover copy.  Of the most popular contemporary book on the NYT bestseller list...!  (This is big, folks.  THIS is growth.)

I'm not going to give you a summary or review or anything.  It would be impossible, really.  This is what I want to say about the book:
Buy the hardcover, because the book itself is a work of art....foiled stars that glow in lamplight when you lay it aside to get another glass of wine, end papers that are copies of a real lighthouse keeper's log book, graceful font...it's a beauty.  Then, when you're done admiring it and congratulating yourself for purchasing such a pretty book, open it up and prepare to devote the rest of the day to living it; prepare to be raw and tender, even if you are a hardened, cynical reader like me.  Make sure you have a friend read it simultaneously, because you'll NEED to talk about it...you won't be able to help yourself.  Understand that you'll be thinking of it for days thereafter.

I recommend you also find yourself a good cocktail party, because you're gonna rock this time!

Caution! Potentially Inflammatory Post!

I might get beat up on the playground for this, but...

In a little community like the one where I live, our lives are intertwined, whether we want them to be or not.  I think of it like a piece of embroidery that looks all neat and nice on the right side, but when you flip it over and look at the other side, you see all those threads tangled up with each other.  It's still beautiful, but you realize there's more than first meets the eye.

Same thing in little communities...on the nice side, everybody helps their neighbors (for the most part), potlucks are a good time, men's open gym night turns into poker night and we can read the Christmas story from the book of Luke in the Bible at our school play without worry of a picket line forming.  On the messy side, we sometimes end up knowing too much about each other, start to compete in pie wars, stew about little things that anyone outside of the community would laugh at, and take everything personally.  (Last year, when Susie Milam's pie made more money at the silent auction, I took it personally. Don't laugh!  It's a big deal, here!)  :)

The odd thing about that is that you'd think people who live 20 miles apart and can't even see the big yard  lights of their neighbor's house would not have such issues.  If I wanted to keep up with the Jones', I'd have to get in my car, drive over 6 miles of gravel and mud, pull into their yard (it's not like you can circle the block surreptitiously), gawk at their Christmas lights, wave goodbye (vowing in my heart to out-light them) and drive back.  What's more is that no one would see the 800 EXTRA twinkling lights I added to MY display, unless they did the same thing....seriously!  (I do, however, get comments when my flamingos are failing at the mailbox. I don't take that personally.  Flamingos make the Two Furrow a nicer place to drive, so I just replace them.) 

It's trickier than that.

It's having a barbecue and not putting up a General Invitation to Everyone in the post office.  

It's trying to keep a vasectomy a private matter when everyone wants to know why in the world you're going to town in the middle of the week without a horse trailer.

It's going to a beauty shop, not because you necessarily like the way they cut your hair, but because it's your Mom's best friend's cousin's daughter and you don't want to upset everyone.  (Even though you may come away with red hair that is a little on the purple side...)

You see where I'm going with this?

It's like Facebook, concentrated down to 50 people.  

Can you imagine?

Even if you don't "post it on your wall", there'll be knowledge of it, true or not, and even if you don't get unfriended, there'll be a little "block status" going on for awhile.  And  you KNOW there'll be "comments".  

We don't all "like" the same things, but we're in the same group, nonetheless.  And it's not a private group, that's for darn sure!

It requires maturity, a sense of humor, strong self-confidence and the ability to let things roll off and roll away.  I guess that's called forgiveness.  I'm glad I grew up in a tiny community with a lot of people like that and I'm glad my kids are growing up in the same such place.  

(I'm also glad our school bus driver doesn't post anything about the outfits I have on when I bring the kids to the bus stop...but that's another topic, best saved for later.)

If you have something to say about what I've just written, please leave a comment on the fridge door, here...I hate it when people talk about my flamingos and Christmas lights behind my back...

I just found this picture while talking to my sister on the phone...I had forgotten I'd even taken it!

The black silhouette glowing in the sun has always mesmerized me.

*sigh*

I miss summer!

Field trip to Jordan...the guy, not the town

Yesterday, the Little School on the Prairie loaded all seven students, one crazy teacher and an even CRAZIER chaperon onto the Little Yellow Schooner and went to Miles City for a field trip.  Here in eastern Montana, there's really no such thing as a short bus ride.  Try 80 miles to the nearest art center. And we were the ones closest to town!  Ross School (one not-at-all-crazy teacher and two students who also happen to be sisters) drove 135 miles from Mosby to join us, for goodness sake!

There's a really great guy at the Custer County Art and Heritage Center (CCAHC) who does projects with our schools tying Indian education with art so they get culture and creativity all in one session.  Jordan (his name causes great confusion in conversation as you can well imagine) somehow manages to come up with projects that work for 6th graders as well as kindergarteners...AND he teaches with patience and kind humor.  We love Jordan.  The guy, not the town.  See?!? It's tricky!

This trip, the kids made rain sticks.
(You should know that Jordan SEEMS like a very nice man, but underneath that polite, thoughtful facade lurks an evil, evil person.  You see, this is the second noise making project they've had in two weeks; last week it was clay whistles.  NEXT time, they're doing drums! Shortly followed, I'm sure, by homemade electric guitars or some other instrument of torture to parents...)
I don't love Jordan for THAT.  The guy, not the town.

For those of you who don't know what rain sticks are:
They're hollow tubes with pins or thorns arranged circularly on the inside.  Into this tube is poured a cup of small, noisy things like rocks or pasta or beans, then it's sealed up and when the tube is tipped, all the little noisy things sound like rain trickling to the other end.  They were supposed to bring rains when the native people used them.  They bring insanity to parents and teachers.

Jordan explaining how to stick hundreds of toothpicks in tubes.  (This is a skill that can be used at home, too! Bless his black heart...)

Tubes make dandy swords, voice whistles and telescopes.  The kids restrained themselves, but they TALKED about the options...

The crazy teacher helping with the weapon...I mean, rain stick...

Jordan had pre-punched holes in the tubes, so it made pushing toothpicks in a bit easier.  It took a LOT of toothpicks and the process allowed for lots of time to visit and come up with ideas for a toothpick filled tube.

When they were finished, the inside of the tubes looked like this:

The ends of the toothpicks were clipped off, disappointingly...

The next step was to fill the tubes with little noisy things that will make an incredible mess if the tube is ever accidentally broken open.
I'm growing less fond of Jordan the more I describe this project.
The guy, not the town.

Hot gluing the ends of the tubes and each little toothpick opening....

Making it rain!
Incidentally, while we were in Mexico Lindo eating lunch, it started raining/snowing!  Obviously, the rain sticks worked...

These are just images of things I saw around the studio while the kids were toothpick-ing...

All that glitters...

...is in our house at Christmas time, I think!
I was smiling, looking through photos this morning, thinking about how every year, the tree seems magical and special, more beautiful than ever...even though it looks basically the same as it has the last 8 years.  The kids are bigger in the pictures, but the tree doesn't really change a lot.  And it's not because we have a fake tree, either.  (Don't get me started on that...)  There's just something about the stars (white lights, of course) being captured in a tree in our HOUSE that just makes me feel delighted every time I look at it.  And between the stars, we hang memories of past Christmases, family and dear ones.  Every ornament has a story, really.  Even the candy canes remind me of how my Dad used to eat the candy canes off our tree when we were kids; not surprisingly, they were sparse by Christmas Eve!

I'm putting pictures up of our tree(s) because a good friend asked for them. I'm sure they look nearly EXACTLY the same as last year's pictures but perhaps that can be endearing and funny, instead of monotonous.
(Work with me, here...)


First, the outside tree:

I did not realize that Maggie's fondest desire at Christmas was to decorate one of our trees outside.  Grandma Celestia knew, though, and sent a box of funny ornaments for the kids to do this project! They hustled out the afternoon before we were to decorate the inside tree and got right to work. I was impressed with how high they were able to hang some of the baubles!

(When we were decorating the inside tree, Angus was inclined to hang his ornaments all in the same square foot.  It was efficient. He didn't waste time walking around the tree, looking for likely spots, you know?  But Maggie gave an exasperated sigh and looked at me conspiratorially,  "He did that outside, TOO!"  Apparently, she tried to school him on the "proper" way to trim a tree, he resented the instruction and stomped off, she rearranged the ornaments, all was set right.  Whew!)

It snowed the next day, making the ornaments even MORE charming!

This one looks almost fake, it's so perfect in its setting!

And now, the inside tree:

The kids chose blue and gold ornaments from our stash this year! It's tough to photograph, but in real life it's very pretty.

The kids keep going back, re-examining the ornaments and asking for the stories...

This is a hand painted ornament by Bette Johnson, a local artist.  My mother-in-law gave us a set of six and they're some of my favorites.

Here's a little ornament I painted to look like my dog, Molly Jo. 

A nutcracker, a reminder of the performance we went to in Bigfork last Thanksgiving.  Its little jaws actually work...Angus checks it repeatedly to make sure!

Our nativity...
the Wise Men are on their way.  During the Advent, they start out far away from the "barn", moving closer every day until the day of Epiphany, in the first week of January.  Ours move rather quickly, usually arriving on Christmas Eve or thereabouts.  Maggie also moved the animals around, placing the cow closest to the manger because cows are so curious and she couldn't imagine a sheep caring for what was in the hay.  She doesn't know what to do with the donkey, so he's hanging out at the end of the book case.

Tuckered out, after decorating TWO trees that day!