an open letter to the pioneer woman

Dear P-Dub (I can call you P-Dub, right?  I mean, we're friends and all now),

I should warn you that I used to do these open letters all the time (or once a week for about a month), but they became kind of dangerous.  See I really just do them for laughs, never expecting that the addressee will ever actually read them, but it turns out this here internet-thingy is a public forum, and sometimes moving truck companies and basic cable television networks will stumble across my amusing little letters, and weird stuff occasionally follows.  Once I began to understand the might of the open letter, I sent them into semi-retirement, only using them in safe and controlled conditions.  I've always known that the time might once again be right to send an open letter out into the world, but no offense, I didn't anticipate that it would be for you.  The open letter is my secret final weapon against the one person who I hope to lure into friendship (and marriage) through the blog.  But I'm not going to devote that letter to FHDM until I'm sure I'm ready for us to happen because as I think I mentioned a few sentences back, the open letter is a powerful tool with unexpected and far-reaching effects.  But now that you and I are friends I'm not afraid to send this open letter out into the internet-void.  I mean I'm assuming you were going to look me up and start following the blog anyway now that we've met, right?

Thanks times a million for coming to the Arkansas Literary Festival on Saturday!  It was kind of the best work-related thing that's ever happened to me.  I tend to avoid Lit Fest because it's so busy and chaotic, and all the people make me crazy.  And honestly, if I'm not working, I don't really dig hanging out at the library.  It's a great place, but I feel like I spend enough time there without devoting leisure time to it.  But you were totes worth the crowd and chaos and hanging out where I work without getting paid.  Even the line waiting with the rabid PW fans was mildly awesome. 

To tell the truth, I'm the reason you were invited in the first place.  I've been a fan for a couple of years now, and when you were on the cookbook tour (was that 2009?), I may have become a little obsessed with talking about you at work.  It helped that I won a $75 amazon gift card in one of your Geography quizzes (Kansas City, if memory serves).  The cool thing about the folks I work with is that I'm the young, hip, fun girl, so anything that I like, they buy into--not that it was a hard sell.  They fell right in love with you too, and because I had brought you onto the radar of my boss (maybe you met her today?  Lisa, but not the Lisa who moderated your session), she suggested you to Mr. Lit Fest, and the rest is history--or the beginning of our awesome friendship.  I don't typically use the word awesome so much.  Forgive me.

You already know the highlights of the day as you were there hanging out with me and stuff, but let me take you through the good times you missed out on.  I worked the Book Fiesta in the morning before you got there (remember I told you about making the salsa and getting it on my shirt?), so everyone else got there at various stages, but by a few minutes after noon we were ready to head for the line.  We were in a pretty decent spot too.

I realized that I'd left my camera upstairs not long after we got into line, so while Martha was taking the twins one at a time to change their diapers on the lawn in the little garden area outside where we were waiting, I ran back up to my desk to get my camera.  I asked if she would reenact the lawn diaper changes for me once I got back, but she apparently didn't want her babies' private business enshrined here on my blog.  Go figure.

In that brief time while I was gone, the line was growing and growing.  Some sweet lady behind us offered to take our picture all together since someone was getting left out of all the ones we were taking ourselves.  I know it's confusing, but Martha's holding Jackson, who's really Amy's baby.  That's Luke you can see in the stroller, but sweet Calla got cut off--but of course, you remember what she looks like anyway.

In addition to the diaper changes, the twins had to eat lunch in line--the sacrifices those babies made to meet you are impressive, huh?  Trust me that nothing should ever come between Luke and his eating schedule.  The boys likes his food.

The vestibule where we waited was airless and sticky with all those warm bodies, so I was quite ready to get inside the Darragh Center which I hoped would be pleasantly cool.  You may recall it was not.  We were melting in there too, so I speculated then about how many paper towels or tissues you were using to soak up the sweat from your armpits and wondered if you had enough to share.  If I'd gotten to ask my question during the session, that's what it would have been. 

Oh look, Calla's in this one--but now Luke is in the stroller.  I think he was asleep by this point maybe.

I was trying to take a picture of Calla who was down the row being really cute when my camera batteries died.  Can you believe the horror?!?  What would I do if we couldn't have a our picture made together later?  I had not come prepared for that possibility.  Luckily Nichole had.  She gave me new batteries and saved my life.

 (Thanks, Nichole!)

Jackson waited until he was inside and sitting down to eat, but out of respect for Amy, I'm not going to show you that picture (though thanks to the Hooter Hider/Modest Mommy/nursing bib it's a perfectly respectable photo). 

Hey!  There you are.  Of course, you'll remember this part.  You really did a fantastic job, and you appeared completely undaunted during the whole laptop/slideshow debacle, so despite whatever you feel about your lack of strength as a public speaker, I thought you handled yourself like a pro.  And I'm sure it didn't hurt that you're so beloved that we all were just giddy with seeing you and hearing you and getting to laugh with you in person, and no one in the audience cared about the a/v issues.


Later while we were standing in line waiting for book-signing, Nichole said, "wasn't she just like you thought she'd be?"  I had to agree.  Your warmth and genuineness and humor were exactly as I'd pictured them.  I guess everyone else thought so too since we waited and waited and waited for the line to wind around for us to see you.  Poor pregnant Monica just had to sit down, so we actually had a folding camp chair that she sat in and moved and scooted as the line meandered.  The babies held up like champs through all the waiting.  Both boys took naps and Calla only got a little fussy.

And then, at long last, we made the last corner and saw you, wearing those boots you've talked about so often, sporting the haircut you got last week (is it creepy that people know so much about your life sometimes?), and charming the socks off everyone whose book you signed.  It was interesting to hear the sorts of things people brought up to talk about with you as they had their moment:  homeschooling, being from Oklahoma, favorite recipes.  I could tell that everyone felt as I did, that she'd known you long before she handed your her book to sign and that like me, she'd considered carefully what to say in her brief time with you to make a connection--to help you know her in some small way as she knows you.  Everyone might as well have said, "Hi, Ree.  I think you're great, and more importantly we're alike.  If I lived down the gravel road from you, we'd be friends, great friends, inseparable.  Instead let's be long-distance friends.  You won't regret it.  After all, all those things you say, those funny things that happen to you, those foods that you love, I do all those things too.  We're alike, you see."  But saying that would come off just a shade stalkerish and desperate, so instead we honed in one one detail, one thing to tell you that would make us special, make us important to you, if only for a moment, because you're important to us.  And you delivered for us, listening to those snippets and details, responding with your sweet smile and appropriate questions, and acting for all the world as though you had all the time in the world to talk to us.

When my moment came, it was no different.  I was grateful to Lee Ann (the Lit Fest girl who was opening the books and handing them to you) for telling you that I worked at the library so I could act like I was a little more special, a little more in-the-know than all the other folks who had passed through the line.  I got to confess to you that I had salsa on my shirt, a splatter from earlier in the day when I had made your restaurant-style salsa (best salsa ever) for the Book Fiesta in the children's department.  We got to bond for a moment on the perfection that is your salsa, and I felt the residual glow of your admiration for the cute babies in our group. 

If there was one thing we could have done differently that would have made the moment pure, over-the-top perfection, we would have all crowded around you for a group picture.  It would have been a lot like that first picture up at the top (but with Luke and Calla out of the stroller) and with you as our new friend right in the middle.  When I think back on the day, that's how I want to remember it, that's the picture I see in my heart. 

From all of us who have had those moments with you, thanks.  Thanks for being everything we imagined you would be:  the ordinary girl who loves butter and hates laundry, who delights in her kids and feels nervous about her weight, who does embarrassing things and owns up to them, who finds beauty in quiet everyday moments of family, food, and friends.  Thank you for giving us your attention, for treating us like long-lost friends or new friends you'd been waiting to meet, just as eagerly as we'd been waiting to meet you.

Thanks for it all,

Ellen (your new best friend)

P.S.  I didn't tell Amy or Martha or Monica about that second extra conversation we had as I saw you on your way out.  They don't know how we talked about our fall Getaway and the Lodge.  So once you figure out the details of how that might work, let me know.  I can't wait to tell them.

P. P. S. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this posted.  I got it mostly finished on Sunday, but then internet vanished from our home until today.  It's not because I wasn't giddily excited about reliving our day together.  Don't let my technological issues come between us.  Please.

P. P. P. S. To anyone reading this who doesn't know about Pioneer Woman and her amazing-ness, get out from under your rock and go here.  You won't be sorry.  Promise.

an open letter to flying burrito

Dear Flying Burrito,

I can still remember our first encounter back in May of 2007.  It was a Wednesday, and Lisa bought my lunch as a bribe for doing something I wanted to do anyway.  Even on our first meeting, I was wise enough to choose the chicken nachos, and it was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Do you remember those early days when Lisa liked to go and flirt with "the burrito boys" none of whom were actually flirt-worthy?  Remember the nicknames we had for the boys?  I still miss JT and Original Hat, and though I love Normal Guy, he still can't make up for the loss of them.  Remember how Mouth-Breather used to be such a dud then turned fun for about a week and then went right back to his old dud ways?  Why did he have to be the one who worked there the whole time I've been in love with you?

Flying Burrito, you ruined me for any other pick-your-toppings type Mexican food.  Whenever anyone starts singing the praises of Moe's, I gag.  I still believe that anyone who truly likes Moe's has never been to the Burrito.  There's just no way you could experience the perfection of you and ever be content with Moe and his nasty cheese dip.

I always loved that I could come for a visit anytime of day.  On Mondays when I like to eat lunch late, the River Market vendors are always closed, but you're there for me.  I'll never forget that about you.  Your presence in my life enriched my relationships with coworkers.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Mattie and Amelia had an entirely different set of nicknames for the boys.  Our Burrito-love and friendly debate over the best foods there brought us closer together.  Mattie's in London this semester, and I know she's devastated that she'll never get one last burrito when she gets home.

Over the years I've shared our love with countless friends.  Jess and I had our first date there back in August of 2008.  I took Justin there.  Sam the page and I have lunched there together.  I think I introduced Shane to your delightfulness.  You were the setting for a short-lived run of weekly lunches with a few downtown-working church friends.  When Martha moved back and we instated downtown lunches, you were the first place I took her.  And that doesn't even take into account all the lunches I've had there with Lisa or Bob and Philip and lately with the babies Beck.  So many memories with folks from all over my life.  Thank you for those memories.

Sometimes I've tried to stay away, bring my lunch, and save my pennies, but even when I was being sensible, you were my splurge place.  If I was going to go eat anywhere, I would come to you, especially on Tuesdays.  Your double-punch lunch card special ensured that though I was paying for lunch then, there was a free treat in my future.  Thanks for all those double-punches.  And thanks to Normal Guy who on a few occasions gave me extra punches after I lost my punch card.  I'm going to miss that Normal Guy.

I had heard mutterings that you were closing, but I refused to believe them until that Thursday a few weeks ago when I read your closing signs for myself.  I couldn't believe it.  I resolved then to make the most of our time together.  I even had a punch-card schedule worked out so that I could fill my card one last time before you were gone forever.  When I fell a bit off-schedule, Normal Guy came to my rescue again and finished my card for me on Monday, so it was free-lunch ready on Tuesday, our last day together.  I actually made plans over the weekend to introduce one more person to you before you were gone for good.  Lacey was going to meet me after work on Tuesday night for one last hurrah.  I still came to see you for lunch on Tuesday though--and waited in line for over thirty minutes.  I'm not sure how you're not managing to stay in business with crowds like that.  I'll never regret coming at lunch-time that day because when Lacey and I walked over after work, you were already closed for good.  It hurt. 

There's still an ache there.  Never again will one of the burrito boys know I want nachos to go before I even say it.  Never again will I taste the joy of all my favorites piled just the way I want them.  I've tasted my last chipotle sour cream.  I'll never have to explain the recycling system to Bob again or find myself involved in random line conversations.  No matter what other Mexican restaurant reopens there in the spring, it will never be the same.  It won't be you, and without you, we won't be us.  I'm sorry for all the times that I took you for granted, for all the times I didn't ask for guacamole just because it cost extra.  I'm sorry for not savoring each lunch with the knowledge that they would someday end.  I've seen some cheery, feel-good quotation somewhere that advises, "Don't cry because it's over.  Smile because it happened."  I think I'll get there someday, Flying Burrito.  Someday I'll look back with nostalgia and fondness for all the good times you provided, but for today, I'm still going to cry.

You'll always be in my heart.

Yours,

Ellen

an open letter to martha

Dear Martha,

Have you had those babies yet?  Seriously, I fully expect to hear that you're headed to the hospital any second now.  I'm excited about their arrival.  And while I worry that they maybe won't have names when they're born, I know they'll be well taken care of in every other respect.

Do you remember, Martha, back when these twins were much, much tinier, you asked me about children's books?  You told me that you have loads of the books that you grew up reading that your librarian mother has saved, but that there were a couple of decades worth of children's lit that about which you knew little.  So you came to the expert, or perhaps more accurately, to the slacker who promised to put a list together for you and then prompty forgot and put it off and generally dropped the ball.  Sorry, Martha. (If it helps, you're not the first parent/person choosing books for a young child whom I've let down in this way.  I fail.  Often.)

I'm trying to catch up with lots of my failings lately, so just in time for the arrival of Baby A and Baby B, I'm going to give a partially annotated list of some children's books that bear mentioning.  And since I know many of my loyal readers are parents and educators, I fully expect the comment section to light up with better suggestions than I offer here.

Let's begin at the beginning:

Board books:
Board books are for babies.  They're much less likely to be ripped, and they can withstand a certain amount of drool, gumming, and chewing--more than paper pages at least.  They're also shorter and smaller (usually).  There are loads of picture books that are also available in board book format--though they are sometimes shortened, so beware.  I have mixed feelings about the shortened board book versions.  If you read them over and over and over again--and you will--you'll soon have them memorized, and if you later graduate to the full version, it can really throw off your reading rhythm.  I can't ever quite handle There's a Wocket in My Pocket because Pointer had the board book, and that's the way I know it.  Even if it's not shortened, you'll eventually have to deal with the situation of owning two copies of the same books.  It's dangerous ground.  Be careful.

Fortunately, there are loads of books that are published strictly as board books.  You already own some, and based on what I've seen of your growing collection, you're headed in the right direction.  There's really only one name you need to know when it comes to board books:

Sandra Boynton.  She's the best.  My all-time favorite is probably But Not the Hippopotamus.  It's cute and funny and has a great cadence to it.  And those selling points are true in most everything of hers I've ever read.  Other titles that bear special mention are Doggies (a counting book where you get to do ten different dog sounds), The Going to Bed Book, Horns to Toes and in Between, Moo Baa LaLaLa, and Barnyard Dance.  Those are the best ones, I think.  But you really can't go wrong with anything she's done.


I will give DK board books an honorable mention here.  They're not story books, but they have colorful photographs.  They're good for short attention spans because if little hands turn pages before you're done reading, it doesn't really matter.  You can just start pointing out the photos on the next page.  They have them for loads of topics:  animals, colors, toys, vehicles.  You need a couple.  They'll come in handy.





There's a series of board books that's only come to my attention lately.  None of my babies ever had them, but we've got them at the library, and they're very cute.  The first in the series is called Urban Babies Wear Black, but there are lots of other babies:  Winter Babies Wear Layers, Rocker Babies Wear Jeans, Country Babies Wear Plaid, Sporty Babies Wear Sweats, Beach Babies Wear Shades, Foodie Babies Wear Bibs.  You get the idea.  I recommend them conditionally in that I've never actually tried them out on kids.


Picture books:
Here's the secret to children's books.  Don't read books that you don't like.  Until your kids are capable of sustained, silent reading, you'll be reading every book they do.  (And I'd suggest sticking with that even after they read to themselves.)  Don't buy things or check things out unless you enjoy them.  Choose illustrators who appeal to you.  Don't put up with substandard writing.  There's plenty of great stuff out there, so don't waste your time on the junk.

So here are some things I consider the good stuff:


John Butler draws very cute animals, and he's got a couple of great books with very few words.  Who Says Woof? has animal sounds and precious little baby animals.  If You See a Kitten is similar is style.  They're both really good for wee ones.  Back when I did baby storytime, I used both of these a ton.





Kevin Henkes is probably my favorite picture book author.  He won the Caldecott for Kitten's First Full Moon a few years ago, but it's probably my least favorite of his.  He's written several books with mice for characters.  Lily, the star of Lily's Purple Plastic Purse, gets the most attention, but she got her start in Chester's Way, which is maybe my favorite.  Lots of them have storylines that deal with anxiety or making friends or teasing or people who are different or sibling rivalry, but they're not preachy.  They've got a very subtle wit about them.  They're not great for big group storytimes because the illustrations are smallish and have details that are better up close.  Wemberley Worried and Owen are probably my other two favorites.  They're quite nice.

Doreen Cronin is another author  I like.  Her farm books are cute, though a typewriter factors heavily into the first one, and while that's charmingly outdated to adult readers, it's completely lost on kiddos.  I know kids that still like it, but it is definitely one of those deals where you choosing the book for your enjoyment just as much as your kids.  Click Clack Moo, Giggle Giggle Quack, and Duck for President have been around for a while, and there are a couple more recent ones about the same farm.  She also has done three books that are diaries of various animals.  Diary of a Worm came first, I think, but Spider is my favorite.  Harry Bliss, who illustrated the diary books did the SRC illustrations the year we had the bug theme.  I love all the little details in these books.  They're funny and very well done.

Mo Willems is another funny author of picture books.  The Pigeon books are his best.  It started with Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.  The illustrations are very simple, and they're not too wordy, but they convey a lot of silliness in their simplicity. Willems is capable of being wordier.  Leonardo the Terrible Monster is a good one, and Knuffle Bunny:  A Cautionary Tale and its sequel are both great.  I'm pretty sure one of them is a Caldecott Honor book too.



I'll declare those my top picture book authors, but I have a few more books I want to list if you'll allow me:

Bear Snores On by Karma Wilson.  Bear and his friends have some sequels, but none are as good as this one with it's sing-song refrain.

The Napping House by Audrey Wood.  It's a cumulative tale, and I've just always liked it.

The Quiet Book by Deborah Underwood. This is a fairly new book, that talks about all the different kinds of quiet.  I love the illustrations.

There Was an Old Lady by Pam Adams.  There are so many versions of this nursery rhyme, but this one has a die cut hole in the pages that expands as she swallows more and more.  It's my favorite version.
Go Away, Big Green Monster by Ed Emberley.  Speaking of die-cuts, this book builds and then unbuilds a monster, talks about colors and some shapes, and is a great non-scary monster book.

The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf.  I can remember loving this book as a kid, and it's still one I really love.  The pictures are pretty much all black and white, in case that's a deal breaker for you.

Good Night, Gorilla by Peggy Rathmann.  Another old book, but I love this little gorilla and his night-time zoo hijinks.

Scaredy Squirrel and sequels by Melanie Watt.  Scaredy is this hilarious OCD squirrel.  They're probably better for bigger kids, but they're a hoot.

I could continue listing books all day, but since I'm working on a deadline, I'll save more picture book recommendations for another day.

I'm tempted to start a discussion of chapter book read-alouds, because that is all the rage among preschoolers I know, but we've got a few years to work our way up to that, and I'll be better at making those recommendations once I've met the little circumstances. 

I'm sure you've been sternly telling those twin babies that they couldn't be born until you had their library all fixed up, so now that I've finally held up my end of the bargain, you can go ahead and have our two newest weeps.  I'm ready to meet them!

Your book-loving peep,

Ellen

an open letter to my #1 fan

Dear cousin, scholar, theologian, and #1 blog fan,

I know you need a blog today, a blog especially for you.  I know you must be just sitting around bored and sad that I haven't posted much lately.  I know when you don't get to ingest enough of my words, it breaks your heart.  And I know you don't have any other distractions in your life right now.  Nothing new going on, nothing to talk about, nothing tiny and cute and pink that needs to be held and loved and diapered regularly.  I'm sorry that you have so little in your own life that you rely so heavily on reading words that I have written to supply you with basic happiness.  I'll try to be better at soothing your soul through blog.

So I thought today, since there's nothing special going on with you, I should provide you with a few ideas to occupy your time:

1.  You should read a book.  I know that my regular composition of high-quality reading material has supplanted your need for print publications, but don't forget that other people write interesting words too, and some of them are even published in bound book form for easy transport and availability.  May I suggest the work of FHDM (FCILDM, in your case)?  Though I haven't read it yet because the internet does fulfill all my written word needs these days, I'll recommend A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.  I watched a video series he did that related to the idea for this book, and it was pretty great, I thought.  I would even consider loaning you the book, if you wanted, though my future financial security would be better served if I made you buy your own copy. (and if you followed that link and ordered it from amazon, my more immediate financial security would also be served).  Of course, if you're more interested in reading material that is at hand, you could read Josie's Happy Birthday to You.


2.  You should familiarize yourself with Joss Whedon's entire body of work.  Of course, you need to start with Buffy, but once you get to season 4, you'll need to start Angel, and follow a complicated progression of crossover episodes for four seasons.  Don't worry, though--Shane can map it out for you.  You'll love Buffy, but Angel is where you'll really begin to appreciate the genius.  And, of course, Firefly will complete your life, though you'll physically ache that there are only 13 episodes.  But there's always Serenity to fill up a bit of that hole in your soul.  And actually I said his entire body of work, but you don't have to watch Dollhouse because I didn't.  I hear it's not as funny, so why bother.  But Dr. Horrible is a must.  And then when you've done all that background work, you'll be ready to watch the Whedon-directed season finale of Glee.  You're welcome.

3.  You should compile a list, in ranking order, of the ten things you'd most like to see me blog.  This will satiate your constant need to evaluate and quantify everything in your life and also provide fodder to keep this blog going so that our codependent relationship will thrive.  Win-win, buddy.  Also, I'll just be honest here and say that fresh ideas have been a little sparse on the ground lately.  It should probably go without saying after that ridiculous hair post, but never let it be said that I pass up an opportunity to use two or three sentences to describe my life when none would speak just as eloquently.  So that top ten list could save us all.  Do it for the imaginary readers.

4.  You should eat chocolate-covered pretzels.  Seriously, this could solve all your problems in one bite (or however many bites it takes to get to the bottom of the bag).  I was having a pretty rough morning until I realized that the bag of Flipz (that I bought myself at Wal-Mart almost two weeks ago and had been saving for my most desperate hour) was indeed in my work bag.  There was much rejoicing.  And then I ate them, and now I'm practically perfect in every way.  I don't even really like pretzels, but something about this particular salty-sweet combo is a balm to my soul and taste buds.  And I firmly believe they have the power to change lives for others as well.


5.  If all else fails, you could throw my stupid ideas out the window and take care of your sweet, pretty wife and get to know your brand-new, gorgeous baby daughter, and maybe even hang out with your hilarious, beautiful son when your family of four meets up for the first time later.  You could tell baby Josie all about me so that when we meet up tonight, she'll be prepared for how much she's going to love me.  You could read her this blog and explain about how loud and hilarious and needy and hair-obsessed I am so that she'll recognize me tonight.  And maybe pat her extra so that she won't be surprised at my firm baby-patting hand.  I've got big plans for us to be friends, so I'll appreciate it if you'd put in a good word for me before I get there.  And if that doesn't seem to work, tell her I'm bringing food.

See you soon, #1 fan.  I hope these words tide you over until I see you later.

Your favorite cousin,

Ellen