Looking for Book Recommendations

I love to read (have I mentioned that I am a Janeite already? ūüôā ), and I love to share my faves.¬† I’d like to expand my list of faves, so please share your favorite reads – the books that help you balance the humor in this crazy life – the books that leave you inspired, feeling better about life and your place in it.

My top recomendation?¬† The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom.¬† It is my all time favorite book and I have given out so many copies to friends over the years.¬† If you haven’t read – YOU MUST!!!¬† It is about a Dutch “elderly” spinster, living with her older sister and father, above their clock shop during World War II.¬† They participate in the resistance movement by hiding Jews in their home… well, I won’t share more or else I’d ruin the story for you.¬† It is an easy read and chock full of inspiration, charity, values, and heart.¬† I find something extraordinary in this book every time I read it.¬† The last time I read it it was with the perspective of a parent of a child with disabilities – and it helped my perspective develop in a better direction.

Please, share your faves with me in the comments – I’d love to find some new favorites!¬† Thank you, and peace to you all!

Partyin’ in the ‘Burbs

I found this on youtube and had to share! Some wacky folks in the suburbs of Atlanta put this together and it made me laugh and laugh. If you are a suburbanite (or just like to laugh at ’em) then you’ll want to watch this. Enjoy!
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxj5EEksI1I&feature=related%20<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxj5EEksI1I&feature=related>%20

Note: for those who don’t have the priviledge of living in the 19 counties that make up metro-Atlanta, “285” refers to the highway that circles the city and effectively divides in-town from the suburbs.¬† It is also known as the “perimeter”.

Church Musings

My younger son is so verbal.

Sometimes we wonder why we ever taught him to speak (and then Рwhy he speaks so LOUDLY). 

During the¬†sermon while in church he pipes up with important questions like¬†– “Mommy, why do your boobs hang out your chest?” and “Why is Pastor so old?”

As we walk up for communion/blessings he’ll ask¬†“Why do you get snacks and I don’t?”¬†and,¬†with wide eyes, referring to the communion wine, “Is that real BLOOD in there?”

Our favorite was when, during the sermon he called up to the pastor… “Are you done talking yet?”

A Budding Novelist

My youngest has had a school assignment to write a story.¬† This will, in a few weeks, be “published” in book form.¬† The little authors will have a class party where the parents are invited and the authors read their stories in front of everyone.

We’ll cross the reading-out-loud-in-front-of-everyone bridge when we get there.¬† We had to get through writing the story first.

Now let me make this clear up front.¬† My son has no problem making up stories.¬† He’s actually quite good at coming up with ideas and events to put in stories – quite an active imagination.¬† But we often are left wondering where he gets his, shall we call it, inspiration.¬† Sometimes his stories even¬†“inspire” questions from others about our home life – sometimes funny questions, sometimes not so funny.

We drafted his story this last week.¬†¬†He would get going telling his story and I would type out his words.¬†¬†I asked a few questions to get some more detail and we ended up with something like this…¬† There’s this Crocodile whose dinosaur friends are all¬†dead, his parents are dead (this is where it turns into a Disney classic), he doesn’t know what to eat but does know what can eat him…¬† (okaaaay…)

He moves to a new lake where there are no Raccoons, Snakes, or Birds… and is trained on¬†the Tuba and plays in victory parades. ¬†(Tuba?¬† Where does this come from?¬† We don’t know anyone who plays the Tuba… Right after my younger son says this about the parade we have to shush our older son who tries to point out that crocodiles do not have the lip structure to play horn instruments.¬† After all, we tell him, we’re being creative.)

Eventually the Crocodile (whose name is actually “Crocodile” in case you were wondering)¬†finds his parents (who aren’t dead after all, they just moved to a different lake – which turns this from a Disney movie to a twisted and¬†dark commentary on child neglect, but thank God we’re… I mean they’re… still alive) and all live happily ever after.

I don’t want to change his story (although we did make some gentle suggestions), but I am curious as to what sort of looks we’ll get as my precious lovey (who, for the record, we¬†cherish and love very much¬†AND who¬†we’ve never left at a lake, never¬†starved, and¬†always brought with us when we moved to a new house) reads his story to the rest of the class.¬† Should we expect a call from social services…

Or negotiate a contract with Disney?

Dingos in Australia… or are they?

This morning we were in the middle of our normal “school morning” routine (ok, so it was also picture day at school, so we were trying to take extra care in keeping the kids clean and tidy as they ate breakfast, so it was the normal routine sans the spills and crumbs), when the subject of Dingos came up in conversation.¬† (note: such strange topics of conversation are part of the routine in our house)

Dingos, in case you didn’t know, are I think a species of wild dog that lives in Australia.¬† At least, every time I’ve ever seen or heard anything about Dingos it talks about their living in Australia.¬† So anyway, my older son started talking about a story he’d seen on television where a 9 year old boy and a 7 year old boy (my boys are 9 and 7, which is why I think he paid particular attention to this story) were attacked by Dingos.¬† He went on to describe the attack, explaining that the 9 year old was killed and the 7 year old escaped and ran home.¬† He was a bit in awe that the older of the brothers was the one killed.¬† I think he was a bit worried that he and his brother might be attacked at the bus stop.

In an effort to distract him I asked “and where was this?” thinking he would say Australia and I could point out that we live half a world away and he didn’t have to worry about Dingos roaming our suburban neighborhood.

“Ummmm… let’s look it up on the internet!” and he left the breakfast table to go fire up the computer.

“Wait a minute, bud.¬† Finish your breakfast.¬† The bus will be here soon.¬† We’re not looking it up right now,” I said.¬† I thought this would¬† be the end of it, but no…

“It was Rhode Island,” he said between bites of melon.

“What?”

“The Dingos live in Rhode Island,” he exclaimed.¬† “Dingos live in Rhode Island and that is where the boy died.”

How on earth did he come up with this?¬† “I think Dingos only live in Australia, bud.”¬† At least I really hope Dingos don’t live in Rhode Island.

“Well, they may live in Australia too, but I know they live in Rhode Island,” he said.

“Yep, they live in Australia and Rhode Island just like my brother said!” proclaimed my younger son, the family animal expert in residence.

“And I hope they don’t come south for the winter like the Canadians,” finished my older son.

Enough said.

NOTE- For our dear readers…This was not a slam against Canadians.¬† Our family does not equate Canadians with child-eating dingos…¬† We like Canadians, especially the Mounties – with whom my younger son has a slight fascination.¬† Peace to all out there!