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An Occasional Post

Summer camp: Part two

Summer camp, part two
It is decades later. Many. Too many to think about. But I still dream about camp, and these are happy happy dreams, not at all like my frequent nightmares. I still have friends from camp—friends who remember more about my life than I do. And I still miss camp.

A few months ago I woke up and said to myself, “Leda, you are going to organize the camp reunion you’ve thought about for years.” So I did, and I am. (We all talk to ourselves, don’t we? Please say yes.)

Here is one of the glories of the internet, my friends. People can be found! You already know this. But I have turned into one of the world’s great detectives, if I do say so myself. It’s not just facebook and google.  Read More 
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Summer camp

Once upon a time, before most of you were born, I had the amazing good fortune to be sent off to summer camp by my parents. I was seven; the camp was eight weeks long. We had no money, but the polio epidemic surged through Washington (DC), my parents both worked full time, and my mother suffered attacks of cluster headaches, probably the worst pain known to humans. So they pulled together the funds; I’ll never know how.

Camp Lakeside –and this is not an exaggeration—changed my life forever. Why? Where to begin? A start: Read More 
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Frozen Hamsters?

I am a lifelong insomniac, but once asleep I have extremely vivid dreams. Many of these dreams recur. Some are terrifying nightmares. In others, I am laughing, speaking in foreign languages, or participating in book discussions. But one dream in particular bears posting.

Why? Because I dreamed an entire picture book, and I recognized it as the most brilliant idea on the planet. Did I want to get up and write it down? Of course not. Every minute asleep is precious. But even in my dream haze, I knew this story was too important to lose.  Read More 
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Oil Spill

Like all of you, I'm sure, my heart aches over the disastrous oil gushing into the Gulf. But you know what? We are all responsible. We can't get away with putting all the blame on BP, even though the company ignored important safety precautions. We can't blame Obama. Yes, the feds have eviscerated regulatory agencies over the last ten years--and I believe the Bush administration played a big part in this--but it's not all about regulation.

The fault, dear Brutus, is in ourselves; in our insatiable demand for oil.  Read More 
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Weather

It's hot in Vermont. Too hot. I am obsessed with weather. My trusty Subaru Forester has a weather-band radio, and I have just learned that the new Subarus have eliminated this crucial feature. Why?

Vermont, paradise that it is, has weather issues, if you consider bugs part of weather, which I do. We are now in black fly season, which means wearing protective netting if you live outside of town (which I do). Black flies, for those of you who haven't had the pleasure, are worse than mosquitoes. Why? Because you don't hear them coming; you can't gleefully swat them DEAD. They swarm and bite and cause swelling, itching, and blood. Then we move on to deer flies (horse flies) and mosquitoes.

Fall is perfect, but hunting season means staying indoors.

Spring? Mud season. Defrosting dog poop. Muddy dogs. Lots of vacuuming and floor mopping.

Winter? Perfect, but only if it's cold and snowy.

How does this relate to children's books, you may wonder? Much of my writing ends up involving seasons, consequences of seasons, love of seasons. I can't imagine living without them. I get to complain--and I also get to feel like the luckiest person on earth.

Maybe I'll even post a garden photo.  Read More 
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Here I Go

Hey. I'm easing in to the blog world just as everyone else is probably leaving it. Throughout my life, I've either been an early adapter, a very late adapter, or a total non-adapter. I'm never in the middle, it seems. No Kindle for me. Barely even a cell phone. Early? I'll have to think about it.

So I'll probably use this space to post things I love, am obsessed with, or am enraged about. Let's hope for more love than rage, okay?  Read More 
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