My husband sits in the backyard after a long day at work. The sun is hot. He shifts his chair into the shade. A light breeze swishes through the tree canopy overhead. A blue jay hops on the fence and twists its head to look at him before flying away again. A chipmunk ventures out and then dives into a hole behind a rock.
After forty-five minutes of peacefulness, the door slides open. I step outside. My husband watches as I walk across the yard, a thick and growing cloud following closely behind me. I sit in a chair next to him and the mosquitoes descend on both of us.
I’m in my house getting ready to leave when I see an adorable woodland creature looking at me through the window. It’s covered in soft grey fur with delicate little tufts above its ears. Its dark eyes are curious and wistful. It curls its teeny tiny little squirrel paws in front of its chest as it bobs up and down in the window, it bushy tail twitching excitedly behind it.
“You little fucker,” I say to the squirrel, who is one of the cutest fuckers in my backyard and definitely not my friend.
Maybe we could be friends if I didn’t have a garden, but I don’t want friends who dig up all of my carefully tended plants so they can bury their stupid nuts all over my yard and in every single one of my planters, including the ones hanging from the freaking roof of my house. I don’t want friends who just carelessly toss said plants onto the ground like garbage after they dig them up. What kind of asshole just bites all the flowers off of someone’s brand new hibiscus tree and then spits them on the ground like a nonchalant serial killer? And what kind of asshole then proceeds to bite the hibiscus buds off before they even bloom? Who does that?
Now, spiders, on the the other hand. Now there’s a true friend. They just sit around all day garden pests. They’re not hurting anyone. They’re a gardener’s best friend, and yet I’ve been terrified of them my entire life. Why can’t spiders be cute while we make squirrels into Halloween decorations?
Maybe one day spiders will be big enough to eat squirrels, the worst garden pest of them all. Wait, no, that sounds horrifying.
Yesterday, I woke up to find my fourteen year old cat in distress. I called the emergency vet hospital, and they gave me an appointment for later in the day. She died on my bed before it was time to leave. If we had left right away, she would have died in the car on the way there.
Some of you might think that writing an obituary for a cat is going overboard. Well, maybe you’ve never lost a cat. Maybe you don’t understand how attached you can get to an animal that’s been part of your family for fourteen years. You don’t have to read a cat obituary if you don’t want to, but I’m still going to write one. Let me tell you about Freya.
A friend on Facebook posts a link saying, “Don’t forget to order your butterfly kits!” I’m, like, “Thanks for the reminder!” even though I’ve never heard of this before. I click on the link.
April or May, 2020
I call my mom and tell her about the butterfly kit. She says, “Are you sure that you’ll be okay? You’re not still too traumatized by what happened when you were little?” I assure her that things will be different this time because I know for sure that these are definitely butterflies.
Hey, do you want to read a review of a book that’s out of print and probably not available at your local public library? Sure you do!
I should probably tell you that this is more of a love letter than a book review. There will probably also be a lot of backstory before we get there, just like in a cooking blog. Since we’re here, let me tell you about the marshmallow salad that my mom used to make at Easter.
JOKES ASIDE, “Stonewords” by Pam Conrad was one of my favourite books in my childhood. It was one that I read over and over again and I recently found an excuse to pass it on to my ten-year-old son.
My son, like most kids his age, is super duper into comic books. I haven’t made a fuss over that, because as long as he’s reading, then who cares. His teacher this year, however, wants the kids to have a novel at school for reading time; graphic novels don’t count. I can understand her point of view. There are lots of excellent books for kids out there. And this is a great opportunity to shove some of them into my son’s novel-free hands.
When I showed him “Stonewords,” he was not interested. This book is a perfect example of why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.
What do you mean? This cover is flashy, beautiful, AND not in the least outdated!
I mean, give the book a freaking break, it was published in 1990.
After he went to bed, I picked the book up again, sat down, and accidentally read the whole thing.
It stands up.
When I made a post on Facebook asking if anyone remembered it, nobody did. Aww, poor little overlooked book. 😦
Time is running out for Zoe’s best friend, who is a ghost! Zoe is the only one who can help her, but to do so, she must travel back one hundred years in time and somehow alter the past.
I mean, I guess that’s what it’s about, but no wonder nobody’s fucking reading it. This book is a goddamn work of art, not to mention an award winner, and that’s the description they came up with?
This book is different from the books that are being published for kids now. Here are the first two lines:
It seems I had always woken up in the morning with leaves and bits of grass in my toes and under my sheets as if I’d been a ghost wandering the countryside at night. But maybe not.
Kids’ books these days all seem to have the same tone. They’re jokey, they’re light, they are “Captain Underpants” and “Diary of a Wimpy Kid.” Look, there’s nothing wrong with that. These books are getting kids to read, including some who would otherwise not be reading. After years of being exposed to this popular type of voice, however, coming across Conrad’s dreamy and poetic prose gave me a pleasant little shock. I took a moment to adjust before I melted into her words and got lost in the story again.
Four-year-old Zoe, after being left by her mother to be raised by her grandparents, makes friends with an older child named Zoe Louise. They have a complicated friendship; Zoe Louise can be overbearing, and as Zoe grows and Zoe Louise does not, it becomes apparent that Zoe’s mysterious friend wants something from her. Zoe Louise’s behaviour becomes more erratic and sinister as Zoe struggles to overcome her growing fear of her friend to save her.
Do not make the mistake of assuming that this book is too sophisticated for your children. Despite the similes and the metaphors, the language is accessible. My son did decide to take the book to school after I talked it up to him. He is more than halfway through, able to follow the story, AND AND AND he is enjoying it.
Thank you, Ms. S., for insisting on novels for reading time. I can’t wait to introduce my kid to more of my favourites.
If I’m wrong about books these days and youdo know of specific children’s books that are similar to “Stonewords” in tone or style, let me know. I’d like to check them out!
I’m getting married in a few months , which means that I’ll be spending the night before the wedding crying glittery tears as I attempt to finish a million wedding-y crafts while I scream, “Damn you, Pinterest!” and forget that I’m wearing a shower cap and deep conditioning treatment for 12 hours.
Raccoon Brontosaurus 