The Golden Goblet: A Review
Bethany:
My husband and I joke that we should never buy a book we haven't read, because as soon as the book is ours, the chances that we will actually read it plummet. The reason for that is simply the well known tyranny of the urgent.... so long as there is no time limitation (e.g.: library due date), we will completely forget that we still need to read something.
So in general, the books I buy are ones that I loved and want to have on hand to lend to others, reread, or just enjoy snatches of here and there.
But occasionally I'll either forget or pick up something because it is just so highly recommended I can't imagine not wanting to have it around. Such was the case with The Golden Goblet. I had seen it listed in enough catalogs next to The Bronze Bow to figure it must be classic kid lit. So I picked it up somewhere, probably from library discards, and put it on a shelf in Jack's room, which is where I rediscovered it the other day and finally decided to read it.
I have a sneaking suspicion that pretty much everyone has already read this book, but in case someone hasn't, it is the story of Ranofer, a boy of ancient Egypt who wishes to become a goldsmith. Although Ranofer is already skilled for a twelve year old and would normally be able to apprentice with a master of his chosen art, the sudden death of his father has left him at the whim of a cruel half-brother, Gebu, who has no interest in Ranofer's future. As Ranofer struggles to make the best of his situation, he begins to realize that Gebu's activities might not just be cruel, they might be criminal as well.
Perhaps the age of the protagonist should have been a giveaway to me that this would be a very different story from The Bronze Bow. I remember reading somewhere that kids very much relate to being stuck in situations out of their control, and most of The Golden Goblet is very firmly in that category. While it is frustrating at times, especially from an adult perspective, I could appreciate the realism both in the ability and thought processes of Ranofer and the deference to the limitations of the time period. So often it seems like writers take a stereotypical plucky boy or spunky girl with modern sensibilities and toss him or her into any story regardless of historical accuracy (how often does the character have to explain that although the neighbors disapprove, father believes in marrying for love/speaking to servants as equals/the importance of education/the silliness of gender roles/ignoring superstitions/etc). Although I am definitely not an expert on ancient Egypt, I did feel like I was actually reading a story about it rather than a modern day story dressed in a drugstore Cleopatra halloween costume.
Overall, The Golden Goblet was a story I enjoyed now, but I imagine I would have enjoyed it a lot more as a child. The story does not reach for the emotional breadth of The Bronze Bow, but it plumbs its own depths of persistence against odds, honesty, hard work, and friendship. I'm sure Jack will enjoy it someday, and in the meantime.... it's sitting on his bookshelf.
Dragon Tales Revisited
Esther:
I have no idea why I thought it would be fun to dress up my two little boys as dragons for Halloween.
I have no idea why I decided to attempt such a feat two days before I needed to use the costumes.
But I do know why I decided to use bathroom caulk. It was my inner 10-year-old self... the one who used to cover her hands in elmers glue just so she could pick it off. That girl.
This came through my google reader last month and I was instantly intrigued. Make your own castable silicone? Cornstarch, caulk and food coloring? I had to try it.
Cept I didn't cast it (oops), instead I just swirled it around everywhere with my fingers. Pastel blue was as dark as I could get, so I gave up trying to dye it. I looked a bit like a blind and one armed ape trying to frost a cake...or in this case a smiley face head.
It's actually kinda creepy. If the Jack-In-The-Box dude had a perpetually exuberant, zombie cousin, who got hit by a bakery truck and ended up with a baby shower cake on his head... this is what he would look like.
Regardless, I painted it, added yellow horns on the back and affixed it to Jamie's head with bobbypins. It was a huge hit. Plus it is ridiculously fun to play with. Like invincible jello. I'm already scheming more ways I can use caulk (hopefully with more mature results).
Making the tail was an adventure in and of itself. If you can imagine trying to teach a 5 year old how to sew, (without sewing anyone's fingers in the process), and then imagine my kitchen covered in yellow acrylic paint, you'll have a pretty accurate idea of how it went.
In the end I had a very happy boy...
...who wouldn't hold still for me to snap a picture.
Any tips on facepaint or finishing touches?
I have no idea why I thought it would be fun to dress up my two little boys as dragons for Halloween.
I have no idea why I decided to attempt such a feat two days before I needed to use the costumes.
But I do know why I decided to use bathroom caulk. It was my inner 10-year-old self... the one who used to cover her hands in elmers glue just so she could pick it off. That girl.
This came through my google reader last month and I was instantly intrigued. Make your own castable silicone? Cornstarch, caulk and food coloring? I had to try it.
Cept I didn't cast it (oops), instead I just swirled it around everywhere with my fingers. Pastel blue was as dark as I could get, so I gave up trying to dye it. I looked a bit like a blind and one armed ape trying to frost a cake...or in this case a smiley face head.
It's actually kinda creepy. If the Jack-In-The-Box dude had a perpetually exuberant, zombie cousin, who got hit by a bakery truck and ended up with a baby shower cake on his head... this is what he would look like.
Regardless, I painted it, added yellow horns on the back and affixed it to Jamie's head with bobbypins. It was a huge hit. Plus it is ridiculously fun to play with. Like invincible jello. I'm already scheming more ways I can use caulk (hopefully with more mature results).
Making the tail was an adventure in and of itself. If you can imagine trying to teach a 5 year old how to sew, (without sewing anyone's fingers in the process), and then imagine my kitchen covered in yellow acrylic paint, you'll have a pretty accurate idea of how it went.
In the end I had a very happy boy...
...who wouldn't hold still for me to snap a picture.
Any tips on facepaint or finishing touches?
Dragon Wings Tutorial
Esther:
I wrote four thousand words today and that doesn't count facebook, forums, blogging or emails.
For some people that may be totally normal, but for me it means...
- My living room has been turned into a fort containing (or built out of) every pillow, blanket, and couch cushion we own, and is furnished with the contents of my entire kitchen.
- My kids ate cold cereal for dinner out of square tupperware because all the bowls are dirty.
- I've consumed roughly around two frappes, four cups of spiced black tea and a renegade cup of green tea here and there.
- I stared at my husbands empty pants and wondered where the heck he was.
- I was possessed by a sudden and unstoppable need to put the bathtub mat in the laundry.
- I started jumping at and correcting anyone who used an adverb in a spoken sentence.
I've lost it.
In this delightful world where nothing is as it should be, Jamie decided he didn't want to be Buzz Lightyear for Halloween anymore. He wanted to be a dragon. A deadly nadder to be exact.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him no. I probably should have told him no. I mean, he already agreed to be Buzz Lightyear and we're coming down to the home stretch with reformation day/fall festival/all hallows eve/halloween/whatever-you-want-to-call-it just around the corner. But as the word "NO" was on its way out of my mouth I suddenly recalled that dragons have wings. I had hitherto counted my life hopelessly devoid of wings because I have boys and I can't really dress boys up as the dreamy little fairies I imagine. But it dawned on me with stunning clarity, that dragons are like fairies for boys. They can fly, and do magic, but they're way more badass and can breathe fire.
The truth of the matter is, I can never pass up an opportunity to make a pair of wings no matter how silly or nonsensical it may be, and thus we threw bedtime out the window and constructed a pair of preschool crafted, adult assisted dragon wings.
Step 1: Hanger.
Unravel and bend in wing like position.
Step 2: Dragon shoulder blades.
Use one of the slightly less dirty bowls in your dishwasher and draw two circles on cardboard. Connect the circles and cut out with a straight knife (scissors work in a pinch).
Step 3: Perform Frankenstein surgery on shoulder blades and wing bones.
Use masking tape, duct tape, floral tape, electrical tape or any other sort of tape you have to slash the wings onto the shoulder blades.
Step 4: Breathe life into the bones.
Have preschooler paint bones with the color of his choice.
Step 5: Surgically graft on skin.
Plug in the hot glue gun. And perform some good old fashioned hot glue surgery to something that probably should be sewn (in a perfect world). I used cheese cloth, but you could use whatever wispy, flowy fabric you have on hand.
Step 6: Add pigment to skin.
Re enlist preschooler into painting skin. Dip their fingers in contrasting color and let them have at it.
Step 7: Hang on door to dry and send preschooler to bed.
Ta daaa! Genuine dragon wings made by the loving hands of a 5 year old under the guidance and supervision of his harrowed mother.
*rest of the costume forthcoming.
I wrote four thousand words today and that doesn't count facebook, forums, blogging or emails.
For some people that may be totally normal, but for me it means...
- My living room has been turned into a fort containing (or built out of) every pillow, blanket, and couch cushion we own, and is furnished with the contents of my entire kitchen.
- My kids ate cold cereal for dinner out of square tupperware because all the bowls are dirty.
- I've consumed roughly around two frappes, four cups of spiced black tea and a renegade cup of green tea here and there.
- I stared at my husbands empty pants and wondered where the heck he was.
- I was possessed by a sudden and unstoppable need to put the bathtub mat in the laundry.
- I started jumping at and correcting anyone who used an adverb in a spoken sentence.
I've lost it.
In this delightful world where nothing is as it should be, Jamie decided he didn't want to be Buzz Lightyear for Halloween anymore. He wanted to be a dragon. A deadly nadder to be exact.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him no. I probably should have told him no. I mean, he already agreed to be Buzz Lightyear and we're coming down to the home stretch with reformation day/fall festival/all hallows eve/halloween/whatever-you-want-to-call-it just around the corner. But as the word "NO" was on its way out of my mouth I suddenly recalled that dragons have wings. I had hitherto counted my life hopelessly devoid of wings because I have boys and I can't really dress boys up as the dreamy little fairies I imagine. But it dawned on me with stunning clarity, that dragons are like fairies for boys. They can fly, and do magic, but they're way more badass and can breathe fire.
The truth of the matter is, I can never pass up an opportunity to make a pair of wings no matter how silly or nonsensical it may be, and thus we threw bedtime out the window and constructed a pair of preschool crafted, adult assisted dragon wings.
Step 1: Hanger.
Unravel and bend in wing like position.Step 2: Dragon shoulder blades.
Use one of the slightly less dirty bowls in your dishwasher and draw two circles on cardboard. Connect the circles and cut out with a straight knife (scissors work in a pinch).Step 3: Perform Frankenstein surgery on shoulder blades and wing bones.
Use masking tape, duct tape, floral tape, electrical tape or any other sort of tape you have to slash the wings onto the shoulder blades.Step 4: Breathe life into the bones.
Have preschooler paint bones with the color of his choice.Step 5: Surgically graft on skin.
Plug in the hot glue gun. And perform some good old fashioned hot glue surgery to something that probably should be sewn (in a perfect world). I used cheese cloth, but you could use whatever wispy, flowy fabric you have on hand.Step 6: Add pigment to skin.
Re enlist preschooler into painting skin. Dip their fingers in contrasting color and let them have at it.Step 7: Hang on door to dry and send preschooler to bed.
Ta daaa! Genuine dragon wings made by the loving hands of a 5 year old under the guidance and supervision of his harrowed mother.*rest of the costume forthcoming.
Celebrity Death Match- Chicken vs. Tofu
Esther:
Clearly chicken is the favored heavy weight in this fight. It's low cal, nutritious and the uncontested foundation to millions of meals every day. Tofu on the other hand is strange looking, sort of wobbly like mutated jello and is made out of the oft ridiculed soy bean plant.
You just might find yourself rooting for the underdog.
But tofu has some hidden qualities. It can't give you salmonella poisoning, it can't be undercooked or contaminate your raw veggies with a stealth attack on your cutting board or knives. You don't have to kill it, dismember or debone it in any way. But I think my favorite part about tofu (besides it just tasting good) is that when you order it at an Asian restaurant, you know it's not cat or horse or something else.
I am also sort of phobic of bones, gristle, and fat. The only reason I don't care for dark meat is because I spend an insane amount of time disecting each piece as I put it into my casserole/soup/stirfry, obsessively making sure there is not one tiny bit of fat or gristle trying to sneak it's way into my dinner preparations. I don't know what my problem is, and this is why my mom calls me her pickiest child. Not because I dislike food (definitely not that), or have a limited variety of food I like (definitely not that either), but because I get rather OCD about food.
Tofu is blissfully OCD friendly. No bones, no fat, no gristle. I feel like that should be their marketing scheme. Impossible to mess up, the no fail white meat. You can't feed it antibiotics or hormones to make it's breasts bigger, and you don't have to worry about it being crowded into small places and getting sick.
It's worst fault is that soy is estrogenic and depending on what medical study you read and what expert you consult...that could help your own human hormones function better or worse. Like most problems with homo sapiens it probably depends on the individual.
Chicken on the other hand doesn't have to try and list it's strong points. From chicken noodle soup, to fried chicken, it tops all the comfort food charts and *can* be healthy to boot. Sauteed, baked, grilled, fried, smoked, roasted... yeah, delicious.
So breaking it down as follows:
I have to say, in spite of my deep love for tofu, chicken is still the undefeated winner here. But I say this as I munch on my tofu, marinated and baked to a golden, flavorful perfection. If you're willing to try something new (and 89 cent/lb sounds like a good price to you) then do yourself a favor and give this a try.
You just might find yourself rooting for the underdog.
The Thirteenth Princess: A Review (turned into a ramble)
Bethany:
The Twelve Dancing Princesses was always one of my favorite fairy tales, and The Thirteenth Princess, by Diane Zahler, is the third novel-length reinterpretation of the story that I've read in the past year (I'm not counting the picture book version I also read).
You'd think the story would get a bit stale after so many retellings, but the bare bones style of fairy tales in general leaves plenty of room for the imagination. Toss a few creative liberties into the mix, plus generous doses of style, and.... well.... you could end up with something that feels completely new and exciting.
The barest bones of this story look like this: young sisters mysteriously disappear in the depths of night to dance until the wee hours.
Of course there is more. There are twelve, they are princesses, a soldier with a cloak of invisibility seeks to uncover the truth. Like many fairy tales, the original story itself is strange and not terribly sympathetic. But it does evoke beautiful imagery.
The Thirteenth Princess sticks fairly close to the original story, straying most obviously in the addition of another daughter born after the rest and who has been raised as a servant. As an outsider but still a devoted sister, young Zita cannot just sit back and watch as her sisters grow weak and sickly for no apparent reason. And although we, being in the know, might figure out that they are probably dancing, there is still plenty of mystery as to why.
After finishing The Thirteenth Princess, I was left with the feeling that stylistically it was pretty much the opposite of Princess of the Midnight Ball, by Jessica Day George.
While The Thirteenth Princess follows Zita and her friend Breckin, younger brother of our soldier-hero, Princess of the Midnight Ball follows Galen, the soldier himself, and Rose, oldest of the twelve princesses.
But oddly enough, it's not just the ages of the protagonists that seem reversed. While I read Princess of the Midnight Ball, I was struck by how young and carefree the characters seemed. Despite the darkness of the premise, the story felt light, refreshing. The romance was sweetly awkward. In contrast, although the main characters are years younger, the whole tone of The Thirteenth Princess feels darker, heavier, older, and the romances far more intense.
While I enjoyed both interpretations, my favorite retelling by far was Wildwood Dancing, by Juliet Marillier. Perhaps it is not coincidental that it shares the fewest similarities with the original material. Beautifully written and set in pre-Dracula Transylvania (and dressed in the most stunningly intricate and accurate cover I have ever seen), the story follows Jena, second of five sisters, as she struggles to hold the family and business together as her father is away and her brooding cousin is a little too close for comfort.
(Esther and I are going to dual review this someday, really, we are)
Babies, Babies, Babies
Esther:
Sometimes, when my boys are playing I feel like I'm the only mom in the world who is raising wild chimpanzees instead of children. One of them steals a toy, the other one bites his brother's ear, which makes the other one shriek, which makes the other one push him over... until I have to step in and deal out wisdom and justice like old testament prophet.
Turns out I'm not alone in this, as the opening scene in the documentary Babies, starts out exactly the same way, but with two little boys in Africa. Somehow it was just so darn funny and resonated so deeply to see two children behaving the same way as mine, but in a different culture, climate and clothing.
The movie follows four babies from birth to walking. Two rural (Mongolia and Africa) + two city babies (San Francisco and Tokyo). Oddly enough I had the littlest in common with the San Francisco baby and couldn't relate at all, whereas I felt like our little micro society up here most resembled the African family. Right down to the lack of clothing (on my boys...I do wear clothes) and the personalities and family dynamics.
I'd heard a lot about this movie, and had been wanting to see it for awhile. Orson Scott Card reviewed it again recently, and rekindled my desire to bask in babyness for an hour or two. So it's probably no surprise that when I sat down to watch it yesterday... I loved it.
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it both surprised me and fulfilled my expectations. What I did know was that it was beautifully shot. If you like photography as an art form, or are are a photographer yourself, the images are just gorgeous. Every scene almost aches with raw simplicity and beauty, while at the same time stays away from feeling contrived, gimmicky or too manipulated.
In fact, it was so honest feeling that it brings me to what I was not expecting. There is no talking. It's not a silent film and you do hear the soundtrack of the babies lives (the conversations and noises that naturally occured during shooting). But there is no narrator, there's nobody with an agenda telling you statistics about births or babies, or steering you towards hammering point. On the African scenes there is no voice over telling you how horrible it is that there are flies everywhere, nor is there anyone pointing out in a Mongolian scene, that letting your child suck on a piece of fat is not healthy. No one's tsk tsking at the Japanese couple for ignoring their child while she destroys a stack of dvd's and important papers and the San Francisco couple did everything so inanely perfect and detachedly annoying that I'm glad the movie didn't give them a big gold star like most stories tend to do (The SF couple was so politically correct, I didn't even figure out the San Francisco baby was a girl until halfway through the film...shame on me).
The other interesting thing was the perspective from which they shot it. Everything is viewed from the baby's perspective. This helps it be a little more PG than it otherwise would be, as most of the time you just see adults and their ankles, although occaisonally you see slightly more of the African mum than you'd probably like. It's still kept tasteful.
Despite the (refreshing) lack of voice over, and because of the uniqueness of the film. This is 79 minutes of unadulturated, unfiltered baby yumminess. It will fulfill all your need for oohing and awwwing at tiny bundles of incredible cuteness. Babies are amazing little things and if this movie had a point at all, it was to show how resilient they are and how it's pretty hard to screw them up. They were born at the same time, thousands of miles a part, with completely different parents, cultures and values... and yet they all learned to roll over, sit up, crawl and then walk (and roughly at the same times).
Sort of like the old saying about how even celebrities put on their pants one leg at a time. This film is like that, but way prettier and more poetic. ;-) A breath of fresh air if you're a mom, or you just need to get away from the rat race for awhile.
The Thirty Second Vest
Bethany:
Vests have been in and out of fashion, and up until recently they've been very much in the periphery of my mind.
I mean, the shrunken menswear look can be cute on some people, but it's never really appealed a lot to my wardrobe.
And the saggy baggy look? Definitely not for me (or my hips).
But then the military inspired vests started appearing, and I must admit I'm a bit of a fan.
The buttons! The collars! The lovely little details! I've been wanting one for awhile but hadn't quite found the excuse to justify picking one up.
Enter my unruly stash of jackets. I'll admit it, I have a ridiculous weakness for thin jackets. Back when I thrifted more often, I amassed quite the pile of the things, and the reason this was ridiculous is simply that if it's cold enough to wear a jacket, I'm probably going to be huddled shivering in something thick, bulky, fully lined. So all my cheap and cute thin jackets sit around gathering dust.
But the buttons! The collars! The lovely little details! I finally had an *aha* moment and pulled out a pair of scissors.
Bliss! A better woman would hem the sleeves (which I had to leave as caps for their sweet puffs) and sew on some new buttons, but I just threw it on and added a belt for the time being. And despite my rather morose expression, I'm quite happy with my new vest.
Now I'm just wondering how long I'll be able to hold out against the attack of the faux fur vest...
No spare shag rugs sitting around the house, so I'm safe for the time being.
Another Adventure Into Shoemaking
Esther:
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Plus, there are super cool, secret military intelligence codes written on the bottom... or they could be instructions on assembling the shoe. One or the other.
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I bought an ultra long pair of black socks at Target for under five dollars. One might wonder why they need to make shoes out of socks, when they could just wear socks under shoes, but this way you could wear socks twice. (although it would take another ice age for me to do that)
But anyway, just slip the shoe into the sock like so...
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Tape the edge of the sole (but not the top)...
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Then tape up your new Shuke (sock+shoe). It needs to be taped up entirely, except for the bottom (unless you want glue everywhere).
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Then spray away. You could theoretically use any kind of glue you think would work. This just happens to be the strongest glue I possess. Attach the bottoms to the tops and whalaa...
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Slightly creepy looking thigh high boots.
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Sooo comfy though. I love them.
It's a sick circle. I inspire Bethany to make thigh high boots, and she in turn inspires me to try them too. By the time we finish, either everyone will be tired of our obsession with making shoes, or we will have mysteriously found ourselves stranded in Greenland with no internet. (but at least we'll have our warm cozy shoes).
I hadn't thought of using old shoes as a base for making new shoes, but it's brilliant really. Especially when you have old shoes that are too comfortable to throw away, but too ratty to wear in public.
I didn't get much sleep last night, and the day has been filled with clever mishaps, orchestrated by my dog, kids, and a random propane guy. Tomorrow I will surely find it all very funny, but today I want to smash a window or howl in the moonlight. Surprisingly, making these shoes allows you to hit things...very hard...with a knife and hammer. Very satisfying.
I know these aren't proper shoemaking tools, but on the bright side, they're pretty easily found in your kitchen.
Use the knife as a chisel and whack at it with the meat tenderizer until you get the upper to separate from the sole.
Plus, there are super cool, secret military intelligence codes written on the bottom... or they could be instructions on assembling the shoe. One or the other.I bought an ultra long pair of black socks at Target for under five dollars. One might wonder why they need to make shoes out of socks, when they could just wear socks under shoes, but this way you could wear socks twice. (although it would take another ice age for me to do that) But anyway, just slip the shoe into the sock like so...
Tape the edge of the sole (but not the top)...Then tape up your new Shuke (sock+shoe). It needs to be taped up entirely, except for the bottom (unless you want glue everywhere).Then spray away. You could theoretically use any kind of glue you think would work. This just happens to be the strongest glue I possess. Attach the bottoms to the tops and whalaa...
Slightly creepy looking thigh high boots.Sooo comfy though. I love them.
