Land of Enchantment

"Between them, our parents had about seven thousand books. Whenever we moved to a new house, a carpenter would build a quarter of a mile of shelves..."

This quote is unfortunately not from me. When I did read it, however, my heart skipped a beat and I had to force myself to quell a little anger and frustration (that so desired to manifest itself) at not living a similar childhood. Actually, from what I can remember, my childhood was completely the opposite. I don't remember ever seeing many books in my home, and of course as consequence, never remember seeing my parents reading. This may have been because they had five children, six years apart, to handle, which is completely understandable. However, something inside me is jealous of those kids who were able to rub their little hands over the spines of such wonderful gems, balancing themselves on bookshelves as they learned to walk, and being scolded for slobbering on the corner of Hugo.

I was never a legatee of such treasures. Yet somehow, the treasure was buried in me, to bequeath on to my very own.

I have this feeling that the only reason my children will hate books is because they have grown tired of tripping over them, having to push them aside to sit on the couch, eat at the table, or seeing them instead of their parent's faces.

I even have dreams of going on "reading dinners" (name change open to suggestion) with my little family. This, of course, is where we go out to some cute local restaurant, each with our favorite book (or book we are currently absorbed in) in tow, and spend the evening reading and talking about what we love, hate, and are learning from our lovely portable friends. And if you're sitting there, tilting your head to the side and whistling one of those "Eeesh, she's gone off the deep-end" tunes (think: the infamous slide whistle when Wile E. Coyote was thrown off the edge of a cliff, TNT strapped to his back, by that cunning roadrunner), let me mention that I've seen more than one family thoroughly enjoying this exact little ritual.

One of my favorite paintings is "Land of Enchantment" by Norman Rockwell, one of my favorite artists. I fully determine to have this painting hanging in my children's room. Possibly right above their crib in the nursery:

So, until I have my own little ones to impart the joy of reading to, here is a little list of "Books Mothers/Fathers/Both-tag-teaming-at-once Must Read to Their Children." Feel free to add or remove as you please!

1. The Giving Tree

2. Where the Wild Things Are

3. Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

4. The Phantom Tollbooth (chapter book. For the older ones)

5. Corduroy

6. Peter Pan (The original is incredible)

7. Ferdinand the Bull

8. A Light in the Attic

I could go on about the statistics of the benefits of reading to children and bore you half to death, but I'll skip that and leave you to hopefully tiptoe to your children's bedside, lulling them to sleep with some wonderful literature.

Velcro Shoes and Mermaid Bikes

Not sure what it is about coffee shops that make you want to exhume your roots and pour out all you inner chaos onto paper (or a macbook), thinking that people really want to read about all your personal musings. Maybe it's the warm lighting. Or the being aloneness. Either way, you are still reading...

Do you ever have those moments where you are suddenly transported back about fifteen or so years (assuming you are in your early to mid 20s) to your early childhood? Of course you do. My moments usually happen during those [frequent] aimless drives to nowhere. Growing up, there were few things that captured my heart more than sitting six inches away from the television, Hi-C juicebox in hand, listening to LeVar Burton read book after glorious book on The Reading Rainbow. Unfettering my mind, memories flashed and danced and poured and ran and flew over me. As one would pull itself up, another would be attached to another and another.

Memories of EZ Bake ovens, kindergarten graduation, school plays, Little Mermaid bicycles, honey-suckle and pecan picking, making sweet-tea popsicles (this happened), and much muchhhh more so generously greeted me.

As I drove on and was pulled back to present-day, I decided these little gems were too precious to let fly on without capturing a little something. How much will my 80-year old mind remember about these tender years? And oh the joy it will bring me in the future to think upon these times.

So here I sit, jotting down memory after memory that shows it's little face as quickly as I can. After just fifteen minutes of reminiscing, I have two full pages of wonderful (and now permanent) memories. I encourage you to do the same.

(wow, look at those shorts, would ya?!)

Cheers!

Ex Libris

Recently I opened the cover to what I thought would be nothing more than a cozy little read, knitting my love for books even tighter as I delved into the mind of a fellow bibliophile.

Now, I've always had quite a fondness for words, forcing myself to look up words I am unfamiliar with in my reading, but as I [very] slowly turned the first few pages of this wonderful book, I realized how quickly this lady was wearing out my nifty dictionary app on my phone (is this weird to you?). It was quite unsettling.

Here are some examples of words I had to look up, confident I had never even seen them before:

Grimoires
Adytum
Adapertile
Camorra
Aspergills
Opopanax

I think you catch my drift, or at least, by this point have wandered into the kitchen, positive that making a pb&j sandwich would be a much better use of your time.

Two conflicting feelings quickly surfaced after this first chapter: First, a hovering cloud of dread as I realized my love for the written word may have just been all talk (oddly enough), and a spark of excitement as my mind mused and masticated (stop giggling and go look it up) on this hearty bill of fare.

And who doesn't want to be able to correctly call someone a "milquetoast" to their face? I sure do. Moral of the story? Better vocab = better insults.

No, in all seriousness, constantly growing and developing your vocabulary clearly has many benefits.

Want to integrate new words into your drab vocab?

• Sign up to receive the 'Word of the Day' in your email via Dictionary.com here.


• Go to Freerice.com. This site helps build vocabulary while feeding impoverished nations. Win-Win.


• Don't skip over (or mumble incoherently) challenging words that cross your path. Take a moment to actually look up the word (the thought of a dictionary app suddenly isn't so foreign and laughable now).


• Watch this


• Buy this and thank me later.

-me-