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USA Election – The Graphic Novel

9 Nov

This is the United States of America:

 

This was the USA during the presidential campaign:

51518137 - broken heart icon. flat design vector illustration with long shadow. happy valentine day and love symbol.

This is the USA today:

52854194 - broken red heart isolated on white background

This is my dream for the USA:

To get there, this needs to happen:

And then we’ve got to stop doing this:

And start doing this:

The END

I Need My Own Country! – Perfect Picture Book Friday

18 Mar

Time for Susanna Leonard Hill’s PPBF!

But first, let’s form a new political party, one run by children’s picture book writers and illustrators. It will be the nicest, most generous political party ever. There will be sharing of snacks and toys and saying please and thank you. No hitting, biting, bullying, or other anti-social behavior. There will be copious amounts of laughter at brilliant puns, riotous rhymes, and lyrical bedtime stories sending us into the land of nod. 

I don’t know about you but I’m thinking about moving to Canada, a place where reasonable human beings live. Where people are thoughtful and nice to each other. But first, a civics lesson:

Screen Shot 2016-03-17 at 2.44.17 PM

 

Continue reading

This is What Procrastination Looks Like

14 Dec

A post from Selay J. Tay-Song on Dogpatch Writers Collective hit a little close to our new home. In fact, my new spice rack—constructed over the span of a weekend by my husband solely because our new kitchen had no space to put all my spices—looks suspiciously like procrastination.

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Or the containered and labeled linen closet:

 

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Like I can’t go forward with my writing until I have some form of order in my domestic life. Really?

Hmmm. The truth hurts. Selay, you’ve given me a shake. Now, if I can just get my son back on track, the one who left his Lego stop motion video of Columbus’s atrocities until the weekend before it was due:

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And the Rube Goldberg book opening project until the night before it was due:

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That didn’t get finished.

And the comic about Carbon (How do you make Carbon funny? Perhaps that’s the true point of procrastination in this case.) that is past due. Don’t have a photo of the comic because it’s supposedly in his locker. He had forgotten about it until I mentioned it this morning (while he was innocently eating his granola) that I’d received a note from his science teacher late last night, explaining that everyone else’s Carbon project had been turned in and graded.

All of this in one weekend.

We have been fruit basket upset by this move, but we’ve got to pull ourselves together. Get with the program. Start fresh. So I yelled at my son in the car on the way to school this morning. He MUST write down his assignments, plan his projects, and give me a detailed report every day!! Not a good morning for us, was it?

After taking a deep breath, I apologized and explained that while the content of my tirade was spot on, the delivery of said content was lacking. He and I will get on track, starting today.

But enough about us. Here is what a year’s worth of procrastination looks like. Thanks for the kick in the pants, Selay!

Source: This is What Procrastination Looks Like

Spätzle (Spaetzle) 911 — aka U.S. vs Germany, World Cup

25 Jun

In honor of tomorrow’s game, I’m reblogging a post from May 2012, a tribute to my German heritage.

 

When my son came out of his bedroom this morning wearing black sweatpants tucked into the tops of his yellow soccer socks and a red shirt to celebrate family heritage day at school, I knew I had to step up to the challenge—by making some German delicacy that kids and parents would not leave on their plates at the potluck.

I’ve come to hate potlucks. I have a busy life. I can’t spend all my time in the kitchen. But it goes against every moral fiber my mother sewed into me to show up at a potluck with food purchased from a store. I recall her dissing our relatives the first time they brought KFC  instead of home-fried chicken to a family reunion. “Hmmmm, would you look at that?” she said.

Until I saw my little German flag walking around our house, I was prepared to go empty handed except for the sugar cookies I’d promised to bring. But those cookies weren’t German, and that little flag was waving a saucy corner at me, a silent Teutonic reminder to “play by the rules” and “make an effort.” Continue reading

Curse You, Book Thief!

18 Jan

Robert over at 101 Books recently posted a “pet peeve” about people who borrow books and don’t return them, a common complaint among book people. Book thieves tend to rank right up their with evil doers like Count Dracula, sucking the life out of your bookshelves one book at a time.

Just tonight, I was browsing through many lovely used books at Dog-Eared Books in the Mission District of San Francisco and came upon a “true crime” story called The Man Who Loved Books Too Much. Intrigued, I picked it up. But when I read the following inscription in the front pages, I knew it was destined to go home with me:

“For him that stealeth, or borroweth and returneth not, this book from its owner…let him be struck Continue reading

Labor Making Devices

11 Oct

Well folks, it’s time for another trip down bad memory lane. In other words, this is not a writing-related post unless it counts as writing therapy to exorcise persistent devils.

We live in an old aircraft tire manufacturing building, otherwise known as a live/work loft in the glorious section of San Francisco called “Dogpatch.”  You can see a few photos of Dogpatch at the Dogpatch Writers Collective blog.

Unfinished concrete from the original building spans a 10×30 ft space inside our front door. You walk across this space and past a 12×12 inch beam footed by a rough block of concrete before reaching a living room area with short pile carpeting.

Now, I would rather chew nails than vacuum,

Yummy nails!

Yummy nails!

but we have a son who brings home sand, rubber pellets from artificial turf, rocks, dirt, and plant mulch in his shoes. When he takes them off on the concrete floor, the particulate flies everywhere. And then it piggybacks on socks over to the carpet, similar to nature’s seed dispersion strategies to ensure maximum distribution in the great outdoors. Only this is the great indoors.

A few years ago, my husband (dear sweet thoughtful person that he is) and son (always thinking about how he can improve his mother’s life, except when he’s dragging the outside world across our floors or dropping pennies down the drain of the bathroom sink, or creating smoke bombs, or….) thought they’d buy me the most fantabulous Mother’s Day present ever.

So on that day of days when we recognize and honor those unsung cooks, taxi drivers and sporting equipment schleppers around the U.S., I opened a mysterious box Continue reading

Vertigo – Not For the Weak of Heart

3 Jun

If ever in the small hours of the night, when everyone else is either snoring or rolling over, you find yourself waking, spinning into the darkness, Continue reading

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