Choosing Favorites

Today I got blind-sided by a two-sentence Facebook post. It said, "Shannon Cooley I know you must be a reader since you are a writer. And I'd love to hear more about your favorite books and what drives you to write."

My responses are a little long for Facebook, so I'm putting them here instead, as two separate posts. First, the books.

I've always struggled with choosing favorites, and not just with books--if you ask me who my best friend is, my brain will start asking, "Best friend from growing up? Best friend from [insert state here]? Best friend from college? Best writer friend? Best friend at church? Best friend when I need a laugh? Best friend to cry with?" and on, and on. (Yes, I just gave you all license to consider yourselves my best friend. Just don't be offended that you share the title.)

Choosing favorite books also seems to fall into categories for me. There are books that are my favorites because they've profoundly changed my view of the world. There are books that I love because they're so darn re-readable. There are books that just make me happy, even if others wouldn't see them as anything amazing. There are books where just the words and cadences seem to fill me up and make me glow. There are books that have taught me about a specific aspect of writing, that I re-read just to be reminded of that thing. Then there are my favorites from this year, or since I graduated college, or from high school... you get the point.

I guess that's a long way of saying that the list you're about to get might not make sense--you may look at the list and see one book you read and loved, but three that you hated, and you wonder how I could possibly group them together.

That's why it's my list. ;-)

So, ordered simply by which came to mind first, here are some of my favorite books.

"Till We Have Faces" by C. S. Lewis. I read this book for the first time when I was 15, and I've read it many times since. I chose it for a book project in high school, and as inspiration for my most complex paper in college. No matter how many times I read it, I always feel like I'm scratching the surface. Lewis considered this his best work of fiction, and it's one that always leaves me amazed.

"The Blue Castle" by L. M. Montgomery. Though not as well-known as the "Anne" books, this one has moved and taught and entertained me nearly once a year since my early teens. The writing is lyrical, the characters are fantastic (Montgomery caricatures family relationships and small-town people better than anyone I've ever read--both their flaws and their virtues), and it's a sweet love story that actually feels real (no love-at-first-sight or he/she-is-so-gorgeous-I-can't-breathe here). She also excels at writing about nature--thanks to this and the Anne of Green Gables books, I really want to visit eastern Canada someday.

"Four Seasons in Rome" by Anthony Doerr. This one is creative non-fiction, and it's prose that reads like poetry. I pick this book up and read a single page, and my day is better. It's some of the most beautiful writing I've ever read.

"A Ring of Endless Light" by Madeleine L'Engle. Really, this book could be right at the top of this list. This book has changed my world-view in several ways over the years, influenced me for good, made me want to be a better writer, always keeps me pulled in from the first page, and just makes my heart sing. I love everything I've read by L'Engle, whether it be fiction or creative non-fiction ("A Circle of Quiet" is my favorite of her non-fiction). She was a person whose thoughts dwelt on things of cosmic significance, and so her writing, though often brushed aside as "children's books" or "just fantasy/sci-fi", is full of deep truths and beautiful insights. If I could pick one person to write like, it would be Madeleine L'Engle.

Other favorites:

• "The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making" by Cathrynne M. Valente -- Yes, this actually lives up to its name. It's billed as YA fantasy, but the style is somewhat like George MacDonald, mixed with Lewis Carroll, and then a little L. Frank Baum thrown in for good measure. It has the narration style of a fairy tale from another century, with wisdom for our age and enough of the madcap to make it all thoroughly enjoyable.
• "The Thin Woman" by Dorothy Cannell -- Cozy mystery, very funny.
• "Merlin's Keep" by Madeleine Brent -- Adventure/romance/historical/a bit of paranormal? I'm not even sure how to categorize this one, but it's fun.
• The Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C. Wrede -- YA fantasy, makes fun of a lot of the classic fairy tale stereotypes. Easy, funny reads.
• "Arabella" by Georgette Heyer -- Regency romance. Really, most of Georgette Heyer's romances could make this list, this is just the one that comes to mind first.
• "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte -- Do I really need to define this one?
• The Prydain Chronicles by Lloyd Alexander -- Most people have heard of "The Black Cauldron", but the entire series is wonderful. These are some of the first novels I remember my parents reading to us when I was a kid, and they're still wonderful when I read them as an adult.
• The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis -- Another series I was read as a child, and have read again many times as I've grown up.
• Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling -- Again, I doubt I need to say much about these. I love the world, I love the writing, and they're great re-reads.

So, so many wonderful books left unlisted. Really, you ought to be amazed I managed to contain myself to this many.

What are some of your favorite books? Can you pick just one very favorite?

Spring Flowers

Yesterday I got suddenly and inexplicably desperate for spring flowers. I'm not ready to plant any yet, so instead I went to the craft store and bought stuff. Here, in all its springy glory, is my first-ever door wreath.

I didn't actually even glue in the flowers, I just wove the stems in--we'll see if it holds. If it does, it'll be easy to re-do for other seasons. ;-)

This is one of those instances where a small thing is actually a big deal. Decorating is one of the areas of homemaking where I feel least-competent, and I don't yet have a single thing hung on any of my walls inside my house. But now my front door feels homey, at least, and it soothes both the part of me that gets frustrated with my lack of decorating skills and the part of me that just really, really wanted pansies.

Next step: real pansies around my mailbox. Possibly the purple-so-deep-it's-almost-black kind.

Coming Back to Life

It's spring again--sort of. Georgia is confused. One week we get snow, the next it's 80 degrees. Then we get an ice storm (major disaster for an area that never has one--trees and power lines down all over the place), followed by an earthquake, and then it gets warm again. Then cold. Then warm. Then cold.

In the midst of this crazy weather, we decided to run away to Myrtle Beach, where it was nice and warm...

...for a day. And then it was bitter cold. Then we got back to Georgia, and it was warm and beautiful. And today it's freezing again.

You get the picture.

But somehow, even with all of these atmospheric anomalies, the trees in Georgia have started blooming. The grass is starting to turn green (except for ours, but that's another story). My thoughts have turned toward gardens, and our friends just bought a batch of fuzzy, multi-colored chicks.

I love seasons. As much of a paradise as Monterey, CA was/is, I desperately missed seasons while living there. It's not just the seasons themselves, though--while I love snow and heat in moderation, it's the changing from one season to the next that I love the most. It's when the weather moves from cold to warm, from warm to "let's go swimming;" every time the air starts tasting crisp and the leaves change color, or the first snowflakes start to spin; these changes are what I love.

The change in seasons makes me feel capable of change. It makes me want to change. It makes me feel like I NEED to change something, in order to keep up with the very fabric of nature.

I am a creature of habit, but unfortunately the bad ones are so much easier to pick up than the good ones. I fall easily into routines which are stagnant, more existing than living. I forget to notice details in my day and examine time as it passes. I forget to invite people over. I forget to take my girls on adventures.

But then the wind changes, and with it I feel that sudden drive, that need for change, and it wakes me up. Like the trees and the grass, I feel myself coming back to life.

I'm going to have adventures this week. Are you?

The Return of Gracious George

The last two months have been very long. With the exception of the last week-and-a-half that we spent on vacation--which was a lovely respite--we've had at least two people ill at any given time for the last two months. On top of my morning sickness, we went through two different stomach bugs and a nasty cold/flu which turned into sinus infections for Ryan and I. (Three of us came down with another cold the day after we got home from this last trip, and we're battling that now. Sigh.)

I'd like to say I've neglected the blog because I've been sick, but that's only partially true. I've also neglected the blog because the types of things I was seeing and dwelling on were not the types of things I wanted to blog about.

The exhaustion and pity and self-pity on my sick husband's face as he tries to take care of me and the girls when I'm puking and battling a pounding sinus infection. 

My one-year-old standing beside my bed at 4:00 in the afternoon yelling at me, "Wake up! Get up, Mom! Wake up!"

The hurt in my three-year-old's eyes when I tell her she can't cuddle me because I'm too sick.

These things were overwhelming and immediate, and I didn't feel I could write about them yet because I didn't feel like I had any perspective.

At the same time, as a direct counterbalance to all the illness and misery around here, I've been overwhelmed with love and support from wonderful friends. People I didn't even know offered to bring us meals. Several came and cleaned. We were brought a humidifier for the girls' room. People babysat on short notice when I had to run Mari to the E.R. for her ear infection, or when Ryan got sick and couldn't watch the girls during my doctor's appointment.

The night before we left for vacation, I was exhausted and starting to feel sick again, and Ryan was so ill he was nearly unable to get out of bed. I didn't know how I'd ever get us packed and ready for our trip. That night, two dear friends came over. One brought coloring books for the girls and Ginger herb tea for Ryan. One did my dishes while the other folded 5 loads of laundry. They put the girls to bed. They packed our suitcases while I lay on the couch trying not to puke. They stayed until past 11:00 that night, even though both had to work in the morning.

Before they left, one of them got our house key so she could check on the place for us while we were gone.

Three days ago, I got home from a long, tiring day of flying with two toddlers. We'd gotten up at 3:45 in the morning to get to the airport for an early flight, and I was exhausted and starting to feel sick again. I walked in the house, and almost started to cry.

My living room was clean.
My kitchen was spotless.
All our bed linens had been washed to get rid of the sick germs we'd had when we left.
Our mail was sorted into neat piles on the kitchen table, and everything smelled pleasant from an open jar candle sitting on the table.

And there, also sitting on the table, was something that did make me cry.

Gracious George, who taught me so much about selfless service as a child, is teaching me again. (See my last post if you missed who Gracious George is.)

Though I'm still struggling emotionally with the fact that we're sick yet again, and it sometimes feels like we can't catch a break this season, my new Gracious George now sits before me to remind me just how blessed I've been these last two months. I have been so loved and cared for, and the acts of service done have been far greater than the pain of the illness. The sting of sickness will fade, but I'll forever cherish the memories of the love that I've felt as my new friends--people I've only known for a few months at most--continually sought ways to help me and my family.

Thank you to everyone who serves. Thank you for giving love. Thank you for reminding me to focus on the love.

Elves and Gingerbread Men

I'll state right here: I can't see myself ever doing Elf on a Shelf. Not because I think it's wrong to motivate children by having Santa spy on them, not because I think everyone should just chill out--basically, I'm too unorganized, and I know I'll be lucky if I can even get an advent calendar going and actually stick to it.

But as I was looking at someone's Elf on a Shelf post the other day, I was reminded of a Christmas tradition that we had in my family growing up. Like Elf on a Shelf, we had a little friend who would mysteriously appear at the scene of random occurrences; he was seemingly inanimate, and yet managed to do so much.

We had Gracious George, the Gingerbread Man.

Our George was made of dark brown felt, with rickrack and buttons for decoration. He had a pocket on his back that was just big enough to fit a tootsie roll or a quarter. And Gracious George always heralded good things.

It started with a Family Home Evening lesson on a Monday night. We would tell the story of Gracious George, using flannel board pictures, I believe. It was similar to the regular story of the Gingerbread man, but before he would run from anyone, he would do an act of service for them--for example, he cleaned the old woman's dishes, and weeded the old man's garden. Things like that. He ran and ran, shouting the classic epithet,

Run, run, run, as fast as you can!

You can't catch me, 

I'm Gracious George the Gingerbread Man! 

Okay, so maybe it differed a little from the classic.

Either way, he ran until he came to . . . our house! There he continued his acts of service, but always trying not to be caught. 

Mom and dad would then take George and put everything away, but sometime that night or the next day, he would appear on a newly-folded bed, or bearing a treat, or on a straightened bookshelf. And then it would be the recipient's turn to give an act of service, leaving Gracious George as the only sign of who had done it.

We loved being ultra-sneaky and seeing what kinds of acts of service we could pull off under each others' noses. And the best part? My mom didn't have to clean up any messes George made, or figure out something new to do with him every day. She left that to us--unless it was her turn, of course.

Remembering Gracious George brought back a lot of nostalgia, and I realized that it's about time for me to start some of these types of Christmas  traditions with my girls. I'm thinking that next year will be the year that Gracious George puts in his first appearance at our house.

What's your favorite Christmas tradition? What age do you remember these  traditions being most important to you?

Answers to the Movie Game

Alright, folks. Here they are, in all their glory: the titles to the movies those wonderful quotations came from. Each of these movies made an impact on my life in some way. Most I've seen too many times to count, but #8 I've only seen once; the line just stuck with me and I've been using it for several years.

1. "Don't make me beat you with this leg of mine that no longer works!"
• This comes from the fantastically amazing movie Surf Ninjas. Don't believe the star-rating; it's awesome... if you're watching with the right people, and just want the hilarious dialogue.
2. "You gentlemen mind if I take this little 'ol jug of mountain water with me?"
• Hot Lead and Cold Feet. Jim Dale (frequently known in the U.S. as the narrator for the Harry Potter audiobooks) triple-stars in this movie as old Jasper Bloodshy and his twin sons.
3. "You know, Joe Jr.'s still single."--"Shocker."
• While You Were Sleeping. I've used this movie to convince guys that chick flicks are awesome. Also, I feel like I married into this family. Family dinners are awesome. (And the paper boy who accidentally eats it is one of the best moments in film history.)
4. "Wise man say, 'Forgiveness is divine, but never pay full price for late pizza.'"
• Please tell me someone other than me recognized this one? I thought this one was a classic! This one's from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
5. "The mouse? He's left our house! To ease the pain... he's down the drain!"
• Ladyhawke. This one is a little more obscure, but well worth the time to find. It's the first movie I remember my mom ever buying on DVD.
6. "I've been using fruity soaps, Maggie."
• Waking Ned Devine. Watch this one when you're in the mood for British humor, and when you have people with you who will laugh at British humor.
7. "Girl or not, I can still whip you!"
• Ever After. In my opinion, one of the best Cinderella movies out there.
8. "But the talking mice told me it was the wrong girl!"
• Cinderella 3: A Twist in Time. This one I've only seen once, and don't really feel any need to watch again. Watching it with my college roommates was really entertaining, though, and this part of the movie had us falling off our seats with laughter. I've been quoting the line ever since.
9. "Llama face!"
• If you didn't get this one, we may not be able to be friends anymore. The Emperor's New Groove.
10. "Don't just stand there, do something!"--"What for? There's only three little ones."
• Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. This is one of the first movies I ever remember watching; this and Singin' in the Rain. 
11. "The hospital is fine except for this wicked nurse. She's got the face of a dragon's butt."
• Alright, so there are three ninja movies on this list--my family was really into karate; what can I say? This one is from 3 Ninjas Kick Back.
12. Star Wars, Star Wars, Star Wars. (We rarely bothered quoting the new ones.)

"Inconceivable!" And Other Well-Loved Favorites

This morning I woke up with movie quotations running through my head. It happens a lot considering I don't watch very many movies.

My brothers were always the better quoters. They could watch a funny movie once and have most of the dialogue memorized; twice and they were pretty much golden. It usually took me 3 times and a movie I really loved before I'd have it memorized, but I could usually jump in on their quoting games. It got to the point that I once had a friend tell me that my family had "a quote and a song for any situation."

I've also realized, however, that some of the movies I know and love are rather obscure. Not all are as easily named as the one I quoted in the title of this post. So here are a few lines, some easy to guess, some not, which I've found myself quoting more than once over the years. How many can you correctly identify? (Without googling--that's just cheating.) Check back in Monday for the answers.

1. "Don't make me beat you with this leg of mine that no longer works!"
2. "You gentlemen mind if I take this little 'ol jug of mountain water with me?"
3. "You know, Joe Jr.'s still single."--"Shocker."
4. "Wise man say, 'Forgiveness is divine, but never pay full price for late pizza.'"
5. "The mouse? He's left our house! To ease the pain... he's down the drain!"
6. "I've been using fruity soaps, Maggie."
7. "Girl or not, I can still whip you!"
8. "But the talking mice told me it was the wrong girl!"
9. "Llama face!"
10. "Don't just stand there, do something!"--"What for? There's only three little ones."
11. "The hospital is fine except for this wicked nurse. She's got the face of a dragon's butt."
12. [Insert any Star Wars quote here.]

Learning to See

Cim's "pet" spider wrapping up lunch.

I sat and watched an Orb Weaver spider make its web the other night. One long strand stretched up to the power line above us. Another connected to a bush at my head-height, and a third stabilizing thread connected to the grass at my feet. The web shone in the light from the streetlamp above as the spider made her way around and around. Her orange-and-brown-striped legs moved tirelessly, reach, pull, attach, cross, reach, pull...

I might not have stopped to watch, except that my daughters' fascination with spiders has rubbed off since we've come to Georgia. It's not just spiders that hold our attention, though.

One day Cim and I sat and watched the dirt in the flowerbed shift and ripple, little crumbs rolling down the sides of new mountains as a worm crawled just beneath the surface. We caught some of the worms and watched them wiggle, then let them work their way back into the dirt, seeing how they exploited tiny cracks and air pockets in the soil.

Another day we caught tan and green grasshoppers and little black-and-red beetles. We watched their antennae move, and watched the grasshoppers spring on their powerful hind legs. We counted their legs. We watched the little beetles fly away right before we could catch them.

The semester or two after I graduated college, I watched through Facebook as most of my English Major friends and classmates applied for graduate school, accepted student teaching or undergraduate teaching positions, or otherwise pursued their writing/literature studies in obvious and laudable ways. And sometimes, I got a little sad. I knew I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom (I graduated in December of 2010 with one baby in my arms, and got pregnant with baby #2 in April), but sometimes I wondered if all the time I'd spent in college was a waste, and if all the things I'd learned about writing and literature would just fade away until I someday sat down to try to re-learn them after my kids were grown.

I've come to peace with this several times in different ways, but only recently have I noticed that I'm in my ideal writing program right now.

Several times in college I read the essay "Learning to See" by Samuel H. Scudder, in which his mentor makes him look at the same fish over and over again for days, trying to see new things about it. Amazingly enough, he finds that no matter how much he's already seen, there's more yet to describe. As writers, we then did exercises like taking one small leaf and writing descriptions of it for fifteen minutes. Once we used a sour gummy worm; I've never forgotten the little lavender line on mine where the pink and blue merged, or the way the sugar crystals sparkled. These exercises helped us remember to look beyond (and hopefully write beyond) the obvious appearance of things, to get at the details that would bring our writing alive.

And now, with my toddlers for tutors, I'm being taught to see once again.

They're also busy teaching me how to imagine. Somewhere over the years, I mostly quit daydreaming. My imagination expressed itself when I wrote, but it sometimes felt squeaky, rusty. It was also reluctant to fire up unless I was actually sitting in front of the computer or a piece of paper, ready to write.

These days, at my three-year-old's direction, I'm a ninja running around the yard fighting monsters with my stick-sword. (Those weeds never knew what hit them.) I'm the mommy dinosaur/tiger/kitty/platypus. I'm a school teacher. I'm a dancer.

And emotion--another key part of writing? Got it covered. Have you ever watched a one-and-a-half-year-old try to analyze why she's crying? Have you ever seen a three-year-old's level of excitement when handed a bucket and told to say 'trick-or-treat'? What about sibling rivalries, feelings of betrayal when mom has to help the "other" child, and anger, which always has some other underlying cause? Oh yes, with two toddler girls, we run the gamut of emotion every ten minutes or so.

Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I'm too busy with the dishes, or whatever it may be, and I don't come when I hear, "Mom, come here, you have GOT to see this!"

But sometimes I do. And my little tutors get to work.

Someday I'll get to the point where I turn my focus to publishing (after a lot of consideration and prayer, I've decided that time's not now), and where I'm finishing as many projects as I have beginnings for in my head. Maybe by then I'll have learned how to live, to see, to imagine, and to feel. And with that, maybe I'll be able to write books worth reading.

Halloween

I know, it's been awhile since I've written a good, in-depth post. There are reasons (a.k.a. excuses), but I promise I'll get one up soon. In the meantime, enjoy these pictures of what I did with that crazy pile of crafting supplies.

Cim wanted to be a princess...

Mari wanted to be a dinosaur...

And we knew they'd each want whatever the other had.

So they got to be dinosaur princesses.

I didn't want to be left out!

And neither did Dad (though I didn't get his tutu made in time--that red tulle will have to be put to use elsewhere).

And who doesn't like having a family of t-rexes stomping around the neighborhood?

Happy Halloween!

Homemade Horror

Mari was asleep in her bed. Cim was asleep in my bed... or so I thought.

Because she kept waking up her sister, Cim has been relegated to my bed for naptime. She's gotten in trouble several times for touching things on our headboard shelves, but she hadn't done it in awhile, and everything was oh-so-quiet... which would normally be a warning sign, but this time I thought it meant sleep, so I was busily working away on Halloween costumes.

Then Ryan came home, and at the sound of his voice, I suddenly heard sounds from the bedroom as well. We opened the door to find this.

All that's missing from this classic horror scene is the weapon.

Or maybe this white marble Chinese Medicine ball is the culprit? It carries fingerprints, at least.

What made this massive mess, you ask?

The contents of this little container. It's wax-based red ink we brought back from China, meant for use with Ryan's "chop," a stamp of his name cut from a piece of marble. I hadn't even realized it was in our room.

But I have a permanent reminder now.

Cim went straight to the tub of course...

Where we discovered she'd pulled her jeans up and painted herself a pair of red knee-highs.

Dawn dish soap helped some.

The tub, a spot on the counter (she climbed out of the tub and grabbed the white counter before we could catch her), the mattress, and several spots on the carpet are still bleeding waxy substance, no matter how hard we try to wipe them up (dry cloths work better than wet, due to the wax, but our stain removers are proving totally ineffectual). 

We tried really hard not to let her see us laughing when we first opened the door, but the more we got into the clean-up, the more we were holding in yells instead. This stuff is so bad. Because it won't just dry out and stain like a marker or something, if we step on a spot on the carpet, we spread it, and if we put new sheets on our bed, they'll pick it up from the mattress.

Chalk another one up for life experience. This day has won. We're exhausted.