Why do you homeschool?

Kate at Under the Sky has asked the question, "Why do you homeschool?" It always takes me awhile to formulate my thoughts, but for now, I will say it here:


Seatwork

There is something about doing Explode-the-Code in the front yard tree that has a lot to do with why I want to home educate my six-year-old boy. Homeschooling seems like the more human option for us right now.

But, I'll think some more, Kate. It is always good to remember why.

Long overdue thanks, and a request

One of the unexpected joys of blogging has been hearing from people that read A Circle of Quiet. From the very beginning, I have had emails each week that cheer or motivate or invigorate my mind. What a gift! So, thank you for reading what I write. And, thank you for writing and letting me know what you think. It means the world to me.

And now, the first-ever Circle of Quiet survey. Every now and then, Mrs. Mmv asks her audience what they are reading; I would now like to do the same. I know you are an eclectic bunch, and I would like to have as many of you as possible represented in my list. What are you reading? Your husband? Your roommate? Your sister? Your children? I'd love a good list to post, and I will happily publish it in a week or so. You can reach me here.

An unabashed ploy for more emails? Perhaps, but also a desire to know more about you. Write soon, and look for a What They're Reading post soon.

Again, thanks for your correspondence. Don't stop -- I love it.

Fabulous Fourteen

My downstairs bathroom is a colorful place. Yellow walls, and a towel rack with five towels, each a different color, making sure you stay awake in there. It's a practical thing (each child has a different color so everyone knows which towel is theirs), but it serves another purpose for me, the mother of these towel owners. It reminds me that my children are really different from each other. Sure, that green and teal look pretty similar in a picture, but get up close and you can see a definitive teal and a definitive green. The same is true of my children. My two older boys are often thought to be twins, and many people cannot seem to tell them apart. As the woman who gave birth to them, as the teacher who has taught them phonics and sums, as their listening ear and their mentor and trainer, I could tell them apart in my sleep.

(Now, my children would want you to know that I still don't call them the right name, but that has nothing to do with knowing them and appreciating them as individuals. That's a problem of a different sort. Right?)

Well, my oldest son turned fourteen yesterday. I love it when birthdays come around; I get to see what is valued by each person. Is it a party? Presents? Quiet time with family? A special meal? For my oldest son, it was a real combination. We were able to have a party with friends last week-end, complete with car racing and apple cake. There was a particular present that was very important, too. It took two grandmother gifts, all the money that was being saved for a ski pass, and our little contribution, but he was able to purchase a digital camera. It came on Tuesday, the day before his birthday, and he has already been hard at work documenting sunsets, frogs in the backyard, and friend's faces. Each feature is being attempted, with special emphasis being put on whether or not he has a better camera than his mum. There is currently a disagreement about that, and it may need to remain that way. Yesterday, the actual big day, we had a lovely time as a family. We had a light school day, loads of special food, and ended the evening watching


Shenandoah. It seemed to be a perfect celebration for him, our renaissance man in the making.

This past year, many of my son's interests have changed to passions. As a Boy Scout, he has worked hard on advancement, hiked far and high, and camped with great enthusiasm. He LOVES the outdoor life, and being a Boy Scout has given him monthly adventures that are big highlights for the year. The most surprising thing learned about this boy from the campouts? He can talk with his friends ALL night, given the chance. He seemed like a man of few words; I was wrong!




He has also grown to love his piano music. Switching instructors, to someone who loves to teach improvisation and more creative expression, has really helped. Movie soundtracks (LOTR, Pirates of the Caribbean, Star Wars, and others) have been listened to with earphones, as he works on the keyboard or the piano to sound them out. He has a keen ear; another fun fact I didn't know until this year.





What seemed like a casual interest in borrowing my camera has obviously changed to a passion about photography. There are many advantages to digital cameras, but allowing a newbie photographer to click away without fear of paying for a bunch of blech pictures has to be one of the greatest. He is becoming well-acquainted with his camera (nicknamed Riley -- think National Treasure) and, thanks to the Birthday Book tradition, he now has some interesting reading to do as well.





Food wins honorable mention this year as well. Having been a bit of a picky eater earlier in his life, he is now growing and starving. Therefore, the perfect birthday included a lot of food. We had our usual Dutch baby breakfast, enjoyed by all, but the fourteen-year-old stomach was growling just an hour or two later. I think I need to get used to this; it is a daily occurrence. He likes to cook (especially Mexican feasts) so I can set him free to fill his stomach, as long as I won't be looking for beans or other tostada fixings later in the day. They'll probably be gone.





It was a conversation with this young man, back when he was eight or nine, that led us to a classical approach to homeschooling. I was reading The Well-Trained Mind , but I was hesitating about getting started with any implementation. I didn't realize that his discontent with school reflected that he needed MORE rigor, not less. His honesty was what I needed to understand. It was an important lesson, and our journey into classical education has been incredibly rewarding. I thank him for opening my eyes. He asks the right questions, is bugged by things that are good to be bugged by, and can see through falsehood in a New York second. He makes me a more honest person, and he expects nothing less for himself.

As this man-in-the-making looks me in the eye these days, stomach growling and camera ready for the perfect shot, I can begin to see the future in his eyes. The passions grow, the distinctives become clearer, and the meals get bigger. It promises to be another exciting year. Happiest of birthdays to you, son.


Our front yard, courtesy of my new staff photographer

Watching the storm

Monday musings

Early rain arrives

Most of the lights are out around me, and we are watching for flashes of lightening across the skies. This may be ho-hum for those in the Midwestern regions of the USA, but here? In September? This is very special, and we are loving it. My favorite part? The smell of that first rain -- oh, how does one even describe the pleasure? I don't think I can, but it sure does float my boat.

Mingled with the smell of the rain is the fragrance of fresh-baked bread. My youngest daughter had her first bread baking lesson today; she made excellent loaves and a handful of rolls that made her proud and filled our bellies. Yum.

A bountiful first baking lesson

On a more sober note, I took my mom in for a doctor's appointment this afternoon. She's anemic, and they can't figure out why. Somehow, I hadn't realized that the "why" could be a bad reason, but it could be...as in the Big C Bad Reason. There are other things, less frightening, that it could be as well, so I am working on silencing the worrying voice that is echoing in my head. If you are a praying person, could I ask you to pray for my mom? Her bone marrow biopsy is next Monday, and that should give more conclusive information. I don't want to panic; I just want to continue doing what we have faithfully done over the last two-and-a-half years. That is, enjoying this season of sharing our lives and our property, our pantries and our laundry facilities, our hearts and our minds. I cannot believe I have been given the gift of getting to know my mother so well after decades of being only friendly strangers.

I realized something as I drove away from the doctor's office this afternoon. By opening myself up to a close relationship with my mother, I am now extremely vulnerable. Just as when I became a mother, and I could not hear of bad things happening to children without it tearing at my soul, now that I have become a real daughter, I cannot hear of the death of someone's mother without involuntary tears trickling down my face. Today, I was reminded that there will come a day when my mother will die. I can only pray that what is inevitable for all of us will be held off for a little while longer for Mom. I am certain that we have more jokes and books to share, more memories to piece together, and certainly more shared life between Gram and my children. Just this week, she fitted a dress-up gown with a zipper, made orange pudding for an autumnal party, and provided me with tidbits of news from the outside world. She's a gem!


Gram's pudding

As we drove home, we listened to an instrumental version of Holy, Holy, Holy. Long a favorite hymn, the simple instrumental brought my heart comfort, and reminded me of the God I trust. I am in good hands. And, so is my dear mom.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty!
All Thy works shall praise Thy Name in earth and sky and sea;
Holy, holy, holy! Merciful and Mighty!
God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity!

Sleep-over week-end

I have four extra children here this week-end! We don't usually join the slumber party circuit, but with adopted-as-niece-and-nephew friends we make an exception. The unfortunate thing is that these four are here because their folks are house-hunting in Oregon. We wish they weren't moving, but we are trying to adjust to the idea.

We are making the most of our time together, and in that spirit I grabbed the young girls for a Borders and Jamba Juice excursion last night. I wanted them to choose a book that we could read together over the weekend, and I wondered how three opinionated young ladies would make a decision before Borders closed. I was surprised -- they all immediately agreed that they wanted to hear:


Little House by Boston Bay (Little House The Charlotte Years)

It helps that they are all in the prairie phase of reading! We began reading last night, right after I tucked them into their beds in the downstairs bedroom. It was a real treat to have the extra girls for our bedtime routine; I like hearing their questions, seeing what they think about as they try to go to sleep. I was happy to be trusted as the one to tuck them in, give them a kiss and hug, and wish them sweet dreams. I like being an auntie.

Today our plans include Boy Scout popcorn selling in front of the grocery store (ugh - I do not like fundraising), and the boys are going to have their own outing afterwards. It is my oldest son's birthday next week, and he and his brothers and friends are going to go drive little race cars around a track. It will be a few minutes of bliss for the boy who, at the age of three, woke me up in the middle of the night to ask how old he had to be to drive.

The girls have been outside in the play house, climbing in trees, and wearing the fanciest dresses they could find in the dress-up supplies. There is some imaginary world going on here, but I have not been given the inside scoop. They sure are cute, though. My young daughter has been planning an elaborate autumnal tea party, so that will be their supper. My job will be to read, read, read in our special book. An all-girl evening -- what a fun plan.

You'd think that adding four children to a family with five of their own would create something akin to chaos. But, somehow the noise level has decreased, and everyone is happily occupied with all sorts of things. The special, out-on-the-town events, plus the simple fun of dress-up, and a new ramp for bike jumping down in the garden (don't worry -- it is a fallow year for the garden!) From time-to-time people wander through, hungry or thirsty, but then they continue on to the next bit of fun. It makes for lots of quiet for a Mama, and I appreciate the quiet pause.

When I came home from the hospital with my fifth child, I knew in my heart that all of us were home, that our table was full; it was a nice feeling. But, having a growing extended family is an unexpected treat. I am happy to have friends that call me Auntie, and a house filled with the buzz of creative and happily occupied children.

Now, if we can just get them to sleep tonight.

Winnie-The-Pooh

Lessons from a Bear of Very Little Brain by Sam Torode (Boundless Webzine)

"Those afternoons spent listening to my professors and fellow students read A. A. Milne are among my fondest memories of college. In particular, I think of the many occasions when professors brought along their children to hear the stories. And I shall never forget our Society picnic, at which we read Chapter IV of The House at Pooh Corner, "In Which Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In," and then played Poohsticks ourselves. But far more than providing an amusing break from studies, the A. A. Milne Society actually furthered our education in profound ways that are only now becoming apparent.

Above all, the A. A. Milne Society taught us to take delight in literature, to read and listen for the sheer joy of it. Sadly, most English teachers possess a superhuman ability to make great literature seem dull (no small feat). Primarily, this is accomplished through various methods of critical analysis. By explaining the "meaning" of "texts," reducing beautiful writing to abstract rules of grammar, and deciphering poetic symbolism as if it were mathematical code, English teachers transform living works of art into so many corpses waiting to be dissected...

As James S. Taylor states in his study of the philosophy of education, Poetic Knowledge, 'there can be no real advancement in knowledge unless it first begin in leisure or wonder, where the controlling motive throughout remains to be delight and love.'"

About Boundless Webzine

Many thanks to my far-away-friend, Melissa-in-Jordan, for the article recommendation.

John Keats (1795–1821)

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

"The great beauty of Poetry is, that it makes every thing every place interesting"

John Keats to his brother George, 1819

Autumn

Apple Hill

Oh, what a relief to have it be autumn. The days are cooler, and I wake up early in the morning to a real chill in the air. The sweaters are calling from the top shelf of the closet, and the flannel sheets will need to be pulled out soon. Several times a day, we have been serenaded by flocks of geese flying to our pond. Their conversation is happily distracting.

To celebrate the approach of autumn, we took a trip to Apple Hill, a region of apple growers just east of here. It's got the usual carnival atmosphere at this time of year, but we looked past it to the bins of Fuji and Golden Delicious varieties, and (for some) the fritters and caramel apples that are available. Even my mother ordered a caramel apple. If asked if she would want one, I would have answered, "Oh, not Mom," but, I am beginning to realize that what I DON'T know about my mother could fill volumes! They are a favorite of hers.

Our musical choice for this morning is, naturally, George Winston's Autumn.



When I hear the opening notes of the first song, Colors/Dance, my mind immediately goes back to a little room at Stanford University. I attended a concert there with a good friend..it must have been in 1982 or 1983. George Winston was unknown to me and, based on the size of the crowd, I was in good company. As we were settling into our seats, a guy came out in jeans and a sort of wrinkled flannel shirt to fiddle with the piano. I noticed he had no shoes on. Thinking it was a piano mover or tuner, or some other sound tech, we kept talking. Suddenly, the opening notes to Colors/Dance began and I realized that this was no piano mover. It was love at first note! Twenty-something years later, this is still my choice of music to welcome the season of changing colors, falling acorns, new school subjects and flannel sheets.

The strawberry patch

"Honey, why is my table cloth tied up in the backyard?"

"Oh, Mama. We are fairies, and that is our strawberry patch."

It's a good thing I asked before pulling it down. I would hate to destroy the fairie world eco-system.

Happy Birthday, Bilbo and Frodo!

"It has been remarked by some that the Hobbits' only real passion is for food. A rather unfair observation, as we have also developed a keen interest in the brewing of ales, and the smoking of pipe-weed. But where our hearts truly lie is in peace and quiet, and good tilled earth. For all Hobbits share a love of things that grow. And yes, no doubt, to others our ways seem quaint. But today, of all days, it is brought home to me, it is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life."

Fellowship of the Ring, the movie

Soundtrack for a Wednesday afternoon

Grace, by Jim Brickman

Amazing Grace, Crown Him with Many Crowns, Ava Maria, Jesu Joy, and a very unique arrangement of Joyful, Joyful are part of the repertoire. Beautiful piano music that is peaceful and yet not a sleeper. Since Joyful, Joyful and Jesu were both in our wedding, I can't help but think the guy has great taste.

Music like this would go well with mood mist, written about previously here. On a day when most everything is going well, but I have a black cloud over my head, having music, mist, family, and the grace of God to sweeten up the day sure helps.

Special thanks to my mother, who happen to have this CD at her house and asked if we wanted to listen to it. You betcha, Mum.

Not all guests are welcome

Late night snacking

Mega-cooking

Real Men Better Eat Quiche

Okay, this post got lost once. We'll see if it wants to stay home this time. (Don't worry -- the lesson is learned. Long, laborious posts will be saved in Word.)

A handful of readers asked me to post some details about my August cooking extravaganza, so I will put together some of my reflections and suggestions. If you don't enjoy blog posts about cooking as an extreme sport, you'll need to move along today.

A quick clarification before I go on, though. I am not talking about doing "Once-A-Month-Cooking." The thought of doing this again in a month makes me nauseous! Plus, that is a month's worth of different meals. What I do is called "Mega-Cooking." I take my favorite entrees, make six or eight of each of them, and freeze them. Gooshing up six or eight meatloaves is just as fast as gooshing up one. It usually adds up to about seventy-two meals. Yep, seventy-two. Do I have an industrial freezer in the garage? Nope, just a small upright freezer. I save space by freezing them in freezer bags or wrapping them in heavy-duty foil. Even with seventy-two entrees, there is some room for bread, tortillas and the usual three-pound bag of coffee beans.

Another thought before we go any further: you will probably despise this method of cooking the first time you do it. We certainly did. The time, the mess, the sheer bulk of stuff to deal with made us declare ourselves insane and vow to never do it again. What changed our minds? Well, about five days later, my husband realized that we had really good meals each evening, and that meant a lot to him. He's not picky (at ALL) but he sure appreciates having a dependable dinner meal. It decreased my stress, and made him happy, so we were sold! But, remember, only do it if it lessens your stress. Nobody is going to be handing out Most Bizarre and Extreme Cooking Method medals at the end of it. If it doesn't work for you, just move along to what works best.

Okay, if you want to give it a try, where do you begin? Start by making a list of freezable entrees. I'm not an expert in what freezes well. You can start by using recipes that are in cookbooks specific to freezing, or by doing some research. Just a note: I haven't had a lot of luck with recipes in freezer-type cookbooks. They are often expensive, or they have ingredients I am not crazy about (canned soups, for example.) I simply took our favorite recipes and figured out which ones froze well (by trial and error, my lifetime educational method.) Also, be sure you like the recipe before you make a stack of it. I made this mistake once and sure regretted it. Each time I served it, I spent lots of time (literally) rinsing off the meat and trying to cover the taste of the sauce. Blech. Learn from me - try it once before you make seven.

Take your recipes, multiply the ingredients by the number you plan to make, and then begin your shopping list. The forms that I use come from the book Dinner's in the Freezer by Jill Bond. She's a mega-cooking zealot, so prepare yourself for a LOT of enthusiasm if you get the book, but there's plenty of practical help, too. To make your list, use a chart with the entrees listed across the top of the page, and the individual ingredients listed down the page. You go through each recipe, listing the amount of an ingredient under the recipe, then finish by adding up the total in the right hand column.

Once you have your shopping list, you reach your next potential hurdle. Money. You'll need a bunch of it, so plan ahead. We actually went with the credit option the first time that we did it, and we found that we saved enough money to pay ourselves back. One reason for savings is buying in bulk. I use Costco for most items, but you can figure out what the most affordable place is in your area. I also save by eliminating those, "Can't we please get pizza tonight -- I haven't even thought of dinner until now" days. More planning equals less spending. We still eat pizza sometimes, because you have to remember to take the meal out of the freezer in time for it to thaw and cook. I may be able to organize this cooking system, but there are still regular brain fades in my daily life.

Shopping day tends to be the most tiring one for me. I take at least one strong, helpful child with me, and we both work hard. Plus, as you are standing in line with said child, you can come up with humorous retorts to the comments people will make about your basket(s). "Yes, we have a restaurant. We have three seatings a day with a loyal clientele" etc. etc.

When you get home from shopping, the refrigerator needs to be as empty as possible. Have a few days of "Pick a Leftover, any Leftover" for dinner, and have someone toss out any science projects lurking in the back corners. Another helpful thing we have used is our camping coolers for bulky items like meat and cheese. We don't bother putting the canned goods away; we stack them on the counter or on the table.

If I can muster up the energy after shopping, I put together the meals that don't require cooking. I have two chicken recipes that simply require making a sauce, pouring it over the raw pieces, and freezing. Important: you cannot freeze meat and then refreeze it without cooking it. If you find meat on sale, be prepared to fix it up to freeze it right away. I also try and cook up chicken that will be used for any recipes I will make the next day, or to store in bags for use in burritos, tacos or salads. I also bag up cheese and sauce to go with calzones. Basically, anything that only requires dividing and storing will save time. Then, get a good night's sleep; you'll be working hard for the next two days.

Days two and three are the major cooking days. A few supplies we have purchased to make massive amounts of food are HUGE mixing bowls and HUGE frying pans. I have read somewhere the suggestion of using your cleaned out kitchen sink for mixing. Don't ask my why, but I think that sounds weird. But, if you don't have a HUGE bowl, it might work for you. I also set up two trash cans right next to my work area - one for trash and one for recycling. It keeps things as clean as possible. One other way to make the cooking days manageable is that I have each of my children make one entree. That only leaves seven for me to make (okay, ONLY seven sounds strange, but it IS less than twelve.) Having their help and company keeps me going. I, of course, like to play music that makes me want to dance. I resist the dancing and cook faster instead. I have heard the suggestion of taking time to rest and put up your feet from time-to-time during the day. That doesn't work for me; I just need to power on through my work and collapse when the day is over.

Storing the food can be helped by a few handy hints, too. I use freezer-quality storage bags, and heavy-duty foil. Go ahead and splurge on the extra-duty quality; it is not worth it to have the flavor compromised. Also, please remember to mark what you are storing. Sure, you know it is Mommy's Special Soup when you are pouring it in the bags, but in a few days it will look just like Daddy's Zesty Chile. Unless you want to serve Frozen Surprise for dinner, go ahead and mark it. You should also add the date, just in case something gets lost in the back of the freezer and you wonder which mega-cooking session it was that you made the hide-and-seek entree. Make sure that you cool your entrees before you put them in a free-standing freezer. This can be accomplished in your refrigerator, or in the freezer compartment of the frig. If you add a heap of hot food to the freezer it can cause an increase in temperature; you want to keep that freezer temperature as stable as possible. Also, it might go without saying, but make sure that your freezer is in good working order before you put hundreds of dollars worth of food in there. If my freezer fritzed right after I was done cooking, it would be a sad, sad (sad, sad, sad, sad) day. Better safe than sorry. I use my children as the transportation system out to the garage for storage, but I do check to make sure that they have closed the door firmly. We've come close to leaving it open too long, so I check it OFTEN.

I always feel the need to do a major cleaning of the kitchen after mega-cooking. Just like when you are canning jam or something else sticky, every surface of the kitchen seems to require a good scrub. Remember, it will be a mess when you are done, so don't be surprised.

So, you think you were nuts to try it, but it is done. Congratulations! Now, I would recommend going out to dinner with your husband, or just collapsing in a bubble bath with your favorite evening beverage. You have worked hard, your bounty is immense, and you can actually anticipate what you are having for dinner tomorrow night. The benefits of the insanity are on the horizon.

We eat frozen meals about three times a week, and that means our cooking spree lasts about six months! I cook a Mexican meal of some sort with my son one night a week, and we eat leftovers one night a week, and then my daughter and I are hoping to cook a new recipe every other Sunday evening. An occasional pizza or French toast dinner completes our repertoire.

Our list of entrees made in August 2005:

Quiche
Manicotti
Patty's Beans
Taco Soup
Bean Soup
Sloppy Joes
Teriyaki Chicken
Sweet and Sour Chicken
Chicken Pot Pie (filling only)
Meat Loaf
Sweet and Sour Meatballs
Calzones

In addition to entrees, we also freeze pie crust balls, dough for bread sticks or rolls, cookie dough, taco seasoned meat and chicken for Mexican meals, and cooked beans and rice. Anything that will make lunch, dinner and snack preparation easier is worth doing in bulk and freezing.

I have begun A Circle of Quiet Recipes as a place to post recipes that we use in our mega-cooking. I have only listed the quiche recipe so far; I will add more as time allows.

If anyone has a favorite meal that they freeze, I would be happy to post it on the recipe blog, with credit given. Just let me know.


Mob cap and latex gloves optional

Listening to Your Life

"Peace has come to mean the time when there aren't any wars or even when there aren't any major wars...But in Hebrew peace, shalom, means fullness, means having everything you need to be wholly and happily yourself.

One of the titles by which Jesus is known is Prince of Peace, and he used the word himself in what seem at first glance to be two radically contradictory utterances. On one occasion he said to the disciples, 'Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.' (Matthew 10:34). And later on, the last time they ate together, he said to them, 'Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you' (John 14:27).

The contradiction is resolved when you realize that for Jesus peace seems to have meant not the absence of struggle, but the presence of love."

Listening to Your Life by Frederick Buechner

Watching, reading, listening

One of the benefits of listing out what you have been reading and listening to, or watching and talking about, is that you see common ideas and themes begin to emerge. Over the years these ideas can solidify into some good ol' fashioned self-education. My thoughts have been rambling about the worlds of science and faith and how they have interacted throughout history. Another recurring theme is how to be a good critic (constructive criticism is almost painful for me to offer; I consider this a weakness that needs work.) Here are a few of the ways that we have been enjoying our minutes, hours, days and weeks:


Something the Lord Made
A fascinating movie about Dr. Alfred Blalock (played by Alan Rickman) and Vivian Thomas (played by Mos Def), the men who did the first open heart surgery. (FYI: be ready for some bad language, but I sure think the story is a valuable one.)


Life is Beautiful
We're still trying to catch up on years of never watching a movie. We watched this on my birthday and loved it. Plenty of tears, certainly, but what a fascinating story about World War II and how the seemingly insane imagination of one father can expose the real insanity of what happens in a concentration camp.


The Privileged Planet
The tricky thing about talking about Intelligent Design is that it makes all sorts of people irritated, angry, jumpy or concerned. Many creationists are uncomfortable with what they perceive to be a lack of concern for Biblical inerrancy; Darwinists just wish that the ID folks would come to their senses and accept that their work is not real science. Sorry everyone - I find the world of ID fascinating, and I look forward to what is learned in my lifetime about the design of our universe.

Autumn In New England
This is a favorite CD to play as the family is waking up. When we pull this out to play on our school mornings, I can almost feel the chill of the coming months. Soothing, peaceful, a gentle encouragement to get your sleepy head out of bed and enjoy a brand new day.


The Best of Al Jarreau
Once again, we resort to the music of our early days together when we need some fun. Al Jarreau's voice is a great instrument, and the boppin' music makes for great housecleaning tunes. Not a deep or significant (or even necessarily audible) lyric on the whole CD, but it still makes for some fun. It can't all be substantial around here.


Galileo's Daughter : A Historical Memoir of Science, Faith, and Love by Dava Sobel

Halfway done with this one, more thoughts on it soon. Remarkable to read the letters that talk about Galileo's studies, his struggles with church authorities, and his hunger to make sense of the universe.


Before We Get Started : A Practical Memoir of the Writer's Life by Bret Lott
I'm working on offering criticism...but all I can think about this book is that he is trying too hard. I'll have to think some more. A worthy read, but not because it is good. That makes no sense, but I'm working on it, okay?


The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby
Hornby is a good critic, and an unapologetic one. I could learn from him:

"A hilarious and true account of one man's struggle with the monthly tide of the books he's bought and the books he's been meaning to read."

"First, an apology. Last month, I may have inadvertently given the impression that No Name by Wilkie Collins was a lost Victorian classic (the misunderstanding may have arisen because of my loose use of the phrase, 'lost Victorian classic'), and that everyone should rush out and buy it. I had read over two hundred pages when I gave you my considered verdict; in fact, the last four hundred and eighteen pages nearly killed me, and I wish I were speaking figuratively. We fought, Wilkie Collins and I. We fought bitterly and with all our might, to a standstill, over a period of about three weeks, on trains and airplanes and by hotel swimming pools. Sometimes - usually late at night, in bed - he could put me out cold with a single paragraph; every time I got through twenty or thirty pages, it felt to me as though I'd socked him good, but it took a lot out of me, and I had to retire to my corner to wipe the blood and sweat off my reading glasses."

The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins

I'm at what my husband refers to as "the point of no return" in The Woman in White, and I am going to have to stay up and read to the end. I like how creepy the story is, but the tension is too great and the questions are too many to imagine sleeping without some resolution. There is something perfectly disturbing about the shady characters in this book!

Chasing the light

It happened again tonight. I was working away on the computer, facing the window that looks out over the front yard. The view is to the west, and I somehow knew I had to look up. Someone seemed to be calling to me, willing me to look up and see them from across the way. But, no, it was the setting sun, casting the long shadows and brilliant colors of an approaching autumn across the trees, shrubs, fences, and swing set.

In my search for summer contentment, amidst the season of heat that tempts me more with fatigue and discouragement than any other, I have found the light of the setting sun to be a worthy occupation. I have tried, again and again, to capture its magic with my camera, and I have never done it justice. The colors on the leaves seem to pale; the warmth, the almost audible call of the light, doesn't even begin to show in a picture. It is one of the things that you have to soak in and vow to remember, taking the time for it to be etched into your memory. Like a baby's giggle, or the face of your groom as you take his arm at the altar, there are moments that refuse to be pinned down on film. Each evening, as the sun sets and the trees are aglow, I have tried. It's times like these that I am grateful for a digital camera. Many frames have been attempted, but no film has been wasted.

I am glad that the light cannot be captured, and instead is left to dance on the leaves. It means that I must stop my work, go outside, listen to the sounds of evening settling in, and watch. Really watch. Long enough to see the subtle yellows and oranges and greens, to see the changes from minute to minute, and to stay to see the sun drop out of view. If life is particularly relaxed, I can wait long enough to see the first star appear in the sky; not to wish for something out of reach, but to see the magnificence of the sky's design, and to feel my smallness amidst such greatness.

My photographic skills cannot capture the light, and my memories may even fade one day, but for tonight I have the dance of colors and shadows to savor and remember. It's a gift, and I am grateful for the beauty.

Knitting Project #3

I've learned two new stitches, and I am halfway through a yellow and white washcloth. Yippee. Once again, deep gratitude goes to my Knitting Cyber-Professor, Miz Booshay .

Birthday reflections

Approaching the local video store counter tonight (an aside: does one still call them "video stores" if one is picking up DVDs? Maybe my sister-in-law can answer that?!!) anyway...approaching the counter, I hear the young woman at the register say, "I mean, like, he is FORTY-TWO and he still looks good!" As a woman picking up a movie to watch with her husband on her forty-sixth birthday, I could only hope that it wasn't all over before forty-two, let alone forty-six. Add this to the list of advantages for studying gerontology in college: being anywhere near forty is just the beginning, not old!!!

I confess -- I love presents, and this 46th birthday was overflowing with them. Many I am blessed to have each day: a really great husband, five interesting and unique children, a growing closeness with my mother (who lives next door), a night sky filled with stars, and a heart at peace with my God. But, special gifts of this day included having a latte with my mom, a lovely cake baked by my daughter, a banner made by my son, and hugs, kisses, and words of appreciation around the dessert table. Add to that the bright blue and pink flowers still working hard to bloom in the yard, the earlier darkness and the almost-a-chill on the evening air (signs of autumn -- oh, hooray!), a bunch of red roses, cards from friends, silly poems in the email inbox, singing children leaving messages on my phone... well, I have a pretty marvelous life.

I am thankful for friends. For family. For eyes to see the blessings all around me. I could focus on the weeds or the peeling paint, the cranky attitudes of this morning, or the smell of skunk wafting in my open window tonight, but the thankful list has won out once again.

My prayer for my 47th year:

Be Thou My Vision

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

The birthday girl with her latte pal, aka: Mum.

Field trip

The California State Capitol Building

Isn't this beautiful? Doesn't it just make you want to stare at it for a really (really) long time? Long enough for your neck to ache, but your eyes to want to continue feasting? The stairway around the corner caused a gasp of delight and awe to escape from my daughter's mouth. The view from the upstairs balcony? The elegant, colorful, historic Senate and Assembly chambers? All beautiful. But, alas, the tour made us go at a brisk clip so that we could "see it all."

I am grateful for the friends that planned the tour, but I would have much preferred to break away to linger over the beauty, to wonder at the bills that were being passed as fast as lightning in the Senate chamber, to imagine, as my daughter did, gliding down the dark wood staircase with a ball gown on. Life is short, but there is no need to hurry.

Lesson learned. Next time we go alone, and the watch stays at home.

A New Song

Sidebar alert: Yet another friend has joined blog-land. A New Song is fresh on the scene, but I anticipate plenty of intelligence, wit, down-to-earth "just do it" perspective, and (please!) stories about her family. Mindy is a cyberfriend that bridged into real life a few years ago. We've spent some great hours in parks, on the beach, and in various other spots in Cannon Beach, Oregon, solving all the home education problems of the world. With her interests and talents ranging from music and drama to reading and teaching, this promises to be a pleasurable destination for thoughtful folks.

My only warning? When she says she loves brie, believe her. (Just kidding, Mindy!)

Welcome aboard, beach pal.

Opening day breakfast

Company Breakfast Bake (from an unknown source)

1/2 lb. frozen hash browns
1 pound sausage, cooked and drained (I used a much smaller amount of ham, chopped into small pieces)
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
6 eggs
1 3/4 cup milk
3/4 tsp. dry mustard
1/2 tsp. salt (I used just a dash)
Dash of pepper (I used a big dash)

Cover the bottom of a 9-inch square pan with hash browns. Cover with sausage. Sprinkle with cheese. Stir together the remaining ingredients. Pour this over everything. Refrigerate overnight. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

(I doubled this and baked it in a 9 x 13 pan. I cooked it at 375 degrees (because of the coffee cake's temperature requirement) for 45 minutes.)

Quick Coffee Cake (from The Fannie Farmer Cookbook)

1 cup sugar
1 3/4 cups white flour (can use whole wheat)
2 t. baking powder
4 T. butter
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/2 cup milk
1 T sugar mixed with 1 1/2 t. cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter an 8-inch square cake pan. Mix the sugar, the flour and the baking powder in a large bowl. Work in the butter with your fingers or a pastry blender until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add the egg and milk and blend. Spoon into pan. Sprinkle the sugar-cinnamon mixture evenly over the top. Bake for 20 minutes.

(My daughter doubled this and put it in a 9 x 13 pan. We baked it for 45 minutes.)

Soundtrack for a Sunday Drive

On our way there:


All Right Here, by Sarah Groves

Thought-provoking lyrics and good ol' guitar and drums. Windows down, volume up, and just us two. Ahhhh.


On our way home (from the Irish winery):


Celtic Sunday: A Collection of Traditional Irish Hymns

Fully instrumental (harp, bodhran, fiddle, dulcimer, uillean pipes, penny whistles) playing favorites such as: Be Thou My Vision, Jesus Love of My Soul, All Things Bright and Beautiful, The King of Love My Shepherd Is...and more. So beautiful, and familiar enough songs that we could sing along with their instrumental accompaniment.

An afternoon away

If we can find a way to have an afternoon free for a getaway, a favorite place of ours is Fitzpatrick Winery and Lodge. A simple ploughman's lunch becomes a work of art, especially against the canvas of a spectacular view that goes for miles. We admired the rows of vines, the changing color of the grape leaves, the last cluster of morning glories that were splashing a bush with color, and the bit of breeze that made the temperature perfect. We had many things to talk about, but they suddenly seemed less important than just soaking in the view, enjoying each other's company, and pausing to be grateful.

The serious talk about our school plans and goals, and how we can support each other as the year unfolds, all happened later over espresso closer to home, but the rejuvination from a few hours of alone time was just as valuable for our preparation. Tomorrow is Day One of our new homeschool year. We'll have a ceremonious trip to the lake where we like to walk, complete with a picnic breakfast. We hope to enjoy a jog or walk around the lake, maybe even play some volleyball, and then have a good family talk about the year. Everyone seems excited, the egg/hashbrown casserole and coffee cake are all ready to bake early in the morning, and it has all the signs of a great beginning. The big bonus is that we are starting on a public school holiday, so my husband will be here. That is important because, even though he doesn't happen to be the one looking over everyone's shoulder or snuggled up on the couch each day, he is an integral part of what happens here, and we all like to have him here for as much as possible.

I have two things in the front of my notes as I start my school year (posted with deep thanks to the lovely woman at Seasonal Soundings.)

From T. H. White's The Once and Future King:

“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlyn... “is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, ...you may see the world around you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honor trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then—to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the thing for you.”

From St. Thomas Aquinas:

Creator of all things,
true source of Light and Wisdom,
lofty source of all Being,
graciously let a ray of Your Brilliance penetrate
into the darkness of my understanding
and take from me the double darkness
in which I have been born,
sin and ignorance.

Give me a sharp sense of understanding,
a retentive memory,
and the ability to grasp things correctly and fundamentally.
Grant me the talent of being exact in my explanations,
and the ability to express myself with thoroughness and charm.
Point out the beginning,
direct the progress,
help in the completion.
Through Christ our Lord.

AMEN!

Wish us well -- another year is underway.

As requested

by Donna at Quiet Life.

Something beautiful in my life -- the view from my living room, throughout the seasons:

Twelve years ago

This last Sunday, as guitars played and families sang, a beautiful nine-year-old girl crawled up into my lap and pulled my arms around her. We were camping in the majestic and scenic area around Lake Tahoe. The sunshine was beginning to filter through the evergreen trees, and the activities of the weekend had stopped long enough for us to have a family worship service. How did my dear girl know that what I needed more than anything else was for someone I loved to be close? She often just knows, and I was comforted by her cozying in during our singing and praying.

Sunday was August 28th. Twelve years earlier, my family was smaller (three very tiny children) but we were in the same neighborhood. Friends have a cabin just down the road from the campground, and we had spent the weekend together. We were away from television, radio and phone, and we spent the weekend relaxing and playing with our little children. August 28th was on Saturday in 1993, and we went down to the shore of Lake Tahoe to swim. There is an old building there, the Ehrmann Mansion, and as we all splashed in the water, my husband spoke of a time and a place far away where God Himself had mansions, and where He was preparing a place just for us to be with Him forever. It seemed incongruous that day -- young, healthy families, seemingly fixed to deep roots here in human time. Why speak of eternity?

When we arrived home, I will always remember our two older children tumbling out to play in the yard. John was with them, but our baby must have stayed napping in the car. I checked the answering machine and heard a message that changed my life forever. My mother had called, in the middle of Saturday night, to say that my sister had been in an accident. She said, in an unnaturally pitched voice, that my sister had been badly hurt, and that I should call the hospital to see if my mother was still there. "Still there? Why would she leave?" My heart was pounding, and my voice called to my husband in a way that had him running inside. There were many other messages on the machine, but message after message was someone hanging up. Finally, my mother's voice again, asking me to call her....at home. I called, and got the news that yes, my sister had died. It was a water skiing accident, the last run of the day, in the narrow passageways of a river delta.

She was my only sibling, in my not-so-close family. We were oil and water growing up, with every choice being opposites. Tuna vs. peanut butter and jelly. Clean vs. messy. Quiet vs. loud. Daring vs. cautious. But, as adults, we had one of those, "When I was five you...and when I was twelve you....and when you....it hurts" kind of conversations, and we became very close friends. When she went through a painful divorce, my friends and I packed her, moved her, and unpacked her. I babysat, I listened, and we grew as friends. Years later, she stood by my side as my matron-of-honor. She was in the waiting room down the hall when my first two children were born, but when I was expecting baby #3, I knew that I wanted her to be there. So, she was by my side to welcome my third born into the world, and she wrote to tell me it was one of the most important moments of her entire life. Three months later, she was gone. I didn't know she would die young. But, when we last said goodbye, she hugged me and said, "I love you." My family rarely hugged, and "I love you" was even rarer.

It has been twelve years, and the lessons of grief and healing have been taken to heart. But this year the anniversary has me feeling things I haven't felt for years. For the first time in those twelve years we have been invited to water ski. I can't, as much as I try to convince myself, but I am eager for my children to give it a try. I want them to feel the wind on their faces, and the spray of the wake as they fly through its mist. It is a great feeling.

On August 28th this year, after our worship service, we were splashing in the water below the Ehrmann Mansion once again. It was emotional to be there, on that of all days, but I could not help but think of Liz in her mansion quarters. If it is anything like here, there will be no peanut butter in her rooms. They will be perfectly spotless, and impeccably decorated. There will be plenty of surprises, and lots of laughter. Oh, how I miss my sister. As my parents have aged, and my father has died, I miss her support. But, far more than that, I miss having her to share memories with me. She remembered everything, and was happy to correct my slanted view. I miss her giggle, and I miss her generous spirit inspiring me. She never met my two youngest children, and yet I see more of my family's variety of spunk in my younger ones. Ah, yes, the family quirks will live on until we meet again in eternity.

When I returned home from camping on the 28th, we did the usual camping unloading, I took my required post-camping-bubble bath, and then I checked in on some of my blog friends before retiring. This post at Mental Multivitamin was perfectly timed. She says:

Simply put, it (her father's death) taught me that life is short. If I'm going to do something worthwhile with it, I need to it now -- not tomorrow or next week. Now. I need to find the joy or wonder or, at the very least, the lesson in each day's moments, not just for me but for my family.

Whether we have tasted it for ourselves or not, it is true. As we watch buildings fall at the hands of terrorists, or school shootings, or hurricane or tsunami aftermath coverage, the lesson is there. As we pass car accidents, or emergency rooms or funeral homes, we are given reminders that life on earth is passing by. I eagerly await eternity, and the chance to see the many people who have already died, but for now my job is to live with focus and determination, empowered by God's grace and, by that grace, to His glory. Eyes outward, attitude adjusted to reflect God's call on my life, and with a joy that says my life is a GIFT.

I have needed this time of reflection to remember where I have been, and to let the deep lessons sink in. Twelve years ago my life was changed, and I want to reflect the learning in the little choices I make everyday. I am not usually called upon to do big things in front of crowds that notice. I am in my small home, teaching my children, caring about my mother and adoring my husband. Small, private choices still require tender loving care! Today may be it - I refuse to let it go to waste.

Practical advice on the subject of grief support...

Recently there was a post on the Well-Trained Mind boards asking how to provide comfort or express sympathy to someone grieving the death of an adult child. I wrote this in response:

My only sibling died in a water skiing accident almost 12 years ago. People responded in many different ways, so here are my thoughts:

Some people sent cards, and some called. We certainly weren't in phone answering mode, but it still meant a lot to hear people's voices and to know that they cared.

Many took the time to come to the memorial service, and I know that for my parents, and for me, having people we knew there was a gift. For the record, many of them did not know my sister, but they were glad to get to know her, and to support us, through their presence at the service.

A couple of Liz's friends brought over meals that could be frozen. All of my mother's family came to town, so that was a huge blessing. It saved us money and time. Extra meals were frozen for when my mom would need them.

Friends at home gave us a large lilac bush in Liz's memory, and we came home from my mom's to a clean house, a frig full of easy to prepare food, and plenty of emotional support.

Donations to a trust fund for my nephew were appreciated (and often donations to organizations related to the illness or accident are possible.)

Since this family you know is from another faith, I will share this tidbit. I have a family member that is of another faith than ours, and she complained, within earshot of my mother and me, that the service was a bit too Christian for her taste. Remember, the service is for the person who died, not for us as an audience. These comments were not appreciated (to put it mildly!!!)

My sister's death easily took ten years off of each of my parent's lives. It was a terrible shock for them, and it remains a part of the fabric of their being (or did for my father until he passed away in 2001.) As you have an ongoing relationship with this doctor, it is good to remember that. He, most likely, will never be the same. For my parents that meant a lot of positive things, as well as the expected sadness and stress effects.

One of the hardest things to do is relate to someone that is grieving. I had three children that were three years of age and under when my sister died. I had friends that thought I didn't cry enough. Just the idea that there is a right amount of crying to do, or that people should feel comfortable crying in front of certain people, is silly. The only word I have come up with to describe grief is "convoluted". It makes no sense, and sadness comes and goes without warning. My mother just began crying at Christmas two years ago when my daughter got a pair of socks that reminded her of my crazy sister. It took ten years. That's a long time, but that is as fast as my mom could go. I grieve each year at this time, as the anniversary of Liz's death is Aug. 28th. To have someone, even a patient for an eye doctor, that can understand a little bit of that, is a GIFT. The friends that just walked the road with me were more precious than a pile of gold, I assure you.

These are only my reflections from my experience. Everyone is different, and every day can be different and unpredictable for a person in the depths of grief. I made it through my sister's birthday just fine, but had to pull over and sob as an unidentified ambulance drove by. I was as confused as my friends that were trying to help me. Easy answers don't work, because some life experiences just don't make sense. No, it is not a crisis of faith (necessarily), just a natural response to tragedy. Some people said incredibly insensitive things to me, but that's okay. Grief is confusing, for all involved. A lot of elbow room, an occasional card or casserole, and bucket loads of prayer are usually appreciated. Just do the best you can, and most of the time your care and concern will hit the spot.