Sunday, December 27, 2009
This winter break we have 2 reading promotions happening in the WOMS libary, so join the fun!
One option is to make a comment on my blog - click on the comments section of any entry! I'll need to publish them, so you won't see it appear right away, but you'll see it later, so check back!
Another option, and you can do both, is to visit a public library and check out a display. You need a librarian or a parent to sign off on that one,so click HERE to find a link to the form.
Win great prizes for participating!!
Hope you have a lovely winter break with lots of books to snuggle up with.
Champurrado (I think that one was Mexican drinking chocolate)
Onion Soup with Champagne
Gingered Carrot Sweet Potato Soup
Hearty Borscht with Cabbage
four kinds of Risotto
Double Corn Spoonbread
Cuban Black Beans
Gingerbread with Blackberry sauce (who knew you could bake a CAKE in the slow cooker?)
I'm going to be pretty busy, but there's just something so appealing about not having to actually DO much, and then presto, dinner (or dessert) is ready. I'm looking forward to trying out this recipe book.
Many recipes easy enough for kids, especially if they had some help. This book is available at the Multnomah County Public Library.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Twas the Night Before Christmas
by Clement C. Moore (See below for more info on Mr. Moore.)
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863) wrote the poem Twas the night before Christmas also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822. It is now the tradition in many American families to read the poem every Christmas Eve. The poem Twas the night before Christmas has redefined our image of Christmas and Santa Claus. Prior to the creation of the story of Twas the night before Christmas St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children, had never been associated with a sleigh or reindeers! The author of the poem Twas the night before Christmas was a reticent man and it is believed that a family friend, Miss H. Butler, sent a copy of the poem to the New York Sentinel who published the poem. The condition of publication was that the author of Twas the night before Christmas was to remain anonymous. The first publication date was 23rd December 1823 and it was an immediate success. It was not until 1844 that Clement Clarke Moore claimed ownership when the work was included in a book of his poetry. Clement Clarke Moore came from a prominent family and his father Benjamin Moore was the Bishop of New York who was famous for officiating at the inauguration of George Washington. The tradition of reading Twas the night before Christmas poem on Christmas Eve is now a Worldwide institution.
Monday, December 21, 2009
You might also think about giving to the Library Foundation, which you can do through the Willamette Week's Give! Guide.
You'll find the Library Foundation in the community section. The public library has LOTS of great programs going on, and the Foundation works to support their efforts.
And speaking of the public library, don't forget our fun library promotions we have going on over break. Comment on this very blog OR visit a public library. All the info is on the library page near THIS snowflake symbol:
Hope you're having a great winter break!
Friday, December 18, 2009
The winter solstice
The days become longer
The sun stronger
Yet for the next six to eight
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Happy Winter to you.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Three GREAT recommendations this week. Hoot, by Carl Hiassen; one of Meg Cabot's Mediator books; and the lovely Olive's Ocean. Thanks, ladies, for the fabulous recommendations. Hope you had wonderful birthdays and all your wishes come true in the year ahead!
Friday, December 11, 2009
No two are alike
Settle on my frozen tongue
Pure beauty falling
Snowflakes are falling
Unique beauties of nature
Amaze and delight
Snowflakes fall softly
White drifts blanket forest floors
Quiet, peaceful sleep
Fairy tutus fall
Drifting on the ground below
Barbara T. Bauer
Thursday, December 10, 2009
The book is a simple picture book with words like "alike" and "different, "long" and "short,"face" and "tail, " etc. given in both English and Spanish, and then "illustrated" with a photo of an animal carving done by the Santiago brothers who live in the state of Oaxaca, Mexico. The animal figurines are brightly painted and the backgrounds on the pages are extremely simple, plain bright colors with a simple border around the page. Each page is a different color.
This book is so simple, yet it is delightful and visually interesting. It will be an excellent addition to our collection and very useful in the classroom.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
In this book, Phoebe's been in Greece a while, has found herself a very fine boyfriend, and is training for the Pythian Games, which are similar to the Olympics. But there are a few little problems...one of the problems is that Phoebe's boyfriend is being really secretive and spending a lot of time with his old girlfriend. Uh-oh! Another problem is that Phoebe has never really uncovered the real reason behind her father's death, and she's pretty afraid of what she might find out. But the biggest problem of all is that Phoebe herself has about zero control, or maybe less, over her powers. And if she doesn't get them under control soon, she's not going to pass teh test that's n store for her OR be allowed to compete for a chance in the Pythian games.
Enter Goddess Boot Camp. It's where you go when you're in way over your head and can't get control. But usually you're sent there when you're about ten, not when you're in high school. And usually your evil stepsister isn't in charge of the camp. And usually your boyfriend's ex isn't second in charge. Ugh! Phoebe's sure it's going to be misery all summer and that she won't learn a thing. And on some levels, both are right. But there are a lot of surprises along the way, too.
This was a delightfully fun book, and a great choice to have picked to read on my birthday! This book and the first in the series have been ordered for the WOMS library and should be here right after winter break. Meanwhile, they're available at the Multnomah County Library.
The Saggitarians are celebrating our birthdays now, and have some great books to share.Casey chose The Alchemyst. Harlene, super celebrator, picked Perfect, Yasmine selected Wicked, and I elected to show off I'd Tell You I Love You but Then I'd have to Kill You - we have the mp3 of this one now, did you know? All fabulous books for fabulous people. Find these @ your library!
Friday, December 04, 2009
by Joyce Stuphen
The second half of my life will be black
to the white rind of the old and fading moon.
The second half of my life will be water
over the cracked floor of these desert years.
I will land on my feet this time,
knowing at least two languages and who
my friends are. I will dress for the
occasion, and my hair shall be
whatever color I please.
Everyone will go on celebrating the old
birthday, counting the years as usual,
but I will count myself new from this
inception, this imprint of my own desire.
The second half of my life will be swift,
past leaning fenceposts, a gravel shoulder,
asphalt tickets, the beckon of open road.
The second half of my life will be wide-eyed,
fingers shifting through fine sands,
arms loose at my sides, wandering feet.
There will be new dreams every night,
and the drapes will never be closed.
I will toss my string of keys into a deep
well and old letters into the grate.
The second half of my life will be ice
breaking up on the river, rain
soaking the fields, a hand
held out, a fire,
and smoke going
upward, always up.