Celebration!

We are now louse-free, as far as I know, and that's good enough for me. I will probably continue to comb Henry's hair for nits until he has children of his own, but I'm done worrying. You don't have to tell me how you thought your family was free of it and then it came back 3 quabillion times, because the helpful community that is Twitter has already told me that. For now I'm happy, okay? LET ME REJOICE! I just wrote "rejuice." Let me rejuice, while I'm at it. So refreshing.

To celebrate my family's newly unmolested scalp areas, I am giving away five (5) (V, Romans) copies of Ann Napolitano's new book, A GOOD HARD LOOK. This giveaway is not at all related to our recent drama, but I'm going to pretend it is. Because we were LOOKING HARD AND ALSO GOOD at our heads! Right? Ahahhahaahaaaaauuugh?

But let's talk about the book, which does not refer to lice, not even once. Ann emailed me a while ago to ask me if I wanted a copy, and when she mentioned that Flannery O'Connor was a character in it, that was all I needed to hear. I have a deep and abiding love for Flannery O'Connor, both as an author and what I know of her as a human being. I find her views on Catholicism especially baffling and compelling. The Habit of Being, a collection of her letters, is among my favorite books. (Speaking of which: I did this interview with Colleen Wainwright, and in it I list my other favorite books, among other things. Like what George Saunders wrote to me, once! And what my epic sixth-grade graphic novel was going to be titled!)

Once I got Ann's book I sat down to flip through it and suddenly the weekend was gone and I hadn't eaten in a long while. It's just that good. I am so bad at writing book synopses, DON'T MAKE ME DO THAT, so you'll have to take my word for it. It's a good book. And I'm not the only person who liked it! Amazon called it "heartbreakingly beautiful and inescapably human." I was going to say that until they did. THANKS, AMAZON. You want this book. I don't normally do giveaways, but I actually asked Ann if I could do one, in this case. Because you need to read this. Okay.

If you want a copy, just say so in the comments. I'll pick five commenters at random, and Penguin Press has kindly agreed to send the winners' copies, so you won't have to wait for me to get off my ass and stumble over to the post office. I must limit winners to the U.S. and Canada, as per the publisher's request. I think they hate foreigners! (They probably don't hate foreigners.) (Although they did try to limit the Canadian winners to "nobody who's too Canadian-y, if you catch our drift.") (No they didn't. I'm sorry.)

Comment! Hurry! I'll be announcing the winners in one (1) week. Good luck.

Seven years!

As of tomorrow, I'll have been writing this blog for seven years. My blog's a first-grader! When I began writing here, Henry was sixteen months old; now he's shaving. (Well, he could shave. His legs, anyway. Kid's got some hairy legs.)

Here's a visual, to help you cry. My baby then:

And now:

I know.

Before I start looking at more pictures of my son as an adorable toddler and spend the rest of the afternoon bawling on the couch, I wanted to say thank you. The last seven years have been action-packed, in both excellent and terrible ways, and through it all you've supported me, cheered me on, and given me a kick in the ass when I needed it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

According to my stats there are many of you who read and never comment. Which is fine, but today, please say hello! Tell me who you are, what brought you to Finslippy, what you're up to, what your favorite cheese is--whatever. I really don't care. I mean, I care, but I'm not going to demand you tell me your life story. But I would welcome hearing your life story! If you felt like writing it. I'll stop now.

As a reward for commenting, you'll be in the running to receive a copy of my friend Jessie Sholl's new book, Dirty Secret. I wrote about Jessie's book on my Redbook blog, but I wanted to do a giveaway here. Dirty Secret is Jessie's story of growing up with a mom who's a hoarder, and it's a doozie of a book. (And yes, I did just write the word "doozie." I couldn't decide between that and "humdinger.") It's funny and harrowing and ultimately uplifting. You will enjoy it! So comment, and a week from today I'll announce the winner.

A winner, and a book

First of all: we have a winner for the Windows Phone 7 giveaway! Erin McDaniel, congratulations on winning, and I hope the phone brings you much enjoyment and, uh, connectivity.

In other news, look at what I received last week. Go ahead, look. Don't turn away from me. Look--not there--over here. Helloooo? Are you--? Good. Stay there.

Ta-da!

It's a book! A book that Eden and I actually wrote, using our hands and brains. Also mouths, for when we spoke to one another. And ears for listening. I should probably stop listing which body parts we used in the creation of this thing.

(Parts of soul, for ripping out.)

These are the "advance uncorrected proofs," with a heavy emphasis on the uncorrected, oh my word. The editor sent us these in un-bound form the week before, and we spent an entire weekend doing nothing but going page by page through the book, correcting typos, images in the wrong places, weird captions that were funny when we thought them up but then seemed clunky on the page, etc. We removed entire sidebars, added over thirty new images, improved image captions--we rearranged entire chapters, here and there. So although I was excited to see this book in actual book form, it also felt weirdly frustrating that the actual book form (for now) is the unchanged version. I'm keenly aware of everything excellent we did to the finished product, and the reviewers are going to get this one. With the typos.

(We did not do that. We do know how to spell "pregnant.")

Our editor has assured us that reviewers are used to typo-ridden advance copies, and so we must forge bravely onward. And look: we wrote a book. A BOOK! With funny illustrations in it!

Eden and I made a book together! We're really proud of our baby. We can't wait to share it with all of you.

Speaking of which, did you know that you could pre-order? If you pre-order, then you might forget that you did, and on March 1st, your doorbell will ring, and it'll be like you got a gift! A gift from yourself in the past! You could order from Amazon. Or Barnes and Noble. Or then there's Powells! And, of course, you could go to Indiebound to buy it from an independent bookstore.

I'm just saying.

Books I'm saving for my grandchildren

Children's books floor me. The well-written ones, that is. Boy, are there some crap kid's books out there. But the good ones--they're like magic. They seem so simple and effortless, and yet they're such a pleasure to read out loud. Damn it, I wish I could do that.

I love some of Henry's books more than he does. And even now that he's (maybe) outgrown these, I will be keeping them. Forever and ever.

Hondo and Fabian

Hondo is the dog. Fabian is the cat. Hondo goes to the beach. Fabian stays home.

I not only want Hondo and Fabian to be my dog and my cat, I want to live in this world. Look how peaceful it is! Nothing bad ever happens in Hondo and Fabian's home. You can tell. There is always tidiness and order and turkey sandwiches.

I bought Hondo and Fabian when I was pregnant with Henry. One look at the pictures, and I was hooked. We read it together pretty much from the time he was born, and even though it's way too babyish for him now, he'll still deign to let me read it to him, if only to humor me. He is a patient and understanding boy. While I'm reading it I try not to cry into his hair.

Cars and Trucks and Things that Go

All the Richard Scarry books are so charming and magical and witty, but I especially love this book. It's like ten books in one. Henry has loved it since he could sit up, and he'll still spend an afternoon flipping through it, when he thinks I'm not looking. It's incredibly weird, like all excellent children's books are.

The Story of Ferdinand

Ferdinand is a gentle bull. He doesn't want to fight in the bullring, like all the other young bulls do. All he wants is "to sit just quietly and smell the flowers."

I love that "just." The first thing I was told in my first writing class was to remove the word "just" from all of my stories, but that is one hell of a perfect "just." 

And check out this line [the italics are my own]: "His mother saw that he was not lonesome, and because she was an understanding mother, even though she was a cow, she let him just sit there and be happy."
Even though she was a cow. Come ON.

Also, is she not the best mom ever? I wish I could be as sanguine about my kid when he refuses any and all opportunities to get some fresh air. She leaves him alone, and Ferdinand ends up being happy and content with himself!  Some of the best children's books are also excellent parenting guides.

Toot and Puddle

There are a bunch of Toot and Puddle books, but I'm partial to the first, which was gifted to Henry by my friend Lexie. (I've also heard that there's a Toot and Puddle cartoon, but I have never seen it and hope to never have to. Don't ruin the Toot and Puddle who live in my head! Yes, they live in my head! Don't judge me!)

The watercolor illustrations are stunning. And I never stopped snickering at the name "Woodcock Pocket," because I am a child. Also, what is this relationship between Toot and Puddle? They've got some kind of Boston marriage going on, here. And yes, I realize that's a term reserved for two women, but you tell me what you'd call this Bert-and-Ernie living situation going on between two pigs. You tell me!

So! I'm sure you have some favorites, too. And now you're going to share them with me and the rest of us. Yes, you are. Go on.