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Tofu misses mud. Usually in April, we have plenty. But there wasn’t much snow and there isn’t much rain. I hear peepers, way off in the woods but there aren’t any here. Our vernal pool was big last year, but not now. It’s just dry. What will the salamanders do?
Rain, rain…don’t go away.
Come again, like how about today?
(I have a good book to read anyway, about a girl who can fly.)
Since Mom and Dad are divorced, I kind of get two Christmases. This can be good and bad. The good thing is, Dad and Richard celebrate everything on Christmas Eve, since Richard is German and that’s what they do. This year, I gave them a stack of promises on little cards. They say things like “Good for one dishwashing” and stuff like that. I hope I don’t regret it! Dad and Richard both loved them.
They gave me books and camping stuff and that’s fine with me. I especially like the camping stuff, since only Dad and I go. They bring me home on Christmas morning, early, and I’m really tired. That’s the bad thing. But then Mom and I celebrate Christmas for a lot more days. “They don’t call it the Twelve Days of Christmas for nothing,” says Mom.
The best thing is, Dad and Richard are in Germany for the rest of my vacation and so we have Bird. I’m singing a song called A Cockatiel in a Pear Tree … except it’s our Christmas Tree! It’s full of totally random stuff, unlike Dad and Richard’s which is beautiful in a totally different way. Beatrice Strawberry Bird looks hilarious up there and she also doesn’t want to come down.
Thanks come in all different flavors, like Thanksgiving pies. I’m thankful for my silly Mommy and how she sings when she’s happy (but don’t tell her that or she might get louder). I’m thankful for Tofu, my crazy pup, and Beatrice Strawberry – cockatiel extraordinaire – even though I hardly ever see them at the same time. I’m thankful for my dad, who really gets me, and even for Richard (sort of). I’m thankful for all the books I’ve read and for all the ones I haven’t. Just knowing they are out there makes me feel calm inside, like how you can’t count all the stars in the sky. I’m thankful for Colby, my friend forever, and for Mrs. O and her cookies (and pies! today she’s bringing pecan!). I’m thankful for my birth mom even though she’s a mystery, because otherwise, who would I be? And the house smells so good today, even though the apple pie filling leaked and smoked up the kitchen.
Mom and I went to the Multicultural Book Fair! It was at the Chinese Weekend School, the one I wish I could go to except it’s over three hours from our house (and mostly I need to see Dad and Beatrice Strawberry and Richard on the weekends). But it was really great. They had non-disaster dumplings, and book-making with fancy paper, and lots of books to buy. (I didn’t find any on Uzbekistan, but that’s okay, I got three great other ones).
There was an artist who drew pictures of all the kids in sumi ink, which is Japanese, but my mom says it’s kind of like India ink. The artist drew me, too! I wasn’t very nervous even though I didn’t know any of the other kids. A lot of them go to the weekend school. I talked to Maia. She is really nice and she lives in Cape Elizabeth. She goes to that school every weekend. I wish I could, too.
Geography is important. Some kids in my class don’t know where China is. (Some kids in my class don’t even know where Montana is!) I don’t know everything, but I like to learn. Uzbekistan, for example, is fun to say. But where is it? Is there anybody in Maine who was born in Uzbekistan? The answer is probably yes.
Where in the World is EVERYthing?
I’m suspicious of people who don’t like to read, although Colby is one of them, and I like him fine.
He’s just wrong about reading.
My teacher, Mr. Argentoth, lets me read when he’s teaching. Also, he has the mustache of a grand villain, only he’s really, really nice!
