Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and
some have greatness thrust upon ’em. — Twelfth Night

When our 3rd grader stumbled into the kitchen this morning, Shakespeare spilled from her lips.

Truly. 

One of the dads at her school helps run a Shakespeare program at the University of Texas and — lucky us — brings his passions to our kids. Our daughter’s studying The Comedy of Errors with her class and Twelfth Night in the afterschool masterclass. 

When I was in 3rd grade, I’m not even sure I’d heard of Romeo and Juliet and I fear there are plenty of people who still think that’s a Dire Straits song. The idea that she is memorizing Toby Belch’s funniest lines makes me weak in the knees.

So, unsurprisingly, discussion of old William is frequent ’round our house these days.
Here’s some of the recent fodder:

Shakespeare was wild about ship wrecks.

If it was up to the kids, Midsummer Night’s Dream would get picked every time.

This last one was followed by a demo of Shakespeare sung, Shakespeare rapped and Shakespeare in a Texas twang.
Swoon.

Off to school now, Sweet. 
Go have greatness thrust upon you…

Results from today’s primaries are rolling in. 
Most of you have already voted. 
Some of us don’t get the chance for weeks to come. 

In the meantime, we can all take a minute to get inspired.

Yes, we can…

Some of you may know that I’ve got a couple more picture books coming out soon (although “soon” in publishing is a very relative term).

I’ve referred to the manuscripts here as Wind and World, in case of title changes. They both sold to Allyn Johnston of Harcourt (and really, I should do a whole long and flowery post about her awesomeness) and they’ll both be illustrated by the totally tremendous Marla Frazee (again, a dedicated post is necessary).  For now, suffice it to say that I am a really, really, really lucky gal.

I made kind of a fuss over these books when they sold, and in the last ten days, I’ve been on a similiar hopped-up vibe.

Because…. 
I. HAVE. MARLA’S. SKETCHES. FOR. THE. FIRST. BOOK!!!!!!!

Right here.
On my desk.
I can touch them whenever I want to.
The word ‘sketch’ does not do them justice.
Seriously you guys.

!!!!!!!!!

So, now’s the time to tell you that the book formerly known as World is actually titled All the World and it is due out next year. (That is, if I don’t just xerox a whole bunch of copies of this dummy and start handing ’em out to all my friends and neighbors.)

The journey of a book being born is long one. 
There’s a whole lot of work and a whole lot of waiting.
Most of my work on this baby is done — I devoted a good portion of the fall to tweaking the manuscript, under the visionary tutelage of my editor — and now I’ll wait. And work on other stuff. And wait. 

But can I just say that the waiting got a whole lot easier and more pleasureable the day these sketches arrived, wrapped in a wide pink ribbon, on my front stoop. I’m so excited to share this book with you all… someday soon.

Just a little hint for all you parents who find yourselves utterly flummoxed by the amount of dirt and clutter generated by one small, sweet household:

Chinese New Year requires that you give your house a clean sweep to make room for the pleasures and abundance of the new year. 

It’s a mandated de-junking!
Wahoo!

I promise you, this is flawless motivation for kids to clean their rooms.
Tell them it’s part of the festivity.
Grab a broom, crank up a little worldbeat on the stereo and call it a holiday.

Oh. 
It wouldn’t hurt if there were a pretty paper envelope of money and some dumplings waiting.
And if you’ve got a string of firecrackers lying around, even better…

Seriously folks.
My daughters are going at it full-bore. 
Dusting. Untangling dolls from necklaces. Finding the caps to the markers.
And I put a brown paper sack in the room on the off chance they stumble upon something they don’t want anymore. 
I know, hard to imagine amidst all the priceless treasures but one can hope.

Chinese New Year starts on Thursday.
Clean up.
Eat up. 
Open up to a whole new year of rich surprises. 

(And here are some great kids books to get you in the mood.)

This week at her piano lesson, my younger daughter tried to wiggle out of playing the piece she’s been struggling with.

“I’ll play Procession twice,” she tried to bargain with her teacher. “I’m no good at Lullaby.”

“Ahhh,” said her teacher. “I’ll bet you said that a lot this week. And each time you said it, it became bigger and more real. You’re adding to this great big pot of I’m no good at Lullaby.”

She held out a round wooden box as evidence. 
My girl looked into it and sure enough, it was full. 
Insurmountable.

“So let’s figure out a new way to talk about this piece,” said her teacher. “A more positive way.”

My daughter was skeptical. She didn’t want to lie, for one thing.
Lullaby was really and truly stumping her. 

But they agreed, finally, on this:
“Lullaby is a work in progress.”

And then my nearly 7-year-old put her nose down and worked it, for twenty minutes.
Something that hadn’t happened all week.

By the time we left, Lullaby was a lovely work in progress.
And I’m not just saying that.

I nearly missed this moment. 
Usually my husband does piano lesson while I do yoga. 
But he was traveling for work so I was on duty. And a good thing, too. 
Because I sat there on the sidelines, re-learning a lesson myself. 
That I can use as a parent. 
And a teacher. 
And a writer:

So much of life is process. 
And much of process takes practice.
We might as well embrace where we’re at. All the time.

And along with practice and process comes perspective. 
How we look at life and talk about it defines how we feel about it and, ultimately, how we actively (or inactively) respond to our challenges and our gifts.

Today, my sonnet is a work in progress.
My house is a work in progress.
My marriage is a work in progress.
The presidential election is a work in a progress.
World peace is a work in progress.

And that’s a good thing.

Here’s a poem by Linda Pastan, in celebration of all that:

Practicing

My son is practicing the piano.
He is a man now, not the boy
whose lessons I once sat through,
whose reluctant practicing
I demanded-part of the obligation
I felt to the growth
and composition of a child.

(To read the rest of this poem, click here …)

 Remember a couple of weeks ago when I told you about a school visit I’d done, using ‘forced’ metaphors to bring out the freshness in a poem? 

Well, I got a big ol’ envelope of thank you notes from the kids I worked with that day. (What is it about the marriage of magic markers and construction paper that plucks the heartstrings so?)

Here are a few of my favorites. 
Keep in mind that some of the i’s are dotted with hearts. 

Dear Ms. Scanlon,
Thank you for the lesson poetry. I was surprised how it turned out. I thought we where going to write stories but we ended up doing what I love to do the most, write poetry. Thank you so much. Sincerely, Nicky

“It was a blast writing those similes”??????
Hallelujah, friends. 
Carry on…

 Let’s add to the remodeling mix, shall we?

One cold snap.

One daughter home with fever.

One sweet old dog recovering from surgery with a plastic Elizabethean cone around her head, ensuring that pretty much every corner is inaccurately negotiated, poor thing.

One syllabus to be drafted.
One school visit to be planned.
One sonnet to be written. 

Sigh.
I think today is not the day.
I mean, you all go ahead and work on penning sonnets and great American novels but it’s not happening over here.

I do have the attention span, though, for a few new blogs.
Wanna join me?

Two of my good chums, Shannon Lowry of Round Robin Press and Kathie Sever of Ramonster, are collaborating on a Do-it-Yourself children’s book and blog o’ friendship. The back and forth project documents their creative process but also gives you and me the opportunity to tackle our own long-distance craft projects with siblings, lovers, friends. Check it out…

My darling photog buddy Sarah Bork Hamilton has launched a really funky image blog called Borklife (one woman’s noble attempt to keep it all in perspective). Don’t you love it?

And while we’re in the mood for looking at lushness, let’s go to another snap-happy friend’s site: Katie O’Brien has quite the eye, don’t you think?

The brilliant Bernadette Noll (teacher, writer, mama of four) blogs at Just a Minute, and in some circles her Words of Wisdom have become so adored that they’re being called B-WOWs.

Bernadette’s also started co-blogging with pre- and perinatal parenting guru Carrie Contey. Good things to come over there, I’m pretty sure…

Friend of friend Joanna Fried is the mind behind Yogadenada — a really swell little blog about all things yogic (from yoga videos to yoga breathing) and another friend of friend Nithiwadee Sanitchat (aka Jam) has launched a delicious Thai cooking blog with exquisite little pictures and recipes.

Mmmm-mmm.
OK, so that’s a good day’s work, don’tcha think?

So, I’ve neglected to mention something.
I think because I’m in denial, and if it’s not true in the blogosphere then it’s… um… not true?!?

But it’s time I come clean.

We’re remodeling over here. 
And I’m not talking about rearranging the living room furniture and putting up a new coat of paint in the bathroom. 

Whoa, no. 

I’m talkin’ walls are coming down. 
Boxes are being packed.
My ‘office’ is now in my bedroom. 
The big hilarious joke of the universe is that things have to get way worse and way smaller before they get better and more spacious.
Ha! Isn’t that funny???

Here’s the thing. Our house (built in the late 40s) is cute and small and surrounded by huge oaks and pecans and it is cute and small, and our neighbors bring us brownies and lend us cream of tartar and did I mention the house is cute? And small?

We thought about moving somewhere cute and a little less small but we’d miss our neighbors and there is just the small matter of affordability. Which brings us to where we are today. A living room wall with studs but no sheetrock, a mud-room-to-be with no wall at all, and a dining room full of piles that need to be packed up. 

None of which leads to perfect harmony. We ripped down the first wall on the coldest weekend of the year. There is even more dust than usual. And our driveway is now home to a bin of old siding and bent nails.

But, in counting my blessings, I can say this: 
I have a very, very handy husband who not only is good at things like this but thinks they’re fun.
And I’m getting pretty savvy at finding my way around our local Lowe’s.
And, in the end, we will have a house that is cuter and a little less small and eminently more livable.
Which means it’s worth it. 

Be forewarned, though.
I suspect that not everyday will have it’s silver lining. 
I’ll try to keep the whining to a minimum.

Wow, you guys. 
Thanks so much for playing along as Sara and I amused ourselves this week! What a hoot.

As you exit the stadium, be sure to stop by Read Write Believe for a final wrap-up. 

And don’t forget to stretch!!!

Go, Team!!

Last night I went to see The Spirit of the Marathon, a documentary film that follows six marathoners (elite runners and first-timers and in-betweeners) through their Chicago Marathon journey. 

I sat in between my two faithful running partners — women who get up in the dark 3 days a week to meet me at the trail and clock a few miles while our families sleep snuggled in their beds and the sun makes its creeping rise over the city. 

My longest runs ever have been 1/2 marathons. I’ve done a bunch of them (and that’s where I’ll be Sunday morning) but I’ve never doubled the distance. 

The film, needless to say, made me want to push on through to the real nellie. 
It also made me cry. 
There’s something profoundly inspiring and humbling about the people who train to run 26.2 miles — both the incredible physical specimens who win the darn things and the ordinary folk like you and me.

There was also some pretty powerful history depicted in the movie — scenes from the first London marathon, the first Boston run by a woman, various Olympic runs. All of which inspired me to post some poetry about our ancient forbears this morning:

The Victory Ode of Bacchylides

You quick Greek, Aglaus,
you earned the wild applause
you stirred and fuelled
that filled Poseidon’s field
with roars.
Out of the groove you moved
as fire burns a field
and up the track you ran and spun
around the turn
and back and then
again and then again
without a pause
for breath, you ran
to rising noise
with springy poise,
the men behind
like panting boys.

You cut no slack
on every tack
sped up and back
and spun four times around
the posts and down
again.
Your oil flew off like rain.
You won
by half the track
and ran straight on
so coyly proud
still spraying oil
to share the joys
you’d won with loyal
fans among the crowd,
who all got spattered,
ceased their noise
and to a man
they screeched aloud
and clutched their robes
and ran
and scattered.

— Bacchylides, Isthmian Ode, for Aglaus of Athens, Footrace, 5BC

(Special and delighted thanks to Ms. Sara Lewis Holmes who’s been my running partner this week in our co-blogging exercise! Thanks for gettin’ me up and makin’ the miles fly by, Sara!)