A "Boo Radley" Moment...

If you love the movie "Benny and June"  you'll get what I'm talking about.  If not, hang on, I'll explain.

So I've been promising the kids a puppy.  We've been in the new house for a few months and things are sort of settling (in a sort of unsettled way) into a routine.  So I start calling around trying to find Basset Hounds.  Yes, we were inspired by Ree Drummond's blog and we bought the book about him while in Oklahoma.  Turns out a Google search on Bassets comes up as a furniture store more often than a kennel.  But I digress.  I finally found a kennel in Houston that sounded legit and responsible.

Off we went to the Heights in search of our puppy.  She had two litters but we only had eyes for one...

That face was irresistable.

So home we came, the pup howling all the way until finally I put him on my shoulder as I drove home.  He settled down and was quiet.  Oops.  I was hoping he would bond with one of the kids!

It seemed clear I was his soul mate - in Mama terms anyhow.

Naming the dog was fairly simple.  I told the kids I couldn't believe I was doing this and it was a "Boo Radley" kind of moment in our lives.  The albino and misunderstood Boo Radley is a character in "To Kill a Mockingbird" who ends up a hero for saving the lives of Atticus Finch's kids one night as they walk home from a school production.  A great read, by the way.  In the movie "Benny and June," June, who is eccentric and reclusive after a car accident kills her parents, calls any awkward or unplanned moment a "Boo Radley moment." Hence, our name for the dog could only be Boo Radley.  The long version for the AKC papers reads, "Mama had a Boo Radley Moment."

So Boo is now part and parcel of our family and is peeing and pooping everywhere when he is not sleeping or eating or playing.  Those pet pee pads - they don't work if you want to know but they make great chew toys.

Ah Boo, we love you!

Feelings, nothing more than...

Most of you are too young to remember that song spilling out of the car radio on a warm summer evening.  The song begins as mellow and pure as young hearts in love and then escalates to Albert's tenor wailing over "Feelings, whoa, whoa my life of feelings...".   Open a new tab and click below to listen while you read...

Here's the you tube link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CyBcHUe4WeQ

It sorta made those of us in the throes of youth feel like we were justified in all of our angst and pain over whatever melodramatic chaos happened to ensnare us at that moment.  So my question is, what about now?  I am an adult of almost half a decade and yep, sometimes I just want to wail and sing it out.  I might change the lyrics a little to suit my gloomy mood and make me feel just a little more sympathy for my circumstance.  Of course, I'm the only one who is going to sympathize because in actuality my life is beautiful and God has been very good to me.  But I know even He has a sense of humor and won't mind if I take one verse on the grounds of overworked mother; stressed out on homeschool and housework and Basset Hound puppy training, and sing it loud and long until I giggle myself back to reality.

Be sure to include nasal congestion and sore muscles when you indulge, it really makes for an unmatched performance!

Have a great day!

A New School Year...

Well, it's that time again.  A new school year has begun and I'm so NOT READY!  With sixth grade staring me boldly in the face, plus Kindergarten and Second, I'm thinking, "Doomed, I'm totally doomed."

It's like this.  I'm an organizational freak.  Everything must be planned and ready.  Otherwise I kind of wander around wondering where I am and what day is it and do I need to do the dishes or laundry or what?

You're thinking ADD or clinically insane and I get that.  But it's just the kooky person that I am.

So I've spent the Summer moving, coping with loss of family members, coping with how expensive it is to live miles from everything that used to be five minutes away, and other things.  And something terrible has happened.  Amid all of my goings and comings, Summer fled and the school year came and I find myself unorganized and unprepared.

Okay, in all fairness I had planned to be leading a co-op and those plans were going swell until the whole thing fell through due to lack of teacher participation.  So I'm not a total loser - I had made plans.  It's just that now I have to start over and my always-be-prepared, have-your-power-point-ready, make-sure-your-graphics-are-awesome personality is suffering from serious I-don't-even-have-an-excel-spreadsheet done mentality.  Not even one spreadsheet.  Insert scream here.

How the mighty have fallen.  Mighty?  Okay, insert humility here.

So, here I am face-to-face with sixth grade.  It's not just sixth grade though.  It's sixth grade Math.  Can you say Algebra?  Control the urge to scream again, but it's coming.  It's out there waiting for me and I must face it prepared - with spreadsheets and graphics in-hand.  Otherwise it will destroy me!  Really!

Breathe.  I had a boyfriend once whose mantra under stress was "Relax, Breathe, Move gracefully."  I need to channel that right now.

Okay, tangent aside (hee hee, geometry pun!)  I need to get real and get going on this.  Time is flying and algebra is coming!  Pray for me.

In the mean time I must say that the school room is the most organized room in the house; the curtains are hung, the decorations are on the wall, the bookcases are beautiful (sigh), and the place is pretty dog-gone organized.  All that awaits is...teacher with a plan in hand.

So that means I must either embrace the laptop fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants method, or get my backside upstairs and organize the office and my treasured Mac with multiple printers and stupendous graphics, etc. so that the plan can materialize.  I'm thinking laptop mode may win out this year.  Have you seen the mess upstairs?  Could the move-in fairy please come and finish unpacking?  And after that the garage-sale fairy could organize and label all the stuff for that, and then the donation-fairy could...but I'm rambling, aren't I?

Here's to another school year, perhaps sans graphics and power point presentations, but filled with lots of love and learning.

God is good...

You know sometimes we pray and think, "He probably won't answer this soon but I know He has a good reason."  And then last night the thunder peeled and lightning split across the sky.  Then we heard...rain.

Rain.

Beautiful buckets of precipitation falling from the sky in answer to my blog-prayer for...rain.

God is so good.

It's such a little thing, an answered prayer.  Or is it?  To think that in a world of billions he heard me and others with like-minded prayers and answered with a resounding boom across the sky is quite uplifting and confidence building.

What if we all prayed for a country of people and leaders who serve God?  What if we prayed for an end to famine?  What if we prayed for an end to violence and war?

We do.  We pray for those things.  Maybe it's just that we're not as united in our efforts; this drought has certainly created a single-mindedness among us.

But for the rain, Lord; thank you.  Please send more.  Thank you, Lord, for the rain.

Let us learn to be single-minded and united in prayer for the things you wish us to make supplication for.

Amen.

How Dry Am I?

So we moved into a house that sits on a lovely 1.2 acres.  Well, it was lovely.  Before the grass died.  Before the trees started wilting and the elephant ears turned brown and flopped over.

It all looks so dry and thirsty.  The little water we give them doesn't help much.  I think about all of my great plans to dig up and replant and create lushness.  Hmmmmmm.  Lushness, the very word is an oxymoron.

Did we ever have lush lawns and problems with flooding in Houston?  It's hard to remember those days.

I used to laughingly say we lived in a swamp.  Houston is, after all, pretty much a giant swamp filled with bayous, marshes, and Spanish-moss laden trees whose roots bathe in the moldy, marshy mud.

Lovely vision, isn't it?  Funny though, I've come to love that greenest of greens and lushest of foliage covered plants, be they succulents or deciduous.

In Oklahoma the brown of the prairie is a staple in life and in Summer, it sucks the green from everything.  By September one is longing for Autumn.

When is it going to rain?  Please Lord, let it rain.  I don't want Texas to turn into the prairie.  (Okay, I know some of Texas, well a lot of Texas is prairie but not the part where I live, mostly,)

I'm channeling swamp right now - could really dig it.  Swamp would be good.  Even with the snakes and alligators that come with it - okay well, not in my backyard, but in the wild swampiness where they live.

Just a wee, little bit of rain to dampen my flowerless flower beds and my formerly grass covered yard would be so nice.  A nice cool shower to sizzle against the hot metal of the gutters and metal flashing that longs for relief.  Oh, to sing in the rain!

Heck, I would sing in a hurricane.

Well, a mild one anyway.

I can't stand driving around in this heat!  I just want to hibernate inside and avoid the heavy blanket of yuck that awaits us out there.  Tomorrow is our out day - lessons and more lessons.  Hot SUV (black interior - ugh).

Here's an aside; we have begun letting the cats have the roam of the house at night.  We used to keep them in the utility room to sleep, but I feel they've graduated from old house to new and have earned some privileges.  It'll take some time, however, for me to get used to hearing things falling in the night.  Frantically, I leapt out of bed the other night thinking one of the kids had fallen down the stairs or something.  Oh no, just cat antics.  Whew.

So back to the drought.  Or not.

Next post will be fun, and floppy, and cute.  Needs pics though and I, along with many others in same house, am pooped.

Night.

The Place for Angels...is Heaven.

This year has been a tough one.  It actually started last year with my Uncle's death, then this year my Grandma died (March).  My husband has lost family members, most recently his Uncle Joe.  While attending Joe's funeral I got a text from my lifelong friend since 7th grade - her daughter had passed away at the age of 21.

Elle was a charmer.  Always smiling and pleasant.  Laughter was a trademark and her smile would light up any room.  I didn't know her well yet I knew that she fought mighty battles with ne'r a complaint.  She was born with a disease I can barely describe and spent her life on strong medications which tried to control her raging immune system.  Sometimes she won the fight, sometimes she would fight for weeks in hospital.

I mostly had to listen from a distance while her mom relayed the information and made numerous trips from Colorado to Arkansas.  It's a long drive and not an easy one.

We can learn so much from her, though.  I certainly can.  Her simple joy in living every day.  Her smile despite many reasons to frown. 

I think about this as I contemplate the past year and all of my frustrations with loss, moving, and failures.  What would Elle do?  She would probably put on her ipod and sing some great classic rock-n-roll tunes.  The kind you and I grew up with.  She'd login to facebook and chat with friends, upload a few pics, and then hang out with her sister before calling it a night.

Time was not her friend and yet she never fought it.  I do.  I fight time.  All the time!  So I'm going to take a page from Elle's life and make it a reminder to me that time is not the enemy.  Thank you Elle for the example.

Elle was small, petite, blonde, and beautiful.  An angel in anyone's book.  She was our angel and as everyone knows, angels must return from whence they came.  So Heaven welcomes her home, and we will miss her.  God bless you Elle, our love and prayers are lifting you higher.  Lord, receive her into your loving arms.

Elaine Elizabeth Hamilton

June 1990 - August 2011

Update...

Well, we moved.  Whew.  That's done.  Unpacking will take, well, forever, but we're here and that's what matters.

I've bit the bullet and bought bookcases for the school room.  Wah - hoooooooo!  What a blessing.  Then I bought a new school table too.  It's a gorgeous 8 foot harvest table.  Can you say sturdy?  It's just yummy!

The rest will come slowly and more likely once this heat and drought dissipates.  Although I did trim the hedges, aren't you proud of me?  So needed it.

My darling son had his appendix out.  Came out of nowhere in the middle of the night.  Two hospitals and countless doctors later a surgery was done and my brave little soldier was recovering.  Mom was sleep deprived for more than 48 hours and was pretty cranky at one point but thank heaven a bed was procured and some sleep acquired.  That is an awful feeling - needing to sleep but knowing you can't?  The prayers and support were so great from friends and family.  It got us through.

Let's see, my mother went to ER for an allergy attack, I missed Mr. Happiness's cello lesson because my watch stopped, we celebrated the Giant's birthday, fixed the lawn mower, watched as our co-op fell apart and dissolved, unpacked the scrapbook room, and realized one of my yahoo groups was moderating me and posting my messages two months late or just deleting them.

But I am happy.  I will trust in the Lord in all of this and wait for His plan to reveal itself.  This may be the plan, actually, I'm pretty sure it is.  Can I rejoice when things go haywire and love life all the same?  Yep, I can and I will because no body and no thing have the right to cause otherwise unless I let them.  First person pep talk, giddy-up and go on being happy.

Life certainly feels different here.  It's slower, everything's further.  Gasoline is expensive so stay home!  But we love it.  The days seem longer and the neighbors more friendly.

I am basking in the glow of the "big house" and making plans to turn it into a charmer as time goes by.  I am looking forward to regularity; school days, laundry, cooking, etc.  Here's to that.

Moving!

Okay, we close tomorrow and move on Saturday!

Remember the song?  "Hey! S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y!"  Okay, just the beginning, the rest is silly.  I'm chanting the spelling and whoo-hooing til everyone thinks I'm a hillbilly.

With my back out, I'll be giving orders rather than lifting and hauling myself - pray for those dear moving boys - I'll be gentle, really I will.

But soon we will be lying in the midst of chaos admiring the floor to ceiling boxes and months of work ahead of us.  Praise be to God.  This day has come.

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers.

Here's to redecorating on the cheap and making our new house a home.

God bless you all!

Seeing Through the Pain

Last night my back went out again.  Well, my shoulder which is attached to my back, which sends pain coursing through my body at lightning speed.

The first time this happened it was 1990 and I had been in a car accident three days prior.  I woke up out of a deep sleep screaming.  It was surreal and very, very REAL.  It has been determined that the scar tissue from the whiplash compresses the nerves and occasionally, about every 5-8 years, when stress is high and heavy lifting necessary, the result is this debilitating pain that every move aggravates.

Since we were starting to move some things over to the new house, fate picked last night and this morning to revive this old wound.

I've iced it, and done the deep heating rub, taken a scalding hot bath and am now left with numbness in my hands and the hurt hopefully relegated to one small area.  I feel exhausted and completely fatigued.  Yet, in there somewhere is also a peace.

I think of Elle lying in her bed with all those tubes in her and the ventilator helping her to breathe.

Okay, back up, I've been in Arkansas and haven't blogged about Elle.

Elle is the 21 year old daughter of my best friend from junior high and high school.  All of her life she has suffered from an immunity disorder (not HIV) that has meant a lifetime of medication, doctors, hospitals and a not-very-normal life.

Elle is beautiful and full of life.  Funny, witty, charming.  So last week when she suffered a  heart attack from a pulmonary embolism we all did a double take and our world stopped.  I flew to Arkansas to be there with her mother and watched as they took her into open heart surgery, helpless except for my prayers.

Then we waited for her to wake up.  We waited, and waited.

She did not wake while I was there.  I had to return home to my own family and just pray that she would come through this.

This morning she opened her eyes and moved some.  Five days, if I've counted right.  She didn't wake up for five days.

My pain is so irrelevant.  Elle is with us and prayers work.

I came home to see my children a little differently.  Time is the important thing.  There is schoolwork to do and chores and all of that.  But time holding them and snuggling and giggling and talking is better.

It's all we wanted for Elle to be able to do again.  To smile.  To laugh.  To know we love her and to feel the joy of her.

My pain is still there and boy, it really hurts.  But as long as I can see clearly I'm good.

We'll get to all those things at some point.  In the midst of pain; we can stop and hold on to each other, pray and hug, be thankful for Elle, and just be for a moment.  Sometimes God needs to interrupt us to say, "Be still and know that I am God."

Well, Lord, I'm listening.  And thanks.

Big Dreams, Harsh Judgement

I saw the link to Elizabeth Foss's blog and anxiously went to read her topic on gentleness in the real world.  It was not at all what I expected and rather surprising to me.  I read, and then I watched this video which, apparently, everyone has seen but me over the past year.  You can read the entry here:
http://www.elizabethfoss.com/reallearning/2011/06/gentleness-in-the-real-world-1.html

I don't think Ms. Foss deals very "gently" with this young woman and her aspirations of finding a Catholic husband.  Maybe she doesn't remember what it was like to be young and unmarried with high hopes of changing the world and finding a soul mate to change it with you.  These are big goals at this age and they are good.  God gives us this tough outer vision that makes us feel like we can make a difference, even though we're so small and don't know how hard it is yet.

In a world where young men are being redefined by the world's warped definition of manhood, this young woman long's for a boy willing to pray, willing to remain chaste, willing to speak out against abortion, and more.  It's not a list, it's a lifestyle.  I'll say that again...

IT'S NOT A LIST, IT'S A LIFESTYLE!

And while the lyrics didn't happen to include acts of mercy, they are rooted in the lifestyle.  This criticism is unfair.  It's a song and it doesn't have 20 verses.  If it did, I'm sure it would cover lenten fasting, attending mass on feast days, and more.

I think this young lady has a beautiful vision of her future husband and more importantly, she knows he may not be easy to find.  We cannot change men into who we want them to be.  While we grow together in marriage and learn how to serve and become God's family unit working together, if you don't start with the right ingredients then things can go sour pretty easily.

Marriage is hard enough without choosing someone who needs to be reformed or who has habits that tend toward worldliness.

I have a son and I hope his future wife demands more of him than he does of himself.  "Iron sharpens iron, So one man (or woman) sharpens another."  (my italics)
Proverbs 27:16-18

My son will have the opportunity to be a leader of a family someday.  I hope his wife doesn't settle for him doing things and falling into habits that are not beneficial for the entire family.   My husband shakes me out of my boots sometimes when I get lazy and I thank God for it.  I am a better person because of his high standards and vice versa.

The merciful and kind thing to do is to not marry or be joined with someone who does not share your passion in faith.  This young woman is young but it is clear she has a huge passion and desires to share that zeal for her faith in marriage.  It is naive to think she is unaware that her future husband will not fall into sin or have struggles in his life.


In a world that is constantly leveling the playing field in the name of "peace" or toleration, which is a secular form of gentleness, I say let her have her high standards and see who she finds to help her change the world.  Soon enough she will be beaten and trod on by things she cannot control and a world whose ideals have become barren.  


If my daughters ever write and sing a song like this I will stand up and cheer and know that I have done well as a mother.


God bless you all and may a little of her fervor rub off on us today!

Creativity Withdrawal

So all my lovely crafty things have been packed up for a long time.  The scrapbooking, jewelry making, sewing supplies, etc. are all patiently waiting for me in storage.

I, however, am not so patiently approaching the moving day.  Even after we move there will be weeks of unpacking and while I look forward to the discoveries of items I'd forgotten about, it won't mean I'm ready to embrace the finished and ready craft room that I've long dreamed of.

You know that magazine, "Where Women Create?"  I've bought a few of those and longed to have a room all to myself where I could create a space just for me to "create" wonderful things.  Well, it's weeks away that my dream will come true and to be honest, I'm nervous.

Now don't get any ideas that I get to go out and buy antique library drawers and lawyers bookcases to furnish said room.  In storage I have the very functional yet mundane IKEA bookshelves to harbor my treasures for creating masterpieces.  While not so eye-catching, they actually provide tons of storage and aren't so bad if you can embrace their contemporary mood.  Of course I love nothing contemporary except the price tag - can you say uber cheap?

So at least I have the room and it is furnished and all my lovely supplies will fit inside.  Now for the hard part.  After a six month hiatus from scrapbooking and a long time away from all the rest, will my creative juices flow once again once the room is ready and waiting?  Here's hoping.

This moving thing has made me tired from the inside out.  That and Summer.  Summer used to invigorate but this year I'm just pooped.  Well, I think I'll go take my vitamins and try to embrace the day's packing and cleaning.

And who knows, maybe today I'll find a way to be creative without the craft room and "stuff!"

God bless!

Impending Move...

I slowly mark the days off the calendar.  We are almost halfway there, halfway through June.  I look around the house and realize I'd better start packing up the rest.  The movers have been booked but they require things to be boxed and ready to go.

I am excited about the new house and being there.  I'm not too excited about the transition.  Is it that now I'm a little older the work is harder and my body doesn't recover as quickly as it used to?  I have all these great goals to start dieting and working our after the move.  Oh to be thin again...but I digress.

After a very tough week I am looking forward to a better one coming up.  We start our Home School Book CLub this week and we've been reading the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. 

You know, when I was a kid I wanted to live in those times.  Now as an adult reading them I think to myself, "No way!"  Skinning animal hides, making butter, smoking meat in a tree, fighting off Indians and mountain lions?  Whoa, Nelly!  Take me back to toilet seats and computer screens.

So now it's time for my children to wax nostalgic over the idealism of life on the prairie.  Mom, however, is waxing nostalgic over her new house and 1.2 acres that come with it.  Anyone want to help me clean it?   ......oh well, I thought I'd ask!

The Gleaning Season

What is going on?  My life and the lives of others are being trampled on the threshing floor and we are writhing, struggling, crying...and growing?

The past two weeks have been utter chaos.  A battle between wills, a struggle to stay positive, and a plethora of small problems that have added fuel to the fire.

It began when my friend and I had a misunderstanding which escalated into an all out argument.  I almost lost her, thank goodness for grace.  I also had a car accident, almost choked, and had to care for my three kiddos alone because the Giant was in Florida at a business conference.  This meant his support was not only miles away, but it was not nearly as comforting as I needed it to be.

Top all this off with a little heat exhaustion which I am still recovering from, and you would have reason enough to either take a vacation or visit a monastery for some recovery time.

But wait, there's more.  I am a member of an eloop of women.  It is a support group for home school moms.  This group is suffering similar pains that I have had this week.  A comment was made and interpreted and responded to.  Someone's feelings got hurt.  Cue the sound guy to play that rewind of tape sound - my life exactly 1 week ago.

The ruler of this world is having a field day among these beautiful and loving women.  He is trampling and kicking and twisting and...he's laughing too.  I want to scream and say something but I know I will not be heard among the din.

I think of Jesus hanging on the cross.  Imagine the wails, the screams and shouts while he was being nailed to it.  For awhile after it was lifted up the jeers and the taunts to save Himself fling through the air.  Then I imagine it gets pretty quiet.  Everyone realizes He will not save Himself, but that this is truly a tragic end to a miraculous beginning (they do not know the end of the story and cannot even imagine it).  I think of Peter, having just denied Him, watching, unable to apologize and unable to rationalize the horror of the situation.  It's so quiet.

It is in this quiet that our own sins seem so ridiculous.  Why, Lord?  Why was I so needy, so demanding of justice?  How could I not see the hurt I was causing?  How can I heal it now, after so much has been said and so many have dug into the trenches?

Remember the story of World War II soldiers at Christmas time?  How they heard each other singing carols across the trenches and they united in one night of peace to celebrate the greatest miracle ever?  What amazes me is that they could pick up the rifles once more in the morning, and so quickly forget that moment of unity.

But that is the human condition.  That is what the ruler of this world rejoices over daily.  He is a sly devil.

If I had the gift I would place my hands on the heads of these women and pray for their healing.  That is not my gift.  I will pray for them and hope that the splintering is not beyond healing.  What can I do?   I can embrace my friend that I argued with last week and say I'm sorry and set a better example for my children. 

The angels are weeping and we have the power to stop it.  It is only our pride standing in the way.

My children and I watched a movie about St. Therese of Lisieux this week.  Her "little way" is so hard for so many.  But it is the way to Jesus, so honest and childlike.  St. Therese, pray for us and lead the way for us to follow in your footsteps.

God bless you all.

Bohemian Rhapsody

I was born in November.  Heaven help me, I am influenced by the mighty scorpion and all that goes with that.  Am I into astrology?  No!  I am not.  However, I do believe that God ordered the universe and I happen to fall into a category of people who are, shall we say, a wee bit emotional?

I have met others like me and most go off the deep end; they dress in either bright colors of handmade tie-dyed fabrics or they go in the opposite direction wearing nothing but long black skirts and bright red lipstick with loads of jewelry.

I, on the other hand...look normal.  I dress normal and try to behave normally in most situations.

Then suddenly it happens and the scorpion strikes at me.  I get overly sensitive and needy.  I have the urge to go to Hobby Lobby and start a brand new project which will cost ridiculous amounts of money.  I lie in bed sobbing over something I did weeks or even years ago.  I make STUPID decisions.

The Giant can't usually figure it out until the PMS is too grandiose to ignore.  Then when he confronts me with it another emotional tirade ensues. 

But this is me.  It's who I am.  Now I have learned to temper it because it really ticks people off sometimes.  I see the world as one great big opportunity.  Everything ahead is an adventure until some pessimist convinces me that it is hopeless.  Trust me when I say, the last thing the world needs is a pessimistic scorpion! 

Optimism is our trademark because with it, we actually believe we will change the world for the better.  No kidding. We do.  We believe that wholeheartedly.

I have sometimes surprised myself at things I have done in my life.  I have had some great successes.  I have lassoed the moon and pulled it to earth on occasion.

In the past ten years though, I have let myself become too grounded by convention.  I had Big Girl eleven years ago.  Then she was followed over the years by Mr. Happiness and Pigeon, and I seem to have become Old Mother Hubbard.

Now convention can be good.  A little dose of realism is very good for us artistic types, otherwise we would move to an artists colony and never grow up.  But too much can steal our dreams, and when that happens, well; it's not good.

You see we thrive on the challenge.  Give me a task and say it's impossible and I will do it exceedingly well.  This is how God made my brain.  I can't help it.  It's a fact so just go with it. 

However, big word of warning; we instantly recognize patronizing.  Don't just agree with us to walk away and say we are nuts - we'll know.  We always know!  Ask our husbands.

Maybe we should all run for congress?  Just kidding - we don't have a vision for that - too conventional.

So today I am embarking on embracing the bohemian in me and the realization that just because I am a mother, I do not have to be conventional.  I am a bohemian home school mom and I must embrace that.  I will educate my children well and I will teach them that my passion for life is not misdirected, as some think, but a blessing given to me by God to be lived out in a passionate display of joy.

Want to come along on the journey?  It may be a roller coaster at times.  I can't promise never to get angry, or cry, or paint the walls purple (actually, I hate purple)...red, I mean; but I can promise that it will be an adventure.  We will laugh together at the tears we cried over spilt milk, and we will walk in the abundance of God's amazing garden, and each day will be full.

Ready?  

God bless!

In Limbo...

So after the adrenaline from the accepted offer on our house and the one we're buying comes home inspections and decisions about fix ups and repairs.  Then a lull.

A quiet so quiet after all the long months of prep work that it seems the birds sing louder and the car engines are bothersome as they go by.  I know it's just the fact that now I get up and I have leisure time - time to listen.  Time to decide what we will do today (besides schoolwork).  All the recitals are over too and some lessons have ended for the Summer.

Now there is time in abundance.  Yet there is nothing I can do to make our closing date approach faster - because after that the chaos will ensue once more and time will scream by at lightning speeds once again.

I love these slow days.  I want to bottle them.

I should make a list of things we can do before we move.  Of course these things cannot involve supreme mess making or spending, due to impending changes, but there has to be some great opportunities here.

Big Girl can finish her quilt,   Mr. Happiness can figure out with Dad which Wolf Cub patches he can earn over the Summer and do that, Pigeon can get ahead in her reading.

And me?  Hmmmm.  I bought a drop spindle this last weekend.  Step number one to my eventual purchase of a full-fledged spinning wheel.  So I plan to learn to spin.  Good luck me.

I need a really good book to read.  A real page turner.  Should I just dive into Pride & Prejudice AGAIN?  Is there anything out there to even come close?  Darcy appears to be calling...

I look at my beautiful roses I planted so many years ago.  They are historical roses from the Heritage Rose Gardens at Independence, Texas.  I must enjoy them briefly and leave them behind.  It's bittersweet, they've pricked me a thousand times yet their blooms have spread their sweet scent over our yard and the delicate flowers always make me smile.  We'll be off to purchase some for our new garden in July.  Sigh.

Well, I am relaxed enough to sit here all day, but life is calling and piano lessons are still on the calendar.  Pigeon begins these soon.  Duty calls.

Have a marvelous day!

St. Joseph, pray for us...

So the day before our agent put a for sale sign in our yard, we planted St. Joseph in our garden and said the prayer for our house to sell quickly. 

I do not count myself among saints, nor do I see myself as saint potential, although I wish I could.  I am a sinner.  I struggle so much with little things like my temper and silly desires for things of the world.  My goal is to pray more and be a better example to my kids.

This week however, they were the example for me.

My little Pigeon of 5 whopping years, sat in the back of the car one day repeating, "St. Joseph, pray for us" over and over.  My heart soared and my prayers joined hers.  Soon the other kids joined in and we had a nice chorus going.

After being on the market for exactly one week, we got an offer on our house.  The day before that, we found a house we loved and put an offer in on it.

As all this transpires, I'm thinking, "St. Joesph prayed for us."  And God heard him and us and answered in a big way.

So I am shouting from the rooftops (or my blog), that prayer works and God listens.

Have a blessed day!

Laughter Through Tears, etc.

You know that scene in "Steel Magnolias" when Sally Field is sobbing (as are we all) and she says she just wants to hit something and so Shirley MacLaine grabs Olympia Dukakis and says, "Here, hit this!" In that moment we all begin to giggle and Dolly Parton points out that laughter through tears is one of her favorite emotions.

Well, such was my day yesterday.  The Giant and I had a major disagreement and I just wilted from the stress.  I do not like to displease him and I managed to really peave him.  So we both got angry and then we cried and then we talked it out and then...we danced in the living room.  We waltzed and the kids waltzed.  It was pretty spectacular.

And this morning I opened up my email and what was there?

Showing results.  Do I read them or move on?

I read them.

What do they say..."interested and rescheduling for Wednesday."

Oh...my...goodness!  Can it be true?  Our second showing likes it and is coming back again?

Okay I'm not going to let my hopes fly too sky high, but that is encouraging news. 

I called the Giant and he said he really does need to get things in order in case the house sells.  Hee hee.  He cracks me up.

We've been asking St. Joseph to intercede for us and God bless you, St. Joseph, you have.  Many thanks.

A friend reminded me that next I get to pack everything else up to move.  Whoa.  Ugh.  Okay!  The range of emotion is off the scale at this point.

Have a great day!

This Is Your Brain On Moving...

I used to be a stickler for details.  I could remember phone numbers after dialing them once.  I could tell you how to get somewhere after driving it once.  I could remember where I put everything I owned.

So either I am pre-menopausal, or my brain is fried from vitamin deficiency, or...I am in moving limbo.

I'm thinking the latter.

Can't remember anything from day to day!  I feel like a great big squashed fruit of some sort.

I've looked at so many houses they all blend into one giant house with a hundred rooms and five pools.

How does one survive this?

My kids are on a homeschool shoestring budget, and their lack of schedule makes me crazy!

Last night my dear Giant of a man took me out to the movies to recoup some of my sanity.  Odd place to try to do that, but it sure helped.

We watched "Something Borrowed," supposedly a light comedy - total chick flick; God bless him!

However, there I was, sitting there when suddenly the movie took a turn for the worse, the characters lost their credibility and I was thinking, "This would be a great example of how not to write a script."  The teacher in me can never keep silent and I haven't seen a really good film in a while.

Wanting to see "There Be Dragons" but haven't made it there yet.

Credibility.  It's important, you know?  These authors spend all this time getting us to like the characters and developing back story to make them believable and then, poof!  It's gone in a moment when they have them make not just a stupid decision, but a blatantly elementary and ridiculous choice based on their age and education and sense of virtue portrayed so far.  Ugh.

This is why I love Classical Writing.  The program is awesome and once again I realize how blessed I am to have found it.  Aaaaaahhhhhhh.  Sweet stuff of which great writers are made (and thinkers).

Check it out if you haven't yet.  Sanity can come in ancient packages!
http://www.theclassicalpedagogue.com/index.php/classical-writing/

Homeschool Co-ops

Recently there have been co-ops popping up everywhere in the homeschool community.

Is this a good thing?

Well, that's a good question.  I think the answer is yes, and no.

Here's the picture:  We participated in a Classical Christian co-op two years ago that I found at our local homeschool conference.   I was so sold on it that I directed it for almost two years until the anti-Catholic materials made me decide to look elsewhere.  The anti-Catholic stuff aside, it was a great day.  We made lots of friends, did art, science, and oral reports like we never had before, and really enjoyed the day.

I miss it even now.  But the curricula is purely Protestant and intolerant of my faith, and that won't do.  So off we went on our own.

The kids missed it so much.  I missed it.  Friends and fellowship are good things.

This past year we participated in a smaller co-op and enjoyed that, but the folks live all over Houston and that makes play dates a bit hard.

So I am starting one of my own.  But so far, I haven't really said why.

We enjoyed both co-ops, but I felt one day a week is really hard to get momentum enough for an entire week.  Or, we ended up doing "our curricula" at home and their curricula on that day, then not enough consistency with either all week.

As a former college professor and a lover of classroom discussion, I think to be homeschooled means more than just doing your work at home.  It means setting the bar higher, using curricula that public schools balk at for various reasons, and engaging in the great conversations.  Anyone can school at home.  Get some workbooks from Barnes and Noble and off you go.

I WANT to co-op because I will be with like-minded families twice a week, using curricula chosen by us that we all agree on and will use at home and in class.  At home we will read and discuss and work.  In class we will listen and discuss again, this time hearing the all important feedback from those of a like-minded faith who think differently than me.  In our country we have become offended by opinion.  Many times law suits are filed due to "libel."

I was reading Lene Jaqua's blog (she writes the books I sell, and she summed it up perfectly in her recent post.  Read here:  http://classicalwriting.blogspot.com/2010/12/offen-sensitivity.html
Here is a brief sample from it:
For example ...

...Algernon Charles Swinburne, a Victorian era English poet, held that in calling Ralph Waldo Emerson ‘a gap-toothed and hoary-headed ape’, he had confined himself to ‘language of the strictest reserve’.

...Disraeli said of a political opponent, “He has committed every crime that does not require courage.”

...Mark Twain charged that Kipling ‘‘did measureless harm; more real and lasting harm, perhaps, than any other individual that ever wrote.’’

In modern times any of the above accusations spoken publicly could amount to hundreds of thousands of dollars in punitive damages should the accused decide to file suit.

Not that we want our kids to pass this kind of dialogue back and forth on a regular basis, but we do want them to learn that someone's opinion is just an opinion, and that there are legitimate reasons why one might disagree with it and even possibly be motivated to help change it, with the use of good logic, kindness, prayer, and understanding.

I do not want my kids to grow up thinking that their thoughts and opinions should never be questioned.  "Iron sharpens iron."  I cannot believe that I alone can sharpen them enough and I long for the community of fellowship in the classroom, two days a week to help this happen.

Yet when I am asked, "Do we homeschool?" the answer is an unshakeable "yes."  Because we do.  Even at co-op days, the buck stops here with me.  No public school would give you that privilege.

Lately I have noticed "company" co-ops popping up everywhere.  It's a business.  "Want to start a co-op?  Use our blueprint!  For only $$$ you can run your own co-op."

BEWARE!

Why?  Because a co-op is a living thing.  It's not a business, and it's not a cookie cutter blueprint that will work with every group of 20 homeschool families.  It's organic and has to grow from its members.

The co-op I am starting has some initial goals:  It is Catholic.  It is a full scope and sequence program (not supplemental or social, although those things will be present).

So it is already not for everyone.  We want to use curricula at co-op and at home that creates a continuous week; seamless and streamlined.

And that's where we are so far.  The growth will continue from those who join and we will become a living, breathing community with diversity and likemindedness.

I have been to many homeschool conferences recently where new curricula and new co-op companies pop up each year.

DO YOU RECOGNIZE THE TREND? 

It's called capitalism and it has landed smack in the middle of the homeschooling community.  Folks are ready and waiting to make money off of your honest desire to give your kids the best education you can. 

But I can promise you that some of these are not quality programs and have been thrown together to get money in the bank based on trend tracking.

I am not about quick and easy.  I have chosen to take the hard road in homeschooling, using curricula that is classical in nature and requires diligence to accomplish.  The workbook program is not for us.

Not will our co-op be free and easy, like the wind in your hair on a nice Spring day.  There will be hard classes with problems to solve and homework and all that stuff that was in existence before the industrialization of education.

Beware the trendy businesses that you will find this year at the conferences.  That smiling face behind that table may just be a victim too. 

Co-ops are a good idea, but not pre-packaged and microwaveable.

Big Girl's Birthday

My Big Girl is 11.  ELEVEN!

Whew.

Sigh.  Anyway, she wanted an American Girl birthday party and by golly we did it!

So picture this:  We're touch up painting, boxing up for storage, mopping, laundering, hiding, sorting, dusting, scrubbing.  In the midst of all that I take a brief repose to:  cut out and sew a costume, bake queen's cakes and apple tansey after shopping for unknown items like pippins, rose water food flavoring, and currants.

Are you rolling on the floor laughing yet?  Okay, you may think it's not humorous, but you haven't been living my life the past few months.

What I find so funny is how seamlessly it all came off.  We had cake and yummy fruit filled oranges which I got off a blog and now can't remember which one to pass on the info to you.  Forgive me.

But take a look...

She looks so beautiful and so grown up!

Just a few of our special guests.

We gave a souvenir teacup instead of gift bags.

Apple Tansey (care of Colonial Williamsburg recipes), and orange fruit cups.

Okay, this Apple Tansey thing, can you say "Yum?"  Find it at http://www.history.org/almanack/life/food/index.cfm   It's apples fried in butter with cream, nutmeg, rose water, eggs, and sugar.  Yep, thousands of calories at a minimum but oh, sweet heaven!

Queen's cakes, Felicity's favorite.  Dense little cakes but very tasty.  The recipe came out of an AG book.

The girls learned an embroidery stitch called candlewicking and took home their work.  They loved that.  You see, we only think they love TV and video games more, but this was the hit of the party.

What a great day.

What a great Big Girl she is.

Happy Birthday, Big Girl!

Easter Fun

I am ashamed to admit it, but Easter was stressful this year.

In the midst of getting the house on sale and all the chaos that goes with that, Easter was this event looming on the horizon and I did not rise to the occasion.  Thankfully and most blessedly, Jesus did.

I intended to bake resurrection cookies, but forgot.  I did manage to have the kids dye the eggs and do the Easter basket thing.

Grandma sent cupcake mix so we had to make cupcakes and they turned out really cute.

Like, totally cute.  But what cupcakes from Williams Sonoma wouldn't be cute?

The kids looked beautiful and this year, I really noticed how much they've grown.  Easter seems to be a benchmark for growth.  I never notice it at Christmas or birthdays, but every Easter marks a change in clothing size, shoe size or height.  Maybe it's that Spring thing.  I don't know, but here are my babies getting more growed up!

And then there's this:

Not too grown up, thankfully!  How sweet is that?

Lately my Pigeon has become a snuggly, kissy, lovie-dovie.  I'm lovin' it.  Oh yeah.  I get "You're the best mom in the whole world!" and that keeps me flying high.  Or, "Mom, I love you!" out of the blue and my sails are full blown and I'm soaring.

Life doesn't get any better than that.

Easter morning was a blur; baskets, church (very short homily...??...but loved the music and the holy water!) and Easter egg hunts and lunch at a friends home.

Now that the house is on the market and all that hard work is in the past, I can reflect on it and know that we need to slow down next year no matter what is going on.  It's too precious to breeze through and risk missing out on it's many blessings.

On the Market!

So the official photographer took some official photos of my exceptionally clean and sparsely decorated home and voila, we are on the market as of tomorrow!

Sigh of relief.

Seriously.

I could sleep for a week.  I just might...or not.

I am elated and exhausted and moving on to bigger and better things.  As I look at all the things I want to blog about they seem a blur in my memory.  Easter, Big Girl's birthday, the whole past month; one... big...blur.

However, I have pictures so my memory is off the hook and you will soon see what cuteness was created in spite of the chaos in my life.

I am suddenly so tired that I am going to go fall into my bed and dream about seeing my house on sale on the internet tomorrow!

Have a sweet night!

Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back...

So I'm going through the stages of grief...apparently.

It would appear that I am caught up in stage 4...depression.  It's either that or denial and anger, which would be stages 1 and 2 combined.

Whatever.

Our house is still not on the market and with the stickler we have for a realtor (who is a great Christian guy but who has no kids, doesn't homeschool the kids he doesn't have, and has no concept of my life) it may never get there.

Actually, the house looks better than most he's shown us.  Far better.

Really good, for a homeschool house.

The kids rooms are immaculate.  Sweet!  How long will that last?

And yet, there are minute little details that prevent the official photographer from being able to take pics.

I can't even remember what they are - which is part of the problem.  They are so minor that my brain keeps going haywire on me.  I need to make a list.

Problem two:  I'm soooooooooo tired.  No really.  My body feels like a bag of water that sloshes around every time I move.

My arthritis is causing me screaming pain and sometimes I just want to cry because I feel so unable to tackle the things that need done.

School is somewhere in oblivion at the moment and I'm supposed to give a speech on diligence this weekend; I feel like the least diligent person alive right now.

I don't sleep at night.  I lay in bed until I can't anymore, get up and check on the kids, lie in the chair for a while, watch some internet TV, try to sleep again, take the youngest back to bed at 3 am after a bad dream.  Then, usually around 3:30 or 4 am, I doze off until morning.

I wake up feeling like the dead, assuming I have a vague idea of what that is (not really).  

I guess I thought moving would be for others in my family what it was originally for me; a great adventure.  Exciting.  

Now it has become this thing we have to do, and since we're just exchanging one cookie cutter suburban home for another I seem to have lost momentum.

I am not a mundane kind of girl.  I NEED MOMENTUM!  Whew!  That was exhausting.  See what I mean?  Even typing this is wearing.

So the photographer won't be coming tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day.  The flowers are all falling from the bushes and the intense heat may turn the beauty of Spring into a dull imitation of what was. and we'll have photos of that instead.  

But somewhere out there is someone who will love it all anyway and see that this is home, right?  

Right.  RIGHT!

Okay.  Okay.

The tears are welling - STOP!

I'm praying, it's the only thing I can do that gives me a sense of accomplishment.  It's powerful that way.  But it doesn't dust the furniture.  Or pack up the extra shampoo bottles and lotion and medicines so the closet looks like this is really a hotel.

But it is so comforting.  It is all I can do at the moment so I will continue.

I have a marathon day of kids lessons and activities ahead of me - no time for packing today.  And I must be diligent in my efforts to finish my speech on diligence before Friday.

Then I must summon the strength of Spartans to haul twenty tubs of books down to the homeschool conference friday night, set up, and be spic and span for my booth and customers.  They inspire me, these people who homeschool.  They are friends and acquaintances and strangers, but they are all on a mission from God, like me; to educate their children at home in a safe and wonderful environment of love and nurturing.  Yea us!

So now I am going to seek ibuprofen (if there's any medicine left in this house that I can find - oh, wait...I haven't packed it yet.  Good.) and then I am going to hope and pray that some energy seeps back in to my sloshy body to fuel my day.

I hope you are having a great day.  And if you happen to be moving, feel free to share your experiences with me.  Hopefully, we can encourage one another about how all this will eventually result in a wonderful home where our family will embrace the joy of living and serving God.

See ya!

When Your Dream Dies, Part 2

It was a rough night.  Tears.  Thoughts.  Prayers.

I almost deleted the previous post but the Giant stopped me (that's my DH.)

It's queer to seek refuge in a blog.  Yet it's cathartic.  Weird.

I keep thinking that someone out there gets it, understands exactly what I feel right this moment.  Even though only two people read my blog!

I hope someone in a similar situation who needs to know they are not alone reads it someday.  Maybe its one of you two, maybe not.

I woke up today thinking about simplicity.  I think God put that in my head.  Last night the kids and I watched a movie about St. Therese of Lisieux and her "little way."  She was a carmelite nun at the age of fifteen who dies from tuberculosis.  She and all of her sisters became nuns.  Theirs was a simple faith and their life's calling was simple - serve.

So today I embark on a path of simplicity.  In the midst of all this cityness that I so despise, we will make it our goal to find simplicity in everything and to live simpler lives; employing a simple, childlike faith.  This is motivating and calming me in the whirlwind of recovery, which may take some time.

I know myself and I see days coming that are full of excitement about moving, and then days of despair when I recall what we didn't do.  As I often do, I will get wrapped up in making and creating, trying to "do" away the time I might spend longing for what I can't have.

I'm not practical, and I praise God for it.  I'm the kind who builds castles in the air and dreams far bigger than I have a right to.  I've been told on more than one occasion that I'm a snob or that I have no right to think I deserve such things when so many are in hopeless places with hopeless lives.

All I know is this; I can do far more for the hopeless when I feel I am following God's plan for me.  He made me to be a big dreamer, a big doer, and to think that no mountain is too high to climb.  Who am I to question Him?  He is the great Creator and His imagination and design in making me was not flawed, he knew me while I was yet in my mothers womb.

A few weeks ago I had a vision while sitting in church listening to a guest speaker.  I used to have visions often when I was younger.  This one caught me off guard because I haven't had one in so long.  It was simple.  I was thinking about all of my frailties that keep me from doing things and I was wishing I could do more.  I looked up and there was Jesus in Heaven; bright, shining, standing tall and glorious in white robes.  His arms were outstretched and He was laughing.

He was laughing.

It was a big thunderous laugh and yet He hardly moved.  His face lifted as He laughed, His chin elevated from the joy of it.

In that moment I realized He was laughing because I was there, ready to receive anything He was willing to give me in that moment.  He wanted me to ask for so much!  He wanted to heal every infirmity in my body, He wanted to show me that He's there and His gifts are free to those who believe and trust in Him.  "Ask!" He was saying, "ASK!"

I felt the Holy Spirit wash over me and cleanse me.  My hands, which hurt daily from cysts and arthritis suddenly felt strong and pain free, my knees ( a long time cause of suffering and pain) on which I knelt there with the throngs of others felt nothing but the soft pillow under them rather than the prickles of nerve damage and stiffness of arthritis.

I began to smile.  It was all I could do to keep from laughing myself.  He laughed, I smiled.  The moment lasted so long - truly it was five minutes or more.

I spoke of it a little to my husband, but these things are hard for others to understand.  The healing was not the kind to last beyond His time for me to have it, or maybe my faith is too weak to fully receive it.  But I feel remnants of it here and there.  And I still see Him in my head and I know He is so full of joy in the idea of us coming to Him with our troubles that it brings Him to a place of laughter when we say a feeble "yes" if even for a moment.

When we sing "Come to the Water" we have no idea what that means.  There He is, wanting to heal us, wanting to help us to change the world in grand ways with simple acts of love and there we are, gazing out over the Grand Canyon wondering how to get across.  He comes to us and shows us the bridge while we foolishly cling to the ledge crying out like spoiled children.  The table is before us, a feast unimaginable.

In my smallness I will remember to eat from His table, and then the loss of my dream here on earth may give way to something far bigger, and I may find myself transformed in ways even I have never dreamed.

When Your Dream Dies...

Today is a hard day.  It's been looming for a long time, but here it is smacking me square in the stomach and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

I've long known that some people don't speak my language.  Some people think my language is jibberish.

See, I speak a language that involves experiences that other people find silly, nostalgic, or highly impractical.  This kind of behavior was embedded in my soul by the Creator and as a child I fully embraced it.  As I got older folks would chide me for being too emotional or tell me to get my head out of the clouds.  God is in the clouds, why would I want to abandon them?

God is in a moonlit night.  God is in the stars.  He dwells among the quiet places where the wind whispers, tickling the trees and bending the daffodil.  He speaks to me in moments when I can do nothing but hear the thunder of His love in a garden where jasmine sends wafts of fragrance over me, or the chirp of the birds remind me how much care He took in creating an opera of natural music just for me.

I used to walk to places that seemed lost or forlorn to find Him.  I sought out the solemnity of quietude in places where the busyness of city could be forgotten.

I have longed my entire life to live in a place where this could be my daily experience.  No neighbors whose phone could interrupt my solitude.  No dogs barking from too close proximity to break the reverie of prayer and meditation.

It was so close.

I will never see it this side of Heaven.

My destiny seems to be a plot in suburbia where I will dwell among the many of us who only dream of such a life.  Mary Engelbreit says to "Bloom where you're planted."  I get the theology behind it and I embrace that, but I don't want to be planted just anywhere.

I want to bloom to my fullest potential in a place that feeds my soul.  I will always embrace the gifts I have been given; a lovely family and home, a husband with a great job and all that goes with that.  But I've wanted this for so long that the realization that it isn't to be is...well... heart rending.

So many people accept that to commune with nature is to go to a park and carve out a little space in the crowd to call your own for 30 minutes.  I don't think that's how God meant it to be for us.  Jesus himself went away at times to be alone in nature to pray and hear God's voice.

I have heard the voice of God.  I have lain on the grass and been overcome by His immensity.  It's so much easier to do when no one is watching.

Scott Hahn talks about these things in a book I'm reading and how he sought out a place in the city in the middle of the night and prostrated himself at the foot of a cross and wept.  How many people would do this?  So few.

I would do it if I had that place in the country because that's what feeds my soul and makes me open to those experiences.  I'm weak around too many people.  I second guess everything I do.  I feel shackled among the throngs of people whose eyes judge and mouths voice opinion.  Who am I to do things to upset the balance of life.

I'm just so fragile and weak.

It's not an excuse and while many of you will think I'm whining, it's far different than that.  It's a loss that I am mourning.

I am mourning.

I am torn from the place where I can find Him so easily.  My soul is breaking open in despair.  I long for Him to nurture me and I see cars speeding by, fast food chains, and shopping malls.  Will my children ever know what it means to "Be still and know that I am God?"

Not in a once-in-a-while kind of experience like some people are satisfied with but DAILY!  Can I learn to teach them to do that when my own soul is screaming from the noise and can't hear anything?  I am drowning in this vacuum of come and go.  I'm like a child fallen in a well screaming at the top of my lungs whom no one can hear because it just blends into all the other sounds that make up a day.

I know friends will say if you can't do it here you won't do it there.  I also know that's completely wrong.  I know myself.  I know my past.  I know the desires of my heart.  I know the me God made and I know this ache stems from more than just a misguided desire for something different.

This isn't something that just popped up recently.  It's a lifelong passion.  A hunger.  A longing.

Yes, there's some anger rising up because as much as I love and respect those who give me advice, I wish I had the nerve to really take them on in this argument.  No one knows me like He does.  And no one will ever know the pain that has come from this dream being abandoned for the sake of...convenience?  I can't explain any more of this, it's not for a blog.

I will always love too deeply and be far too passionate in all my endeavors.  But that is who I am.  Healing will come in time, and Jesus is my refuge in the time that it will take to mend (and beyond.)

I am destined to read the blogs of those who daily post about how they are nurtured by nature, fresh air, and the slow pace of country life.

I will read them and my soul will cry a little each time I feel the tug on my heart.  But I'll read on.

God bless you for blogging, keep me in your prayers.

Like Mary, I will cry out,

"My soul doth magnify the Lord.

And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour."    ...wherever I am.

Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution

I just signed Jamie Oliver's petition for the food revolution.  While watching episode 1 of season 2 I began to cry as the loads of sugar overwhelmed the fake poster board kids inside that school bus.  I don't know what got me more, the vast amounts of sugar or the tiny crowd that showed up to watch it.

After watching season 1, I changed some things about my kids' diet.  First I eliminated the choice of chocolate milk that was sitting on every shelf in every restaurant at which we ate.  I simply told my kids that they could have the white milk, not the chocolate.  At first they would say, "But why?  I like this better."  I replied that it was loaded with extra sugar and would make them really excited and then really tired and that that wasn't good for them.  You know what?  They didn't balk.  Nope.  They reached their rosy little hands up and grabbed that white milk and drank it down, no more questions asked.

Since then we are white milk only and no regrets.

Today he exposed some disgusting habits the USDA uses to add filler to hamburger meat used in school lunches and packaged in grocery stores.  It made me sick.  Let's just say ammonia is not an ingredient I would expect to be in my meat purchases.  Surprise, surprise, surprise. Ugh.

I am now going to lobby that all grocery stores supply free wifi so that I can take my laptop and google info on everything I want to purchase.  Seriously.

I won't even mention the high fructose corn syrup issue in this post, but I will say we need to take back our government and our rights.  Whether it's schools, food, or pharmaceuticals Americans have let these big companies gain far too strong a foothold inside our government and they are killing us using a weapon that is almost impossible to fight:  our own ignorance.

I'm mad as a hornet that my government thinks I'm dumb enough to fall for this nonsense.

I want full disclosure from the FDA, the USDA, the Health Department, on food labels and everything I purchase that MIGHT EVEN SLIGHTLY cause harm to my family if I bring it home.  Then I have no one to blame but myself.

Come on moms, get mad with me and join Jamie's food revolution.  Then let's band together and take on city hall, Congress, and more!

Here's to fresh food and healthy eating, God bless.

I Have a Follower!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, it's those little things in life that make it grand and today I discovered that I have a follower on my blog!  Yeah, it's my best friend and yeah, she's totally awesome to be the first.  Thanks so much MW, you just made my day!

Moving Jitters

Okay, weird things happening in my brain.  After two years of wanting to move the realtor is finally coming next week to list the house.  The painting will be done, the stuff is all packed up in storage, and my house is now available for strangers to enter and critique for better or worse.

Little butterflies are starting to cause nausea in my tummy.  Is this really happening?  For real?  No joke...I mean you're not going to holler "April Fools!" or anything like that, right?

Where are these crazy feelings coming from!  I want to move, I've been praying and wishing and hoping and dreaming.  So now the what if's begin...what if we can't find a house after ours is under contract?  What if we get to the country and decide we're really city people after all?  What if...

Oh boy, this is a bad line of reasoning.

I have a very dear friend who is very sad that we are moving.  She is afraid that we won't see each other much.  It's the one thing I'm not worried about.  Strange, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that some things you just make happen because they are necessary.

I think for part of me this move is about having faith in myself.  I am a good mom, a good teacher, and a good wife.  I need a place to stretch out and be those things on my own terms.  I'm a pretty big personality and apparently, I need a little more room than the average person.  I'm not boasting; I consider it a hindrance that needs an outlet for healing.  Room to run, space to yell and holler, no one peeking in my windows or driving down my street unless they have reason to visit me and mine.

How sweet would that be?

The butterflies are settling down.

I have a destiny with the sunset, with the garden I haven't planted yet, with watching my kids tame the land, with shearing sheep and spinning wool, with milking the goats and fetching the eggs.

The butterflies are gone.

My one room school house is out there somewhere, waiting for us to inhabit it with love and learning.  I long to hear my husband come home from work and holler, "I'm home!" knowing the neighbors can't hear and aren't sneaking a peek to see who just drove up the street.

I know my hubby will thrill to the idea of tractor mowing, fence building, and teaching our kids everything there is to know about farming - even if it will be on the small side.

I see ruddy faces, muddy boots, and a few dead snakes in my future.  Oops, the butterflies woke up.

Well, life doesn't come with guarantees, so I'll just keep the Pepto Bismol handy and go for it.

Love to you all and blessings!

Coughing up the night...

Well, it's 4:24 am and here I am, sitting at my computer because I've been coughing all night and finally gave up on sleep.

I decided to check my email and found several more papers to grade from students who I'll see tomorrow in class at co-op.

This was not a banner week for essay writing, apparently.

These are great students and really great people.  I like them a lot and look forward each week to seeing them in class and discussing the material they are learning.

I teach writing.  Grades 5-12.  Whew!

I love it.  I mean...I LOVE it.

That said, I worry a lot.  We use a great program.  It's so great I decided to sell it myself through my business where I also sell curricula that I've written.  You can visit my website here.

So we have this great program we're using, but the older kids really struggle sometimes.  I know essay writing is not all sugar plums and sweet dreams, but it's not all that hard either if the proper foundation has been laid.  Therein lies the rub.

I've been reading lately about the state of education in America because I'm giving a presentation in three weeks and I'm beefing up on my facts.  Well, if you want to get really depressed Google 'the failures of education in America' and read what comes up.  Ugh.

We're currently ranked 23rd in the world in terms of being well educated.  23rd.  How many world powers are there?  Us, China, Russia, Europe...how can you be a world power if you're not well educated?  23rd?  Bear with me...

During WWII the thing that set us apart was that we were smart and we made exceptional decisions that won the war for us in the end.  Using the Cherokee language as code because it couldn't be broken, stealing German technology and scientists out from under the enemy, and other less well known strategies that defeated the enemy due to pure unadulterated intelligence.

I have to say, I hope our military men are better educated than the kids of the same age working at jobs where they can't even count back change with my receipt.  Does anyone else find this frustrating?  Do you notice when your child writes a run on sentence or uses a sentence fragment to express an idea on paper?

I read that many teachers in high schools today are not even trained in the area they are teaching.  Yep, you read that right, a math teacher was teaching high school and he had never taken college level math.  Think about it, a teaching degree is all about psychology and classroom management these days.  It has to be, no discipline allowed.  What a nightmare.

Remember one room schoolhouses?  No, not personally or in your own experience, but the things we read about them in Little Women and Little House on the Prairie and Anne of Green Gables.  What about self educated men like Abraham Lincoln and Ben Franklin?  Is that legacy lost forever?  Learning for the sake of learning; the ideal of being well spoken and a critical thinker, of being knowledgeable in all things - a renaissance person.

I have to go to class tomorrow and tell my students that their essays were poorly done this week.  They smack of "I did it last night" or "I only had an hour" or some other feeble excuse.  I know kids are busy these days; that's part of the problem.  Since we cut back on activities my kids' schoolwork has greatly improved.

Don't get me wrong, we still have times when things don't get done for one reason or another.  But they do have the benefit of a lighter schedule these days.

Just do me a favor as a fellow teacher and home school mom; raise the bar a little everyday.  My favorite boss said, "Inch by inch, it's a cinch!"  She was so right.  23rd?  That just won't do.

We may never displace China because their methods are corrupt and appalling, but we should set our sights on Belgium.  Google that and see what you think.

As for laying a better foundation, the problem lies in the curricula.  School is not about memorizing a set of facts to take a test on later.  Fact memory work only involves the short-term memory in the brain and the retention probabilities for that information is sketchy at best.  Can you name all the presidents?  Can you name all the capitals of all 50 states?  Probably some, but not all.  Yet I bet all of you can do your multiplication tables ( I won't ask about long division - is that a lost art too?)

You can do the multiplication tables because you used them repeatedly to do other things.  You didn't just memorize them and leave them alone.  A good foundation teaches skills that are used repeatedly from grade to grade and on into life. 

In English, grammar skills are no longer taught comprehensively.  Students don't learn phonics they learn sight words.  Tangent:  This is why we started homeschooling.  My daughter's Kindergarten teacher gave me a list of 150 words that she needed to memorize the spellings for.  I said, "When will she learn the phonics rules that apply to these spellings?"  They said that I should let them do their job and I should do mine.  I not so nicely replied that I had time time teach the phonics rules if they didn't and we came home to school.

Phonics are key.  They lay the foundation for understanding our language, and it's not an easy language to learn.  English spelling is a combination of Greek, Latin, French, and German words.  What a conglomeration.  Learn the phonics rules; make your life simpler (and theirs). 

Schools wouldn't dream of doing copywork - they'd probably call it plagiarism.  Yet when students actually commit plagiarism, or businessmen or women commit fraud, they get a light slap on the wrist.  What has the world come to?

I realize this is long and that I'm ranting some.  But it's a valid rant and I hope it finds an audience who will embrace it and rant with me.  Let's rant until our politicians rant and demand better schools and teachers and a better test score.  After all, a 23 is an "F" in anyone's book.

Good night, or...well, good morning!