Well Fed

My mom used to have a tin sign that hung in our kitchen, "To school well fed on Grape Nuts."

I think it was all about the giant dog pictured, a St. Bernard, since my mom once loved a St. Bernard.

And you know what they say: Once you love a St. Bernard, something something Grape Nuts. 



I know a woman who says Anyway twice.  She never says it once.  When she transitions, she says, "Anyway anyway."  It's rather endearing.

Anyway anyway.

There is a blogger and life coach named Rachel Cole who writes about living a Well Fed Life.  Not just in the sense of physical food.  But feeding the hungry parts of the self.
She describes herself as a "fierce advocate for women feeding their truest hunger."  She asks other women how they conceive a well-fed life.  I love reading these guest posts.    This one caught my mind and anyway, anyway, I'm sharing it.

Enjoy the feast.

Another Glorious Reason (as if we needed any beyond Pure Delight)

"...individuals who frequently read fiction seem to be better able to understand other people, empathize with them and see the world from their perspective. This relationship persisted even after the researchers accounted for the possibility that more empathetic individuals might prefer reading novels. A 2010 study by Dr. Mar found a similar result in preschool-age children: the more stories they had read to them, the keener their theory of mind — an effect that was also produced by watching movies but, curiously, not by watching television. (Dr. Mar has conjectured that because children often watch TV alone, but go to the movies with their parents, they may experience more “parent-children conversations about mental states” when it comes to films.)"

---from Your Brain on Fiction, by Annie Murphy Paul

So pick up that novel, or children's book, or scooch together for a family movie night and profound post-discussion with your kiddo.

It's good for you. 

Skillz

I am in the kitchen peeling hard boiled eggs and listening to The Maytrees by Annie Dillard. 

His fondness for humans did not extend to girls, who were less interesting than frogs, and noisier.

C enters and stands in the doorway, listening.

Girls had no higher wish than to get old enough to wear make-up.

 C: "Who is saying that?"

I tell her it's a story, and that this part is about a boy.

"How old is this boy?"

"He's 11."

"But what he's saying is his opinion.  And it's fiction."

"It is fiction," I say.

"And his opinion.  Because you do other things besides wear make-up."

"I do."

"Lots of other things."

"So many."

"Like, you make make egg salad."

Then she leaves the kitchen and I'm left making egg salad.    

Happy Birthday

Two notable women  born on February 3, back in dem 1800s.
Deets on them, and of course, the children's book version.

(I made bold anything I found particularly funny.  Oh history!  How much we learn!)



1.Elizabeth Blackwell

It's the birthday of the first woman to graduate from medical school, Elizabeth Blackwell, born on this day in Bristol, England, in 1821. She wanted to become a doctor because she knew that many women would rather discuss their health problems with another woman. She read medical texts and studied with doctors, but she was rejected by all the big medical schools. Finally the Geneva Medical College (which became Hobart College) in upstate New York accepted her. The faculty wasn't sure what to do with such a qualified candidate, and so they turned the decision over to the students. The male students voted unanimously to accept her. Her classmates and even professors considered many medical subjects too delicate for a woman, and didn't think she should be allowed to attend lectures on the reproductive system. But she graduated, became a doctor, and opened the New York Infirmary for Women and Children.

---from Writer's Almanac

The First Woman Doctor, by Rachel Baker


2.Gertrude Stein

It's the birthday of writer Gertrude Stein (books by this author), born in Allegheny, Pennsylvania (1874). She spent part of her childhood in Vienna and Paris, but grew up in Oakland, California.

Stein left Oakland for Radcliffe College, where she took classes from the philosopher William James. Then she moved to Paris, where she met and fell in love with Alice B. Toklas. Alice moved in with Gertrude, and she typed up Gertrude's manuscripts, got up early to clean and arrange the dishes, cooked and shopped, and ran the household. Together they presided over a salon in their home at 27 Rue de Fleurus — Gertrude had first lived there with her brother, Leo, but he did not share her passion for cubism and avant-garde writing, and moved to Florence. Young writers and artists flocked to 27 Rue de Fleurus — Picasso, Matisse, Ezra Pound, Georges Braque, Guillaume Apollinaire; and in later years, Hemingway, James Joyce, T.S. Eliot, and F. Scott Fitzgerald.

In 1933, Stein published The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, which was not by Toklas at all, and it was a bestseller.

Gertrude Stein said, "I always wanted to be historical, from almost a baby on, I felt that way about it."

----from Writer's Almanac

Gertrude is Gertrude is Gertrude is Gertrude, by Jonah Winter

Sunday Review

1.
The Boys at the Back, by Christina Hoff Sommers

"A few decades ago, when we realized that girls languished behind boys in math and science, we mounted a concerted effort to give them more support, with significant success. Shouldn’t we do the same for boys?"

2.
War Games, by Nana Asfour

"My stepson's battle was virtual.  But the one I experienced was real."

Sunday Stuff

Okay, so it's not Sunday, but these are two articles from the Sunday New York Times Magazine. 

1. Cover Story: The Price of a Stolen Childhood, by Emily Bazelon
    This article examines the notion of restitution for victims of child pornography.

    "Usually, we try to help survivors of child sexual abuse make a very strong distinction between the past and the present.   The idea is to contain the harm: it happened then, and it's not happening anymore.  But how do you do that when these images are still out there?  The past is still present, which turns the hallmarks of treatment on their head."

----Joyanna Silberg, forensic psychologist

2. The Feminine Mystique at 50, by Gail Collins

'The Feminine Mystique' is 50 years old.  But if you want to understand the journey of American women, from Doris Day to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, you still have to start with this book.

Commercial Break, Sure May!

Happy Ju-ly!

We are in the wonder days of summer haze and craze here.
A recent field trip included driving through a Virginia lightning storm and spending the night in a Roanake without power.    

This is Roanoke with power:

 This is Roanoke without power:
 




Other highlights included getting to North Carolina just in time for the hottest wave of their summer (106, I believe that is one step below purgatory), and searching for Snooki at the Jersey Shore.
All we found was a Wawa. 

This brings me to my point.
While aboard the Cape May ferry, eating fine ferry fare, I saw a commercial.
I liked it.  So I bring it to you:


Finally, what post would be complete without sharing a Miss C story?

The morning after the lightning storm,  C and I were on an hotel elevator with a friendly couple.  We talked about the tree branches flying across the highway, the rain pelting sideways. 
The woman said, "We didn't drive through it, but I heard there were mattresses blowing around, that wind was so strong."
She had this lovely drawl that gave the word mattresses 12 syllables. 
We compared storm notes and then the elevator doors parted, and the couple turned left and Miss C and I turned right.  She took my hand and said, loudly, "Those people don't speak English, do they?"

How do you tell your child that actually, the English she speaks will be accused of being too nasal and her A's too long as soon as she leaves the region of Western New York?
That she pronounces bagel and bag entirely wrong, and there's nothing she can do about it? 

So, a talk about accents ensued, where C assured me, "We don't have an accent though, right?"
Riiiiight.
Not us.

We finally got to see our North Carolina cousins and my 4 year old niece has picked up this saying:
Sure may!
We'd say, Neila, can you share the ball?
Neila says, Sure may!
We'd say, Neila, do you want to swim?
Neila says, Sure may!
And then we'd just come up with questions to hear her say Sure May!

More applesauce?  Have a dog?  Like birthdays? 

It's hard not to eat right up a kid like that, sure may.