Before we left for home, we hit up two Kentucky landmarks—the Lincoln memorial on Louisville’s riverfront and a frozen-yogurt shop that offered mocha and pop boba as toppings. Okay—granting landmark status to a fro-yo joint is a bit of a stretch, but I failed to mention that they also served milk teas.
Reed’s toy cars and plastic dogs met a similar fate that the mastodons and saber-toothed cats did in La Brea Tar Pits.
Grammar is a topic that’s far from fun for most people, and certainly not in the ballpark of things we conjure as glamorous. But author Roy Peter Clark is determined to change that mindset, pointing out in The Glamour of Grammar that at one time in the history of language “glamour” and “grammar” were the same word. He goes about showing the many ways in which language learning and usage can retain its ancestral roots in enchantment, charm, and magic.
There’s a Berenstain Bears book about old and new hats—appropriately titled Old Hat, New Hat—that we’ve worn out over the years from frequent readings. In honor of that family favorite, I present to you the title in picture form.
New hat
Open gym. Open pit. Open invitation to jump into a pile of soft red blocks. Opened a can of worms. Gym no longer open once hour mark is up. Now openly complaining about having to leave. Hoping to get through open door, but know that leaving quietly is no open-and-shut case.
Olivia first learned of Abraham Lincoln presenters—notice I didn’t say impersonators—from the terrific documentary titled “Being Lincoln: Men with Hats.” The child herself has dabbled in some Lincoln presenting, most notably a couple Halloweens back. When I learned that there would be a Lincoln presenter at a local historical society home on this anniversary of our 16th president’s birthday, I jumped at the chance to take her to meet her historical hero. She, too, jumped at the opportunity, donning her Lincoln outfit and with her presidential action figure in hand.
She and her friend Lucy got to interact with Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln. To say she was over the moon would be an understatement—try over the moon of a planet in some faraway galaxy. The experience was enhanced by, of course, some Abe-licious cake at the end of the meet-and-greet.
I’ve had the great fortune of hearing Jonah Lehrer speak in person, as he was the keynoter at a conference I’d attended in the fall. I was familiar with his work on Radiolab, a favorite show of mine in the world of radio and podcasts, for which he’s a contributing editor. He has written two books to date: Proust Was a Neuroscientist and How We Decide. I picked up the latter during the aforementioned conference, and Lehrer was kind enough to sign my copy and make small talk with me as I gushed about how much I adore Radiolab. (I may have uttered something to the effect of “Radiolab makes my life better.”)
Reed devours oranges (clementines, technically—which he calls tangers, as in tangerines) the way flamingos take to shrimp. And because a flamingo’s pinkish hue gets accentuated by its mass consumption of shrimp, we expect Reed’s skin to resemble John Boehner’s in no time.
As someone who has encountered autism within our family, I take a particular interest in books on the subject. I’ve read parts of the book by John Elder Robinson—brother of memoirist Augusten Burroughs—about his experiences growing up with Asperger syndrome, which is an autism spectrum disorder. Recently, my mom has brought to my attention a new book I’m eager to get my claws/eyes on called The Journal of Best Practices: A Memoir of Marriage, Asperger Syndrome, and One Man's Quest to Be a Better Husband. And I just finished a wonderful book called Following Ezra: What One Father Learned About Gumby, Otters, Autism, and Love from His Extraordinary Son. (Apparently, the titles of books involving the autism spectrum must span a literal spectrum.)
Three words: International. Crime. Thriller. Piqued your interest yet? No? How about another three? Written by relative.
Reed takes to a hand vac the way most two-year-olds take to their toys. He demands first crack (sweep?) at the crumbs and dust bunnies on the floor, and he loves to add the attachment that allows him to suck up the dirt in the hard-to-reach places such as couch cushions and lost childhoods.
50/50, a film destined for viewing as part of the 50/50 project, received a favorable rating in excess of 80% from Rotten Tomatoes. The 50/50 in this case refers to the cancer survival odds of Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s character, who find the challenges of the changing natures of his relationships to be as exhausting as his actual cancer treatments. The film is essentially a buddy film that interjects some light humor into a heavy topic.
