On Sunday night, after a fun Easter Sunday dinner (and yes, I did buy the pre-dyed Easter eggs, which were a huge hit and ensured that I did not dye the kitchen table like I did in other years), we watched part one of the Sinatra documentary on HBO, "Sinatra: All or Nothing at All," followed by the first episode of the final season of "Mad Men." Monday night was part two of the Sinatra piece (I had not realized it was a two-parter until Sunday night when the show ended suddenly in 1954). I was very into the music both nights and, at one point, was mouthing the songs on the couch, complete with hard gestures. My husband turned and asked me a question. I told him, “Wait, I am doing my big finish of 'My Way.'" He laughed and, okay, it was humorous. I cannot sing, so it's better that I'm only mouthing the words.

Happy April, Teen readers!



Since it's National Poetry Month, I'm going to tell you something right now --- I think that novels in verse are genius, plain and simple.



Why, you may ask? Because they help bridge one of the biggest false binaries among book lovers everywhere. You know those unnecessary divisions I'm talking about --- just like there are some people who only read nonfiction (news flash: novels reveal truths, too!), refuse to pick up a YA book after they reach a certain age (just because it stars a teenager doesn't mean it's not well-written!) or automatically turn down a book of a certain genre (I promise that a little science fiction, historical fiction or contemporary realistic fiction won't bite), a lot of people turn their nose up at poetry as a rule. It doesn't matter the context --- no prose, no thank you.