Some people say they can't imagine what heaven will be like, but I can. I have a vivid imagination, and therefore a very clear picture of heaven. In heaven, when I want to go to the park, I will make the decision and then just GO. I won't have to tidy the entire house to find the dog's collar. I won't have to clean out the front closet to find her leash, either. I won't have to do three loads of laundry to insure that my children have clean playclothes to wear. I won't have to weed the back yard to find missing shoes, and I won't have to employ the skills I learned in Psychology 101 to calm the angst of the children who are missing the clothes and the shoes. I won't have to run to the store to buy a new hairbrush. I won't have to pack lunch, snacks, drinks, sunscreen or first aid kits. I will just look out the window, appreciate the weather, grab a blanket and go to the park.
I don't know, though, maybe that's retirement I'm seeing. Maybe heaven's even better than that.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
More Neighborhood Watching... NOTHING escapes our notice!
So, I've stopped calling the police on people eating McDonalds breakfast sandwiches, but I haven't forgotten my duty as a member of the Neighborhood Watch. Neither has my neighbor, Cathy.
She arrived the other day for our English co-op and asked for the number of the police. She had seen two muscular, shaved-headed young men on bicycles about an hour before, and as she was leaving her house, saw them AGAIN. They were obviously cruising the neighborhood looking for something and not just out for a quiet Thursday morning bike ride.
I proudly showed her the number displayed prominently on my fridge (once you moved a couple of hand-drawn pictures of Spiderman and Obi Wan Kenobi) and handed her the phone. After she did her civic duty, we agreed that I would keep an eye out for bicyclists while I was teaching my part of the English class, since I was in the front room with a good view of the street.
I didn't actually see them, although we had a brief moment of excitement when I did spot a bicycle. It turned out to be an overweight 11-year-old boy who was having trouble steering, but he had a helmet on, so I let it go. For the remainder of the class, my students dissolved into laughter every time he wobbled past, but I took the opportunity to instruct them on the importance of a Neighborhood Watch program and explained that this was just a good reminder that we should all keep an eye out. I'm sure they appreciated the tip.
After everyone had gone home, my almost-15 year old son asked me what exactly I had been looking for. I described to him the suspicious cyclists as he looked at me with increasing surprise.
"Do you know who those men were?" he asked incredulously.
"No!" I exclaimed breathlessly. "Do you know something about them?"
"Uh, yeah," he sighed. "Those are the two undercover cops the City just assigned to our neighborhood. Dad heard about it at that Neighborhood Watch meeting, remember?"
Okay, so we called the police on themselves. They must be happy that we're doing such a good job watching.
She arrived the other day for our English co-op and asked for the number of the police. She had seen two muscular, shaved-headed young men on bicycles about an hour before, and as she was leaving her house, saw them AGAIN. They were obviously cruising the neighborhood looking for something and not just out for a quiet Thursday morning bike ride.
I proudly showed her the number displayed prominently on my fridge (once you moved a couple of hand-drawn pictures of Spiderman and Obi Wan Kenobi) and handed her the phone. After she did her civic duty, we agreed that I would keep an eye out for bicyclists while I was teaching my part of the English class, since I was in the front room with a good view of the street.
I didn't actually see them, although we had a brief moment of excitement when I did spot a bicycle. It turned out to be an overweight 11-year-old boy who was having trouble steering, but he had a helmet on, so I let it go. For the remainder of the class, my students dissolved into laughter every time he wobbled past, but I took the opportunity to instruct them on the importance of a Neighborhood Watch program and explained that this was just a good reminder that we should all keep an eye out. I'm sure they appreciated the tip.
After everyone had gone home, my almost-15 year old son asked me what exactly I had been looking for. I described to him the suspicious cyclists as he looked at me with increasing surprise.
"Do you know who those men were?" he asked incredulously.
"No!" I exclaimed breathlessly. "Do you know something about them?"
"Uh, yeah," he sighed. "Those are the two undercover cops the City just assigned to our neighborhood. Dad heard about it at that Neighborhood Watch meeting, remember?"
Okay, so we called the police on themselves. They must be happy that we're doing such a good job watching.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Community Crime Watch
Alan attended our neighborhood watch meeting a couple of weeks ago and came home with all kinds of accounts of good neighbors reporting suspicious activity, resulting in the capture of a number of assorted burglars, robbers and other ne'er-do-wells. The officer in charge of our district encouraged everyone to report any activity that seemed suspicious and reassured them not to think anything was too small.
Armed with this knowledge and confident that as a homeschooling Mom, I stand a good chance of noticing suspicious persons, seeing as how I stare out the window a lot while dictating spelling words, I began my own personal neighborhood watch. The very next morning I noticed a suspicious young man parked across the street, sitting in his car. After about five minutes, I was sure he was up to no good. He was just sitting there eating something, and I had never seen him before. I waited another five minutes while he steadily munched away, took a deep breath and called the appropriate number, feeling like a cross between a journalist finding a hot scoop and Supermom, who was saving the day and making the neighborhood Safe For Children Everywhere.
The lady who answered the phone seemed a little less taken with the information than I was, and asked me if it was possible that the man was simply eating his breakfast. Oh, but I was sure, I said, because I'd never seen him here, and I know there was a gang of men burglarizing homes in our neighborhood that did exactly that - one sat in the car while the others knocked on doors. Was there anyone knocking on my door? Well, no, but maybe they just hadn't gotten to me yet. She sighed and said she would send someone out.
A few minutes later the man reclined his seat and apparently took a nap. I almost called her back, because, well, people don't just Take Naps for no reason, now, do they?
After another 20 minutes, I watched breathlessly as the man emerged, opened the back door of his car..... and took out a backpack. He adjusted his glasses, slung the backpack on his back and walked down the street... in the direction of El Camino College. A quick check at the clock confirmed that he would probably arrive there just in time for a 10 a.m. class.
Oh, but if he HAD been up to something, boy howdy, I woulda caught him!
Armed with this knowledge and confident that as a homeschooling Mom, I stand a good chance of noticing suspicious persons, seeing as how I stare out the window a lot while dictating spelling words, I began my own personal neighborhood watch. The very next morning I noticed a suspicious young man parked across the street, sitting in his car. After about five minutes, I was sure he was up to no good. He was just sitting there eating something, and I had never seen him before. I waited another five minutes while he steadily munched away, took a deep breath and called the appropriate number, feeling like a cross between a journalist finding a hot scoop and Supermom, who was saving the day and making the neighborhood Safe For Children Everywhere.
The lady who answered the phone seemed a little less taken with the information than I was, and asked me if it was possible that the man was simply eating his breakfast. Oh, but I was sure, I said, because I'd never seen him here, and I know there was a gang of men burglarizing homes in our neighborhood that did exactly that - one sat in the car while the others knocked on doors. Was there anyone knocking on my door? Well, no, but maybe they just hadn't gotten to me yet. She sighed and said she would send someone out.
A few minutes later the man reclined his seat and apparently took a nap. I almost called her back, because, well, people don't just Take Naps for no reason, now, do they?
After another 20 minutes, I watched breathlessly as the man emerged, opened the back door of his car..... and took out a backpack. He adjusted his glasses, slung the backpack on his back and walked down the street... in the direction of El Camino College. A quick check at the clock confirmed that he would probably arrive there just in time for a 10 a.m. class.
Oh, but if he HAD been up to something, boy howdy, I woulda caught him!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Making Brownies
Here is my own recipe, based upon how we make brownies here at "Smitches."
Ingredients:
One box of brownie mix
1/2 cup of oil
1 dozen eggs plus 2 more
lowfat granola
1/2 cup skim milk
grapefruit juice
Have 2nd oldest child take the brownie mix out of the cupboard at 8 p.m. one evening and parade it around the house, causing everyone to whine when you inform them that you are not going to bake them because it would be too late to feed small children brownies by the time they would be done.
Repeat the process the next night, having a small child rip the box open. Leave it on the counter for two days for maximum whine-effect.
Pick an afternoon when everyone is BOOOOORRRRREEEEEDDDDDD (translation: Mom won't let us watch Star Wars or play Guitar Hero), open the inner wrapper of the brownie mix and dump contents into mixer bowl. Tell smallest child they are not brownies, they are just a special kind of bread. Insist that you simply stored the bread mix in the handy brownie box you found open on the counter and inform him that you have no idea what happened to the real brownie mix. Praise him for using deductive reasoning, including sense of sight, smell and taste, to figure out that you are pulling his leg.
Have smallest child take the dozen eggs out of the fridge, set them on the edge of the counter so that they are hanging half off and open the lid. Eggs will crash spectacularly to the floor, cracking simultaneously and splattering yolk over a good 2-3 square ft. of tile. Pick out shells and call dog.
Have 3rd oldest child take two more eggs out of the fridge and crack them into the mixing bowl. Help child painstakingly remove pieces of shell from brownie mix. Try not to look at the state of said child's hands and suggest belatedly that she should wash them.
Pour oil into bowl and turn on mixer, grabbing child's hair at the last second so it doesn't get caught in the mixer blade. Turn off mixer and scrape sides (having learned from the last batch of brownies not to attempt scraping while the mixer is running). Restart mixer. Turn off mixer, remove bowl and stir the dang thing yourself with a wooden spoon since the mixer doesn't seem to be getting the dry stuff at the bottom of the bowl.
Pour mix into a prepared pan and bake in oven at 350 for 26 minutes. Ask yourself repeatedly during the 26 minutes why you thought today was a good day to have the oven on for half an hour, considering the temperature is in the 80s and humidity is at 92%.
When timer goes off, pull brownies out of oven and set them on top of stove to cool. Use one hand per small child to stop them from bouncing up and down and explain that A) the brownies are too hot to eat and B) you want to save them for consumption during tonight's showing of Star Wars. Prevent 3rd oldest child from poking holes in the brownies with a fork to "help them cool down." Keep a straight face while explaining to youngest child that using a blowdryer on the brownies really won't help much with the cooling process. Repeat reason B) six or seven times until said children have complete understanding of the fact that the brownies will not be eaten until after dinner. Praise 3rd oldest child for figuring out that it is mathematically possible to cut five pieces now and still have six left for later and reassure her that despite her stroke of genius, it just isn't going to happen.
After dinner, cut brownies and then remember that you have a meeting to go to and have to leave that instant. Leave serving of brownies to 2nd oldest child. Inform ENTIRE family that the lid must be replaced tightly on the pan so that when you return from your meeting, you can have a non-stale brownie. Explain to oldest child on the way out the door that despite his stature, he will be permitted to eat only the same number of brownies as each other person in the family. Use Mother Glare to communicate the consequences that will ensue if he fails to follow these instructions.
Return home from meeting to find lid on brownie pan partially unsealed. Decide in best sour grapes fashion that you don't need the calories anyway and retire to bed, feeling self-righteous.
Upon awakening in the morning, eat two brownies with coffee before anyone else awakens, carefully wiping up all crumbs and brushing teeth to remove evidence. When rest of family awakens, sanctimoniously eat lowfat granola with skim milk and a side of grapefruit juice.
Ingredients:
One box of brownie mix
1/2 cup of oil
1 dozen eggs plus 2 more
lowfat granola
1/2 cup skim milk
grapefruit juice
Have 2nd oldest child take the brownie mix out of the cupboard at 8 p.m. one evening and parade it around the house, causing everyone to whine when you inform them that you are not going to bake them because it would be too late to feed small children brownies by the time they would be done.
Repeat the process the next night, having a small child rip the box open. Leave it on the counter for two days for maximum whine-effect.
Pick an afternoon when everyone is BOOOOORRRRREEEEEDDDDDD (translation: Mom won't let us watch Star Wars or play Guitar Hero), open the inner wrapper of the brownie mix and dump contents into mixer bowl. Tell smallest child they are not brownies, they are just a special kind of bread. Insist that you simply stored the bread mix in the handy brownie box you found open on the counter and inform him that you have no idea what happened to the real brownie mix. Praise him for using deductive reasoning, including sense of sight, smell and taste, to figure out that you are pulling his leg.
Have smallest child take the dozen eggs out of the fridge, set them on the edge of the counter so that they are hanging half off and open the lid. Eggs will crash spectacularly to the floor, cracking simultaneously and splattering yolk over a good 2-3 square ft. of tile. Pick out shells and call dog.
Have 3rd oldest child take two more eggs out of the fridge and crack them into the mixing bowl. Help child painstakingly remove pieces of shell from brownie mix. Try not to look at the state of said child's hands and suggest belatedly that she should wash them.
Pour oil into bowl and turn on mixer, grabbing child's hair at the last second so it doesn't get caught in the mixer blade. Turn off mixer and scrape sides (having learned from the last batch of brownies not to attempt scraping while the mixer is running). Restart mixer. Turn off mixer, remove bowl and stir the dang thing yourself with a wooden spoon since the mixer doesn't seem to be getting the dry stuff at the bottom of the bowl.
Pour mix into a prepared pan and bake in oven at 350 for 26 minutes. Ask yourself repeatedly during the 26 minutes why you thought today was a good day to have the oven on for half an hour, considering the temperature is in the 80s and humidity is at 92%.
When timer goes off, pull brownies out of oven and set them on top of stove to cool. Use one hand per small child to stop them from bouncing up and down and explain that A) the brownies are too hot to eat and B) you want to save them for consumption during tonight's showing of Star Wars. Prevent 3rd oldest child from poking holes in the brownies with a fork to "help them cool down." Keep a straight face while explaining to youngest child that using a blowdryer on the brownies really won't help much with the cooling process. Repeat reason B) six or seven times until said children have complete understanding of the fact that the brownies will not be eaten until after dinner. Praise 3rd oldest child for figuring out that it is mathematically possible to cut five pieces now and still have six left for later and reassure her that despite her stroke of genius, it just isn't going to happen.
After dinner, cut brownies and then remember that you have a meeting to go to and have to leave that instant. Leave serving of brownies to 2nd oldest child. Inform ENTIRE family that the lid must be replaced tightly on the pan so that when you return from your meeting, you can have a non-stale brownie. Explain to oldest child on the way out the door that despite his stature, he will be permitted to eat only the same number of brownies as each other person in the family. Use Mother Glare to communicate the consequences that will ensue if he fails to follow these instructions.
Return home from meeting to find lid on brownie pan partially unsealed. Decide in best sour grapes fashion that you don't need the calories anyway and retire to bed, feeling self-righteous.
Upon awakening in the morning, eat two brownies with coffee before anyone else awakens, carefully wiping up all crumbs and brushing teeth to remove evidence. When rest of family awakens, sanctimoniously eat lowfat granola with skim milk and a side of grapefruit juice.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Follow-Up on the Mission
We left for the Mission at 4:30, me praying all the way that the song wouldn't change again! The first time that I really sang it from start to finish, revisions and all, was when I performed it at 7 p.m. It came off even better than I had hoped and I was able to sing it as if I'd been doing it for years. Definitely not the recommended procedure for performing, but the Holy Spirit is able to accomplish the impossible! Cathy Dreger and Cynde Knutson came with us this time, and they said the women really responded to it. Each of them spoke briefly during the service, and I could see the women being visibly moved by what they said also.
So, now all I have to do is figure out what I'm singing at the concert this coming Friday night at Hidden Door Cafe. And find time to rehearse with Alan. Oh yes, and take the children to soccer practice, conveniently scheduled, between the four of them, for every stinking day of the week except Friday, when two of them have a game (which they will be missing due to my concert. After only two weeks, I'm already a failure as a soccer Mom.... sigh).
At least we will be able to make the Saturday soccer game for the other two, which is scheduled for 8:15 a.m. the day after the concert. At least, I believe I will be physically there. I'm not sure that my brain will be functioning, but if worst comes to worst, I'll just cheer for the Blue Team, since that's the color of their uniforms. If I try getting any more specific than that, I may end up cheering on the name of the other team, or even worse, calling one of my kids by the dog's name.
So, now all I have to do is figure out what I'm singing at the concert this coming Friday night at Hidden Door Cafe. And find time to rehearse with Alan. Oh yes, and take the children to soccer practice, conveniently scheduled, between the four of them, for every stinking day of the week except Friday, when two of them have a game (which they will be missing due to my concert. After only two weeks, I'm already a failure as a soccer Mom.... sigh).
At least we will be able to make the Saturday soccer game for the other two, which is scheduled for 8:15 a.m. the day after the concert. At least, I believe I will be physically there. I'm not sure that my brain will be functioning, but if worst comes to worst, I'll just cheer for the Blue Team, since that's the color of their uniforms. If I try getting any more specific than that, I may end up cheering on the name of the other team, or even worse, calling one of my kids by the dog's name.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Song update
It's 3:05 p.m. We're leaving at 4:30 for the Mission.
I just wrote the third verse for the song.
I really hope it's done now.....
I just wrote the third verse for the song.
I really hope it's done now.....
Taking Dictation
So here's my praise report of the week. I'm helping with a service tonight at the Union Rescue Mission in downtown L.A. Our friends the Fousha's go once a quarter and conduct a service, and asked us to fill out their worship band, so I play keyboards and sing, my son Ian plays guitar, my daughter Emily sings and my husband plays guitar and sings. They also asked me to do two special songs.
As of Monday, I still couldn't decide which two of my songs to do. I couldn't even remember whether I had sung "Eyes of Compassion" last time - I knew it was a toss up between that and "No Perfect Road." Fortunately Emily reminded me that a woman wearing combat pants had stalked out of the room when I got to the line "fragile and crying," last time, so at least I knew I had sung Eyes of Compassion and chose No Perfect Road for this time. But the other song was still a mystery. I picked one, changed my mind, picked another, changed my mind, and by Tuesday night I was getting nervous...
So I flipped through my book of songs, asking the Lord to tell me what He wanted me to sing. I stopped at a song I wrote a year ago that I never liked. Recently I looked it over and decided to throw half of it out, keeping the only parts I still liked, so all that was left was two verses. That's the song the Lord told me to play. "Okay, Lord," I said. "You are aware that there are only two verses and it's Tuesday night?" (I'm so helpful that way, pointing out the obvious to the Creator of the Universe).
In faith, I started practicing my two measly verses. All of a sudden I found myself singing a very simple chorus to go with them. "Okay, this might work, " I thought. Then later that night, after everyone was in bed and I couldn't play my keyboard, the rest of the chorus started flooding into my mind. I had to sit at my desk and try to write the melody down in music notation (something that makes me shudder almost as much as crafts and science experiments). The next morning my efforts paid off, though, because I was able to remember it.
Then later that day, I sat down to practice and wrote the bridge.
Songs just don't usually come that easily; I'm even remembering the melody instantly when I make small changes to it, which simply NEVER happens. It's a case of Holy Spirit intervention because, honestly, I'm not THAT good a musician. :-) It's more like God is writing the song and I'm just taking dictation.
So I'm expecting great things tonight. This audience is one of my favorites - these ladies are so precious. It's not like singing for a quiet church crowd where everyone's on their best behavior, so you get instant feedback. If they like you, they let you know right away. If they don't like you... well, they stalk out of the room. Last time I went I left feeling like I gave so little and received so much.
As of Monday, I still couldn't decide which two of my songs to do. I couldn't even remember whether I had sung "Eyes of Compassion" last time - I knew it was a toss up between that and "No Perfect Road." Fortunately Emily reminded me that a woman wearing combat pants had stalked out of the room when I got to the line "fragile and crying," last time, so at least I knew I had sung Eyes of Compassion and chose No Perfect Road for this time. But the other song was still a mystery. I picked one, changed my mind, picked another, changed my mind, and by Tuesday night I was getting nervous...
So I flipped through my book of songs, asking the Lord to tell me what He wanted me to sing. I stopped at a song I wrote a year ago that I never liked. Recently I looked it over and decided to throw half of it out, keeping the only parts I still liked, so all that was left was two verses. That's the song the Lord told me to play. "Okay, Lord," I said. "You are aware that there are only two verses and it's Tuesday night?" (I'm so helpful that way, pointing out the obvious to the Creator of the Universe).
In faith, I started practicing my two measly verses. All of a sudden I found myself singing a very simple chorus to go with them. "Okay, this might work, " I thought. Then later that night, after everyone was in bed and I couldn't play my keyboard, the rest of the chorus started flooding into my mind. I had to sit at my desk and try to write the melody down in music notation (something that makes me shudder almost as much as crafts and science experiments). The next morning my efforts paid off, though, because I was able to remember it.
Then later that day, I sat down to practice and wrote the bridge.
Songs just don't usually come that easily; I'm even remembering the melody instantly when I make small changes to it, which simply NEVER happens. It's a case of Holy Spirit intervention because, honestly, I'm not THAT good a musician. :-) It's more like God is writing the song and I'm just taking dictation.
So I'm expecting great things tonight. This audience is one of my favorites - these ladies are so precious. It's not like singing for a quiet church crowd where everyone's on their best behavior, so you get instant feedback. If they like you, they let you know right away. If they don't like you... well, they stalk out of the room. Last time I went I left feeling like I gave so little and received so much.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Incomprehensible
I just wrote a song that has absolutely no meaning. I mean, I wasn't trying to give it one. I was actually trying to write utter nonsense. The trouble is, it's kinda catchy and everyone I play it for says they got some meaning out of it. My daughter even said the music pulls her emotionally and makes her think the words are deep, even though she knows they aren't.
So this must be what makes a hit song - not careful crafting of lyrics, but enough vagueness that the song becomes everything to everyone. One person said the song was about leaving behind a lost love. Someone else said it was uplifting and encouraging to be strong no matter what life brings you. So, not to say that this actually will become a hit song, but I'm beginning to understand why I sometimes have such a hard time figuring out what hit songs are about. Maybe they're not about anything!
It all started when I was reviewing lyrics of some songs my son wanted to put on his iPod. (He hates the review process. My husband and I are apparently overprotective and stifling and are ruining his social life, which somehow revolves around a device that only one person can listen to at a time. Oh well, that's our job.) There was one song that's really good musically, but when I sat down and read the lyrics... well, three weeks later, I STILL haven't figured out what it's about. It ticked me off, so I thought, "I could write a song that doesn't mean anything."
So I did. I wrote down every catch phrase that came to me without bothering to tie it in to the line before it. The whole thing took me five minutes, because I wouldn't let myself stop and think. I actually did manage to tie some lines together in spite of myself, but it did come out delightfully vague.
I will be really upset if out of all my songs, this one is the one that makes it to the radio. Well, no, I can't say I'll be upset, actually. But still...
Then again, I don't just write songs to write them, and certainly not (fortunately enough) to make money. So this was an interesting experiment, but I don't think I'll be repeating it. I'll continue to wait until I have something worthwhile to sing about before I put it to music. Music is too important a tool to be used to stir up emotions for emotions' sake. The race is too short and the battle too important for me to waste my best gift on entertainment.
Stepping off my soap box now... it so annoying when I come to and find myself up here.
So this must be what makes a hit song - not careful crafting of lyrics, but enough vagueness that the song becomes everything to everyone. One person said the song was about leaving behind a lost love. Someone else said it was uplifting and encouraging to be strong no matter what life brings you. So, not to say that this actually will become a hit song, but I'm beginning to understand why I sometimes have such a hard time figuring out what hit songs are about. Maybe they're not about anything!
It all started when I was reviewing lyrics of some songs my son wanted to put on his iPod. (He hates the review process. My husband and I are apparently overprotective and stifling and are ruining his social life, which somehow revolves around a device that only one person can listen to at a time. Oh well, that's our job.) There was one song that's really good musically, but when I sat down and read the lyrics... well, three weeks later, I STILL haven't figured out what it's about. It ticked me off, so I thought, "I could write a song that doesn't mean anything."
So I did. I wrote down every catch phrase that came to me without bothering to tie it in to the line before it. The whole thing took me five minutes, because I wouldn't let myself stop and think. I actually did manage to tie some lines together in spite of myself, but it did come out delightfully vague.
I will be really upset if out of all my songs, this one is the one that makes it to the radio. Well, no, I can't say I'll be upset, actually. But still...
Then again, I don't just write songs to write them, and certainly not (fortunately enough) to make money. So this was an interesting experiment, but I don't think I'll be repeating it. I'll continue to wait until I have something worthwhile to sing about before I put it to music. Music is too important a tool to be used to stir up emotions for emotions' sake. The race is too short and the battle too important for me to waste my best gift on entertainment.
Stepping off my soap box now... it so annoying when I come to and find myself up here.
Monday, March 10, 2008
My Latest Most Embarrassing Moment
So there I am in church, sitting next to my darling husband, and the pastor tells us to open our Bibles to 1 John. I bent down and pulled my reading glasses out of my purse, congratulating myself on remembering them for once (otherwise I have to sit and stare at the wall, trying to look like I have the Scriptures memorized so I don't need to read along). As I pulled my glasses out, however, one of the arms somehow managed to flick a tampon out of the purse, and it went rolling merrily along the floor toward the single gentleman sitting a few seats down from me.
I moved with lightning-fast reflexes and snagged it before it got too far, tossing it back inside the purse all in one move. My years of performing have taught me how to keep going after I make a mistake, so I kept my poker face on and nonchalantly sat back up, hoping that my little escapade had gone unnoticed.
And then my husband leaned over and whispered, "Way to go, honey!" and then sat there chuckling for a good minute.
I moved with lightning-fast reflexes and snagged it before it got too far, tossing it back inside the purse all in one move. My years of performing have taught me how to keep going after I make a mistake, so I kept my poker face on and nonchalantly sat back up, hoping that my little escapade had gone unnoticed.
And then my husband leaned over and whispered, "Way to go, honey!" and then sat there chuckling for a good minute.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
It's Not Just Me
I received this email from my mother yesterday, and was so relieved to know that it's not just me that does this stuff.
I needed to take the soiled dishcloth and deposit it into the clothes hamper, and I needed to go potty. So I went into the bathroom, lifted the lid of the hamper, threw the dishcloth in and froze. It just didn't look right. There was water in there. Then realized I had sailed past the hamper and lifted the toilet lid and flung the dishcloth in. I laughed myself silly.
Then I went back to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. True to normal routine, I picked up the kettle to empty out yesterday's water into the sink, turned my head to look at my timer to see how much time I had to go before I could eat breakfast, (my meds have to be taken 30min. before food) and turned back again to the job in hand, to find I had emptied the kettle onto the counter top and all down the cupboard to the floor. Well, I only have TWO sinks to choose from but.... I laughed myself silly again.
Sidney (her dog) is mystified.
I needed to take the soiled dishcloth and deposit it into the clothes hamper, and I needed to go potty. So I went into the bathroom, lifted the lid of the hamper, threw the dishcloth in and froze. It just didn't look right. There was water in there. Then realized I had sailed past the hamper and lifted the toilet lid and flung the dishcloth in. I laughed myself silly.
Then I went back to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. True to normal routine, I picked up the kettle to empty out yesterday's water into the sink, turned my head to look at my timer to see how much time I had to go before I could eat breakfast, (my meds have to be taken 30min. before food) and turned back again to the job in hand, to find I had emptied the kettle onto the counter top and all down the cupboard to the floor. Well, I only have TWO sinks to choose from but.... I laughed myself silly again.
Sidney (her dog) is mystified.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
More Turks
Emily liked the Ottoman Turks so much, she kept drawing. I can't wait to see what she makes of the Knights of the Round Table....
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Invasion of the Turks
So this week we studied the Crusades, and then talked about how the Ottoman Turks invaded Constantinople and put an end to the Byzantine Empire. Emily, 12, seemed quite taken with the lesson, and as she tends to express herself best through art, I encouraged her to draw a picture of something we had talked about. Here it is. Sigh.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Lunar Eclipse
I got a call today from my friend Cathy, who loves teaching science to my kids (while I love teaching writing to hers). She said it behooved her as my kids' science teacher to point out that we were having a lunar eclipse tonight (okay, so she probably didn't say "behooved." I think I'm the only one weird enough to say that).
So we rushed out front at the appropriate time to look at it, only to find that the trees down the block obscured our view. So we rushed back inside, through the house and out the back door, hoping for a better view from the backyard. I dissolved into a coughing fit halfway through all this rushing and decided that I was just going to have to wait for the next lunar eclipse, what with my Beastly Cold and all. Between coughs I tried to convince my 7yo that she really did need shoes on if she was going outside. She happily put them on and then donned not one but two sweaters and a beanie hat, but I wasn't making much headway with the 5yo, who just doesn't feel cold, ever.
It was at that point that my wise and thoughtful husband quietly pointed out that we could see the eclipse just fine from the master bedroom windows. Off came the shoes and we all jostled each other for the best view at the two windows. Talk about Family Fun Night. A buncha nerds, some may point out, getting all excited about a lunar eclipse, but then this may explain why my 7th and 8th graders score WAY above grade level for science, the one class in which I regularly fail to crack open a book. Science books bore me and experiments frustrate the heck out of me because they never work the way they are supposed to. I know that that's the point, and that we all learn from our failures... come to think of it, I just had an article published in Homeschool Enrichment Magazine about dealing with failure, which said that very thing. So I know all that. But that silly little perfectionist in me just won't let me get excited about a subject in which I'm 80% sure I'm going to fail miserably. So I have a hard time teaching it. And apparently that means nothing, in terms of my kids' school careers, because my husband loves all things scientific, so we LIVE our science lessons without me even realizing it. Perhaps that's a good thing. Perhaps if I was aware we were doing science, I would ruin it by trying to pull out a book to go along with it.
I haven't interviewed any of my neighbors, but I'm sure they have some opinions about our family's scientific habits. For instance, on any given evening, the front door of my house may burst open as three or four of us rush out to the street to see the sunset. When it rains, we're usually out stomping in the puddles and watching the water go into the storm drain. And when there's an eclipse... well, if it hadn't been so cold tonight, we'd have been out there with digital cameras and telescopes and lawn chairs. In fact, one of us WAS out there.- the other child who doesn't feel the cold. She spent a blissful 20 minutes watching the eclipse, feeling the wind blow and listening to the silence... ON THE ROOF.
Then again, once the excitement had passed and the other kids were happily occupied elsewhere, I spent a blissful five minutes watching the eclipse through my bedroom window while playing Mannheim Steamroller, Beethoven and Debussy on my keyboard. Kinda hard to play and look at the moon the whole time, so it wasn't my best performance, but it sure was relaxing.
I do take comfort in the fact that we're not the only weird homeschoolers to make an event out of the moon. Besides my friend who told me about the eclipse and undoubtedly had a lovely family time watching it from her front yard down the street, I have it on good authority that my homeschooling friend in Idaho spent a blissful few minutes out in the cold with her neighbors, eating dark chocolate and watching the eclipse.
Solitude, classical music, dark chocolate and lunar eclipses... life don't get much better than that.
So we rushed out front at the appropriate time to look at it, only to find that the trees down the block obscured our view. So we rushed back inside, through the house and out the back door, hoping for a better view from the backyard. I dissolved into a coughing fit halfway through all this rushing and decided that I was just going to have to wait for the next lunar eclipse, what with my Beastly Cold and all. Between coughs I tried to convince my 7yo that she really did need shoes on if she was going outside. She happily put them on and then donned not one but two sweaters and a beanie hat, but I wasn't making much headway with the 5yo, who just doesn't feel cold, ever.
It was at that point that my wise and thoughtful husband quietly pointed out that we could see the eclipse just fine from the master bedroom windows. Off came the shoes and we all jostled each other for the best view at the two windows. Talk about Family Fun Night. A buncha nerds, some may point out, getting all excited about a lunar eclipse, but then this may explain why my 7th and 8th graders score WAY above grade level for science, the one class in which I regularly fail to crack open a book. Science books bore me and experiments frustrate the heck out of me because they never work the way they are supposed to. I know that that's the point, and that we all learn from our failures... come to think of it, I just had an article published in Homeschool Enrichment Magazine about dealing with failure, which said that very thing. So I know all that. But that silly little perfectionist in me just won't let me get excited about a subject in which I'm 80% sure I'm going to fail miserably. So I have a hard time teaching it. And apparently that means nothing, in terms of my kids' school careers, because my husband loves all things scientific, so we LIVE our science lessons without me even realizing it. Perhaps that's a good thing. Perhaps if I was aware we were doing science, I would ruin it by trying to pull out a book to go along with it.
I haven't interviewed any of my neighbors, but I'm sure they have some opinions about our family's scientific habits. For instance, on any given evening, the front door of my house may burst open as three or four of us rush out to the street to see the sunset. When it rains, we're usually out stomping in the puddles and watching the water go into the storm drain. And when there's an eclipse... well, if it hadn't been so cold tonight, we'd have been out there with digital cameras and telescopes and lawn chairs. In fact, one of us WAS out there.- the other child who doesn't feel the cold. She spent a blissful 20 minutes watching the eclipse, feeling the wind blow and listening to the silence... ON THE ROOF.
Then again, once the excitement had passed and the other kids were happily occupied elsewhere, I spent a blissful five minutes watching the eclipse through my bedroom window while playing Mannheim Steamroller, Beethoven and Debussy on my keyboard. Kinda hard to play and look at the moon the whole time, so it wasn't my best performance, but it sure was relaxing.
I do take comfort in the fact that we're not the only weird homeschoolers to make an event out of the moon. Besides my friend who told me about the eclipse and undoubtedly had a lovely family time watching it from her front yard down the street, I have it on good authority that my homeschooling friend in Idaho spent a blissful few minutes out in the cold with her neighbors, eating dark chocolate and watching the eclipse.
Solitude, classical music, dark chocolate and lunar eclipses... life don't get much better than that.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Homeschooling Without A Voice
No, this isn't a political diatribe. It's just me whining about having a sore throat.
For instance, it's really hard to get your teenage daughter out of bed when you can't holler at her. Pulling the blankets off is a good second to that, but the exertion makes me dizzy.
So then I notice, after the room has stopped spinning, that there are CLOTHES on the floor. This would be the floor that we spent the entire weekend uncovering. Not that there was carpet there - we just removed the clothes, trash and toys and found the wood floor again. And here it is, Tuesday morning, and the stuff is beginning to creep back. So I wagged my index finger at her and pointed at it. And I glared. She didn't seem to be getting it and merely pulled the blanket back up, so I wagged BOTH index fingers at her and screwed up my mouth while glaring. She laughed and said I looked like the scary farmer's wife in Ladyhawke. So I pulled the blanket off her again, which made her yelp, but I'm not convinced even now that she actually has both feet on the floor yet. I think I'll grab the squirt bottle of water we use to discipline the dog and revisit her.
As for the other kids, who are up but have not found their books yet, I think I'll ring a bell at them. That'll teach 'em.
For instance, it's really hard to get your teenage daughter out of bed when you can't holler at her. Pulling the blankets off is a good second to that, but the exertion makes me dizzy.
So then I notice, after the room has stopped spinning, that there are CLOTHES on the floor. This would be the floor that we spent the entire weekend uncovering. Not that there was carpet there - we just removed the clothes, trash and toys and found the wood floor again. And here it is, Tuesday morning, and the stuff is beginning to creep back. So I wagged my index finger at her and pointed at it. And I glared. She didn't seem to be getting it and merely pulled the blanket back up, so I wagged BOTH index fingers at her and screwed up my mouth while glaring. She laughed and said I looked like the scary farmer's wife in Ladyhawke. So I pulled the blanket off her again, which made her yelp, but I'm not convinced even now that she actually has both feet on the floor yet. I think I'll grab the squirt bottle of water we use to discipline the dog and revisit her.
As for the other kids, who are up but have not found their books yet, I think I'll ring a bell at them. That'll teach 'em.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)