Count Down to Christmas with Not-Your-Ordinary Christmas Books
Radios are counting-down to Christmas by playing 30 days of Christmas-ish Songs (In Trinidad make that 100 days...who knew there were sooooooo many).
TV stations are playing 25 days of Christmas-ish Movies.
I'm joining the festivities with a count-down of my own: 12 Days of Christmas-ish Children's Books, with a twist! I'm listing all 12 now so you can:
- Read one a Day . . . 12 in one day . . . or all 12 every day!
- Buy one--or all 12--for tots on your list!
- Use my list to bring to inspire you to pull your favs off the shelves!
Co-written by Cynthia and Greg Leitich Smith, art by Steve Borkman
#12: NAUGHTY! Alfie F. Snorklepuss doesn’t believe in Santa Claus, and he’s being a real pest about it. Cranky Alfie is everywhere—on TV, in the newspapers, over the radio—telling boys and girls what he thinks is the truth. Then, one Christmas Eve, the man in red himself packs up Alfie and brings him to the North Pole for an attitude adjustment, Santa-style.
Brand new from Anne Broyles, art by KE Lewis
#11: FOLKTALE-LY: It's time for Arturo and his Central American grandmother, Abue Rosa, to decorate their Christmas tree. Abue Rosa shares with him the family history of each ornament as it is hung. But what happens when Arturo plays with-and breaks-a glass bird?
by Elizabeth Cody Kimmel, art by HB Lewis
#10 FRIENDLY: Each year at Christmas, Joe writes a letter to Santa. But they've had a few misunderstandings in the past. Last year, for example, Joe wanted a fire-engine-red racecar with retracting headlights, and he did get one — but it was only three inches long. So this year Joe is really, really careful. He describes exactly what he wants — and on Christmas morning, guess what's waiting for him under the tree!
By Laura Leuck, art by Gris Grimly
#9 MONSTERLY: Mack and Zack are getting ready for Christmas, hanging up their smelly socks and blistertoe, decorating their dead pine tree, making poisonberry pies. Here in the rollicking rhyme of Laura Leuck and the gruesomely silly illustrations of Gris Grimly, is a truly memorable Christmas tale.
by Kandy Radzinsky
The 1st was so popular, Kandy followed up with the collection of Cat letters to Santa.
#8 CATISHLY: A cat-happy twist on the traditional English Christmas song for hard-core feline fanciers of any age. . . . they'll appreciate Radzinski's solemn, admiring paintings of her subjects, each whisker heroically articulated, and her settings (the sleeping twosome curl up prettily in a basket with a Christmas quilt, six cats a-playing are decorously entangled with ribbon and gift wrap).
Leave it to Bob Shea!
#7 PREHISTORICALLY: Dinosaur is getting ready for Santa! He tackles many challenges--decorating, making presents for Mom and Dad, trying not to be naughty--and defeats each one with his trademark ROAR! But on Christmas Eve, when he hears some rustling downstairs, he can't resist a peek. Will our feisty red friend meet his match in the man in the red suit?
Richard Paul Evans originally wrote this as a gift for his family members. After sharing it with your family, try creating a story of your own? Maybe your young artists can illustrate it?
#6 WARMHEARTEDLY: Rick, Keri, and their 4-year-old daughter, Jenna, are hired as caretakers and are welcomed into the home of Mary, an ailing widow, just in time for the holidays. Before long, it becomes apparent that Mary cherishes their companionship, and this young family begins to understand that their relationship to Mary is more special than any one of them could have realized. These tender relationships, fraught with real-life struggles, are the backdrop for unraveling a mysterious secret that gently propels the reader through this short story.
Eve Bunting and David Diaz are an incredible author-illustrator duo. Warning: this story will make all y'all think differently about homeless people. CAUTION: could prompt spontaneous giving . . .
#5 THOUGHTFULLY: Simon and his mom don't have much--the cardboard house they built for themselves, a tiny Christmas tree, and a picture of an angel pinned to one wall. On Christmas Eve they take in a frail stranger who needs a place to keep warm, and the next morning Simon wakes early to find that the woman has vanished. Instead, he sees December, the angel from the picture, with her wings fanned out over their cardboard house. Could she be real?
Story and Art by Chris Van Allsberg
Watch the movie, too! Tom Hanks is the conductor/dad!
#4 MAGICALLY: The tale of a young boy lying awake on Christmas Eve only to have Santa Claus sweep by and take him on a trip with other children to the North Pole
By Eve Bunting, art by David Diaz. These two make an amazing team!
#3 POINGNANTLY: Christmas is coming and Carlos and his family are going home-driving south across the border to Mexico. But Mexico doesn't seem like home to Carlos, even though he and his sisters were born there. Can home be a place you don't really remember?
I love you, Little Cindy Lu Who!
#2 Susically: "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch" and oh how we love you! Gotta read it every year. Gotta watch the movie, too--two times, maybe more, sing all the songs, feel that heart grow three sizes . . .
Robert Sabuda's Pop-Up version
#1: TRADITIONALLY: Thanks to Clement Moore for T'was The Night Before Christmas . . . or Henry Livingston, whichever actually wrote the story of Santa's stop one Christmas eve. poem. (A mock trail was even held to determine the true author.) Once a season, at least, this book needs to be read. Which version? You're choice. This classic Christmas poem has been retold in scads of different versions: Cajun, Golden Book, Cowboy, Cat, Thomas the Tank, even Pop Up . . . Call in "Henry's revenge" that royalties for all these go not to Clement Moore's heirs, but to the retellers.
We've come to the end of my counting down to Christmas: 12 Days of Christmas-ish Children's Books List. I hope you'll have as much fun reading through the season as I have!
- Please add to the list by sharing your favorites. Help build the list to 25 days of Christmas-ish reads, and onto 100! (Post suggestions in the "comments" section! Curious minds want to know.)
Finding My Way Back
The reality of what I was doing didn’t dawn on me until I was winding my way down the California Coast, in pitch black, with no wireless connection, hence no Google map on my phone to guide me.
A book about a girl who’d returned to her home in Carmel by the Sea after her father’s death, inspired me to try being a writer in the first place. I’d read it while, like the heroine, I was back home at my grandparent's house in Watsonville, facing major life changes/decisions.
Nanny & Poppy's house now, Dec 2013, looks pretty much the same as it did back then. Except that the fountain stands where my loquat tree once did
That life-changing book isn't in any literary cannon. It was an inexpensive, paperback Harlequin Romance with a man & woman embracing on the cover.
Young, broke, plain but interesting girl moves somewhere exotic for a job, meets older, rich, handsome arrogant hottie and--in spite of a gorgeous, sophisticated, worldly heiress set on snagging the hottie--wins his heart. What's not to love about that kind of romance?
My friend Theresa's mom (with her hair set in pin-curls, which she'd take out just before five when her husband return home from work) would drive us to the library where "checking out" Harlequin Romance's meant filling a grocery sack with all the titles we didn't think we'd read before, taking them home and reading one in an afternoon while Elton, Rod or Bread played in the background.
To admit I have forgotten the title, is not to say I have, or will ever forget that book. It made me who I. . . was.
And now, some 28 years later I’m retracing my steps so to speak. And this time, I’ve traveled even farther distance-wise, if not time-wise. My last trip back to find myself had been via car, with 2 small children in tow—a much weightier journey on so many levels.
To get to where I am now, on the eve of the Big Sur Writing Workshop, I flew from Port of Spain to Houston to San Francisco and drove the 137, 3-hour trip down. I could have flown into Monterey Airport instead. That drive would have been less than an hour. And—or is it “but”—
. . . I would have skipped the drive down highway 101 through San Jose to Gilroy and up and over Hecker Pass to Watsonville.
View of Watsonville and the Pacific from the top of Hecker Pass
When I was a kid, the twisty-turney, bumpy, hot drive over Hecker Pass made me queasy. Subconciously, is that what drove me to drive it this time? Is this part of my Hero’s Journey? Is making the drive without urping one of my quests?
If I had flown into Monterey instead of San Francisco, I wouldn't have had an opportunity to stop in Watsonville to check out the town, drive past my grandparent's house on Oregon Street and peek over the fence, past my Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Joe's house in the next block, or The Miramar--my mom's favorite place to eat back in the day (best garlic bread and mastaccioli in the whole world)--or drive through the old shopping center, with The Coffee Shop, where we’d go for lunch at least once a week, and Bud’s Barber Shop, where my brother Joe, and later my boy Max, got the “traditional boy cut” and a sucker. Or the Elks Lodge where we’d go for the Friday Night Fish Fry, and to the cemetery to visit my grandparents.
It took me way too long to find my grandparent's graves. I said hello and spent some time wondering and feeling grateful that someone had left Nanny flowers. But what about Poppy? Where were his?
. . . Or have dinner with my cousins Jodi and Amy until Sunday night after the Workshop.
Last Saturday, rain and more rain, kept Curtis and I from our regular walk. Instead we watched movies. One was Music and Lyrics with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore.
Through the course of the movie, Grant & Barrymore's characters try to write a song entitled “Way Back Into Love” which Grant hopes, will be his way back into a music career.
Pressfield suggests that’s what many of us "Artist Types" do when we are near our goal. We screw up.
In WAR of ART, Steven Pressfield draws attention to THE ODYSSEY how, when Homer was within sight of the shore—of home—rather than remaining vigilant, got lazy, cocky, and went to sleep. While he slept, his crew, believing his bag was full of treasure, untied it and released the unfavorable winds.
. . . If I hadn't stopped for dinner I wouldn't have been driving south on Highway One at close to 9pm, even though the instructions to the Workshop and Big Sur Lodge clearly stated the park closed at 9pm.
. . . I would not have been driving in the pitch black of night on that narrow, windy, empty highway winding down the coast, not sure where I was going or how much longer it would take me to get there.
“
We’re always attracted to the edges of what we are, out by the edges where it’s a little raw and nervy.”
“
Planning to write is not writing. Outlining, researching, talking to people about what you’re doing, none of that is writing. Writing is writing.
”
I signed up for the Big Sur Workshop quite a while back. Back when I thought I was staying the course.
Did I subconsciously know I had strayed far, super far, and finding my way back wouldn’t be so easy?
E.L. Doctrow's words about being a write came to me as I wound my way down PCH: "It's like driving a car at night in the fog. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way."
I Made It!!!!
You Procrastinate Your Way, I Procrastinate Mine
**Note: This entry was supposed to be posted Sunday, but I put it off until today. Sorry
Heck yeah, I've got loads to do! Tis the season, isn't it? Gifts to wrap. Suitcases to pack. Messages to return. Cards to send. Oh yeah, and writing . . .
In 2 days I'm leaving Trinidad for the month. First to California for the Big Sur Writing Workshop. Workshop means preparation. Make copies of projects to focus on. Decide which projects those are. Gather my tools. Instead . . .
The Big Sur Workshop is the delicious carrot I'd been dangling just beyond, ever since September, when I quit writing to focus on L&R's wedding. I'll refocus on my writing, then, I'd promised myself. I'll commit to finding a new agent. Polish my stories. Finish revisions on my chapter books.
After the workshop, I'll fly to Reno to visit my mom and brother's family. Reno means cold, not Trinidad tropical. After Reno, I'll fly to Westhampton Beach, more cold. I need to dig out my woolies. Instead . . .
We'll spend the holidays in Westhampton Beach with M&M, L&R and Baby B.
Latest Baby B news: he's flipping front to back and sometimes back to front. And surprise, surprise, like his father before him, loves to be held...all the time!
Holidays means sorting out gifts I've already bought. Wrapping for folks here. Thank you envelopes. Cards. Packing my suitcases. Instead . . .
Reno in Winter means dressing like this
Curtis loves his woolies!
Trinidad means dressing like this:
Me and John ready for the beach!
After packing and hauling this mound of baggage for L&R's wedding, I was not excited about packing all over again . . .
I could have, should have, tackled this To-do List last week--or at least made a stab at it. But last week was Thanksgiving. And cooking a Thanksgiving Feast seemed more pressing. And more in keeping with my 2013 resolution "Live in the Moment" which I haven't been especially good at keeping.
My post Thanksgiving Feast plans has been for us to continue eating our way through the leftovers while I sorted, wrapped, packed today & tomorrow. (No hardship; "leftovers" is our favorite part of Thanksgiving.) Post dinner, Tuesday, I'd sort the fridge, freeze, repackage whatever remained of the feast.
This morning, pouring rain stopped me from keeping my other 2013 resolution "Exercise Regularly," too.
Maybe if I had said "yes" when Curtis asked if I'd like some coffee, I would have stuck to my plan.
Maybe if freibor, Brian, hadn't sent those recipes on ways to use Thanksgiving leftovers, it wouldn't have been on my mind.
But somehow, when I opened the fridge to pour milk into my coffee, the bowls and platters of leftovers called to me.
"Take us out!"
"Don't leave us like this!"
"We want to be used!"
"Mixed!
Blended!
Baked!
Transform us . . . PLEASE!"
And so, leftover mashed potatoes, chopped onion & parsley, butter & fresh grated Parmesan became "Potato Puffs"
Leftover marinated mushrooms, picky-platter pickles & olives and a couple of cans of beans--kidney, garbanzo & pinto--became "Bean Salad".
Leftover turkey, green beans, broth, gravy and the rest of the mashed potatoes became "Turkey Shepherd's Pie"
Leftover cranberry sauce, chopped pecans, and milky whipped cream became batter for "Cranberry Pecan Oat & Buckwheat Muffins", some of which I dropped into mini-muffin tins for now, the rest of which--thanks to a quick Internet surfing and instructions from Heavenly Homemakers.com, I froze for later.
Potatoe Puffs, Turkey Shepherd's Pie, Cranberry Oat Pecan Muffins, Marinated Bean Salad (not shown)
The Tupperware saleslady from The Husband's Secret by Liane Moriarity would be so proud!
And everything else that remained of our Thanksgiving 2013 feast was sorted into tidy plastic containers.
Then, because all the freezing muffin batter postings--I did say Internet Surfing as in ongoing activity and instructions, plural--suggested freezing them as muffin blogs, either in cupcake papers or directly in the tin, and I got to thinking "wouldn't it work to freeze the batter en mass?" I decided an experiment was in order. I spooned half the leftover muffin batter into a greased tin, as directed, and poured the rest into a small contain and froze it that way. My thought is semi-thawed I should work just fine. Procrastination? Ney, I have another work for it: Experimentation.
Oh yeah! And then, because I was so excited to share this brilliant frozen muffin batter idea here, I left the heaps of crusty feast dishes, pans, bowls, mixing and measuring utensils--not soaking--and raced over to my computer to type up this blog entry. I'll wash the dishes later. Right now, I better get started on that to-do list . . .
You procrastinate your way; I'll procrastinate mine. . . .