Book Reviews by Julia – Honk!

Honk!: The Story of a Prima Swanerina

I like Honk because Honk is a great story because Honk really really really goes into the Swan Lake ballet. And Swan Lake is a great movie. I’ve seen the movie too. But it’s a little scary, because in the Swan Lake movie, the swan doesn’t marry the prince, and they die at the end. They don’t marry at all because at one party they don’t usually have the swan princess, and the mean sorcerer tricks the prince. So the swan lake girl is trapped up, and that’s how the mean wizard tricks the prince. And it’s very scary because at the end they really do want to marry each other. All the other princesses that were changed into swans were so beautiful because they all had white dresses and beautiful — like lapis lazuli

Conrad ooh ooh-ooh

Conrad Viking

Conrad has reduced the English language to the bare essentials and now carries on conversations using tones and syllables. “I love you” is now “ooh-ooh,” “Thank you” is “do-do,” and “May I have that, please?” is “do da, de”…Claire and I understand him and respond in tones and syllables. “I love you too” is “ooh-ooh ooh” and “You’re welcome” is “do do-do”.

I like onions. They have layers.

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I never liked onions as a kid. Hated them in fact. I remember people telling me that cooked onions are OK because you couldn’t even taste them. Not true. I still didn’t like them.

I didn’t want to be a picky eater in Poland, so I devised a plan to make me like onions. I think I was just curious what people saw in them. So, a couple weeks before leaving, I ordered extra onions on everything, most notably the “Mike” sandwich from the now defunct Tafoya Brothers. After eating extra onions on everything for two weeks, I developed a love for onions comparable to my love for garlic and jalapenos. Maybe I just like stinky food. I guess I should try the same with fish — that’s a bit too stinky for me though.

Weston the Warrior

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I don’t have a clue what to write for a caption on this one. Can anyone think of a good one?

I wanted to add fashion credits…like sandals by Cole Haan, shield by Farmland…the problem is I don’t know who made the paper towel roll and I don’t know what Weston thinks the stocking cap made by Grandma Great is. The helmet was his present from Norway, and the gloves are Claire’s.

New York’s got fancy

Princess JuJu

Julia decided that Paris was the fanciest place on Earth and wouldn’t stop talking about it. In order to show her that New York is every bit as fancy, I took her to Tiffany’s for a daddy-daughter date. At first they tried to sell us stuff, but finally left us alone. One girl thought she’d be nice and pointed out a heart shaped necklace, which failed to capture Julia’s attention. She thought she’d try again. She pulled out a ginormous ring and asked Julia if she knew what it was. Julia nodded and said, “Aquamarine.” The lady was impressed.

The next step in our tour of New York’s fanciness was The Nutcracker Ballet (It iiiiiiiiis the cracker ballet). Julia wore her sparkly shoes and held her dress as she walked up the stairs just like I imagine all princesses do. She sat on the edge of the seat and clapped when everyone else clapped. She got a lot of attention. The lady who sat next to her offered to let her borrow her binoculars because we were of course in the cheap seats. They were much too big for her little head and she covered the lenses with her hands trying to hold them, but that didn’t stop her. She held them to her head and enjoyed the ballet. About half way through the first half, she turned to me and said, “Papa, I am having a lovely time.”

Cracker Ballet

Cracker Ballet

Julia went through a phase when she always wanted to watch the Nutcracker Ballet. Weston left off the first part and called it simply “Cracker Ballet.” Whenever you would try to correct him and say, “It’s Nutcracker Ballet,” Weston would reply, “It iiiiiiiiiis cracker ballet.” If you’d say, “It’s not cracker ballet. It’s nutcracker ballet,” he heard, “It’s not cracker ballet! It’s not cracker ballet!” and would again protest.

Do Not Disturb

JetBlue seems pretty confident in the sleep eye masks and earplugs they hand out, insisting that it’s a “shut-eye” rather than a “red-eye” flight. I decided to give they’re little survival kit a try. Almost immediately after deciding that I’d live with the embarrassment of wearing the shades, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I don’t even know that I thought through who might be doing the tapping, but I sort of assumed it was Claire teasing me. So, I swatted the hand away and tried to get comfortable. Meanwhile, the flight attendant, who had just tapped on my shoulder, was staring blankly at Claire — wondering how to respond. Though half asleep, I hear a muffled, “Uh…Rich, that wasn’t me.”