In A Dog Pound Far, Far Away - Week 3, #7

Heh, heh...this really cracks me up. I found this Chewbacca look-alike pupster and couldn't resist adding the caption to make a loldog. What a cutie...and sure can handle a bowcaster blaster in a clone skirmish.

My Friend Flickr - Week 3, #6

In this exercise we had to explore the various inner workings of Flickr, a photo sharing website. I especially found the "mashups" interesting. I'm not sure if I'll remember all the cool little applications but I had fun creating my own Sudoku game using pictures from my Flickr account. If you're up for a little fun and some fab photos of the coolest dog breed ever, check out my Sheltie Sudoku.

Cinderella Complex - Week 3, #5

Apparently, a source of great amusement at our branch is a photo on the front cover of "Chinese Cinderella," by Adeline Yen Mah. Some of the staff believe that the picture bears an uncommon resemblance to a photo of ME, at age 3. Since the comparison sends at least one co-worker (one in particular) into hysterics every time the book passes through our branch (AND since my assignment this week is to post photos) I will let you decide.




Has the laughing subsided? Okay....first I will concede that there is a "slight" resemblance but mainly because 1) we're both Chinese - and you know how indistinguishable we all are - and 2) we are standing with the same body language. Her dress is prettier (I am in my p.j's) and her hair has ribbons in it, but I hope that my nifty pink, acrylic fur-topped booties don't escape your notice. Even at age three I'm endeavoring to be a "Glamour 'Do'"!! And even though the subtitle of the book is "The True Story of an Unwanted Daughter," my expression is most definitely NOT one of feeling unloved. It's more likely an expression of "will-you-quit-taking-my-picture-all-the-time?" See, as Asians, we're *required* to capture every waking minute of our children on film. Annoying but true....and my parents were very fond of their Kodak Instamatic.

So, no Cinderella here -- but I wouldn't turn away a Fairy Godmother.

Remembering Miss Suzy

Today I packed up four boxes of hardcover children's books. I'm keeping them; I'm just putting them away for now. Before coming to work in a public library, I was a library aide in an elementary school so I was surrounded by only children's books. Probably one reason why it took me so long to shelve was that I had to stop and read about every sixth one. (That, and the fact that apparently no one ever taught the little rugrats not to drop a book on the floor and walk away when you're done with it, but that's another tirade.)

Anyway, while packing books today I started thinking about the first book I remember falling in love with. Many people might cite classics like, "The Little Prince," or "The Secret Garden," but I suppose my taste is more prosaic. I loved, loved, loved "Miss Suzy" by Miriam Young, pictures by Arnold Lobel. I remember it arrived as part of a monthly delivery book club that my mother signed my sister and I up for. Two or three books came every month and I could not wait for each package to arrive. They were cheaply bound so the spine made a loud "craack" when you opened them but I was hooked. Miss Suzy was my favorite. It was the story of a small gray squirrel that lived happily in her cozy house in an oak tree. She loves to clean (hey, gimme a break -- it was 1964) and she especially loves to bake acorn cakes and puddings (again with the food!). One day, a band of evil red squirrels tree-jack her home, break all her dishes and kick her out of her own tree! I was appalled! Now homeless, Suzy goes to live in a beautiful doll-house in an attic. It's a grand and fancy house, but it's not home and she misses her cozy tree. Inside the attic Suzy befriends and cares for five toy soldiers who listen to her story and promise to help her get home. "There were only five of them but they were very brave, and their hearts were full of love." Awwww... I know it's schmaltzy, but I get teary every time I read this. The soldiers run the thugs out of Miss Suzy's house and she is able to move back in. Happiness ensues and all is well. It was the first time I'd read a story where friends are willing to risk their own personal well-being for the happiness of another. Beautiful lesson.

I'd forgotten about Miss Suzy until I ran across a beat up, Parent's Magazine Book Club copy at a used book store. My own copy was long gone (thanks, Mom) so I was elated to see her again and immediately turned to the part where the brave soldiers scale the tree to save Suzy's home. Over the years, I ended up buying 2 more used (and in various stages of disrepair) copies of this book -- just couldn't resist every time I found one. Now, I believe it's back in print and even available in a shiny new dustjacket if you want one. I don't. I'm happy with my collection of used "Miss Suzys." The edges are worn and the spines don't crack anymore, but that's what happens when you open a book many, many times.

And Now...A Word About Internet Safety - Week 2, #4

Three words, actually: DON'T BE STUPID. Seriously. Most of the internet "tips" on safety are simple common sense. Don't give out personal information, don't write anything that you wouldn't announce over a PA system and don't post anything you'd be ashamed to show your mother. Good advice, especially the last one.

The problem is that the internet deludes us into a false sense of anonymity. Sitting here, tapping away at my keyboard right now, in the privacy of my home, I'm feeling pretty damn brave. I'm likely to tell everyone my address, phone number, SS # and take candy from everyone who offers it to me. I'm running through this blog with scissors in my hand and I don't care if I trip! Somehow, it feels safe here and I couldn't be more wrong. The net is populated by millions of intelligent, fun, weird and wacky folks, and some of these are one eggroll short of a Happy Family Combo plate, if you know what I mean. And you want to tell these people where you live??

Just don't be stupid, listen to your Mom....and always look both ways before crossing the street.

Late Night Blogger - Week 1, #2

I think it's hard to escape being a bibliophile without also harboring a yearning to learn. Why open a book if not to find out more about...possibilities? For me, learning a new skill (like blogging) is like reading a book that you're not sure if you're going to get through. I am tentative at first. I figure, if I can get through those first 3 chapters I'm pretty much home free. Then, if the subject is not grabbing me, it becomes a challenge to see if I can hit the halfway mark. I'm a fairly tenacious learner and an even more reluctant quitter, especially if pride is a factor. If Oprah's book club can slog it through this snore-fest, then gosh darn it, so can I! So far, learning about blogs has been a quick learn. My biggest challenge so far has been figuring out what to write AND getting it done before midnight! Zzzzz....

Ehh?? Speak Up!

I can't remember the first time I realized that I was old(er). Was it when someone in my own circle of friends turned 50? The first gray hair? Maybe. To tell you the truth, I don't feel my age - 46. Ask anyone who is past 40 and they will tell you that they have to do a mental double-take to tell you their age. In our minds, we stopped counting years ago. Some might say that it's a result of our years that we have to pause and think about it (ha ha) but I believe it's more a case of the number being less important than the experience.

Perhaps it's an indication of my mental state, but I remember with absolute clarity the details of my childhood. My early adulthood is more fuzzy. Hmmm... I'm able to recall all the words to my groovy favorite television show themes but can't remember much about those first two years in college. And no, I don't drink. Childhood is usually characterized by being care-free. I suppose that's why all those details are etched in my memory. I remember what the inside of my Liddle Kiddles lunchbox smelled like: vinyl and bananas. And I can still hear the "click click" sound our principal's lucite heels made on the terrazzo floors of Thomas Albert Sinclair Elementary School. What was the deal with the smell of mimeograph paper? Ask anyone who went to school in the '60's and they will remember cold purple ink and eagerly inhaling that methyl alcohol vapor. Damn stuff was probably frying our brains, which probably explains our fashion choices in the '70s. Yecch.

So the first part of my life is like a vivid cartoon...the middle -- sort of like cable tv on a bad weather day. Then, when you have children it's like going through your own childhood again, only as an observer. You experience all the first joys, the fears, the excitement, but through someone else's eyes - so it's familiar but fresh. And it's absolutely invigorating. It's the closest thing to the fountain of youth you will ever experience.

In two months, my baby turns 18. I *should* feel old...but I don't. Maybe I should say, "yet." I'm in fairly good health, try to eat well and get exercise. I have Maroon 5 on my iPod and I'd die before I'd wear "comfortable shoes." I feel...okay. Therefore, I am subscribing to the adage that you are only as old as your feel. If that's the case, then I will write more after I watch that Scooby Doo episode on late night tv. It's amazing what you can get away with if not for those meddling kids.

"She is too fond of books, and it has addled her brain." ~ Louisa May Alcott

It's true, I have had a lifelong friendship with books and, yes, sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind although the two may or may not be connected. I can't ever remember a time when I wasn't reading, whether it was solving mysteries with Nancy Drew, having coffee in a hollow tree with Pippi Longstocking or keeping an eye on naughty Ramona the Pest. Nancy was cool and smart...and looked so fashionable in her pedal pushers. Pippi was spunky and quirky and lived life on her own terms, and Ramona...well, you didn't know if you wanted to spank her or just give her a big hug. I hope girls today are reading books like these and not just (ugh) Strawberry Shortcake and Barbie Fairytopia (gag). I was never into the "princess mentality." I'm old enough to remember petticoats and it ain't pretty.

By junior high I was deep into the adventures of Sam Gribley in "My Side of the Mountain" or the courage of the Indian girl in "Island of the Blue Dolphins." I loved the idea of being able to survive on your own with only your imagination to rely on....and a faithful animal friend, if you're fortunate. And to this day, any book that talks about food in great detail is MY kind of read.

Today, in addition to everything Harry Potter, I am addicted to historical or political thrillers, which I often stay up until 3:00 a.m. reading. I'm a huge fan of anything by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child or James Rollins. I'm fascinated by the cleverness of these types of novels and how sophisticated we're expected to be as readers. Unfortunately, I'm the dork who has to keep going back to the beginning of the book going, "Now, WHO was THAT guy?" or "Ohhh...THAT'S why they want the artifact." Duh. Oh well, they're a great ride.

Well, now I've told you everything you need to know about me. As Pippi says, "Go home now so that you can come back tomorrow. Because if you don't go home, you can't come back, and that would be a shame."

Pssst!

Okay, so it's not really a secret but a small explanation for the title of my blog. Most of it is rather self-explanatory (gee, can you crack that code?) but I chose the word "secret" because I'm basically a private person. So you see, the idea of "blogging" and (God forbid) PUBLISHING is pretty scary to me. I'm more likely to talk about my wonderful, amazing son, Tristan - whose picture you see to the right of this post - or about my freakishly intelligent dog, Sam, whose picture you see at the beginning of this post. I can pretty much promise you that you'll never see a photo of yours truly on this blog. But hey, look at what a cutie he is....isn't that enough?

What Am I Doing Here?

It's highly unlikely I would be writing here if not for the sharp stick in my back that IS "professional development." Oh well, it promises to be a valuable learning experience and sometimes, that is enough. Here's to the experience...and also, to a teeny bit of an adventure.