"Mom, can we get out some flour and do stuff with it?"
"Okay, but I don't want you floffing it around."
"Floffing? What a great word!"
"Yeah, and it's a real shame people never use it, which is mostly because I just made it up."
"Maybe we could start using it a lot. Then people would use it."
I just googled "floffing" and came up with about 90 hits. Google seemed pretty sure I really meant to type "flogging". Indeed, some of the hits seemed like they were typos for flogging.
I also checked at askoxford.com , since I don't have a complete OED lying around (and shame on me, although on the other hand I'm pretty proud that I figured out the laying/lying business in that sentence and didn't have to change the whole thing around to avoid THAT mess). No floffing go on in Oxford, it seems. Or perhaps there is, but they just don't know it.
Around here it's a combination of flying, flopping and fluff. Now you can judge for yourself if you've been floffing today.
17 February 2006
Wallpaper
Years ago an acquaintance made a really snide comment about the area in which we now live. He said it was originally settled by the rejects and losers who were too stupid or lazy to continue the journey west.
It's always struck me as a harsh comment, yet I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I wonder if there is some inherited quirk around here that renders the locals incapable of dealing with wallpaper in a decent fashion.
I told Pat-the-neighbor that I was going to start stripping the wallpaper in the bedroom so we could paint.
"Oh, you never want to strip wallpaper! You're better off just painting right over it."
"It's vinyl. Textured viniyl. We can't paint over it."
I didn't get into the fact that painted over wallpaper gets tatty and ragged over time, and is nearly impossible to patch. I didn't mention that I'd heard stories of roaches eating all of the wallpaper paste away right from under the paper (a story that lives vividly in my imagination every time I see a wall of wallpaper). I didn't bring up that mold finds the cellulose structure of wallpaper adhesive a wonderful growth medium, and that putting oil-based paint over the wallpaper surface optimizes mold-growth conditions. No. I just left her muttering about how awful and fearsome it is to strip wallpaper.
So. I started stripping the textured vinyl wallpaper in the bedroom. The upper vinyl layer peeled off easily. Next, I soaked the under layer in hot water (Dave-the-wallpaper-guy in Ohio says to use the easiest methods first, and not resort to chemicals until you have to). The underlayer came off in sheets. Life was wonderful. I wanted to call Dave-the-wallpaper-guy to revel in my success. Dave-the-wallpaper-guy came to our rescue when we were in wallpaper-removal hell in our old house, stripping miles and miles of poorly installed paper; I knew he would appreciate a good removal job.
As I rounded the corner of the room, I noticed a weird flowery pattern appearing on the wall as I wet it. Huh? I stripped the old paper, and revealed ... another layer of wallpaper underneath. An earlier layer of wallpaper which had been painted over and then papered over.
I am stunned. I am disgusted with all of the previous owners of this house. I am disgusted with this community, which apparently consists of people too lazy and stupid to strip the old paper, let alone continue the journey west as our old acquaintance suggested.
And yet, I now am determined to triumph over this damned paper. I may not rest until every single scrap of paper in the entire house is taken down.
It's always struck me as a harsh comment, yet I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I wonder if there is some inherited quirk around here that renders the locals incapable of dealing with wallpaper in a decent fashion.
I told Pat-the-neighbor that I was going to start stripping the wallpaper in the bedroom so we could paint.
"Oh, you never want to strip wallpaper! You're better off just painting right over it."
"It's vinyl. Textured viniyl. We can't paint over it."
I didn't get into the fact that painted over wallpaper gets tatty and ragged over time, and is nearly impossible to patch. I didn't mention that I'd heard stories of roaches eating all of the wallpaper paste away right from under the paper (a story that lives vividly in my imagination every time I see a wall of wallpaper). I didn't bring up that mold finds the cellulose structure of wallpaper adhesive a wonderful growth medium, and that putting oil-based paint over the wallpaper surface optimizes mold-growth conditions. No. I just left her muttering about how awful and fearsome it is to strip wallpaper.
So. I started stripping the textured vinyl wallpaper in the bedroom. The upper vinyl layer peeled off easily. Next, I soaked the under layer in hot water (Dave-the-wallpaper-guy in Ohio says to use the easiest methods first, and not resort to chemicals until you have to). The underlayer came off in sheets. Life was wonderful. I wanted to call Dave-the-wallpaper-guy to revel in my success. Dave-the-wallpaper-guy came to our rescue when we were in wallpaper-removal hell in our old house, stripping miles and miles of poorly installed paper; I knew he would appreciate a good removal job.
As I rounded the corner of the room, I noticed a weird flowery pattern appearing on the wall as I wet it. Huh? I stripped the old paper, and revealed ... another layer of wallpaper underneath. An earlier layer of wallpaper which had been painted over and then papered over.
I am stunned. I am disgusted with all of the previous owners of this house. I am disgusted with this community, which apparently consists of people too lazy and stupid to strip the old paper, let alone continue the journey west as our old acquaintance suggested.
And yet, I now am determined to triumph over this damned paper. I may not rest until every single scrap of paper in the entire house is taken down.
16 February 2006
Fast and Slow
I'm still reading Adler's How to Read a Book . I've been pondering his statement that: "With regard to rates of reading, then, the ideal is not merely to be able to read faster, but to be able to read at different speeds -- and to know when the different speeds are appropriate."
Ah. Isn't that one of life's great questions? When ARE different speeds appropriate, be it knitting, reading, walking, talking, singing....
I remember grade school arithmetic. I remember that the teacher would write an example of some new concept on the board, such as multiplying fractions. I would instantly grasp the concept, and scurry through my work. Then I'd sit and wait for the rest of the class to catch up. I don't think going more slowly would've been a great help. I was going at the appropriate pace for my learning ability. But the one-size-fits-all classroom didn't accomodate that. That's one of the reasons we homeschool -- so we can choose our speed. I'll admit that I sometimes choose the wrong speed. I'll think the kids have quickly learned a concept, and later discover that they really don't get it. Other times they speed ahead of me, leaving me with a cool explanatory lesson plan and no one needing an explanation. But overall, it's so wonderful to set our own speed.
And knitting? Some knitting really isn't worth lingering over, let's be honest. Last summer I wanted to stage my living room when our house was on the market; I wanted a new white throw for the couch. I whipped one up in a weekend. Definitely not worth knitting slowly. Now KidV2 wants a poncho. A pink and sparkly poncho. A pink and sparkly poncho she can wear while out playing and climbing trees. Definitely not a garment in which I shall invest my heart, soul, and oodles of time (I'm sure it will feel like it's taking forever, though, because hot pink, sparkly, washable, cheap yarn pretty much says "icky to knit with" to me, the sort of thing the feels like knitting purgatory). However, I've knit many things that have been satisfyingly slow -- inches of lace slowly emerging from my needles as though by magic. It really boils down to who is my intended audience. Is it someone who will appreciate the time the item took?
I'm not ending with a big over-arching statement to roll all of this post together. No profound summary. That would entail writing slowly. I'm slapping this out as fast as my fingers will type. I'm not sure that's what blogging should be about, this willy-nilly tumble of half-thought thoughts. I know that I tend to read other blogs quickly. Perhaps it would be more satisfying to linger over both the reading and the writing. I'll be thinking about that for the next few days. As quickly as I write and talk and do arithmetic, I tend to think very slowly.
Ah. Isn't that one of life's great questions? When ARE different speeds appropriate, be it knitting, reading, walking, talking, singing....
I remember grade school arithmetic. I remember that the teacher would write an example of some new concept on the board, such as multiplying fractions. I would instantly grasp the concept, and scurry through my work. Then I'd sit and wait for the rest of the class to catch up. I don't think going more slowly would've been a great help. I was going at the appropriate pace for my learning ability. But the one-size-fits-all classroom didn't accomodate that. That's one of the reasons we homeschool -- so we can choose our speed. I'll admit that I sometimes choose the wrong speed. I'll think the kids have quickly learned a concept, and later discover that they really don't get it. Other times they speed ahead of me, leaving me with a cool explanatory lesson plan and no one needing an explanation. But overall, it's so wonderful to set our own speed.
And knitting? Some knitting really isn't worth lingering over, let's be honest. Last summer I wanted to stage my living room when our house was on the market; I wanted a new white throw for the couch. I whipped one up in a weekend. Definitely not worth knitting slowly. Now KidV2 wants a poncho. A pink and sparkly poncho. A pink and sparkly poncho she can wear while out playing and climbing trees. Definitely not a garment in which I shall invest my heart, soul, and oodles of time (I'm sure it will feel like it's taking forever, though, because hot pink, sparkly, washable, cheap yarn pretty much says "icky to knit with" to me, the sort of thing the feels like knitting purgatory). However, I've knit many things that have been satisfyingly slow -- inches of lace slowly emerging from my needles as though by magic. It really boils down to who is my intended audience. Is it someone who will appreciate the time the item took?
I'm not ending with a big over-arching statement to roll all of this post together. No profound summary. That would entail writing slowly. I'm slapping this out as fast as my fingers will type. I'm not sure that's what blogging should be about, this willy-nilly tumble of half-thought thoughts. I know that I tend to read other blogs quickly. Perhaps it would be more satisfying to linger over both the reading and the writing. I'll be thinking about that for the next few days. As quickly as I write and talk and do arithmetic, I tend to think very slowly.
15 February 2006
Why you are glad we didn't move to YOUR town
Because we would put embarassing signs in your yard.
And then we'd post pictures of them on the Internet so the entire world would see them.
Tuesday Teatime
We took a trip to Whole Foods in the morning to get some flaxseed oil and cod liver oil (we're all about essential fatty acids here), so we got some treats while shopping.
First off, Country Choice Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies (organic, wheat free, no hydrogenated oils). Next, we found some red licorice hearts in the bulk food aisle; KidV1 kept asking why they had a big ol' NATURAL label when the first ingredient was corn syrup ("corn syrup is natural"; "yeah, well, it doesn't occur in nature"; we'll talk about an-natural ingredients later, I guess).
Then we hit the dairy aisle and discussed getting some chocolate milk. Let me tell you, we've had some health-food store chocolate milk that really tasted ... like it came from a health food store, you know what I mean? After great deliberation we decided to try Trader's Point Creamery . Oh. My. You've gotta try this stuff. Really. Go to the website here and see if they sell it in your area. It's like the best chocolate ice cream ever, but in liquid form.
Anyway, we made it home with our purchases, dealt with the plumbers' visit (this is the 3rd Tuesday in a row we've had trades people coming over to work on something; they're starting to feel like family and I should invite them to teatime), finally ate lunch around 1:30 and the FINALLY had our Valentine's Tea.
Which was pretty anti-climatic at this point. We used a heart-shaped beeswax candle I had made during our great Candlemas candle-dipping adventure (I had use a cookie cutter as a mold). I read The Owl and the Pussycat , then some other random poems. We drank our chocolate milk (KidV2 didn't like it), ate our cookies (KidV2 didn't like them), and the kids ate all the licorice hearts. They then went outside to rollerblade in the driveway while I kept pouring myself cups of chocolate milk. Mmmmmm.
First off, Country Choice Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies (organic, wheat free, no hydrogenated oils). Next, we found some red licorice hearts in the bulk food aisle; KidV1 kept asking why they had a big ol' NATURAL label when the first ingredient was corn syrup ("corn syrup is natural"; "yeah, well, it doesn't occur in nature"; we'll talk about an-natural ingredients later, I guess).
Then we hit the dairy aisle and discussed getting some chocolate milk. Let me tell you, we've had some health-food store chocolate milk that really tasted ... like it came from a health food store, you know what I mean? After great deliberation we decided to try Trader's Point Creamery . Oh. My. You've gotta try this stuff. Really. Go to the website here and see if they sell it in your area. It's like the best chocolate ice cream ever, but in liquid form.
Anyway, we made it home with our purchases, dealt with the plumbers' visit (this is the 3rd Tuesday in a row we've had trades people coming over to work on something; they're starting to feel like family and I should invite them to teatime), finally ate lunch around 1:30 and the FINALLY had our Valentine's Tea.
Which was pretty anti-climatic at this point. We used a heart-shaped beeswax candle I had made during our great Candlemas candle-dipping adventure (I had use a cookie cutter as a mold). I read The Owl and the Pussycat , then some other random poems. We drank our chocolate milk (KidV2 didn't like it), ate our cookies (KidV2 didn't like them), and the kids ate all the licorice hearts. They then went outside to rollerblade in the driveway while I kept pouring myself cups of chocolate milk. Mmmmmm.
14 February 2006
Forecast
We predict plenty of homemade Valentine's today.
Showers of glitter, becoming heavy at times. Accumulation may reach all the way up the stairs.
Later, expect plenty of melting chocolate, forming truffles and chocolate-covered pecans.
In view of this forecast, school has been cancelled.
(An aside: My new criteria for a vacuum cleaner is "removes glitter from carpet". This is not something Consumer Reports includes in their ratings. Shame on them.)
Showers of glitter, becoming heavy at times. Accumulation may reach all the way up the stairs.
Later, expect plenty of melting chocolate, forming truffles and chocolate-covered pecans.
In view of this forecast, school has been cancelled.
(An aside: My new criteria for a vacuum cleaner is "removes glitter from carpet". This is not something Consumer Reports includes in their ratings. Shame on them.)
13 February 2006
Anyone else see a trend?
You are plastic.
Futuristic, milky, and silky, you are willing to go
where no crafter has gone before. You can do
just about anything, with strength agility,
and pretty colors to boot! While you are
good at slipping and sliding out of sticky
situations, remember to stay where and when
you are needed. Don't overdo it on star
gazing when there's earthbound knitting to be
done!
What kind of knitting needles are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Well, there are 2 trends here. The first is that whenever Olive Oyl does one of these little quizzes I just gotta try it too. The other is that I seem to consistently end up as something fairly unpopular. Only 6% of the people taking this quiz came up as plastic.
Monday Memories
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My freshman year I was assigned to a suite in the dorm. Several girls who knew each other had signed up together to live in the suite; I was thrown in randomly. The most striking member of the group was Leigh Ann. She was a Navy brat, which something I had never even heard of before that moment. She was part Hungarian. She had lived in Taiwan (I had travelled overseas, knew people all over the world, but the idea of a US kid living in Taiwan stuck me as incredibly exotic). She was witty and articulate. We had virtually nothing in common. Yet, within weeks we were finishing each others' sentences. We ended up rooming together for 4 years. The others went their separate ways, but we stuck together through thick and thin. One of my fondest memories is from junior year. I had a long, tedious landscaping design project due. It involved hours of drafting, drawing, lettering. Mind-numbing work. Leigh Ann was in a lit class, and had been assigned House of Mirth . She read most of the book aloud to me while I drew. Amazing. At the time I had only an inkling of the fortitude it took to read long, long passages aloud, sitting for hours, reading, reading, reading while the listener seems to be going about their business. Now that I am a mother of 2 voracious listeners I realize how much work it is (and I thank God for audio books from the library). Eventually Leigh Ann announced, "Listen, I've got to finish reading this for class. You'll have to read the rest yourself." But it was impossible to read it to myself; I needed her voice to bring the characters to life. To this day I can remember precisely how she pronounced "Lily". I've never finished reading the book. Dear Leigh Ann, your birthday was just a few days ago, and I still haven't gotten around to sending a card. But I've been thinking about you and wishing you many happy returns of the day. Links to other Monday Memories (If you participate, leave your link in the comments and I'll post it below) |
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12 February 2006
He just said those words I've been longing to hear...
"V'you got anything you wanna get from Amazon so we can get the free shipping price?"
Be still my heart. I must go sort through 117 items on my wishlist for a book to add to Schelling's Strategy of Conflict already in our shopping cart.
Be still my heart. I must go sort through 117 items on my wishlist for a book to add to Schelling's Strategy of Conflict already in our shopping cart.
10 February 2006
Form Follows Function
Really, this seems to me to be an excellent example of form follows function. We need a way to watch the cat across the street. We open the blinds, we place a chair before the window, et voila!
The blankets are useable on the bed at night, or on the chair during the day.
The concept of form follows function was pounded into our heads in landscaping classes. It appealed to my Bauhaus tendencies. Reading interior decorating books lately, I've discovered that it is apparently considered optional by many popular contemporary decorators. This explains why I just don't "get" a lot of contemporary interior decor.
It also seems to be optional in current knitwear design.
So far today we have whipped through singing, Latin, French, spelling, grammar (nominative and objective case pronouns, during which we had to resort to the ol' "well, since you can't figure it out in English, how would you figure it out in Latin?"). KidV1 has been reading aloud to KidV2 (Amber Brown books) and has lured her into a game of Scrabble Jr. I have lifted weights. Later we will go to homeschool swim and drop by the library. It's one of the Golden Days of Homeschooling, the kind I think all the cool moms have on a regular basis, and it's happening in my house right now !
Dreams
Last night I dreamt that I was 12 hours from attaining a BS. In the dream I was going to go back to school part time for 2 semesters to finish up my degree. I was going to take an architectural drafting course each semester, and I really, really, really wanted to take Latin. The text was going to be Henle, and I was eager to go purchase it so I could begin memorizing declensions before the semester began.
Almost a nightmare, eh?
For the record, I already have a BS. I took courses in landscape architecture, and sometimes fantasize about doing more of that type of drafting and design. But I never, never, never wanted to take Latin.
Almost a nightmare, eh?
For the record, I already have a BS. I took courses in landscape architecture, and sometimes fantasize about doing more of that type of drafting and design. But I never, never, never wanted to take Latin.
09 February 2006
Gratuitous knitting content in honor of the Knitting Olympics
I'm not participating, but this is what I'll be knitting during the time frame.
I decided not to participate for several reasons.
First, I've been knitting longer than some of the knitters involved have been breathing. Yep, I was knitting back when you were a twinkle in your parents' eyes. "Is that because you started knitting at an early age, or are you just plain OLD?" Yes to both. One does not become a Knitting Goddess overnight, you know. So, the point is, I've already knit to insane deadlines. I've already knit all manner of things: lace, cables, intarsia, felted (on purpose and by accident). I've designed. I've probably forgotten more of my knitting projects than I remember at this point. The K.O. just seemed like more of the same.
Next, it would be incredibly self-indulgent. I'd looooove to hide away with my knitting while the kids unschool themselves for a while. Heck, we could even try un-parenting! And meals? Well, there's a Panera's just a couple of miles away, and there are sidewalks and only one really busy intersection -- if they start early they could make it there by lunchtime. See how I'm falling down this rabbit hole of temptation?
Finally, if everyone's knitting like crazy, who is going to have time to cheer on the teams? My favorite group is Team Wales "The Jamaican Bobsledders of the Knitting World". But my favorite button is Sara's in Classical Greek (alas, I haven't figured out how to get it on here; it is soooo cool).
Unrelated note: I'm not sure what that is sprouting next to the sock. I think it looks like a hyacinth, don't you? That's the thrill of moving in the fall -- you have no idea what will sprout up in the spring. That red mulch has got to go, though.
Pausing for a moment to sort out this stack of books
Please bear with me as I try to figure out what's where.
Current active reading:
Tom Brown's Field Guide: City and Suburban Survival next to the bed.
Food as Medicine by Dharma Singh Khalsa in kitchen on counter; I stand eating brownies while I read it.
Stuff I was actively reading, but it's starting to get buried in other books and knitting:
How to Read a Book by Adler; shouldn't I finish this before reading some of the others? Nah, most of the stuff I'm reading is relatively fluffy. I'll need to finish this before tackling something weightier, though.
The Way of the Scout by Tom Brown. Checked out the library to occupy myself until the field guide came from Amazon. I may return this and try it again later.
Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew by Ehrman. Mostly read on Sundays when I need to recover from various comments and situations at church.
Creativity in Education by Rene Querido. I'm reading this for an online book discussion which covers one chapter per week. The book discussion is held by Donna Simmons on her yahoo group.
Then there are piles of books I was reading back before we moved. Books I never finished, squirreled away here and there, sort of like the unfinished objects a knitter has tucked into various nooks and crannies. Books I purchased meaning to read, but haven't had time to start. And books I'm actively using (like The Writer's Jungle or Long Lean and Strong or the pile of kundalini yoga books).
I need to find a nice neat way to keep track of all of this. Really.
Current active reading:
Tom Brown's Field Guide: City and Suburban Survival next to the bed.
Food as Medicine by Dharma Singh Khalsa in kitchen on counter; I stand eating brownies while I read it.
Stuff I was actively reading, but it's starting to get buried in other books and knitting:
How to Read a Book by Adler; shouldn't I finish this before reading some of the others? Nah, most of the stuff I'm reading is relatively fluffy. I'll need to finish this before tackling something weightier, though.
The Way of the Scout by Tom Brown. Checked out the library to occupy myself until the field guide came from Amazon. I may return this and try it again later.
Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew by Ehrman. Mostly read on Sundays when I need to recover from various comments and situations at church.
Creativity in Education by Rene Querido. I'm reading this for an online book discussion which covers one chapter per week. The book discussion is held by Donna Simmons on her yahoo group.
Then there are piles of books I was reading back before we moved. Books I never finished, squirreled away here and there, sort of like the unfinished objects a knitter has tucked into various nooks and crannies. Books I purchased meaning to read, but haven't had time to start. And books I'm actively using (like The Writer's Jungle or Long Lean and Strong or the pile of kundalini yoga books).
I need to find a nice neat way to keep track of all of this. Really.
08 February 2006
Tuesday Teatime
Menu: We had freshly made brownies to eat. Beverages were a choice of Celestial Seasoning Raspberry Zinger or milk (current household selections are rice milk, cow's milk, coconut milk) served in a china teacup.
Our poetry book of choice was Fairyland in Art and Poetry by the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
I read the first few poems, and then KidV1 announced that that was enough -- too much poetry at once was hard to digest. Also, I think the brownies were sending us all into glycemic chock. Plus they wanted to get back to listening to the Matilda book-on-CD they had just checked out of the library.
The Fairyland book does contain our current memory verse, and we all recited it together:
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I.
In a cowslip's bell I lie.
There I couch, when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily....
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."
KidV2 had been practicing the poem earlier in the day. It's a tough one for her, containing odd word patterns (also containing correct use of the word "lie" so she will have that blazed into her memory; whereas my own childhood was corrupted by Bob Dylan singing "Lay Lady Lay", which plummeted me into a lifetime of incorrect use of lay and lie). She had to summon up enormous energy to remember each phrase...such energy that the words BURST out of her, and she was reciting at FULL VOLUME.
Our poetry book of choice was Fairyland in Art and Poetry by the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
I read the first few poems, and then KidV1 announced that that was enough -- too much poetry at once was hard to digest. Also, I think the brownies were sending us all into glycemic chock. Plus they wanted to get back to listening to the Matilda book-on-CD they had just checked out of the library.
The Fairyland book does contain our current memory verse, and we all recited it together:
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I.
In a cowslip's bell I lie.
There I couch, when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily....
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."
KidV2 had been practicing the poem earlier in the day. It's a tough one for her, containing odd word patterns (also containing correct use of the word "lie" so she will have that blazed into her memory; whereas my own childhood was corrupted by Bob Dylan singing "Lay Lady Lay", which plummeted me into a lifetime of incorrect use of lay and lie). She had to summon up enormous energy to remember each phrase...such energy that the words BURST out of her, and she was reciting at FULL VOLUME.
07 February 2006
Today is not going as expected...
Plumbers came first thing in the morning. I thought they'd probably ring the bell just as we were doing something interesting, so we did nothing in particular.
They were here to fix 3 faucets. All 3 had problems with the cartridge (I now know about cartridges and Moen faucets and all sorts of cool plumbing stuff). The home warranty company was willing to have the plumbers fix 2 of the 3. I spent much of the morning on the phone with the company discussing the general silliness of this stance, given that all 3 have the same problem.
So, the morning passed with very little homeschool occurring. It seemed the only way to redeem the day was to go to the library (this is my fix for most ills in life). When we arrived a couple was loading their Newfoundland dog into their car. They graciously got the dog back out so we could see it -- the man explained the differences between their dog and Seaman of Lewis and Clark fame. Amazing.
We then dropped off about 40 library books, and picked out about 20 more. We stopped at Trader Joe's on the way home to pick up something fun for Tuesday Teatime, but a fight errupted in the back seat regarding who was knocking over whose books. We don't need more cup holders in our vehicle, we need book holders. Then the box of modelling beeswax fell all over the floor (why do we have an open box of modelling beeswax in here? Didn't I ask that we NOT bring it, since I didn't want to clean it up when it dumped all over?).
Trader Joe's was suddenly crossed off our list of things-to-do, we got back in the car amid tears, came home, cleaned up the wax, brought in all the books (at that point I was wearing a pair of sunglasses off of a Barbie which barely fit over my nostrils), popped in CD 1 of the Matilda book-on-CD, I mixed up some brownies from scratch.
Things we haven't done: any of the songs we usually sing, grammar, French, spelling, fairy tale time, form drawing, weather tree, science. I also haven't lifted weights, cleaned the bathrooms, or done any of the vacuuming. If we get to Tuesday Teatime I will report on it later.
I'm surprisingly calm about this. It must be a function of homeschooling for several years. I have finally, after 5 years, gotten over the idea that I can micromanage our days. All I can do is set a general direction.
They were here to fix 3 faucets. All 3 had problems with the cartridge (I now know about cartridges and Moen faucets and all sorts of cool plumbing stuff). The home warranty company was willing to have the plumbers fix 2 of the 3. I spent much of the morning on the phone with the company discussing the general silliness of this stance, given that all 3 have the same problem.
So, the morning passed with very little homeschool occurring. It seemed the only way to redeem the day was to go to the library (this is my fix for most ills in life). When we arrived a couple was loading their Newfoundland dog into their car. They graciously got the dog back out so we could see it -- the man explained the differences between their dog and Seaman of Lewis and Clark fame. Amazing.
We then dropped off about 40 library books, and picked out about 20 more. We stopped at Trader Joe's on the way home to pick up something fun for Tuesday Teatime, but a fight errupted in the back seat regarding who was knocking over whose books. We don't need more cup holders in our vehicle, we need book holders. Then the box of modelling beeswax fell all over the floor (why do we have an open box of modelling beeswax in here? Didn't I ask that we NOT bring it, since I didn't want to clean it up when it dumped all over?).
Trader Joe's was suddenly crossed off our list of things-to-do, we got back in the car amid tears, came home, cleaned up the wax, brought in all the books (at that point I was wearing a pair of sunglasses off of a Barbie which barely fit over my nostrils), popped in CD 1 of the Matilda book-on-CD, I mixed up some brownies from scratch.
Things we haven't done: any of the songs we usually sing, grammar, French, spelling, fairy tale time, form drawing, weather tree, science. I also haven't lifted weights, cleaned the bathrooms, or done any of the vacuuming. If we get to Tuesday Teatime I will report on it later.
I'm surprisingly calm about this. It must be a function of homeschooling for several years. I have finally, after 5 years, gotten over the idea that I can micromanage our days. All I can do is set a general direction.
06 February 2006
Monday Memories
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…. Back when VKid1 was 4 and VKid2 was just a few months old we attended church at 8AM on Sundays, followed by Sunday School. I was usually in a haze of sleep-deprivation, having been up much of the night with the baby. Because of this, I really don't recall much of what happened in that church. I do recall, though, one Sunday morning when we were trying to corrall the kids into coats. The high school youth had apparently had something going on that involved helium balloons, because one of the guys -- Ben Roethlisberger -- was standing there in the entrance with a balloon in his hand. He saw VKid1 standing there, and said, "Would you like this balloon?" She was delighted, of course. I was delighted, too, because I think anyone who does something nice for my kids is a wonderful human being. Other than that, Ben Roethlisberger was barely a blip on my personal radar screen. His parents were nice, his sister was sweet, but he was some high school senior who played football, a sport I really have no interest in whatsoever. These days I pay attention (some) to the football games in which he plays. Mostly because I like his parents, and because he did something nice for one of my kids. Links to other Monday Memories (If you participate, leave your link in the comments and I'll post it below) |
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03 February 2006
Candlemas: another lumpy experience
Yes, the kids thought it would be fun to make candles for Candlemas, and, yes, they wanted to dip them. Ummm, I know nothing about dipping candles. Nothing. But, who am I to let that stand in my way? I mean, really, someday I need to write a Complete Idiot's Guide to Homeschooling in which the truly idiotic parts will be drawn directly from experience.
Having read many websites about candlemaking, we got some beeswax and cotton wick from Hobby Lobby. I found a soup can that seemed serviceable. I filled a pot with water, put some canning lid rings in it (to hold the can up from the bottom of the pan), put the soup can in, and started filling the can with chunks of beeswax (pried off the bar with a Craftsman screwdriver, which have a lifelong replacement guarantee, although I'm not sure that extends to issues like "covered with blobs of wax"). I was very cautious, not wanting to overheat the wax. Very cautious. So cautious the wax didn't melt. I'm standing there with all sorts of safety equipment (pan lids and heavy towels to smother any flames, cold water to douse any burned skin), and I'm only heating the wax to "pliable" stage, as though we're going to do some beeswax modelling.
After about an hour and a half of this, I finally got over my fear of igniting the entire kitchen and Turned Up The Heat. Okay, the wax finally started getting melty. I tied wick onto dowels, ready to dip. I pictured kids joyfully dipping candles there on the stovetop, and it hit me -- they were going to drip wax all over the stove top. I hate this stove top (which is a smooth top), but I wasn't planning on replacing it just yet. Soooo, I called to the kids to bring over the little table. I figured if I left the can in the pot of hot water the heat of the water would keep the wax liquid (just about every set of directions I had read mentioned using some sort of hot plate; guess what, they're right, but I don't own one and it didn't seem to be the best moment to run out and buy one).
For the record, the wax DID drip all over. All over the pot of water, which was a good Farberware pot. I have an icky old pot to use for messy things, but didn't think to use it. If you're ever in this position (surely no one else is this mindless, though) you can scrape off most of the wax with your fingernail you can use canola oil to clean off the residue. And I'm so proud to say that I resisted the temptation to dump all the (waxy) water down the sink where it would clog the pipes; I dumped it outside on some gravel.
The kids had a great time dipping. We counted 1-2-3-4-3-2-1 to get a dipping rhythm going. They would dip their candles in the hot wax, then in the cold water, then back to the hot wax. When the level in the can got too low to dip, I poured the remainder in a couple of cookie cutters I had coated with vaseline.
I think the kids are expecting this to be an annual event. I wonder how many years it will take until I get the hang of it.
We ate dinner by candlelight last night. The candles are lumpy, but we thought they were beautiful.
02 February 2006
Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxslips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamelled skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.
Thanks to Reya for the idea of posting.
Where oxslips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamelled skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.
Thanks to Reya for the idea of posting.
01 February 2006
Now playing inside my head
Sur le Pont d'Avignon,
On y danse, on y danse,
Sur le Pont d'Avignon,
On y danse, tout en rond.
Except the only line I can remember is "sur le Pont d'Avignon", so I mentally fill in "hum de hmm hmm, hum de hmm hmm" for the rest.
It's in Raffi's voice. I'm not sure if I've ever heard Raffi sing this song, but I have his voice in my head nonetheless.
This has been going on all day.
On y danse, on y danse,
Sur le Pont d'Avignon,
On y danse, tout en rond.
Except the only line I can remember is "sur le Pont d'Avignon", so I mentally fill in "hum de hmm hmm, hum de hmm hmm" for the rest.
It's in Raffi's voice. I'm not sure if I've ever heard Raffi sing this song, but I have his voice in my head nonetheless.
This has been going on all day.
Tuesday Teatime
Yesterday got off to an inauspicious start. We had a gas leak in the main line coming into the house. Mr. Heating-Cooling Repairman came and sprayed soap on the main valve, where it (the soap) bubbled up like a giant spit bubble, indicating a leak. He set about replacing it, which took 2.5 hours. We didn't vacate the house since the leak was so small and intermittant; as a matter of fact, it was only noticeable if you climbed on a chair and removed the basement ceiling tile near the valve while the furnace was running (as to why we happened to be on chairs with our heads in the ceiling and discovered this fact, well, that's another story). I did spend a good deal of the morning explaining to VKid2 that we weren't going to freeze to death just because the gas was turned off for a couple of hours, and also explaining how a hot water heater works.
Anyway, after Mr. Repairman left with our $75 (the deductible on our home warranty) and the cat came down from the basement ceiling (which is where he hides whenever Scary Contractors come into the house; too bad this particular Scary Contractor was messing with the basement ceiling) we zipped to Hobby Lobby to purchase some items for future projects.
Arriving home, I set out to make cinnamon scones for Tuesday Teatime. I had tried making scones once many, many years ago. It was not a successful venture; I think Mom quietly dumped the entire batch out in the woods behind our house where small woodland creatures used them to build a miniature Stonehenge (and, yes, Mom cracked some joke about the Stone of Scone). Anyway, I was sure this time would be different because I read on the Internet that farmer's wives would whip up a batch of scones as a quick, hearty meal after a hard day's work. Hah! I gathered the ingredients (not easy, since I couldn't find the baking powder; fortunately, VKid1 remembered using it at Christmas and was quite sure we hadn't used it all up, so I perservered with clearing out the cupboard and eventually found it). I began mixing. Then I realized the instructions contained the dreaded phrase "cut in butter". Oh no! I have no butter-cutting-in tools in my kitchen! What would intrepid British farm wives do? I used a couple of dinner knives. The results were ... lumpy. I shaped it into an 8 inch (lumpy) round loaf, as per instructions, and divided into 8 (lumpy) wedges.
Then I set about making faux clotted cream. Let's just say this didn't work, and leave it at that. The kids will have to travel to England someday to have a proper tea with fresh scones, clotted cream, and strawberries.
The scones did taste pretty good, and the texture was lumpy, yet light. We had Twinings English Breakfast decaf served with sugar and milk -- no lemons this week! I couldn't find the creamer, so had to make do with a measuring cup.
We once again read A Visit to William Blake's Inn by Nancy Willard. This time we made it through the entire book, although the cat jumped up on the table right after I read The King of Cats Orders an Early Breakfast -- very appropriate, but very startling. We managed to shoo him off before he knocked over the candle.
In the evening VDad asked VKid2 what she had done that day. She told him we had an English tea with p-scons. It sounded like a cross between "pecan" and "scone" (which I pronounce to rhyme with John). P-scons. I like that.
Anyway, after Mr. Repairman left with our $75 (the deductible on our home warranty) and the cat came down from the basement ceiling (which is where he hides whenever Scary Contractors come into the house; too bad this particular Scary Contractor was messing with the basement ceiling) we zipped to Hobby Lobby to purchase some items for future projects.
Arriving home, I set out to make cinnamon scones for Tuesday Teatime. I had tried making scones once many, many years ago. It was not a successful venture; I think Mom quietly dumped the entire batch out in the woods behind our house where small woodland creatures used them to build a miniature Stonehenge (and, yes, Mom cracked some joke about the Stone of Scone). Anyway, I was sure this time would be different because I read on the Internet that farmer's wives would whip up a batch of scones as a quick, hearty meal after a hard day's work. Hah! I gathered the ingredients (not easy, since I couldn't find the baking powder; fortunately, VKid1 remembered using it at Christmas and was quite sure we hadn't used it all up, so I perservered with clearing out the cupboard and eventually found it). I began mixing. Then I realized the instructions contained the dreaded phrase "cut in butter". Oh no! I have no butter-cutting-in tools in my kitchen! What would intrepid British farm wives do? I used a couple of dinner knives. The results were ... lumpy. I shaped it into an 8 inch (lumpy) round loaf, as per instructions, and divided into 8 (lumpy) wedges.
Then I set about making faux clotted cream. Let's just say this didn't work, and leave it at that. The kids will have to travel to England someday to have a proper tea with fresh scones, clotted cream, and strawberries.
The scones did taste pretty good, and the texture was lumpy, yet light. We had Twinings English Breakfast decaf served with sugar and milk -- no lemons this week! I couldn't find the creamer, so had to make do with a measuring cup.
We once again read A Visit to William Blake's Inn by Nancy Willard. This time we made it through the entire book, although the cat jumped up on the table right after I read The King of Cats Orders an Early Breakfast -- very appropriate, but very startling. We managed to shoo him off before he knocked over the candle.
In the evening VDad asked VKid2 what she had done that day. She told him we had an English tea with p-scons. It sounded like a cross between "pecan" and "scone" (which I pronounce to rhyme with John). P-scons. I like that.
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