Sweet Valley What?

Random House Children's Books is re-releasing the Sweet Valley High series, with a few changes. Most notably? The twins, described as being "a perfect size six" in 1983, are now "a perfect size four." Random House is so proud of this update, they are publicizing it in a letter to media outlets. Awesome.

Right, because that's what most needed rethinking about those flakes.

Coal is not clean

I am smitten with the history and culture of the coal-mining region of central Appalachia where I live. I can't even describe how much I delight in seeing old mines, conveyers stretching out over winding, unnamed county roads, and the rows of coal camp houses that still characterize so many Appalachian towns. I don't know why; it's certainly not rational, because the old mines are usually leaching nasty stuff into creekbeds, the conveyers are just sitting there doing nothing because most mining nowadays is achieved by literally removing mountaintops rather than digging, and the camp houses were built cheaply 80 years ago and tend to signify that a community is impoverished. Not good news, any of it.

Anyway, although I know that my love affair with coal culture is probably going to stick around, coal itself is pretty firmly in the doghouse as far as I'm concerned. It's among the least, if not the very least, sustainable fuel out there, and it's not just the mining of it that's screwing up the environment (by, among other things, removing mountaintops and basically dumping them in crucial streams)-- coal-fired power plants pollute like none other, despite claims made by proponents of "clean coal," who usually cite figures based on best-case scenario implementation of every conceivable cleaning-up-the-coal measure, even ones they have no intention of actually using because they're not cost effective. And this particular coal-fired power plant, if it gets final approval from the state, is going to be just 30 miles from us. Prevailing winds will bring most of the air pollution our way.

Anyone who thinks they might want to come visit us someday: better make it soon. Construction could start next month.

Sari Weston, where have you been all my life?

I have been gearing myself up for weeks now to write a really thoughtful, really complete post about issues surrounding childhood vaccines.

In fact, last night I tuned out the world and sat for five hours typing an eight-page essay on the subject: what my experience has been, how I understand the perspective of people I know who don't vaccinate, why I think it's so effing complicated, etc.

This morning, while searching online for a particular statistic I wanted to include, I found this essay, and realized that if I ever tried to publish my own, I would be accused of plagiarism (and not particularly well-executed plagiarism-- it's been a while since I've written anything formal). Seriously, this is just a five-times-better version of everything I wrote last night, complete with the opening anecdote about the makeup-free doctor, the quotes she's included (some of them identical!), even the conclusion she's come to.

Anyway, this goes a long way to explain what I think is a crucial, and way too often absent, element of this whole discussion: why it's confusing for parents. Smart parents, good, well-intentioned parents. Maybe eventually I'll clean up my own essay (and shorten it, I swear), and post it, but for now, I will tip my hat to Sari Weston for pulling together a very articulate and sensible discussion of the matter. Finally.

Oh well

I had Georgetown winning it all.

BUT, this is fun. Lea now says:

-bubble
-baby
-tree
-no (ugh)
-mine (really ugh)
-cold
-hot (sounds like ha)
-Mimi (what Lea calls my mom. When Mimi was visiting, she had-- probably still has-- a bad cold. So even though Mimi left a few days ago, the sound of anyone coughing still elicits a concerned "Mimi?!" from Lea)
-chair
-bye-bye
-hello (sounds like hwoah?)
-tickle (sounds like tigatigatiga!)
-teeth
-nose

Hooray for the beginning of the language explosion!

Snowy days and fun with friends

We finally got (a very small amount of) measurable snow. I had been griping pretty much all winter that we never had pretty winter weather. A few flakes in the air from time to time, but nothing would stick. Finally last week we had a couple of inches. It actually snowed for two whole days, but it was bizarre-- snow would melt on the ground even as more continued to fall in the air, with temperatures in the 20's. So we'd get an inch, then it would melt. Then another coating, and it would melt. Then another inch, and it would melt.


Lea contemplates the weirdness of this.



It was sad to see the snow melt away, but it didn't matter too much because we were headed out of town anyway, to see our friends Mandy and Seth and their little 13-month-old cutie pie Myles. Myles is another 100% ASP baby, with two parents who were both on summer staff, as were Brian and me. In fact, Brian and Mandy were on staff together Brian's first year. It was a lot of fun to hear them reminisce about that summer in particular, and for all of us to share funny memories of staff life in general. ASP staff is probably the closest-knit network of people I've ever been affiliated with, borderline-cultlike in its ability to define almost every aspect of your life while you're involved, and sometimes for years after. (This is a good thing, by the way.) Anyway, there's just something so incredible about reconnecting with other people who've been through it, even if you don't know them real well. It's like finding someone in a faraway land who speaks the same native language you do.

Anyway. Lea raids Myles' kitchen.



And checks out his sippy cup.



And flirts with his dog.



(This is when Lea would stretch her hands out for Juniper to lick, then pull them back squealing when she did, and promptly stick them right back in her face. Thrilling!)

Recoiling to Seth's lap for safety.

Waiting for Juniper to notice her again.


Finally, this is what happens when you take something away from Lea that she wants (a camera, in this case):