The fight for language ownership: iFart versus “Pull My Finger”

Unfor­tu­nate­ly, I don’t think this is an April Fool’s Day joke.

This case fil­ing is per­haps unique among its peers in con­tain­ing the phrase “deep stir­rings of flat­u­lence,” a phrase one hard­ly expects to encounter in a court filing.

Thanks to Visu­al The­saurus for the full arti­cle.

Bathroom remodel #1

Does your bath­room sing to you? Mine does! Well, it does now any­way. But first, here are the ugly “before” pic­tures (def­i­nite­ly no singing here, just a bad case of the blahs!):

Before-left
Before-left

Before right
Before-right
 

 
Then, there are the super-cool “dur­ing” pic­tures (“Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go!”):

During-left
Dur­ing-left

During-right
Dur­ing-right
 

 
And final­ly, the amaz­ing “after” pic­tures (“TADA!”):

After-left
After-left

After-right
After-right
 

It’s hard to cap­ture all of its glo­ry on film, and I’m jump­ing the gun a lit­tle because it’s not total­ly done or dec­o­rat­ed, but I think you can see the major improve­ments: Col­or! Con­trast! Light! A med­i­cine cab­i­net with DOORS! And, best of all, you no longer have to stand IN the toi­let to close the door behind you!
Thanks, City Builders!

Literature to Change the World

Many thanks to Mitali Perkins for her recent post enti­tled “How Kids Can Change the World.” It was a short post, but it touched many lives. Per­son­al­ly, I dis­cov­ered a won­der­ful web­site about books for young read­ers (now defunct), read some pow­er­ful essays by Mitali and Hazel Rochman, and found a list of won­der­ful new books to read.

This Thurs­day, I was Mys­tery Read­er in my daughter’s sec­ond-grade class­room. Thanks to Mitali’s essay, I read Amadi’s Snow­man, Ameli­a’s Road, and Beat­rice’s Goat to the class. The kids, from fair­ly homoge­nous, well-to-do back­grounds and used to com­plain­ing about home­work, were spell­bound. I think they def­i­nite­ly “got” it, and I believe they will be think­ing about and affect­ed by those sto­ries for a long time.

I also recent­ly read Eve Bunting’s Fly Away Home and Katie Smith Mil­way’s One Hen to my own chil­dren. My son, the sen­si­tive one, thinks we should let peo­ple who don’t have homes live in air­ports (and real­ly, why not?). My daugh­ter, the entre­pre­neur, wants a hen (just one, Mom!) to keep in the backyard.

I love how lit­er­a­ture can open our eyes and minds to worlds so very dif­fer­ent from our own and spark ideas and dreams we nev­er knew were there. What are your favorites?

Why do I write? Because it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

A per­son I feel very for­tu­nate to call my friend, the suc­cess­ful and tal­ent­ed Kevan Atte­ber­ry, recent­ly wrote an arti­cle in the Chi­nook (the quar­ter­ly newslet­ter from the West­ern Wash­ing­ton region of the Soci­ety of Children’s Book Writ­ers and Illus­tra­tors) enti­tled, “On Being a Fraud.” I won­der if he’s read about the imposter syn­drome, because he described it quite eloquently.
I have to com­mend Kevan for out­ing him­self and for shar­ing feel­ings that we can all relate to, even though many of us might not care to admit it. I total­ly get the ques­tions of tal­ent and self-worth, the irra­tional sec­ond-guess­ing of skills and tal­ents, the yearn­ing to pro­duce mean­ing­ful results that we can tru­ly feel proud of. I cer­tain­ly have my share of those emo­tions, too.
But writ­ing, indeed doing any­thing cre­ative, also feels, to me, like the great equal­iz­er. More years ago than I’d care to admit, I was rid­ing the wave of a pret­ty suc­cess­ful career in soft­ware engi­neer­ing. At its peak, I was the tech­ni­cal liai­son between Intel’s graph­ics chip divi­sion and Microsoft’s Win­dows. Not bad for a small-town girl from cow-town Wis­con­sin! But talk about feel­ing like a fraud. I felt like I was sup­posed to han­dle all the tech­ni­cal details and all the politics—all while mak­ing it look total­ly effort­less. It wasn’t effort­less, of course, but it was a heck of a lot eas­i­er than writ­ing, and I sus­pect I was bet­ter at it, too.
Why, oh why, then, do I write? I write pre­cise­ly because it’s so darn hard. Yes, I like a chal­lenge, and I’m stub­born, and I want to con­tin­ue to improve and find ways to make it eas­i­er. But I also love know­ing that it’s hard for every­body. What joy, what freedom–it’s not just me! How can I be a fraud if we’re all strug­gling in this togeth­er? Even mul­ti-pub­lished, award-win­ning authors (and artists) say every time they sit down to cre­ate it’s the same feel­ing of dread. No one prances around pre­tend­ing it’s easy (if they do, we all KNOW they’re robots!). There is a huge com­mu­ni­ty of like-suf­fer­ing souls out there. And of course, self-pub­lish­ing notwith­stand­ing, one hopes there are some very tal­ent­ed and wor­thy gate­keep­ers bar­ring the path to pub­li­ca­tion until our efforts are ready for prime­time (now THEY must feel some pres­sure, don’t you think?).
I think that the beau­ty of writ­ing, or attempt­ing to mas­ter any oth­er cre­ative endeav­or, is that it is so clear­ly a life-long appren­tice­ship. Even the mas­ters feel there is still much more to learn. We all strive to enhance our skills and per­fect our craft. We are all on a hero’s jour­ney that will not end until the very last breath. We have all been forced (I hope) to switch from a fixed mind­set (tal­ent) to the growth mind­set (prac­tice). Now we just have to work at it, indi­vid­u­al­ly, yet all together.
Many thanks to all my cre­ative friends who are walk­ing this road with me, and to the ones who slap me upside the head and tell me to “knock it off” when­ev­er I feel like giv­ing up!

This is not me

I have lived in many dif­fer­ent places, had more than one career, and done a lot of dif­fer­ent things. So, in case you’ve ever wondered…
I can­not speak Swedish, and this is not me. Nope, nei­ther is this, although it’s fun to see my name on Amazon.
I do not write para­nor­mal romance nov­els, although it sounds like fun and maybe some­day I will.
I have nev­er been, nor ever will be, a mem­ber of the Gor­geous Ladies of Wrestling (G.L.O.W.), although I was a cheer­leader (small ‘c’) and am a mem­ber of the Gor­geous Ladies of Pub­lish­ing (G.L.O.P.).
I would love to be a zookeep­er, but I’m not.
I enjoy play­ing with my cam­era, but I’m not a pro­fes­sion­al pho­tog­ra­ph­er.
Not an exec­u­tive search pro­fes­sion­al, or a finance and busi­ness affairs exec­u­tive, or a sci­ence teacher.
This is DEFINITELY not me.
Per­haps a pseu­do­nym is in order? Any ideas?
Does any­thing inter­est­ing come up if you Google your name?

I’m it!

Wow, I’ve been tagged! I don’t nor­mal­ly do this kind of thing, but I’d do just about any­thing for Jolie, so here goes:

1. What are your nick­names?
One of my best friends called me Spoory Laur (since my maid­en name was Lau­rie Spoor). I guess I’m not real­ly a nick­name kind of gal, though.

2. What was the first movie you bought in VHS or DVD?
Dirty Danc­ing. I still have it! 

3. What is your favorite scent?
Pump­kin pie.

4. What one place have you vis­it­ed that you can’t for­get and want to go back to?Whistler, B.C., my favorite (bor­rowed) “cab­in” in the moun­tains. Thanks, dear friends, for all the won­der­ful moun­tain get­away trips!

5. Do you trust eas­i­ly?
Yes, prob­a­bly too easily.

6. Do you gen­er­al­ly think before you act, or act before you think?
I think before I act, way too much. I just fin­ished read­ing Chris Eboch’s Well of Sac­ri­fice, and I think I need to take a les­son from Eveningstar: some­times you need to act before you think, or the oppor­tu­ni­ty is lost.

7. Is there any­thing that has made you unhap­py these days?
Pol­i­tics, neg­a­tive ad cam­paigns, lies and manip­u­la­tions of the truth, the deep divi­sions and dis­agree­ments in our soci­ety and around the world.

8. Do you have a good body image?
Good? No. Suf­fi­cient? Yes.

9. What is your favorite fruit?
Hmmm… tough call. Peach­es or straw­ber­ries? (You decide; I hate mak­ing decisions.)

10. What web­sites do you vis­it dai­ly?
My Google cal­en­dar, Google read­er, Face­book (in that order).

11. What have you been seri­ous­ly addict­ed to late­ly?
Cof­fee, the all-impor­tant pro­duc­tiv­i­ty enhancer. Face­book, the fun but insid­i­ous pro­duc­tiv­i­ty killer.

12. What kind of per­son do you think the per­son who tagged you is?
Deter­mined, mod­est, gen­er­ous, glam­orous, won­der­ful mother. 

13. What’s the last song that got stuck in your head?
The theme song from I Dream of Jean­nie (no, I have no idea why it’s in there).

14. What’s your favorite item of cloth­ing?
Paja­mas, the fuzzi­er the better.

15. Do you think Rice Krispies are yum­my?
Yes, with or with­out but­ter and marsh­mal­lows. Snap, crack­le, pop!

16. What would you do if you saw $100 lying on the ground?
Just lying there, with no one around and no idea who it belongs to? Well, in that case, I’d pick it up, silly!

17. What items could you not go with­out dur­ing the day?
Cof­fee. Hugs and “I love you”s from my fam­i­ly. (Okay, fam­i­ly comes first, but they don’t come any­where near me until after I’ve had my coffee.)

18. What should you be doing right now?
Clean­ing the car out for the dri­ve down to the Sec­ond Annu­al Kidlit Blog­ging Con­fer­ence!

Now, to tag eight more who haven’t yet been tagged. I’m going to tag a few Face­book friends since they don’t have active blogs that I know of, but hope­ful­ly they can post their answers on their wall or pro­file or something. 🙂

Bernie, Chris, Rob, Jim, Peg­gy, Kir­by, Joni, and
Mol­ly.

WooHoo!

I just got back from my first ever SCBWI Sum­mer Con­fer­ence in Los Ange­les, and besides all of the:

  • inspi­ra­tion and infor­ma­tion to be soaked up “like gravy on a biscuit,”
  • won­der­ful­ly cre­ative, tal­ent­ed, gen­er­ous, and adorable people,
  • friv­o­lous fun with friends old and new…

the best part of the whole con­fer­ence is that my teen non­fic­tion man­u­script about how to save the world got nom­i­nat­ed for the Sue Alexan­der award!

So, now I’m feel­ing this awe­some pres­sure and respon­si­bil­i­ty to GET TO WORK! (Along with an irre­sistable urge to break into my hap­py dance.)

Unprecedented victory against measles

Here’s some encour­ag­ing news. The Measles Ini­tia­tive part­ner­ship recent­ly announced that world­wide measles deaths fell 60% from 1999 to 2005, from 873,000 down to 345,000 deaths per year. That’s 528,000 lives saved every year.

“One of the clear­est mes­sages from this achieve­ment is that with the right strate­gies and a strong part­ner­ship of com­mit­ted gov­ern­ments and orga­ni­za­tions, you can rapid­ly reduce child deaths in devel­op­ing coun­tries,” said Dr. Julie Ger­berd­ing, Direc­tor, Unit­ed States Cen­ters for Dis­ease Con­trol and Pre­ven­tion (CDC).

We’ve seen that it can be done. What’s next?

Get talking, America!

Doc­tors With­out Bor­ders recent­ly released a list of the 10 most under-report­ed human­i­tar­i­an crises of 2006, which they say “account­ed for just 7.2 min­utes of the 14,512 min­utes on the three major U.S. tele­vi­sion net­works’ night­ly news­casts for 2006.”

  1. Cen­tral African Republic 
  2. Tuber­cu­lo­sis
  3. Chech­nya
  4. Sri Lan­ka
  5. Mal­nu­tri­tion
  6. Demo­c­ra­t­ic Repub­lic of Congo 
  7. Soma­lia
  8. Colum­bia
  9. Haiti
  10. Cen­tral India

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