bibliomom

Email Myth Buster - Let Me Rain on Your Parade

bibliomom — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 10:16:00 -0800

Back when I was young(er) and the internet was new(ish), I entered the amazing world of email. And lo, on the first day I was sent 8,000 forwards. These innocent looking forwards went forth and multiplied and, long story short, by the end of the third day the internet was fully populated with urban legends and witty Top Ten lists.

Shortly thereafter, my darling husband took me aside and explained the whole email urban legend thing, which basically boiled down to: if it seems so amazingly funny/outrageous/urgent that you must immediately forward it on, it’s probably bogus.

Needless to say, I was appalled. All those missing little girl emails were bogus? Look for the details, he told me - lack of specific dates, lack of specific locations and most tellingly, a dead lack of a real phone number or address to contact. After all, email isn’t omniscient.

So as I sit this morning, some 12 years later, seeing: Fwd:Fw:Fwd:FW: Texas Culverts! How would you have liked to find this?” lurking on my email subject line, my myth detector is already tingling.

I just can’t let it be.

My own mother, sender of the dreaded culvert myth. I thought I almost had her off of this stuff a couple years back, but someone’s been feeding her a new supply of crummy forwards again. And since my reply concerning the Cougar Killing Mule wasn’t sufficient, I now have an inbox full of Redneck Waterskiing and Giant Gator in Culvert with a Side of Rattlesnakes.

I hate being the urban legend police.

I’ve looked it up on snopes already - have I mentioned snopes? Best urban legend library ever. I searched “snopes culvert gator” on Google and the appropriate snopes page was the first search result.

Anyway, it is bogus - real pictures, fake text: classic urban legend fodder. So now I just have to email her and remind her - a little more pointedly than last week - to check this stuff out before she passes it on. Or at least before she passes it on to *me*.

It’s a not a pretty job, but somebody’s got to do it. And it might as well be the person with the inbox full of mythological critters.

The Tell-Tale Book Review

bibliomom — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 10:25:00 -0700

While researching some of Temple Grandin’s books, I found a review that began:

During the first year after my son’s diagnosis, I read thirty-four books on autism (I catagorized them according to personal account, family account, clinical study, education & intervention method).

Yeah, so that apple-not-falling-far-from-the-tree thing?

Maybe it’s just my own personal experiences and (what’s now) years of noticing which of my kids’ “autistic” traits show up in various relatives in various forms. I have no way of really knowing what’s going on with this parent, but seriously – even I couldn’t tell you how many books on autism I’ve read, nor have I ordered them with such detail.

Nope, not me. It’s unnecessary when I already spend hours researching books and reading wiki posts before I buy something.

Besides. I just shelve by subject. Alphabetically …

Scholastic Book Wizard

bibliomom — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 09:01:39 -0700

So while perusing the Hoagies’ Gifted Education site, I came across this fabulous link to Scholastic’s Teacher Book Wizard which is so amazingly cool. Their “BookAlike” search allows you to plug in the name of a book your kid likes, adjust the the reading level up or down, and then searches for similar books.

I’m not going to claim it’s perfect, but what a fabulous resource!

And it’s especially useful when trying to find books that work for kids reading below or above the “standard” level.

(If you do have a early/advanced/gifted reader – 0r a kid that’s just significantly ahead in any given subject – by all means check out the Hoagies’ site: they have some fabulous links and great book ideas.)

Say "No!" to Cow Orkers

bibliomom — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 15:58:00 -0700

Cow Orkers here, Cow Orkers there – who are these mysterious Orkers, and what do they have to do with Cows? Every time I go to Ikea, I see doors and aisles reserved for these creatures - creatures I’ve never seen by the light of day. I’ve always pictured them as some sort of bovine Oompa Loompa, scurrying around the giant warehouse, tidying packages and building displays when no one was looking. I also assumed they were Swedish, which would explain their customary habitat in flat-pack warehouses.

But it seems I was sadly mistaken.

My in-box is full of allegedly humorous stories and pictures originated by, or perpetrated upon, these very Orkers. Are they indeed bovine in nature? But then why were they in the office to begin with? And who was foolish enough to give them that accursed cup of coffee? Questions abound, yet answers are few. One thing is for certain – these Orkers are not the benign lutefisk eaters I originally envisioned.

Now there are those who have implied that these poor Orkers were once human, working alongside other humans in business type settings. But how can I possibly believe a ridiculous theory like that? People working side by side in an office would, by necessity, be called “co-workers”. And surely a place of business would be too flush with hyphens to need to resort to calling people “cows” in order to save a few cents on punctuation.

Right?

Sigh But after looking through my in-box again, I just don’t know. Perhaps some strange alien race really is responsible for the spread of these viral missives. If the marked increase in blatant apostrophe abuse is any indicator, then these emails really could the work of some malignant creature bent on crippling the English language. But why? How? And what, if anything, do they have to do with cows?

The world may never know. But I’ll be keeping some spare hyphens around, just in case.

A Little Spanish, Anyone?

bibliomom — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 22:12:28 -0700

“Mom - I need to learn Spanish.”

“What? Why do you need to learn Spanish?”

“Because … I want to be … in the world travelers club. And I need to know a language.”

“Um, okay – any particular reason you picked Spanish? Did you talk about it at school?”

“No - I just need to learn Spanish.”

“Okay. But you see, Mom doesn’t speak Spanish. Mom took French in school. What do you think about learning French?”

“I think … ”

“Yes?”

“I think you better hurry up and learn some Spanish.”

The Girl

bibliomom — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 13:56:00 -0700

When my daughter was four (and very into Dora and various other pointing and clicking activities) she came running into the room, buck naked.

Hardly a rare occurrence, even now, but I was really trying to clamp down on it at the time.

“Oh, my goodness!” I said, in my best mom voice, “You’re all naked! Climb up here on Mama’s bed and I’ll put some clothes on you.”

After picking her up (so she couldn’t escape) and prompting her for cooperation, she suddenly stuck her hands out wide.

“The girl is naked,” she announced in her best tv commentator voice, “Click here to put clothes on girl.”

What do you say to that? Do you laugh, cry or just be happy she’s talking?

I think I did all three.

Autism Hour

bibliomom — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 13:11:00 -0700

The summer is over and my house feels all kinds of empty. Messy, but empty. Bug’s off at school all day, so it’s just me and Monkey most of the time. This contrast is all the sharper after the crazy, crazy summer we had. Two nieces and six to nine spare kids flooded my house bringing the noise and chaos only a large group of kids can bring and leaving joyful memories and exhaustion in their wake.

Of course now that I think about it, even if I had all thirteen at the same time, that’s not really that many. I don’t think I did – even my new car only seats seven – but my memory’s a little hazy. One thing I *do* remember is the times when that small herd of kids felt like a hundred.

One memorable day, I confiscated the game controllers and shooed the herd towards the room where the lego tsunami had come to rest.

“But I’m hungry!” one child protested. “Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!”

“But I’m thirsty!” my little Bug chimed in, “Thirsty! Thirsty! Thirsty!”

As they continued to chant, “Hungry!” “Thirsty!” in perfectly pitched repetition, I had to take a firm grip upon my tongue in order to keep from yelling back, “This is not Autism Hour!”

But of course it was. The boy is an eleven year old with Aspergers and my own little Bug is also firmly on the spectrum. They’re both extremely high functioning, but spectrum is spectrum. And no matter how smart, clever and funny they are, it’s a rare day that they let you forget it. In this case, the party trick of repeating the same word or phrase over and over with exactly the same timing and intonation – in unison, for the love of heaven! – was what did me in.

I sheepishly told T’s mother of my near slip up and she absolutely cracked up.

“I love it!” she said, “I’m going to use that, okay?”

So all you spectrum moms out there, let’s celebrate Autism Hour – those times when your spectrum kid just seems to go out of their way to remind you that they absolutely, positively are not neurotypical. And never will be.

And let’s celebrate both kinds of days – those when that one child can make you feel like you’re caring for a hundred, as well as the days when you realize a million neurotypical kids could never take their place.

We’ll laugh even harder when we realize how often it’s the same day.

Guilt vs. Reason - or - Is it Really Okay to Use a Video Game to Teach Spelling?

bibliomom — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 10:59:00 -0700

So how do you teach spelling to a child to can’t write, see or hear?

You know – to a boy.

Okay, so there’s some exaggeration there. He can write – it’s just very slow and painful. He can hear – now, after years of therapy, most of the time. And he can see – things that are far away.

So Monkey does have a few physical deficits in his corner, but honestly, he doesn’t seem that different from most ten year old boys to me – they can’t see messes or hear me when I ask them to do something either. And many boys also have poor handwriting and an extreme reluctance to sit still for extended periods of time. Yes, you can provide diagnoses for some of it, but even more of it is just who they are – kids who want to have fun and not sit around doing boring rote junk.

Which brings me back to spelling, a topic I have largely avoided. I kept thinking that surely a kid that reads as much as he does would learn to spell. And I was somewhat comforted that he did well on the spelling segment of his standardized tests. But of course that just goes to show that standardized tests are poppycock - the boy can’t spell his way out of a cardboard box.

Or at least he couldn’t last week. This week is entirely different.

Which brings me to the video game portion of this segment. Namely, Scribblenauts, a game where you actually *do* have to spell your way out of a cardboard box. Or at least over to where the Princess is located.

Scribblenauts is a puzzle game where the player is given a challenge – say, a cat stuck on a roof – and an in game vocabulary of tens of thousands of things you can summon. That is, *if* you can think of the word and write it. A “dog” can chase the cat off the roof, a “fireman” can rescue it, a “mouse” can incite it to jump down on its own and a “fire” can, well, set the whole thing ablaze, including the cat, and cause the level to reset – ask me how I know.

It’s actually my game, but I haven’t been able to get it away from the boy since he “borrowed” it. The anal, public school side of me wants to say, “No! That’s not teaching! He should be sitting nicely at the table, making lists on paper!” The lazy, rationalizing side of me says, “But he’s voluntarily spelling like crazy in a way that’s relevant, meaningful, and seems to be sticking with him. He even gets logic and problem solving as a bonus!”

For the time being, I’ve hedged. I’ve told him to come and write down his new words on a list for me as he masters them. So far, we’ve got ninjas, bazookas, sea monsters, and swords, pirates, castles, bomb shelters and tanks. Is it everything? Well, no.

But it might be just what a growing boy needs.

Old-Fashioned Pecan Pie

bibliomom — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 15:40:00 -0700

I love pecan pie. And as much as I hated living in the South as a child, deliciousness like this makes me, well, not think of it fondly, but at least makes me wish people in the Northwest liked to cook a little more.

However, pecan pie has always had one major problem, especially up here in the Northwest: it’s usually way too stinking sweet. And since Karo syrup’s already on my Big Bad List of Manufactured Foods to be Avoided at All Costs, that makes it doubly unwelcome.

All of which means as much as I love pecan pie, I almost never make it.

So, when I ran across a recipe for “Old-Fashioned Pecan Pie” in my last edition of Cook’s Country, I was skeptical, but interested. Surprisingly, the recipe really was trying to re-create an “old-fashioned” pecan pie, where old-fashioned means “before Karo syrup”.

Fascinating.

Apparently the pies were originally made with molasses, maple, cane or sorghum syrup, some of which the tester loved, but deemed to difficult to obtain. (What the heck? Doesn’t everyone have a can of Cane River in their pantry? Oh, wait – that’s just my family.) Anyway, they ended up using a combination of maple syrup, molasses and brown sugar in their pie.

How is it? I have *no* idea. School just started, Monkey’s been going in a for battery of neuro-psych tests and I’m swamped. So, I’m sending it out to you my sisters, to see who makes the famed pie first. And let me know if it’s worth making, ‘k? Because the only thing I’d like more than a big old piece of pecan pie, is a recipe worth making.

Old-Fashioned Pecan Pie

Regular or mild molasses tastes best in this pie. Use your favorite pie dough or go to CooksCountry.com for our Single Crust Pie Dough recipe.

1 cup maple syrup

1 cup packed light brown sugar

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 tablespoon molasses

4 tablespoons, unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

1/2 teaspoon salt

6 large egg yolks, lightly beaten

1 1/2 cups pecans, toasted and chopped

1 (9-inch) unbaked pie shell (see note), chilled in pie plate for 30 minutes

1. Make Filling Adjust oven rack to lowest position and heat oven to 450 degrees. Heat syrup, sugar, cream and molasses in saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until sugar dissolves, about 3 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool 5 minutes. Whisk butter and salt into syrup mixture until combined. Whisk in egg yolks until incorporated.

2. Bake Pie Scatter pecans in pie shell. Carefully pour filling over. Place pie in hot oven and immediately reduce oven temperature to 325 degrees. Bake until filling is set and center jiggles slightly when pie is gently shaken, 45 to 60 minutes. Cool pie on rack for 1 hour, then refrigerate until set, about 3 hours and up to 1 day. Bring to room temperature before serving.

Half-Minute Horrors

bibliomom — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 14:17:16 -0700

So on a rare foray to a brick-and-mortar book store, I happened upon this little book. It had an eye-catching cover that grew creepier the longer I looked at it: people with bizarrely wide gaping mouths in a darkened theater. No wait … were those eyes inside the mouths? Eyes and teeth? Wah! Those are monsters in there! Wearing full head people masks! Ewww!

And that’s largely how the best of the book is: creepiness, supplanted by uneasiness, followed by a large, “Wah!” as you figure out what was actually going on.

In other words, some wonderful examples of the kind of “gotcha!” moment that really good super-short stories have.

Now, I’m not going to claim all the stories are great – they aren’t. And they aren’t all traditional stories, either. There’s graphic stories, poetry, parody, even “Horrorku”, as one author phrased it. One of my very favorites stories consists of one page. One page. One picture. One set of numbered captions, and a truly amazing, “Wah!” as I finally figured out what was going on.

I don’t even like horror stories!

But this is a good book with some really tight writing. If you have a kid who likes scary stuff, it’s a no-brainer. I bought it for my soon-to-be-twelve year old niece as a birthday gift, but the writing is good enough for any medium t0 advanced reader to enjoy. Selections can also be used to study effective writing – how to establish mood, character and setting in just a few sentences – as well as being able to read the subtext of the story – many of the stories require the ability to accurately predict what comes next or logically deduce what’s really going on in order for the story to work. Great work for kids with social delays if they can handle the scariness.

And about that scariness … it’s too much for my son. He’s nine and doesn’t like scary things, and even the not-so-scary stories disturbed him. This is a book where the kids really can die or be eaten and they won’t come back again. So as much as I’d like to work with him on appreciating the writing and logical outcome, it’s not going to happen. Not all the stories are scary – some go for more of a humorous twist – but you need to be sure your kid can deal the ones that are really disturbing. And mine isn’t able to deal with a world where the monster under the bed eats the dad.

Back to the good stuff, some really well known authors contributed to this book – Lemony Snicket, Neil Gaiman, R.L. Stein, Margaret Atwood, Jon Scieszka – so the variety really is amazing.

Now the Amazon page for Half-Minute Horrors does give examples of some of the writing – some of my favorite pieces, actually – but if you think this if for you, I’d suggest saving the pleasure by waiting till you read the book.

Preferably someplace warm and well lit.