Christmas Baking

 

                 I’m becoming my mother. Longing for the nostalgic days of my youth when, at least from this distance, things seemed so much better. Christmas, in particular, brings that out. Because Christmases past always seem so much simpler, more romantic, and just plain fun. Why is that?

                Something about Christmas makes me, the least crafty human being I know, think of doing crafty things. Forget anything to do with sewing. Sewing machines make me break out in hives. And I never have mastered knitting or crocheting. Bruce wouldn’t let me near a jigsaw, for fear I’d lose a few fingers. And even glue and construction paper aren’t a safe bet when I’m around. Baking is my Christmas craft of choice.

I bake a mean pie and cookies are always a good bet. My mother, who gave up on teaching me anything crafty when I was about nine, was the one who got me started on baking. She said those magic words to me. “When you’re ready to learn to cook, read a cook book.” And that I could do.

I’m a messy baker. There’s flour on the floor, and in my hands, and on my face. The knobs to the cupboard doors get all gooey. And I usually end up with goop in my hair and ears. And things don’t always turn out looking like the pictures in the book. The incentive is to get to eat what I make though – so I don’t care what it looks like or how messy it is.

The first Christmas after Bruce and I were married we were, like most newlyweds of our day, broke and without Christmas tree ornaments. We cut down a Charlie Brown tree on the farm we were working on. Wired some of the bottom branches in to the gaps at the top of the tree.  And decorated the thing with gingerbread men and popcorn balls.

Every evening, when we sat and read or watched tv, Bruce would grab a cookie or popcorn ball off the tree to eat. By Christmas, the tree was pretty bare. But still, when I look back on it, it was one of the best Christmases ever.

The problem now is, that baking isn’t about the process. It’s not about being in the kitchen having fun. It’s about getting it done and having something to show for it. Not to sound all Zen, but I think Christmas was more fun when I had less expectation of it and just enjoyed the smell of baking in the kitchen.

So, if you’re looking for a simple Christmas, put away the lists, stop being so productive, and check out a cookbook from the library. Go home, turn on the oven, use your hands to play with the dough. And when you’re done – eat all the cookies yourself!  

It's nice having friends who are writers

The nice thing about having friends who are writers, is that sometimes you don't need to write anything. You can just say "what she said."




Anne Ursu is one of those people - she's way more intelligent and articulate than I am. And she is better at explaining the importance of children's literature, fantasy, and feminism without going ballistic, like I would!




So read this - her latest blog post. You don't want to miss it.

The latest by Gail Caldwell

                For those of you who care about such things, I actually read three adult books this weekend. One of them was Gail Caldwell’s new memoir, New Life, No Instructions. Caldwell’s memoir from a few years back, Let’s Take the Long Way Home, was one of my favorites.  Let’s Take the Long Way Home was the story of her friendship with fellow writer Caroline Knapp, a friendship that had a lot to do with their mutual love of dogs. So, it stands to reason I loved it.

                A dog features in New Life, No Instructions, too. But this story is about growing old and struggling with life changes. Caldwell had polio as an infant and her right leg was always weaker, shorter and caused her to limp. When she hit her fifties though, the pain became intense and she struggled to be able to keep up with her young Samoyed, Tula. Now, aging isn’t something I’ve missed out on, but still the thought that there might come a time that walking dogs would be difficult took my totally by surprise. I live by the theory, if I do something every day, I’ll be able to do that thing every day for the rest of my life. So, Caldwell’s disability disturbed me. After all, she was athletic and tough.

                The problem for me, of course, is that I don’t believe in having just one dog and it dawned on me reading Caldwell’s memoir that if anything happened to Bruce, I’d have trouble walking both dogs by myself. The old dogs were always willing to walk in tandem. I could hold their two leashes in one hand, and like they were harnessed together, they’d walk along side by side. They’d also slowed down enough that even together I could keep them under control.

                But Pippi and Ben, even though they are three years old now, have not yet figured out how to walk easily alone, no less together. After we first got them, I tried walking them together once and just barely managed to make it back home. They pulled, not always in the same direction, and tangled me up in their leashes.  I managed to keep from getting dragged down the road after a chipmunk only by sitting down and screaming a lot.  Since then, I’ve refused to walk both of them by myself.

                But Caldwell’s book made me realize, if I’m going to have dogs until the day I die, I better start getting back to walking them by myself. So, this morning, I hooked them up and headed out. It was a beautiful day – sunshine, birds chirping, warm. Pippi and Ben refused to walk side by side, so I wrapped their leashes up short and had one on each side of me. The first quarter of a mile was not a pretty sight. They kept trying to change sides, sure that the other one’s sniffing area was more delectable. I was wrapped in a leash like a mummy in no time. Fortunately, there were no chipmunks in sight. So, I had them sit, gave them each a biscuit bone, and untangled myself.

                We proceeded down the road. The dogs have been trained to sit whenever a car approaches and they know there is a treat in it for them. Usually they will start sitting as soon as they see a car coming, even if it’s a mile away. So, they sat for every car and ate biscuit bones liberally.  Ben pulled a little ahead. Pippi dragged a little behind. I managed to be the anchor in the middle of the parade. But we made it, which was the important thing. 

And so did Gail Caldwell. I won’t give it all away, but give New Life, No Instructions a read and discover how for yourself.

MakerSpaces

When librarians talk about libraries, we sometimes wax poetic. We may even sound like fisherman talking about how big the fish we caught or almost caught, was. Except we are talking about how important libraries are, or what you can do at a library, or what libraries contribute to society. Sometimes we say things like, libraries are a cornerstone of democracy, libraries are where everyone is equal, libraries are open to everyone regardless of gender, race, religion, educational or socioeconomic status. Which is all true, even if it does sound lofty. But now, there's a new visionary idea that librarians want to promote. It's the MakerSpace.


What's that you are asking?


A MakerSpace is just what it sounds like - a space to make something. But in some ways what a MakerSpace is is so much more than that - so much bigger - so much deeper, because it's based on the idea that libraries are no longer places you go to for information, entertainment, knowledge. Libraries are about learning, but learning in community where sometimes you are the student  and sometimes you are the teacher. Libraries are places you go to be part of creating something new - so you aren't just reading someone else's story, you are writing your own. Your aren't just watching someone else's movie, you are making your own. You aren't just checking out a book on knitting, you are sitting down and knitting.


I took a tour of the FabLab (their MakerSpace) at Fayetteville Free Library a couple of weeks ago, and came away drooling all over myself. Their FabLab is almost as big as our main reading room. It has six sewing machines where people can come and sew, take sewing lessons, or join a quilting circle. It has a wood working corner, where if you can build something. It has 3-D printers and craft kits for everything from jewelry making to painting. But you know what the coolest thing was? They had fancy shaped cake pans you could check out. Tractor ones and Blue's Clues pans and Paw Print pans.


You can see where this is going right? The little hamsters in my brain are just flat out running on their little wheels! So --- if you want to help be part of creating at the library, come talk to me. Volunteers are always welcome.


Now what are we going to call it?

Have I told you how much I love Anne Ursu?

My friend, the author Anne Ursu, (I just love writing that!) just posted another brilliant opinion on her blog. Anne is the author of Breadcrumbs, a middle grade novel that I finally got around to reading. And I'm wondering why I waited so long. Reading Anne is always a lesson to me. I keep repeating to myself, "Why didn't I say/think that?" or "I wish I could write like that!"

Anyway, check out her blog for her latest thoughts on the Secretary of Education.

Vampire Bats at the Library

 

A Jen (the Goth Librarian) and Emma (her ghost sidekick) Library Story

            Jen locked the library door and walked back through the dark building to her office. The rumbling of the elevator and grumbling of the furnace, no longer bothered her as she walked through the old building.

She didn’t even jump when Emma, the Ghost of Librarians Past, materialized beside her. “Do you have tomorrow’s story time planned, dear?”

Jen gritted her teeth. The ghostly librarian might use endearments when she spoke, but there was nothing sweet about the way she nagged and commented on everything Jen did. Only last week, she’d appeared after a very successful teen lock-in to sniff her nose and say, “we’d never have teens running around the library in the dark in my day.”

A teen would never have dared breath in the library in Emma’s day!

Jen sat down at her desk and picked up the book for tomorrow’s story time; Bats at the Library by Brian Lies. She loved the cute furry flying mice the pictures depicted. They wanted nothing but to fly in to the library and read stories all night. A clunk up in the attic brought her back to reality. Obviously, the real bats who lived in the attic weren’t cute story lovers.

The clunk was followed by a few more. Jen got up and walked out into the dark library. She stood listening to the thump, thump, thump coming from the attic. If that was bats, they’d grown feet and were walking around up there!

She made her way to the stairs. She placed her right foot on the first step and cursed the architects who’d put the light switch up in the attic, rather than at the bottom of the stairs. “Emma,” she whispered.

“Here, dear,” a disembodied voice said beside her.

Great! The ghost didn’t even want to materialize. Whatever was up there, even Emma didn’t want to see it.

The third stair tread creaked. She paused and then shook her head. It was a just a squirrel. A squirrel with big feet. She paused on the top step, her hand resting on the knob. From the other side of the door, she didn’t hear anything.  Either whatever had been there was gone. Or it was waiting right inside the door.

She threw the door open and lunged into the room. A tall man stood in the middle of the attic, moonlight cascading in the window and gleaming off his pale skin. He turned slowly to face her, the light sparkling off his fangs. Vampire bat in the attic!

Jen wiped her sweaty hands on her sweater. Along with garlic and a stake, she’d left the Librarian’s Guide to Fighting the Paranormal in her office.

The vampire smiled, looking past her. “Good evening,” he said in deep sonorous tones. He sounded like James Earl Jones.

Okay, not just a vampire, but a clichéd vampire inhabited her attic. She followed his gaze. He was smiling at Emma, who had not only materialized, but was smiling back at him.

Emma patted her hair. The old ghost was actually primping for a vampire. When she stepped toward him, she walked with her hands behind her back.

The vampire reached out his hand to her. “It’s been a long time, Emma.”

Emma, her skirts swishing behind her, reached out her right hand to the vampire. “It has been Dmitri.”

He bent to kiss her hand. As he straightened up, she leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “And I told you, to stay away from my town,” she said, as her left had flashed out. She drove her number 2 pencil into the vampire’s chest.

He stood perfectly still, his mouth a red round “o”, his eyes wide. And then he slowly turned to sand, dropping into a little pile on the floor. A breeze lifted through the window and blew the vampire out into the night.

Emma walked back to the door. “Close your mouth, dear,” she said, as she walked by Jen. As Jen hurried after her, the ghost added, “I keep telling you, all the iPads in the world will never replace a good no. 2 pencil.”

In My Next Life

                We all have our addictions. Mine is checking the want ads looking for what I’ll be in my next life. Currently in the running are doing an animal act at the circus, being an ornithologist, and becoming an archer. (The employment opportunities may be limited on the latter.) But some days, I’m intrigued by the more mundane. Like recently, I saw this ad to work in the Continuing Education office at a college.  The job consisted of recruiting and assisting adults who were returning to college.

                I said to Bruce, “I could do that. I’m the poster child for returning to school as an adult.”

                To which Bruce answered, “You’re the poster old lady for returning to school as an adult.”

                Husbands! You got to love them, because the alternative involves jail sentences.

                I actually, for a brief moment last week, looked at degree programs wondering if it was time to go back to school. But looking through course requirements I realized I’d finally reached the age where going back to college has lost its appeal. It’s not that the memory isn’t what it used to be – although that’s true. Or that adult ADHD has taken hold and I just can’t hold one thought in my brain for that long. It’s that I’ve reached the age where I am no longer willing to have someone tell me what to do.

College involves requirements. And I no longer believe that what other people require is a necessity for me. At my age, when someone tells me what to do, I no longer jump to it with a smile. I’m practicing my baleful look, with a drippingly sarcastic, “You think so?” thrown in. Which is, I’m told, infinitely better than throwing things at people.

                But really – at some point in life it’s time to do what you want to do. Learn what you want to learn; the way you want to learn it; at the speed you want to learn. It’s called jumping through your own hoops.  

That’s where the library comes in. Libraries, since the beginning of time, have been about life-long learning. Life-long learning is fun. You get to control everything. Want to start a new business, learn to make cheese, write your memoir? You can find the information at the library. If one book is boring, try another one. Read it when you want to, where you want to (but remember no sand or water on the books!). Learn at your own pace, your own way.  At Burger King you can “have it your way.” At the library you can “learn it your way.”

I’ll let you in on a secret – when you are a life-long learner, if you aren’t totally enthralled with a book by the second chapter, the second page, or the second paragraph, you don’t have to finish it. At a certain age, you deserve to read what you want. And at the library, we’ll help you find it! So go ahead, take up dragon training. At the library you get to make your own curriculum.