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Anybody who's been around me or this blog for very long probably knows that I am a huge fan of Hugh MacLeod (
gapingvoid.com). I get a cartoon a day in my email very weekday and many of them are archived in a "comics" folder on my computer desktop. My business cards feature MacLeod's art.
My admiration for Hugh MacLeod continues to grow. This week, I was doodling around in Twitter, waiting for the timer to go off so I could move the hose from one part of the dry spot in mom's lawn to another, when I found this article he wrote:
In Praise of Small Art. Go ahead and read it. It's a short article.
In some ways, it seems to me that Education (capital E) can be equated to Big Art. What we do in our classrooms when we close our doors is Small Art.
And the more I think about it, many of the classroom practices that are the most powerful are also Small Art:
read aloud,
Poetry Friday,
15 Minutes on Friday,
reading/writing conferences,
minilessons.
Small Art was at the heart of
the poem I shared last Friday for Poetry Friday, and -- how far will this train of thought lead me? -- poetry is definitely a Small Art.
Today, right now, is Small Art. My life, constructed of these small installations, is Big Art, and to make the Big Art as beautiful as possible, each bit of Small Art needs to be well-crafted and intentional. Praise-worthy.
Here's to Small Art!
Go make some.
Do you agree or disagree?
Can you think of a time when you were invited onto the yacht?
Did it make a difference in your life?
How about a time when you confidently paddled your own canoe?
How did that experience change you?
My laptop's brain is on the brink of being so full it explodes.
I won't be able to download the pictures that are on my camera and make my monthly mosaic until I get a new hard drive with about a hundred spare acres so my creativity can once again roam freely.
Until then, I'm catching up on my reading, doodling with my colored pencils in my sketchbook, and taking mini field trips to the front and back gardens to visit the two plants I bought at the Clintonville Farmers' Market yesterday -- a female Jack-in-the-Pulpit that is "with seeds," and a Butterfly Milkweed that is purported to be "crack cocaine for butterflies."
Good thing our phone was on the fritz a couple of weeks ago. That meant we didn't have Internet access on a Tuesday night when all my work depended on getting online. Needed to pay bills. Little stuff like that.
We packed a book to read (him), a computer (her), and went to Scotties, the nearest Free Internet With Your Cup of Coffee joint that we could think of.
I was (more than) just a little tired and crabby about not being able to work at home in my jammies and then fall right into bed. As we walked into Scotties, my ears went, "Is that LIVE music?" and the crabby started to leak right out of me. Four old guys were playing 1940's-60's tunes on electric guitars that were amped but not cranked. They sounded like my childhood guitar teacher, Rudy Schlichenmeyer. They sat slouched over their guitars in a wide half-circle so they could watch each other and riff off each other. When they sang, their voices sounded like the records my parents used to play. My crabbiness left me. I started noticing that they weren't really all that old, now that I'm on the near side of old myself. They were probably in their 60's. They obviously liked each other and enjoyed getting together to have a public jam session.
I got my work done. We checked the schedule. They play every Tuesday night. I'll be there whenever I can.
A simple lesson in economics, and a big thank you Jessica Hagy for giving teachers credit where credit is due. Found at Indexed.
"Such a discouraging time for people who love reading. Independent bookstores are struggling, all those magical places built by people who loved books from the moment they could hold one, and wanted to share that love with others. Helen recalls one such store where she did a reading a couple of years ago, how inviting the place was, with its broken-in armchairs and lamps glowing a deep yellow, with the cat named Melville, who slept on his back in the front window. It was a browser's paradise, books so thoughtfully and attractively displayed you wanted everything you saw, whether it was a nonfiction book about cod, or a volume of poetry, or a fat novel with ragged-edged pages, or a cookbook featuring winter soups. It was a time -- the only time, as it happened -- that Helen had arrived far too early for her reading, and she spent forty minutes wandering around the store. In the children's section, she eavesdropped as a mother read Scaredy Squirrel to her son; both mother and child laughed aloud at the inclusion of sardines in Scaredy's emergency kit, and at his first step in what to do in case of emergency: "panic." Helen laughed, too, and stopped just short of asking if she could sit down and listen to the rest of the story." (p.227-228)
What I Love About Procrastination (at Indexed)
My Favorite Combination of Truth and Snarkiness (It's Not All Flowers and Sausages)
Rhubarb Cobbler *swoon* (from Smitten Kitchen)
A belated Cinco de Mayo greeting (at LOLdogs)
While I'm getting back up to speed with reading and reviewing and blogging, here are some fun tidbits. They all seem kind of related in a weird sort of way.
First, the Thought for the Day on my iGoogle page:
There are 10^11 stars in the galaxy. That used to be a huge number. But it's only a hundred billion. It's less than the national deficit! We used to call them astronomical numbers. Now we should call them economical numbers.
- Richard Feynman
Next, an email funny:
If you had purchased $1,000 of shares in Delta Airlines one year ago, you would have $49.00 today.
If you had purchased $1,000 of shares in AIG one year ago, you would have $33.00 today.
If you had purchased $1,000 of shares in Lehman Brothers one year ago, you would have $0.00 today.
But, if you had purchased $1,000 worth of beer one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the aluminum cans for recycling refund, you would have $214.00.
Based on the above, the best current investment plan is to drink heavily and recycle. It is called the 401-Keg.
A recent study found that the average American walks about 900 miles a year. Another study found that Americans drink, on average, 22 gallons of alcohol a year. That means that, on average, Americans get about 41 miles to the gallon!
Makes you proud to be an American!
And finally, a funny photo entitled Hard Night in the Pumpkin Patch:
Thank you, TadMack for a Memorial Day poem, a bit of information about the history of the day, a great photo, and a reminder that Colleen at Chasing Ray has invited bloggers to highlight books (for ages 4-100) that cover political subjects on Wednesdays this August:
August 5th - Race in America
August 12th - The environment
August 19th - Class divisions in America
August 26th - US foreign policy
...your mother and/or your conscience would tell you not to say anything at all. Then again, you might try one of these pithy (snarky?) quotes in your next difficult review:
I have read your book and much like it.
Thank you for sending me a copy of your book. I'll waste no time reading it.
This book fills a much-needed gap.
These quotes are all by Moses Hadas. They and others can be found at
Butterfly Milkweed...is that what's in there? I seriously have a full body reaction when I see milkweed..."OH MY GRAVY, it's milkweed, look everybody." And everyone sort of goes, "yeah, wow, okay." While I inspect if for signs of life. I sorta love milkweed.
I think I speak for the entire blogosphere in demanding pictures of the "crack cocaine for butterflies." Simply because that phrase is pure awesome and I need to know what it actually describes.
Butterfly Milkweed that is purported to be "crack cocaine for butterflies."
Hahahaha. Thank you for this Monday morning laugh!
New hard drive will be on my computer tomorrow. THEN I can download all the pictures (including the butterfly crack cocaine) that are on my camera. Maybe there's a poem in all of this, instead of an article. Check back on Friday. Maybe the milkweed will be the star of the show...