Post a Comment On: everything pink

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My kind of book
A week ago Jeff and I went to the book store and I saw this book sitting on the table. I picked it up because it fit my very, outwardly, judgemental qualifications for a book.
texture or odd shape book. - the cover is smoothI liked the cover - the cute font caught my attention.Kate DiCamillo - wrote a review on the front coverlarge printcute leaf graphic throughout the bookand the description on the front sounded like how i would describe myself as a kid "....and Her Plans to Maximize Fun, Avoid Disaster, and (possibly) Save the World"at it was only $5.99This was my second book I was starting in one month - MIRACLE, so I was kind of on a reading train and didn't want to get off.

I give this book 5 Pink Stars. It is my kind of book and reminds me that I am a reader - and these are the kind of books that make me one. It was on the kids table which is where I think I will stay for awhile.

Reading the book was like reading my thoughts when I was a kid. This could have been me as a 6 year old.
When I read I flip the bottom pages up to remind me of great quotes I liked, then when I finish the book I go back and read those pages to find the quote and then I mark it. This way it makes me hunt for it again. Here are a few of my favorite parts of the book.
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on apologizing

"Apologizing is like spring-cleaning. First of all, you don't want to do it. But there's something inside you, or somebody outside you who's standing there with her hands on her hips saying, "It's time to make things right around here," and there's no getting out of it.
Once you get started, though, you find that you can't just clean out one room and be done with it, you have to do the whole house or you're tracking dirt from one place to the other. Well, it starts to seem like too, too much, and want to quit more than Christmas. But there's that somebody or something telling you again, "Keep going. You're almost done. No quitting allowed."
Then all of a sudden you are done. It was an awful terrible time, and you never want to have to do it again in your whole life. But it is kind of nice seeing everything clean and looking just right. And that moment you're almost glad you did it. sort of.

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on telling stories
My brain thought about that magic that happens when you tell a story right, and everybody who hears it not only loves the story, but they love you a little bit, too, for telling it so well. Like I love Ms. Washington, in spite of myself, the first time I heard her. When you hear somebody read a story well, you can't help but think there's some good inside the, even if you don't know them.

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on caring
When somebody stops to talk you every day, and asks you about yourself, and doesn't say anything to fill your part of the conversation, just lets you choose if you want to fill it in yourself, then it's hard to think that somebody's your enemy or to keep her so far away from your heart. It's hard not to trust somebody like that.
She was wearing me down in ways she probably didn't even intend to.

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on realility
I was floating up and up and music was playing and angels were singing, "Ida B is free, Ida B is free. Come fly with me, Ida B."
But before I flew off into the ether, I got pulled back down to earth by a heavy thought. This seems to good to be true, said the voice in my head that sees all of those presents on Christmas Day and knows that some of them are socks and underwear wrapped up in pretty boxes.
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controlling your tounge

I could fee a wallop of rude and ornery coming up my throat and fighting to get out of my mouth. But I had also promised Mama seven times while we drove to school that I wold be polite.
"Yes, ma'am," I finally said through my teeth, because they were keeping the rudeness inside my mouth.
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having a plan

Here's the bad thing about being a snake in the spring: sometimes you find what you think is the best place in the world to sunbathe. It's the biggest rock ever, so long you can't see where it ends. And this perfect, so-good-you-almost-can't-believe-it's-true rock is smooth and dark and toasty warm. You slither out onto its snuggle warm blackness, and pretty soon you get so cozy and content lying there that you fall asleep, stretched out and snoring, even. You are sure you are in snake heaven.
But, being a snake, you're so low to the ground you can't see that this piece of rock paradise you're lying on is really a road. You're so cushy-comfy and sleeping so deeply that you don't hear that big old truck, hauling two towns of tomatoes, getting closer and closer.
And the next thing you know - split, splat, and a couple of crunches, too-there are tire tracks on either end of you. You're not sure exactly what happened, but all of a sudden you truly are gone from this world.
So, I've learned that even when you think you're in heaven, you need to stay alert and have a plan.
Some things are very hard to plan for, though.

An Interview with Katherine Hannigan Where did Ida B and the idea for her story come from?
Ida B came out of a lot of things in my life – moving to the Midwest and falling in love with the space, the hills, the woods, the people who have no idea who you are but who wave and smile at you as they drive by. She came from a love of laughter and being outdoors, a fondness for people with a good dose of punkishness in them. I think in many ways Ida B has the life I would have chosen if I could have.

Recently Jill asked a question on her blog - What is a part of you, you have forgotten?
And I will say I have forgotten the Ida B. part of me. There is a part of me that is Ida B and my mind wanders and thinks just like Ida B talks in her book. Thanks Jill for asking that question, the other day I could not answer it but now I know I want to find the Ida B. in me!

Have you read this book? Will you rush to the book store to get it?