Christmas Bustle

 

Sweetheart on Christmas Morning

 

12:43 A.M.

It's officially Christmas.

The presents are wrapped and piled under the Christmas tree, a group effort since Mom is exhausted, Dad's back is acting up and Kids were quite anxious to help, anyway.

The children opened their Christmas pajamas and they all look just grand. Being the wonderful mother that I am, I washed them first; I even splurged on the Good Fabric Softener, so the jammies smell like lavender and vanilla. Quite yum.

Bard and Houdin wrote a new song, she on the guitar and he vocalizing. If I can get them to record it, I'll attempt to post it. It was a sweet song about their sister and her traveling adventures. Better than Ben Folds, I say.

And then Bo took over the guitar, playing a few Christmas carols while Bard, Houdin and I sang, thanks to a great little Christmas book I picked up at Sam's Club. It has all the verses to all the old Christmas carols.

And now, all of the children are piled, too, just like the gifts, but they're piled in front of the tellie, watching A Christmas Story with Bo. It's where I should be, too.

And so I will go.

But not before I wish you the very, very merriest of Christmasses ever. My love to all of you and blessings for the years to come.

For Lolly

I wish you well this Christmas day.
I wish you kindness, too.
I hope for you to know what's right
And hope that's what you'll do.

I pray that everything will fall
Exactly into place,
and that each person you do meet
Will find Peace on your face.

I wish you Love this Christmas day,
the Love that's true and real--
a Love that fills your heart so full
with Joy you can't conceal.

Merry Christmas, Lolly. May God bless you richly this season and always.

Grandma Max

January 11th, 1921-December 22nd, 2005

Our family was blessed by your presence in our lives.

Stream of Consciousness Before Running Off to the Cheesehouse

Don't like to go to work.
Wish I could stay home.
Won't do this again next year.
Too much stress.
People can be so mean.
And confused.
And confusing.
It's not worth it,
no matter how much it would pay.
It's not right to trade Christmas for money.
I haven't baked cookies.
I haven't made candies.
Bo and I were up until 1:30 wrapping presents.
He asked if I feel better (than what? more on that later) after wrapping presents.
I don't.
This has been one of the most disheartening Christmasses ever.
I don't know if I spelled "Christmasses" correctly.
Our advent calendar isn't even half done.
We didn't read any Christmas stories.
We didn't go caroling.
Three of the kids have been sick.
The baby had a fever for five days.
I haven't caught it yet.
Neither has Bo, Monet or Bard.
Will we be sick for Christmas?
I still have presents to make and buy.
I still have no money and no time.
Our tree is up.
Some of our decorations are up.
My house is a mess.
There are no groceries in the fridge, which really needs to be cleaned.
Good thing: Bard cleaned the kitchen and piano room yesterday.
There had been HUGE cobwebs on the ceiling.
She also did five loads of laundry. Maybe more.
I took her to Wal*Mart.
We bought wrapping paper and Christmas cards.
She made me laugh a lot, because that's how she is. Very funny.
Funny, funny Bard.
I have to go.
I don't want to.
But I have to.
God bless us. Every one.

What They REALLY Look Like

 

Skating with Daddy

 

Unexpected Blessings.

Happy Housewife, I truly do not deserve your friendship! You are kind and thoughtful and wonderful and amazing. You are truly one of the world's natural wonders.

Everything...the package sitting atop my snowy mailbox, the beautifully wrapped box with the shiny packing grass inside, the lovely peppermint-striped tissue paper,and the thoughtful blue warmth of a gift that peeked through the paper all made me feel very loved and appreciated.

Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for the silky soft, handknit shawl and shawl pin, my initial surrounded by acorns. I love them! My family surrounded me while I opened them and gasped with glee! I'm wearing them even now and hope to get a photo later so I can show the world how much I'm loved.

My very deepest thanks. I'm in awe of you.

ABC News: 16-Year-Old Wins Science Scholarship

ABC News: 16-Year-Old Wins Science Scholarship

What Color Are Your Underwear?

The other day while we were out Christmas shopping, The Baby had her first little accident since forsaking diapers. While she stood in a puddle guarded by husband Bo, I ran to get paper towels from the bathroom and some replacement undies. I scurried her out to the car, along with my six-year-old daughter Sweetheart.

"What kind of underwear did you get her?" Sweetheart asked.

"Tinkerbell," I answered.

"Awww! Bard (the fifteen-year-old daughter) would love those! Too bad they she can't have any."

"Why can't she have any?" I wondered aloud.

"Because they don't make them in big people size. When you get old, all you can wear is white underwear."

Bo and I cracked up. Appearing confused by our laughter, Sweetheart demanded, "What? What are you laughing at? It's TRUE!"

The Blog of Bonnie J.

If you haven't yet done so, please check out The Blog of Bonnie J, prespectives from a homeschooling teen. I explored it tonight and was completely hooked when I saw these photos:





Well, Houdin, looks like you'd better get crackin' with the unicycle!

Lil Sis and Lil Niece

Lil Sis, my husband's youngest sister, is a frequent visitor to this blog; I've known her since she was just six months old, right around the time I first met my husband Bo; he had invited me to his house to go sledding and Lil Sis was a babe in her mother's arms.

Now she has a sweet little darling of her own; how blessed I am that she chooses to come and visit us from Illinois, that I am able to witness even a few precious moments of her motherhood. I thank God for you, Lil Sis, and I'm grateful for your friendship. 

A Resale Christmas

This Christmas season, money is tighter than it's ever been before. I mean, yeah, we have this wonderful house and we have five fantastic children, but our cars are falling apart and our bills are falling behind.

I'm not a big shopper. I don't really care to go to malls an spend all day and all my money (well, I guess it wouldn't take me all day to spend all my money) just to shop. There are really only a couple of times a year that I do like to shop; Bard's annual birthday shopping trip with a couple of her friends (our equivalent of school clothes shopping) and Christmas.

I love buying stuff for other people, and, gosh, can I help it if I find just a few perfect things for me, too, while I'm there? After all, my husband isn't a shopper either, so most Christmas mornings leave me very little under the tree from my darling soulmate. He has, much to his credit, outdone himself on several occasions, though. But I feel a bit more secure if I wrap up, say, a really good vintage book or an herb and onion chopper to open on Christmas day.

I can't help it. I love the festivity of shopping at Christmas time. I love the hustle and bustle, the lights, the music and...okay, okay! I admit it! I love all the stuff!

But this year, the stuff just ain't gonna happen, so I'm approaching Christmas a bit differently.

It's a resale Christmas.

That's right. Goodwill. eBay. Save-n-Serve. The used bookstores. The antique shop.

And ya know what? I find that I'm having much more fun. Scouring the shelves of Books In Stock for just the right tome for one of my bookloving children and sifting throught the racks of duds for my newly fashion-conscience son Houdin has been a real blast. And I've found some of the best bargains--bags of Beanie Babies for The Baby for a buck each, way mobie cool retro ties for fifty cents, and other cool things that I can't tell you about at this time because little blog readers have big eyes. And I've found a few awesome things for me, too, like my lime-green boiled wool coat with a mink collar for THREE DOLLARS! It so very looks like it's been in careful storage since the day it was purchased!

Sure, there are still a few things coming from retail stores, things that were specifically requested but can't be purchased at Goodwill, and the annual gift of cheese that goes to friends and family, but the majority of my gift-giving is going to be from shopping resale.

And yes, the kids know. And, yes, they're cool with it.

In years past, we've spent more than we could afford, upwards of $2,000. But this year I've only spent a bit over $200. I'm nearly done, too.

I feel good about this. I had veered away from resale shopping at one time because it seemed like too much work with little ones in tow, but now I'm hooked again.

What's best is that I feel very little guilt and only a minor need to walk through the doors of Target. Ah, well. Old habits die hard.

Family Photo

 
 

Thanksgiving Weekend

 
 

Touring Ensemble

If you click on the photo to the left, you'll be taken to a fifteen-second clip of Christmas Lullabye. Bard is the one with pigtails in the second to the top row.

Young Men's Ensemble

If you click on the photo to the left, you'll go to a fifteen-second video clip of the Houdin's concert last night.

Christmas Photo

On Saturday, Bard, Houdin and Monet had a choir concert. It's the one time of the year when we really get into the festive spirit, dress up and bundle for the cold. Then, it's off to the concert where we're treated to two hours of wonderful music. Sweetheart went with us this time, and she's really looking forward to joining the choir this Summer. Bard has been singing with the choir for eight years and has taken several in-country and two international tours--Italy and China--and rumor has it that the next large tour in 2007 will be to Hawaii! Houdin is singing his first year with the Young Men's Ensemble. He got lots of "oohs" and "ahhs" from the ladies. :-) Mr. Lorah, our music appreciation teacher, blessed us with his presence for the evening. It was great to have him there because the kids aren't often represented by grandparents or other family members and sometimes they feel a little left-out when so many of the other choir members have lots of family in attendance. They were so happy to see David Lorah stand up when Dr. J called for music teachers to stand.

We ended the evening with a very fun dinner out at Luigi's, a nationally know pizza place in Northeast Ohio. We shared good laughs and excellent food with Houdin's friend-who-is-a-girl's parents (he's only fourteen and still plays with lightsabers, so he can't have a girlfriend yet ) and then drove home in the snow for the hour and a half it takes to get back to our cozy house on the hill.

More photos to follow. 

The Tale of Two Certificates, Part The First

And now I will tell you the Tale, Best Beloved, of the Two Certificates. It is a wondrous story, and I do believe you'll like it most greatly.

A lovely girl, not much older nor much younger than yourself, Best Beloved, stumbled upon the month of November and the busyness contained therein. She found that such a month ushers in so many opportunities and activities that she could scarcely choose just one, and so, as many do when faced with several delightful choices, she chose many.

What activities did she choose, you're wondering? Well, indeed, that's a very fine thing to wonder! Before I tell you, however, I hasten to say that not all of the activities did she choose. Some of them very simply, dare I say, chose her.

For instance, that of Thanksgiving. Best Beloved, you know what an enigma food can be; well, in the days of this young girl, whom we shall henceforth call Bard, there was a Special Day set aside to feast and give thanks, and then to feast some more with a little less thanks, and then the feasting continued and the thanks diminished until there was no more food nor thanks left, and only the very bones of the turkey remained, out of which Bard's mother would craft a most delicious Turkey Carcass Soup. You really must try it, Best Beloved, should you ever happen upon it. It has a simplicity that somehow carries with it all of the Thanks that had been lost in those final days of Feasting.

The days leading up to Thanksgiving were filled with their own busyness which included Bard's preparations of delicious foods with names like Cheesecake and Pickle Wraps and Cranberry Sauce. And there, of course, was cleaning, Best Beloved, which you know full well about, being the fine helper that you are.

Yet more activities, aside from the cleaning of the dwelling and the preparation of foods for the day of feasting and the visiting of relatives, surrounded Bard's busy month; but, alas, these were things which occupied Bard of her own choosing and those things were numbered many. Have you ever, Best Beloved, found yourself presented with so very many good choices that you simply couldn't force yourself to choose just one or two or maybe even three? Well, this is where our dear girl, Bard, who was not much younger nor much older than you, found herself.

For the month of November carried with it leftovers of quite a different sort, which were continuations of Very Important Classes, such as Algebra and Philosophy and Biology and Speech Club and Drama of two different flavors and a beautiful Choral Ensemble, to which Bard's voice was added to bring forth the sweetness of many other voices.

Now, Best Beloved, I know that you have your own learning to do, and you must know that these November Leftovers were in addition to Bard's regular lessons, which included piano pieces and guitar strumming and delightful readings of the works of Sir Winston Churchill and C.S. Lewis and Mortimer J. Adler and Richard Halliburton, and it is this last, my Dear One, that inspired a November choice for Bard which was most difficult for her to resist.

A funny challenge existed among writers in those times, and surely you will find it queer, as many did even during The Day of it, but still it existed, and for the fact that it is most essential to this tale, I will explain it to you.

But not, Best Beloved, at this time, for I'm sure that you have busyness of your own to which you must attend, as do I, and while I would like nothing more than to sit here for all of the days telling tales to you, I cannot. So, scurry on, and return back later, and we will continue our tale.

For the Man who Loves Cheese More than Life

I thought about you today.

A lot, actually.

I thought about how important your cheese must be to you; that's the only explanation I can imagine.

It had been a rough day for me, for all of us in the office, but you didn't know that. How could you have? You had much more important things on your mind, and you had no time for niceties and pleasantries.

While I was taking a phone order from a very kind woman, one of my coworkers came to my side. A problem, she said. He's furious, she said. I had to put the kind woman on hold so that I could answer your insistent call.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. Can I put you on hold for a minute?"

"It's okay. Take your time, Honey," she said, not knowing that I was leaving the sweetness of her voice for the harsh impatience of yours.

"You people need to get your act together," you spat. "We've been ordering for years and this is the second time you've screwed up our order!"

You didn't see the irony in this, I'm sure.

"I'm sorry, Sir," I responded, thinking of the teachings I give my children, how I instruct them to show respect to their elders. I believe that people can be won over by respect and kindness, that behavior breeds behavior. I don't think you share that philosophy. Still, I showed you respect. I'm to do unto others as I would have them do unto me.

Not AS they do unto me.

"I was supposed to get two cases of cheese, and you only sent one! This is unforgivable!"

"Sir, I apologize, and I'll gladly send your order tomorrow. You'll recieve it by Friday." Most people would find, at this point that the situation had been resolved. I think you just wanted to be angry. Maybe your day had been worse than mine.

"You screwed up my order last year, too, and you said you'd replace the cheese for free..."

"I understand, Sir. Did we replace your cheese?"

"Well, yeah, but...that's not the point. The point is, your company needs to get its act together."

"Sir, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this right. What would you like me to do?"

"Well, I...well, you can.... Well, just send the cheese, but this is ridiculous. I don't know what's wrong with you people, but you need to get it fixed."

"Yes, Sir. We'll send that cheese out tomorrow, then. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

I heard a disgruntled "harumph." I could feel that you were attempting to conjure more reasons to be angry. I don't think you found any.

I will send your order. I will not charge you shipping. I will send a complimentary wheel of cheese to you, and I will include an apology. "We forgot to ship your cheese. We're very sorry. Can you ever forgive us?" You will probably open the box, smugly, and applaud yourself for being a Man.

Honestly, I don't even remember how the conversation ended. I just wanted to be rid of you. Is that your general affect on people? I do hope you were just having a bad day. Then again, I remember how angry you were last year when we only sent you one case of cheese. Maybe you were having a bad day, then, too.

I hung up the phone and saw that line one was still blinking. When I picked it up, that dear woman was still waiting, patiently.

"I'm very sorry about that, Ma'am," I said, trying to focus on her while mentally processing the conversation I had with you.

"Oh, that's alright, Honey. I'm sure you're very busy..."

And I went on taking her order, listening to her pleasant voice and her polite demeanor.

But all the while, I was still thinking of you.

Homeschool Blogger Awards

Spunky over at Spunky Homeschool is hosting the Homeschool Blogger Awards. If you have a favorite homeschooling blogger you'd like to nominate or vote for, head on over to Spunky's place and check out the information.

A Circle of Quiet: Remembering

I love to read as I eat. I don't know if this is a learned characteristic, or if it's genetic, or programmed by eating in front of one-too-many cereal boxes, but when I sit down to take in a meal, I almost always have to have some kind of reading material in front of me, generally a magazine, catalog or other fru-fru type media because I can't concentrate completely on both words and food. So, here at work, I've just sat down to my desk to eat my lunch--an Amish Butter Cheese sandwich and cheese fries--and I decided it would be a good time to catch up on the lives of my favorite bloggers.

One of my very first blog visits is always A Circle of Quiet. Her blog is a feast for the eyes and the heart, and I always feel encouraged and warm after visiting her, taking a glimpse through the window that she provides.

Today, I read her post titled "Remembering" and it struck such a deep chord with me. I have much to think about over lunch now and many tears to hold back as I eat and sit within the semi-private local of my office.

Thanks, Circle of Quiet, for a very thought-provoking post.

Country Football

Bo gathered the kids, some visitors and a few neighbors for a game of fall football. The field was literally a field, complete with horses and their emissions.

Our kids don't really play football; they didn't know the rules and Bard complained the next day of being very sore.

But it was fun to watch. 

The Baby

 

On Being Appreciated

When I walked through the door yesterday, they all waved and smiled at me. "Hello! We've missed you! We're so glad you're back!" A big hug, a pat on the back, an offer of a cup of coffee.

It almost makes me feel like they like me. Like they appreciate me. Like I'm actually wanted here--needed.

This is what greeted me on my first day back at the cheesehouse for the holiday season.

Okay, so it's a little different from the greetings I heard when I returned home.

"What did you bring me?"

"I was only trying to do my lessons! And he just came up and--WHACK!--punched me in the face! For NO REASON!"

"Can I have something to eat?"

"Finally, you're home. Can I leave now?"

To be fair, there are some similarities, too. I did get big hugs. They did tell me they missed me. And I think my husband even offered me a cup of coffee. Or maybe that was on Monday.

I also have to be honest. I didn't really want to work this season. Our lessons at home have been going so well, and even though I'm organized, having printed weekly schedules for those who need it and creating a balance between everyone's precarious schedules so that an adult is always present, and all chores are covered, at least theoretically, I didn't really want to add the big rush of leaving for eight hours a day to my home life.

But this is such a great place to work that I do truly enjoy it. From here, I can hear the clip-clopping of horses' hooves on the pavement outside my window, and the bell-tower chiming lovely, peaceful music. I get a Christmas bonus and a very, very nice Christmas banquet.

And, of course, there's always the cheese.

I wouldn't want to do this all the time, I don't think; work away from home, though it's not that far away.

It is, however, a nice change of pace.

For those of you SAHM, do you ever enter the work world?

Do you remember what life was like in your pre-SAHM world?

What are the biggest differences?

Do you miss it?

Sign me...Cheese Girl

It's CHEESE, Gromit!

It's around this time of the year that I get a bit peckish, longing for a nip of garlic cheddar, montery jack or even a bit of horseradish cheese. You can find me raiding the cooler for a baggie of cheese tidbits, tasty morsels that will sustain me throughout the day and and give me fodder for my daily dose of Dr. Pepper.

It's Christmas at the Cheesehouse again.

Every year for the past five years (except for the year I was pregnant with The Baby), I have been working in the mail order room of one of our local cheese manufacturers. This is a great fit for me. I LOVE cheese. I've often said that I could exist on bread, fruit and a little smidgen of something dairy--gorgonzola, harvarti, gruyere, smoked cheddar, baby swiss, sharp cheddar. I could even, if I had to, forgo my Dr. Pepper if I could keep my sour cream, Double Gloucester and my real butter.

So, this season, I'm delighted. Cheese all around me. Completely at my disposal. On a whim, I can sample some of the world's finest cheeses. I can even order a hot sandwich--thick bread with Amish butter cheese, a patty melt dripping with butter, thick-cut steak fries smothered in sharp cheddar. Isn't it sinful?

I have to admit that my intention today was to avoid the temptation of all that extra fat by bringing in a bottle of ice water and a lunch bag of almonds, trail mix and fruit. After all, I just sit here all day. Sit, talking on the phone to people from all around the globe who love cheese. Who order cheese. Who talk about cheese.

I made it all of seven hours today before caving. I simply must...have...my...tidbits.

To offset the impending damage, I'm hoping, planning, determined to walk to work. It will definitely be a challenge during these Ohio winters, but I think it's going to be necessary. There's a spiral staircase leading up to my little corner of cheeseworld, and if I'm not careful, I may not fit. Could be a touch painful upon reentry.

Over the next few weeks, I'll be grabbing a moment here and there to blog about life in the cheesehouse, what it's like to be a SAHM tinkering around in the working world, and what the damage is when I return home.

In the meantime, will you join me for a taste of fondue? Maybe a cracker with a smidgeon of Boursin? Or how about Mirabo Walnut...?

T'is the Season

With the older kids in bed and The Baby in the bathtub (there's no water in it...she's just sitting in the bathtub with her P.J.s on playing with toys), I'm thinking about the weeks ahead.

Each year for the past five years (except the year I was pregnant with The Baby) I have worked in the mail order department of the local cheesehouse. Our cheese factory invented baby swiss cheese and people from all over the globe call into my little office high atop the cheesehouse to have cheese shipped to their parents, children, grandparents, grandchildren, aunts/uncles, neices/nephews, ex-spouses, neighbors, doctors, patients, clients, bosses, co-workers and employees, among others. It's my job to keep them happy, to get their cheese ordered, paid for and shipped out. I talk to little old ladies who are so lonely that they want to talk to the cheese mail-order girl. I converse with men who have had lunch with the president of the United States. I listen to stories of visits to our cheesehouse that took place many years ago.

I get decent pay, a GREAT bonus, and a really nice employee Christmas banquet where they call the kids up by name and give them gifts. Plus, the work environment is fun and friendly. AND there's LOTS of baked goods, which is just what I need to keep my energy up while I'm sitting on my butt in front of a computer all day talking on the phone.

I like my job. It does get stressful, but I still enjoy it. It's just quirky enough to be hip, and just quaint enough to make the stress manageable. The hardest part is maintaining order at home for the ten weeks I'm away. Sure, there's an adult here--my dad--and I'm only a few minutes down the road, but I can be in the next room (like right now) and chaos can occur.

But this year, I have a plan. At least I think I do. It involves breakfast together, the mornings in their rooms working on their lessons, lunch together, and the afternoon spending some quiet time reading or catching up on lessons. They all know what's expected of them, but that doesn't mean they get it done. Heck, when I'm here, I often have to struggle to keep a couple of them (read: The Boys) on task.

We have incentives, like Friday Night Family Night with pizza and movies or games if the kids get their lessons and chores done, but I'd like something with a bit more oomph.

So if you have suggestions for how to keep kids on task when you're away, please fire them this way.

Semolina Dough

"Semolina flour is usually associated with pasta, but it also produces the most crispy and flavorful pizza crust. Dough made from this hard durum wheat flour is especially suitable for moist fillings. It makes excellent calzone and double-crust pizza because it resists getting soggy.

Semolina dough is much les elastic than basic pizza dough made with white flour, so it must be rolled out rather than stretched. The dough should feel moist but not too sticky, and it may require a few extra tablespoons of water to attain the right consistency. If it sticks while it is being rolled out, dust the dough lightly with a small amount of flour. (if the dough tears, that means it is too dry. Just gather it up into a ball and add a small amount of water, knead the dough until it is softer, and give it a 15-minute rest before continuing.)

1 cup warm tap water (110 to 115 degrees)
1 package active dry yeast
1 cup all-purpose white flour
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 to 2 1/2 cups semolina flour

1. Pour the water into a medium-sized mixing bowl and sprinkle in the yeast. Stir gently with a fork until the yeast has dissolved and the liquid turns light beige in color.
2. Add the all-purpose flour, olive oil, and salt and stir with a wooden spoon. Add 1 cup of the semolina flour and mix. After the cup of semolina flour has been mixed in, the dough should be soft and should start to come away from the sides of the bowl. Add more water by the tablespoonful if the dough appears to be too crumbly and dry. Continue as if you were making the basic dough."

From The Pizza Book by Evelyne Slomon.

The Pendulum Swings

There are days when I'm up. I hate to be banal and cliche, but it really seems to happen when the sun is shining and there are whispy white clouds in the clear, blue sky.

On those days, I get so much done. Housecleaning, cooking, baking, shopping, gathering, planning, visiting...

But then, the clouds turn dark, and the pendulum swings the other way. I get impatient with my loved ones, get very little done, and I don't even care. At first. I just want to sleep it off.

After a couple of days of this, though, depression sets in. Not only am I down because of the gray sky and the dark clouds, but then I'm also overwhelmed by the work I didn't do while I was in my deepest funk. Dishes pile up, kids lose their discipline, dust overtakes my furniture and we all eat ramen noodles, which, I'm sure, makes us all feel so much better. As if.

Today, I seem to be nearing the bottom of the pendulum swing. I'm not completely down, but I'm not nearly up. I'm tired and unmotivated, and everything seems to take too long to do. I don't even want to curl up with a good book. I want to curl up with a mindless movie and a great big glass of icy Dr. Pepper. Give me my down pillow, my cotton blankie, and leave me the heck alone.

I know it's not hormones. Well, it might be, but if it is, I'm a freak of nature. I chart my cycles, so I know that now is supposed to be my peak time. I'm supposed to be full of energy, hopeful, gregarious. But I'm not. I'm just...tired and lazy.

If I took a "who are you" quiz right now, I'd be Eeyore. Without a doubt.

I don't want to believe that it's the weather. I know there are other factors that contribute to my feeling down, I just don't know what they are. And I don't really care.

But if it is the weather, I'm in for a long, long winter.

I wish we could bottle the sunshine. I wish we could take it whenever we started to feel down and depressed; just open it up and snort it in. But me, being the teetotaler that I am, never taking so much as a Tylenol unless I'm dieing, I'd rarely pull it from the shelf.

I'd just nurse my Dr. Pepper, curled up in a ball watching Sommersby and crying my eyes out, waiting until the blue skies returned.

Hot Buttered Pretzels

This weekend, we made a huge supply of these pretzels, three recipes, and they were gone by the afternoon. Follow the recipe to a T and you'll have pretzels to die for! If you have unsalted butter, it really does make the difference. We used salted, and with the gourment/coarse salt, it was too salty.

This recipe comes from the King Arthur Flour website. Better than Aunt Annies by a MILE!

INTRO
Pretzels are available crisp and hard from your grocery or, if you're lucky and in the right place, soft and chewy from street vendors. Our recipe is for the soft, chewy kind.
INGREDIENTS
Dough
2 1/2 cups King Arthur Unbleached All-Purpose Flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
2 1/4 teaspoons regular instant yeast
7/8 to 1 cup warm water*

Topping
1/2 cup warm water
2 tablespoons baking soda
coarse, kosher or pretzel salt
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
INSTRUCTIONS
*Use the greater amount in the winter, the lesser amount in the summer, and somewhere in between in the spring and fall. Your goal is a soft dough.

Food Processor Method: Place the flour, salt, sugar and yeast in the work bowl of a food processor equipped with the steel blade. Process for 5 seconds. Add the water, and process for 7 to 10 seconds, until the dough starts to clear the sides of the bowl. Process a further 45 seconds. Place a handful of flour in a bowl, scoop the slack dough into the bowl, and shape the dough into a ball, coating it with the flour. Transfer the dough to a plastic bag, close the bag loosely, leaving room for the dough to expand, and let it rest at room temperature for 30 minutes.

Bread Machine Method: Place all of the dough ingredients into the pan of your bread machine, program the machine for Dough or Manual, and press Start. Allow the dough to proceed through its two kneading cycles, then cancel the machine, flour the dough, and give it a rest in a plastic bag, as instructed above.

Manual/Mixer Method: Place all of the dough ingredients into a bowl, and beat till well-combined. Knead the dough, by hand or machine, for about 5 minutes, till it's soft, smooth, and quite slack. Flour the dough and place it in a bag, and allow it to rest for 30 minutes.

Preheat your oven to 500°F. Prepare two baking sheets by spraying them with vegetable oil spray, or lining them with parchment paper.

Transfer the dough to a lightly greased work surface, and divide it into eight equal pieces (about 70g, or 2 1/2 ounces, each). Allow the pieces to rest, uncovered, for 5 minutes. While the dough is resting, combine the 1/2 cup warm water and the baking soda, and place it in a shallow bowl. Make sure the baking soda is thoroughly dissolved; if it isn't, it'll make your pretzels splotchy.

Roll each piece of dough into a long, thin rope (about 28 to 30 inches long), and twist each rope into a pretzel, as illustrated. Dip each pretzel in the baking soda wash (this will give the pretzels a nice, golden-brown color), and place them on the baking sheets. Sprinkle them lightly with coarse, kosher, or pretzel salt. Allow them to rest, uncovered, for 10 minutes.

Bake the pretzels for 8 to 9 minutes, or until they're golden brown, reversing the baking sheets halfway through.

Remove the pretzels from the oven, and brush them thoroughly with the melted butter. Keep brushing the butter on until you've used it all up; it may seem like a lot, but that's what gives these pretzels their ethereal taste. Eat the pretzels warm, or reheat them in an oven or microwave. Yield: 8 pretzels.

Shortbread Cookies

My baking mood has extended beyond pizza, obviously.

I haven't made these yet, though I've made other shortbread recipes. I think they're just what I'm looking for to decorate for our Poe and Pizza night and our costume party this weekend. I'll cut them out with leaf, acorn and pumpkin cookie cutters and then top the finished product with fondant icing (recipe follows). They'll be just yummy.

Recipe:

1 cup (2 sticks) (226 grams) unsalted butter, room temperature

1/2 cup (60 grams) powdered (confectioners) sugar

1 teaspoon (4 grams) pure vanilla extract

2 cups (280 grams) all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon (2 grams) salt

In a separate bowl whisk the flour with the salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of your electric mixer cream the butter (about 1 minute). Add the sugar and beat until smooth (about 2 minutes). Stir in the vanilla extract. Gently stir in the flour mixture until just incorporated. Flatten the dough into a disk shape, wrap in plastic wrap, and chill the dough for at least an hour.

Preheat oven to 300 degrees F (150 degrees C) with the rack in the middle of the oven. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

On a lightly floured surface roll out dough to 1/2 inch (1.25 cm) thick. Cut into rounds or whatever shapes you wish using lightly floured cookie cutters. Place on the prepared baking sheet and place in the refrigerator for about 15 minutes. This will firm up the dough so the cookies will maintain their shape when baked. Bake for 20 minutes, or until cookies are dry but not brown. (The bottoms of the cookie will be lightly browned.) Cool on rack.

The basis for this recipe came from The Art of Fine Baking by Paula Peck

The Shortbreads are great plain or you can frost them with chocolate or confectioners sugar

FROSTED SHORTBREADS:

2 cups (170 grams) sifted confectioners' (powdered or icing) sugar

2 tablespoons (40 grams) light corn syrup

2 tablespoons water

In the top of a double boiler (use large stainless steel bowl over a saucepan) over barely simmering water, place all your ingredients. Stir until the sugar is melted and smooth. Remove from heat.

At this point you can color the frosting different colors using food coloring (I use the food paste color that comes in small jars. It can be bought at cake decorating and party stores.). If the frosting is too thick to spread just add a few drops of water until you get a spreadable consistency. You can spread the frosting by using a small knife or paint brush. To further decorate the cookies use colored sugar or sprinkles. Can also place the frosting in a pastry bag and pipe a design on the cookie - dots, lines, etc.

Basic Pizza Dough

I'll post a few pizza dough recipes over the next week or so. I thought it would be pretty basic to start with...well, with a basic dough.

The following recipe came from The Pizza Book by Evelyne Slomon. I found this book in the library years ago when I was first learning to make pizza. I liked the many options she had for pizza dough. Apparently the book is now out of print, but there are used copies available on Amazon.

There are three doughs that I use from this book. Here is the first:

Basic Pizza Dough

1 cup warm water (110-115 degrees)
1 package active dry yeast
3-3 1/2 cups all purpose flour (I use Hi-Gluten flour. Gives it a bit more oomph)
1/2 teaspoon salt.

1. Pour the water into a medium-sized mixing bowl and sprinkle in the yeast. Stir gently with a fork until the yeast has dissolved and he liquid turns light beige in color. MY NOTE: I place all of the ingredients in my breadmaker according to the breadmaker directions and set it for "dough." I also use my KitchenAid mixer with a dough hook, putting the hot water in first, then the salt, then the flour, then the yeast on top. Then I continue with the rest of the direstions.

2. Add 1 cup of the flour and the sale. Mix thoroughly with a wooden spoon. Add a second cup of flour and mix well. After the second cup of flour has been mixed in, the dough should start coming away from the sides of the bowl and should begin to for a soft, sticky mass. It is now ready to be kneaded.

3. Measure out the third cup of flour. Sprinkle some over the work surface and flour your hands generously. Remove all of the dough from the bowl and begin to work the mass by kneading the additional flour in a bit at a time.

From here, I assume you know how to knead dough and when to know it's ready for a rise. If you don't, let me know and I'll point you to some directions.

I put my dough in a tupperware-type bowl and either put it in the fridge for a 24-hour rise, or let it rise until doubled. If you put it in the fridge for a slow rise, this is supposed to improve gluten and flavor. Take it out about four hours before you need it and put it in a room-temp location, not too warm.

After that, divide it in half for two small pizzas, or leave it for one large. There's a great instruction video for shaping pizza crust here and a good basic pizza dough recipe with instructions here (thanks, MamaGeph!). It's kind of a by-feel thing. Sometimes I use the rolling pin (a big no-no, huh Michael S. Class? ) and sometimes I use my hands. I just keep messing with it, letting it rest occasionally, until I get the size and shape I want.

Then I put it in or on a pan that's been oiled and dusted with semolina flour. Let it rise for about ten to fifteen minutes before putting the toppings on if you want a nice, thick crust.

Top with stuff, but not too much. This is a more delicate crust than the semolina crust I'll post later. If you want a deep dish pizza, wait for the semolina recipe; it holds up better and doesn't get soggy with lots of toppings.

I bake mine on the bottom rack at around 450 (depends on your oven's temp) for around 18-20 minutes, sometimes putting on the broiler for a few minutes to brown the top very slightly (gotta watch that broiler, though!). I hope to get a pizza stone (which I understand can be as simple as terra cotta tiles from the hardware which you can leave in your oven all the time, even when you're not using them. This tip comes from Alton Brown).

Thanks for all the pizza tips! I can't wait to try them. I wonder how long it will be before my family tires of pizza?

Take the 100 Acre Personality Quiz!

Sweetheart

A few posts ago, my fifteen-year-old daughter Bard suggested that I do specialized posts for each of my kids, and I thought that was a pretty good idea. I did one for The Baby (who is growing out of her name WAY too quickly), and now it's time to do one or Sweetheart.

Sweetheart comes by her blog name honestly; she truly is a sweetheart. Yeah, sure, every kid has their faults, and Sweetheart is no exception, but she means well, and even when she doesn't, she never intends to hurt a soul.

My darling second daughter was quite a surprise to me. I wasn't interested in having another baby for all the wrong reasons--weight, personal freedom, selfishness, fear of being a horrible parent, fear of what others would think about us having ANOTHER baby--so when I found out that I was pregnant with Sweetheart, I was devastated. While I'm always open to new life and am pro-life across the board, I felt that I was somehow being challenged, tested, or, maybe, even punished. I'd had a very difficult pregnancy with my third child, Monet, and the labor was emotionally exhausting. I wasn't ready to face any of those issues again, and I wasn't ready to hit the reset button on the baby game.

But there I was, pregnant and pouty, horribly afraid I'd have another boy (because I wasn't doing very well raising boys) and feeling fairly well isolated from--well, from just about everyone.

But when Sweetheart was born--oh, my. She wedged her sweet little self right into my heart, even from the first look at her tiny face, when I knew she was a girl before I had looked at the other end. It was those rosebud lips, I said. I knew she was a girl from those gorgeous rosebud lips!

Sweetheart loves to dance. As a toddler, she could regularly be seen dancing with her older brother, Houdin, twirling around with a binky in her mouth and a kitten in her arms. She constantly insisted on showing me her dance moves, and I would watch as she'd dip and sway and wiggle and hop.

But one morning, Sweetheart didn't feel like dancing. She was complaining of pain in her knee, so I rolled up her little leggings and looked. It was swollen to twice its normal size, and she couldn't bend or extend her leg without great pain. I immediately thought it was a bite of some kind, a spider or something, since we'd recently been spending most of our time living in a cabin in the woods. But after a couple of days, the swelling increased and the pain sharpened to the point that we were carrying her around whereever she needed to go.

So, off to the doctor we went, who referred us to a bone specialist, who agreed to draw fluid from her leg right there in his office instead of having her x-rayed and anesthetized. While Sweetheart wailed, this saint of a doc drew a huge vial of clear liquid from her knee and blood from her little two-year-old arms, and then she and I were left alone while he went off to finish his paperwork. Upon his return, he told me that he didn't think it was cancer, found no evidence of tumors, and as referring me to a specialist; he believed that Sweetheart had JRA, Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis.

On Sweetheart's third birthday, she was indeed diagnosed with JRA. I was so afraid, so confused, and feeling very pressured by the JRA specialist to do many things that I felt were invasive and possibly damaging: steroid injections, a battery of low-dose chemotherapy drugs, and a full course of immunizations (which he insisted upon before he would further treat her, knowing that I vaccinate only for tetanus; turned out he was the head of infectious diseases in his hospital). We opted for physical, dietary and natural treatments. And a lot of prayer.

During that time, our family was attending a Bible Study group where we regularly prayed for one another. We shared with this group our struggles with Sweetheart and her health, telling them how this disease, especially her particular type, could leave her with damaged vision, further joint issues, and even blindness. The part that bothered me the most, I said, was watching her walk, each step painful and burning, especially in the morning or when she had been too inactive. And I shared how difficult it was for me to hear the song "I Hope You Dance," which was very popular during that time. These people, whose names I would be hard-pressed to remember now, gathered around us in prayer, and while I have to admit that I'm not a person who has ever fully believed in miraculous healing, I believed with all my heart that Sweetheart could be healed, that she had been healed, that I could extend a hope for her to dance.

That weekend, the swelling in her knee went down, and her physical therapy teacher tranferred to a different location, leaving us with the decision to either use a different therapist or continue our therapy at home. We decided to choose the home option. We bought her a tricycle and gave her regular warm baths, followed by a routine of "bend and stretch" exercises that everyone in the family helped her perform.

And before the week was out, her little legs were carrying her around again, twirling and dancing and leaping, albeit still slightly painfully.

She rarely has a problem now. Occasionally, she'll awaken with a stiff knee, but only in that one joint, and never so that it's debilatating.

And she still carries kittens around in her arms, and she still has beautiful rosebud lips and, thank God and all that is Good and Right, she still spins around with her older brother, insisting that I watch all of her dance moves.

I'm so very blessed, and I'm thankful that God is so patient with ignorant, selfish, impatient me. I can't imagine my life without Sweetheart. I can't believe I ever existed without her. My life is so much richer watching her marvel over butterflies and caterpillars, cutting flowers from our butterfly garden, cuddling the kittens, singing while she tidies up, dressing in as many outfits as she can in one day, having tea parties, pretending she's a princess, singing and dancing with The Baby, and, as of two weeks ago, learning to play piano. She loves the color pink, wants to grow her hair really long, insists on wearing dresses every day, adores jewelry, would own all of the Barbies in the world (if her mother would buy them), gathers leaves and writes her name on them with permanent marker, loves to draw and paint and work with clay, and works very hard on her lessons every day. She's learning to read and write and rarely complains about getting her jobs done. Her big brother Monet is her best pal, and she carries her special bear with her just about everywhere she goes. She loves to pick tomatoes from the garden and spoils the bunnies by feeding them carrots every day.

To think I didn't want another baby. Harumph. What was I thinking?

But I know better now.

Everyone should have a Sweetheart in their life.

Scenes of Bounty

It seems to me that there's an interesting phenomenon about blogging and, indeed, journaling in general. It's akin to the infernal grocery list; we tend to leave out the things that are the most obvious. How many times have you made your grocery list, checked it twice, walked dazedly around the pretty, brightly lit grocery store, beautiful music lulling you into peaceful aquistition of consumable goods, and just as you find yourself smiling broadly at the cashier as she tells you to have a nice day, you remember. You remember that one thing that was crucial for your comfort of life, the thing that sent you shopping in the first place. The thing that you thought was so obvious, you didn't even bother to write it on your list. And, somehow, standing there at the checkout, you determine that it's easier to just come back later than to push your cart aside, walk to the back of the store and pick up that one last completely necessary thing.

I find that I'm kinda like that with my blogging and journaling, too. Surely, I'll remember the hilarious quip Monet threw out, and I'll definitely recall the details of my mother-in-law and her aunt's visit to our house, and I'm sure nothing could make me forget all the things we learned and did and created and said and bought and planted and harvested and fought over and cried over, so, at the end of the day, when I'm sitting in front of the brightly lit screen, beautiful words lulling me into clicking on another link and another and another, my mind draws a blank. I don't write about that visit, or that cute little quip. It seems easier just to do it later, like tomorrow. But, unlike the package of toilet paper that I really should have taken the time to walk to the back of the store to lug home, there really isn't any reminder of those great moments that I miss, no great motivator that makes me sit down and write.

So, in times of bounty, I seem to slack off on my writing and journaling, when I really just need to discipline myself to get it done. I'm always so thankful when I do.

For the past couple of weeks, the bounty has been great. We've been busy with excellent classes, in spite of a very nasty cough that has been holding on for weeks. Last night, we attended the Bohemian Art Club, an informal gathering of friends in different homes where all ages share with each other the creative things they've been doing. I read a piece I wrote about saving Japanese bantams from hypothermia. I'd read it earlier in the day when Bard and I had attended a wonderful writers' retreat at the home of a local poetess.

The visit from my mother-in-law and her aunt, who is my children's great, great aunt, was a wonderful opportunity to extend hospitality. We all pitched in to clean the house and create a charming guest room out of Sweetheart's bedroom. Thanks to the inspiration from A Circle of Quiet, I had some good food in the freezer and was able to make a couple of chicken pot pies for dinner and serve pumpkin roll for breakfast. Sweetheart had a wonderful time cutting fresh flowers from our butterfly garden to make bouquets for the guest room. You can see both the guest room and the bouquets in the collage above, as well as pictures from our trip to the local apple orchard where I buy our yummy apple cider that I freeze for the winter.

We attended Chili Hill for the third year. Chili Hill is held at the home of some good friends of ours who, every year in October, mix up a huge batch of chili in a big cast-iron kettle, and cook it over an open fire, serving it to friends and family from all over the place. This year, we got there in time to enjoy lots of delicious foods (provided by guests--I took Killer Brownies this year) and a nice, long hayride. While I was there, I bought three rabbits from Chili Hill host, Sara--two mini-lops and a brown mini-rex--to go with the rabbits we already have. I use their manure on my gardens, since it's not a hot manure and can be placed directly into the garden. I hope to breed them so that we can have some baby bunnies for a little while and to make a few extra dollars, which I hope to put into a fund to purchase a pair of dogs to breed and family-raise the puppies to fund the kids' future choir trips. We haven't decided on a specific breed yet, so I'm open to suggestions.

See, it's slipping away already. I know there are more things I should write about. I pulled out my Morning Pages journal yesterday and hope to start writing in it again on a daily basis. I can't remember why I stopped, but I did, and it's been too long.

Time slips away so quickly, and next thing you know, you're checking out...and, as my favorite musician, David Wilcox says, "I mean, you're checking out," and you forget what you came in for in the first place, leaving without the most important thing, the thing you knew you needed but didn't bother to write down.

I NEED to bother to write it down. I don't want to forget this bounty. 

When the Moon Hits Your Eye...

I've been on a pizza kick.

A few years ago, I got on the same kick. I do these things, find something I want to do and immerse myself until I feel I've mastered it to my satisfaction. At some point, and I don't remember the inspiration, I decided that I wanted to make my own pizza, and I wanted it to be just like Pizza Hut's pizza. I researched at the library and on the internet for a copy-cat crust recipe, but never did find one. In my search, however, I came up with a few keepers. My magnum opus was a deep-dish pizza that my husband's co-workers still discuss to this day.

And then something happened. I can't remember what, but the storm blew over as quickly as it came. Likely, something more fresh and challenging crossed my path, like cheesecake, or knitting, or braided rugs (none of which I've mastered to my satisfaction, but all of which I've gotten about knee-deep and am still slogging through). And I set pizza aside.

Well, now that I have a wonderfully appointed kitchen suitable for cooking and baking, with adequate counter space and three sinks, and now that I've been Freecycled a breadmaker that saves my arthritic hands from cramping up after two and a third minutes of kneading, I'm on that pizza kick again.

Every weekend, I make several balls of dough, harvest several sprigs of basil and a few tomatoes, and pull out the plethora of toppings that sound fitting for the evening. So far, the pizzas have been a huge hit. I've made semolina crust, regular crust, and, tonight, I'm venturing into new territory, pepper-lard crust, made with naturally rendered pork lard (mmmm...doesn't that sound healthy?). Lucky for me I live in a community that still bakes. There's no shortage of flour choices: semolina, hi-gluten, pastry, unbleached/nonbromated, white whole wheat, bread flour, cake flour, buckwheat flour--you name it, I can probably find it within ten minutes of my house.

So, if you unique pizza recipe you'd like to share that works for you, I'm interested. You have my attention.

And if this pepper-lard dough works out, I'll publish the results along with a recipe, if you want.

In the meantime, tell me:

what's your favorite pizza place?

What do you like on your pizza?

What's the worst pizza you've ever eaten?

What's the best memory you have that's triggered by pizza?

And now, I'm off to throw some dough.

A Child's Geography

A Child's Geography

From the website: "An original work in the lively style of Hillyer, these online installments of "A Child's Geography" will take you and your fledgling geographers on adventures through our Father's world that you will never forget! With Charlotte Mason-type narration prompts throughout the text, and notebooking suggestions at end of each "journey", you and your children will soon be singing exuberant praises to Him for the glorious creation of our home--Earth!"

I found this site while visiting one of my favorite blogs, A Quiet Life and I thought I'd share it with you.

This year, we've been using Ambleside Online as our primary curriculum after years of trying different things and mostly unschooling or learning based on interest. I've really enjoyed Ambleside and plan to continue using it for the remainder of our homeschooling journey. I know it works because Houdin, who is prone to resist structure and assignments, shared with me that he doesn't mind that I assign so much reading to him; in fact, he says, he enjoys it and thinks he will much smarter at the end of the C.M. year. I agree.

One of our favorite books, the one that the boys pick up first when choosing the day's first independent reading book, is A Child's History of the World by Virgil Hillyer, Calvert's first headmaster. The book is written much in the style of A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh books, conversational and personal. Ten-year-old Monet today declared A Child's History his favorite book.

I'm excited to find A Child's Geography because the author, Ann Voskamp, approaches geography in much the same way Hillyer approaches history, with a conversational and personal tone. Her writing voice is filled with excitement and fosters a natural interest in the subject.

Voskamp currently offers the e-book for $10.00 with all profits going to WorldVision. For a sneak peak, Voskamp provides a link to a 35-page sample of the e-book that you can download and peruse for free.

Hooray for go-getters like Ann Voskamp and Michael Class, people who are dedicated to providing today's children with excellent, high-quality reading materials.

Being Arbitrary

"On the way from Chicago to Edmonton, I boarded the plane with my slightly oversized roller-board suitcase, and asked the man at the ramp whether I should gate-check it, or if it would fit in the overhead compartment. He told me to give it a try in the overhead bin, and if it didn’t fit then I could bring it back to him.

So, I wheeled it inside, and began to lift it above my head, when the passenger behind me barked “Nope”. I looked at him and said “I’m
sorry?” and he said, “It won’t fit.” I said, “Oh, I think it might.” “No, it won’t.” “Well, just let me try at least” and he said, “I’ve never seen a bag like that fit up there.” “You mean like that one?” I said, pointing at a similar bag already in the compartment just behind him. As he looked back to see what I was talking about, I easily slid my suitcase into the overhead bin above my seat, and as it clicked shut, I said, “yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Exasperated, he sputtered, “I was just trying to help!” And I said, “No you weren’t! How is saying “no” trying to help? I asked you to let me try and you said “No!”” He told me that I shouldn’t be so snotty and sat down."

Steve, from the Barenaked Ladies blog

One of the things that we constantly attempt to remind ourselves in this home is the importance of thinking a thing through before speaking it. As a parent, it's sometimes--okay, it's often-- tempting to pull a Nancy and just say "no." The thing is, no isn't always the easiest answer. And it's definitely not always the right answer.

How many times have I said no just because I'm tired, grumpy, or, I'll admit, too lazy to say yes? Saying yes might take commitment on my part. It might actually mean that I have to get up off my butt and do something. Or it might mean I have to think a bit.

Saying "no" might end up being more work. Kids know when you're being arbitrary, there's no doubt about it, and they do their best to poke holes in your reasoning. Thinking it through first is a definite plus. As a parent, you're much less likely to waffle on your original decision if you know why you're answering the way you are.

I'm not saying that "yes" is always the right answer, either. There are times when we must recognize that we're too overwhelmed to add even one more thing to our plates, that our schedules are about to explode and that the calendar looks like a page from Leonardo Da Vinci's journal, frantically written, filled to the margins and practically impossible to read. We say, "yes, you can go to your friend's house," before we think about the cost or the inconvenience of the obligation because we feel guilty for not reading a bedtime story last night, or because we just heard a glowing review of Johnny's mother and we feel we're slipping on the parent poll. We say "yes" to the homeschool organization president because...well, because she intimidates the heck out of us and we're afraid we'll be blacklisted from future field trips, even though saying "yes" puts a very big burden on us--and on our families.

So the word in our house is, "Don't be arbitrary."

Arbitrary. Resulting from whim or caprice instead of from a rule or reason. Random , haphazard , absolute , overbearing.

How many things do we miss because we're being arbitrary? How many things do we do that don't involve our hearts? We arbitrarily say, "no" when the kids ask if they can make cookies for tea. We arbitrarily say, "yes," when the pastor's wife calls and asks us to provide the cookies for Wednesday night's ladies' fellowship. We arbitrarily say "no" when our kids ask if they can roll out the cookie dough or use the cookie cutters or have a piece of dough of their own. Our answers come randomly, haphazardly, absolutely, completely capricious and totally on a whim.

Today, I hope to live with purpose, not to be arbitrary.

Read an extra chapter.

Tell the president of the blah-blah group no.

Turn off the computer.

Make a homemade pizza.

Order the rubber chicken.

Let the dust settle.

Be open to possibilities.

Say yes when I mean yes.

Say no when I mean no.

Now, if you'll excuse me, my son has a rube goldberg invention he wants to make involving paper towel tubes, a Van DeGraff generator and a radio.

I have to think about this one.

"And don't say anything you don't mean. This counsel is embedded deep in our traditions. You only make things worse when you lay down a smoke screen of pious talk, saying, "I'll pray for you,' and never doing it, or saying, "God be with you,' and not meaning it. You don't make your words true by embellishing them with religious lace. In making your speech sound more religious, it becomes less true. Just say "yes' and "no.' When you manipulate words to get your own way, you go wrong."

Seven Things

You were wrong, Michael. I do read you. ;-)

7 Songs I am digging at the moment:

- Sara Smile by Hall & Oates
- Skinnamarinky-dinky-dink.
- Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer
- Jingle Bells
- Frosty the Snowman.
- Santa Claus is coming to Town
- Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star
*These are all songs that are being sung in our house almost daily. The Christmas songs are thanks to The Baby.


7 things I plan to do before I die:

- Have grandchildren
- Travel to Europe
- Graduate all of my children and see them doing what they love.
- Spend some time being a "real" writer.
- Go downhill skiing again without being afraid.
- Build a log cabin.
- Convince my husband of his true worth.


7 things I can do:

- Knit
- Bake decent bread
- Touch my nose with my tongue
- Recite all of the states in alphabetical order
- Multitask
- Have real conversations with my kids
- Run a household

7 things I cannot do:

- Play guitar
- Lift heavy objects (thank God for strong husbands and sons)
- Please everyone
- Sing like Celine
- Sleep (right now, anyway)
- Pay all my bills
- Hug my parents

7 things that attract me to another person:

- A sense of humor
- Honesty
- Compassion
- A very nice smile
- An honest, sincere love of God
- Wisdom
- Understanding

7 things I say most often:

- "If you want a calm, peaceful mother, you need to be a calm, peaceful child."
- "Your face!"
- "What on earth...?"
- "Are your lessons done?"
- "No," or "Not right now."
- "It'll be ready when it's ready."
- "I love you."


7 Celebrity crushes:

I don't really have any celebrity crushes and can't name more than ten celebrities without serious thought.


I'm not going to tag anyone. I just had to prove Michael wrong. ;-)

Gimmee, gimmee, gimmee

I have needs, too, y'know.

Michael over at Blogin' Idiot did this fun little thing, so I thought I'd do it, too. Since we're rather sick at our house, my actual thinking is down to a minimum, so all I can do is mourn the "real" posts I should be writing. Alas.

Still, this one was funny, and amazingly accurate.

What you do is, start a new Google search and enter "(your name) needs" minus the parentheses, but WITH the quotation marks. Then write down either the first five results or the five funniest, whatever you want. I searched with my real name, but I'm using my pen name in this entry.

1. T.D. needs a big fat raise.
2. T.D. needs to define herself.
3. T.D. needs to stop lying to herself about her feelings and make up her mind.
4. T.D. needs to give us the recipe for that cake.
5. T.D. needs to go home.
6. T.D. needs prayers.
7. T.D. needs to be changed.
8. T.D. needs support, too!
9. T.D. needs to stop thinking she's the one with the problem.
10. T.D. needs to work on saying she's sorry.

You're a Dialogue/Character Writer!


What kind of writer are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Fives (and then some)

I'm finally getting around to answering this tag. Sorry it took me so long, Billi-Jean!

First the rules:

Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump every one up one place; add your blog's name in the #5 spot; link to each of the other blogs for the desired cross pollination effect.

1. Writing from the hip: http://writingfromthehip.blogspot.com
2. Blue Stocking: http://bluestocking.typepad.com
3. Simply Coll: http://colleenscorner.com/blog
4. My Boutiful Life: http://billi-jean.com/thebounty.html
5. Today's Lessons: http:todayslessons.blogspot.com

Next: select four new friends to add to the pollen count. (No one is obligated to participate and anyone can play if they want to).

1. Hindsfeet: http://hindsfeet.blogspot.com
2. Impromptu Mom: http://happyhousewife.blogspot.com
3. Pensive Wanderer: http://stationsoflife.blogspot.com
4. Peaceful Lady: http://www.xanga.com/PeacefulLady
(and I'm adding a fifth and sixth, just for fun)
5. Prism: http://thethoughttrain.blogspot.com
6: Bard: http://barmyblogger.blogspot.com

What were you doing 10 years ago?
1995
I was 26.
I had three children: four-year-old Houdin and five-year-old Bard, plus four-month-old Monet. We had one dog, Indiana, and we were living in a very small house wishing for a big house in the country. I had just had my first homebirth with Monet and was thinking about attending births, which I began doing around that time, or maybe shortly after. I think I was working with a homebirth task force, too.

What were you doing 5 years ago?
2000
I was 31. We'd added Sweetheart to the family, my second homebirth, and she was about eighteen months old.
We were doing a lot of biking, hiking, camping and traveling.
I was thankful that Y2K didn't bring an antrax attack and that we were still all alive and all together. After spending some time at a friend's cabin in January and February, I had been dreaming and planning for my own cabin and my own home.
By May of that year, we had found a piece of property that we loved and made an offer on it.
By August of that year, we had purchased the property that we now live on and were living part-time in a small cabin, loving the simple life that it provided.

What were you doing one year ago?
2004
One year ago, we were making some finishing touches on the house we'd begun building and had finished, mostly, in July. I was also trying to get our homeschool lives organized, evaluating my kids, dreaming about a yard and gardens, planning and executing a family gathering, Freecycling, thinking about the upcoming elections, meeting Jane Goodall, attending the chili cook on Chili Hill, having a big disagreement with a good friend, attending an art class organized by Pensive Wanderer, watching a lunar eclipse, and blogging as often as I could.

What were you doing yesterday?
Being sick, running the kids around to Speech and Debate, Biology and Philosophy classes. I shopped a bit at the bulk food store--bought semolina flour for pizza crusts, made bread, cleaned the kitchen (including scrubbing the stove, which really needed done). I also cleaned a lot in anticipation of my brother-in-law and sister-in-law's visit, which was thwarted because of our coughs. So we ordered pizza and watched Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

5 snacks you enjoy
- popcorn
- breyers vanilla ice cream with hershey's syrup and roasted almonds
- roasted, unsalted almonds with coke or dr. pepper
- homemade french fries
- Grandma Shearer's Select potato chips or Gold'n Krisp chips with Yoder's Sour Cream French Onion Dip
- (one more) White Trash.

5 songs you know all the words to
- One Tin Soldier - I know this one, too, Billi-Jean!!
- You Are My Sunshine
- Boy Like Me, Man Like You, but Rich Mullins
- Star Spangled Banner
- WAYYYY too many pop songs, but not as many as I thought I knew, which I realized while doing karaoke.

5 things you would do if you had a million dollars
- pay off debt
- buy more land
- lots to charity/friends
- bunch in savings
- travel

5 things you like doing
- cooking
- reading
- visiting
- gardening
- blogging
- learning
- researching

5 bad habits
- Being nitpicky/over-critical.
- Not exercising
- Being impatient
- Biting nails
- Losing my temper over little things

5 things you would never wear again
- bikini. Wore one once, and it scared me to death. Now I would never wear one, but for completely different reasons.
- stirrup pants.
- legwarmers
- blue eyeshadow (never did, never will)
- "Jams." Remember those?

5 favorite toys
- computer/blogger/google
- breadmaker, kitchen aid mixer, cuisinart food processor
- camera/picasa
- printer/copier
- husband

Firsts and Lasts

Firsts Meme, idea courtesy of TulipGirl.

First Memory
I remember standing at a screen door crying for someone who was driving away in a car. I also remember seeing the circus peanuts up in a high cupboard, and then climbing up to get them. I don't remember the burns I sustained from the stove that was on beneath the cupboard with the circus peanuts, but I do remember the children's hospital walls, which were painted, ironically, with the Peanuts Gang characters. I also remember my dad holding me on the counter after he accidentally got my ankle caught in the spoke of his bicycle while riding me on the handlebars.

First Kiss
February 1982, my would-be hubby.

First Concert
Journey, with Bryan Adams and Sammy Hagar when I was in eighth grade. My parents took my friend and I, and they waited outside the arena until the show was over.

First Love
My parents.

First thing you think in the morning
"What time is it? And is anyone hurt?" Don't know where this comes from, but I always have a feeling of dread when I awake, like something tragic happened while I was asleep. ::shrug::

First book you remember loving
The Black Stallion and the sequels.

First pet
Can't recall for sure. We had two dogs when I was a child, but they weren't really my pets and they weren't really family dogs. I had a hamster, a hermit crab and a cat, and then later a dog.

First place you think of when you hear the word vacation
Macinac Island, Michigan, where I met Christopher Reeve.

First best friend
Dawn Sanderson, followed closely by Ronda King.

Last time you dressed up
It's been a while. Can't even remember.

Last thing you ate
A brownie with Breyers vanilla ice cream, Hershey syrup and roasted almonds.

Last CD bought
No idea. We subscribe to Rhapsody, so I rarely buy CDs.

Last time you cried
I don't remember.

Last time you told someone you loved them
Lots of times today. Kids, husband.

Last really fun thing you did
Canoeing a couple of weeks ago. Contra-dancing with hubby and kids. Karaoke with Houdin's friend-who-is-a-girl and her family last weekend.

Last thing you watched on TV
The Cosby Show on DVD tonight.

Last Halloween Costume
I was an Indian. Hubby was a pirate. Last year.

Last concert attended
Kids' choir concert, most likely. Before that, probably David Wilcox. Can't recall for sure.

Memories of Post-Nasal Drip

I remember sixth grade. Lord almighty, that was a horrible year. It was that awkward transition between girlhood and womanhood, when girls become catty and boys are just starting to notice which girls are worth looking at.

But the worst part, I think, was that my mom was the playground aid, and she was in pretty tight with my sixth grade teacher who ignorantly believed that my mother was a saint, which also meant that she believed all of the horrible stories my mother told her about me. Even though half of them were probably true, it didn't make it any easier being her student. She was the teacher who constantly told me how lucky I was to have a mom like mine (though she wasn't there when my mom threatened suicide or when she beat me senseless), that my mom was an amazing woman (though she wasn't there when my mother overdosed and I had to spend the night in the emergency room scared to death that she would die and that it was my fault), and that, if I knew what was good for me, I'd thank God for my mom (because I'm sure she was there when my mom told everyone in the smoky teacher's lounge what a horrible spoiled brat I was, when what she really meant was that she hated my dad and felt stuck in a no-win situation. I was the scapegoat).

Mrs. Dietz was the teacher who yanked me into the hallway after Mark Williams broke my scissors. She told me that I needed to step back and look at my life, that my problems were my fault and that the more quickly I realized that, the more quickly things would become easier for me. And then she issued me the only swat I ever got in school, but not until she summoned Miss Jones, the sterotypically masculine gym teacher, to do the dirty work, and then she went down the hall and closed each of the other classroom doors.

SA-WACK!

It was absolutely humiliating.

I'm thinking about that swat and about Mrs. Dietz today because of this terrible cough I'm battling.

For some inexplicable reason (coulda been my mother's chain-smoking, but who knows?), I used to get a hacking cough every school year--the kind of cough caused by sinus drainage, the kind that always became far worse at night. This, I remember, was one time when my mother was very mothering; she would mix a batch of lemon juice and honey and have me drink it down. It always worked, and I believe in it to this day. That's one of the strange things about having a mom who was diagnosed with manic depression; the memories about her are both fond and fierce, and I remember the good and the bad with equal vividness.

But while Mrs. Dietz wasn't around to witness my mother's Mr. Hyde side, neither was my mother in my classroom to administer her magic potion when my tickle got the worst of me. She sent me to school, doubtless because she didn't want to call off work, and I sat in my classroom asking to get a drink every few minutes, embarrassed by this cough that had taken over my body. My mom, I'm sure, was outside aiding other kids on the playground.

I don't remember what I had done wrong in class that day, but I do remember that I got into trouble with Mrs. Dietz somehow. Looking back on it now, I really wonder what this woman had against me, what horrible stories my mother told her, and how many of them were even true. In most of my classes prior to and after my sixth grade year, I was most often the teacher's pet. I made good grades (until seventh grade, then it all seemed pointless. I got back on track during my Junior year), paid attention, and I really didn't cause trouble, other than by the occasional fit of chattiness (who, me?).

But in Mrs. Dietz's class, all I had to do was clear my throat, and she was on me like chalk on a chalkboard.

So, apparently I cleared my throat on the day this killer sinus-drainage cough attacked, and I was stuck in the corner desk, ordered to put my head down and was told that I was not allowed to leave my seat for any reason, and I was not to raise my head.

Humiliation.

I sat at the desk with my head down, knowing that all eyes were upon me--the eyes of my best friend Dawn, and of the cool girls, Michelle and Tina, and of Mark Williams, who I loved and hated at the same time. And I tried, desperately I tried, to control that tickling cough that had taken me hostage.

Of course it didn't work. The harder I tried to keep from coughing, to fight that tickle, the more violently the cough came once it finally triumphed. And the fact that I had to sit there with my head down was sheer torture. The position allowed my nasal drip to travel down my nose, exit my nostrils, and slide to the tip of my nose until-drip, drip, drip--it was gathering in a pool on my desktop. I was scared to death to ask for a tissue, and I was embarrassed to tears to wipe the snot away with my arm; even if I had, the sheer volume of snot would never have been controlled by a little backhand wipe. And so I sat there, terrified that Mrs. Dietz would send me back to my seat, the string of mucus conspicuously connecting the tip of my nose to that disgusting puddle on my desk, and wishing desperately that some mercy would befall me.

Like most of my childhood traumatic memories, this one doesn't provide an ending for me. I don't remember how I got out of that situation, so it was either so uneventful that it doesn't register or it was so painful that I've blocked it from memory.

I just remember that terrible tickle and that incessant drip...drip...drip.

My family is currently dealing with that tickle and drip. My husband, the only one in the household currently unafflicted, says that our house sounds like one long echoing cough all night long. I've doled out the lemon juice and honey, the herbal cough syrup, the homeopathics and the eucalyptus chest rub. I've even gotten so desperate as to break out the Nyquil...AND give more than the recommended dosage when the recommended dosage didn't cut it.

We missed a long-anticipated visit from my brother-in-law and his wife and new baby daughter because of this cough, and we forfeited both of our homeschool support group meetings, piano lessons (would have been Sweetheart's first lesson), music appreciation class and bucket-making class. We also skipped a trip to the local festival's wooly-worm race and the old time fiddlin' today. We may have to forgo tomorrow's long-anticipated barn dance and Sunday's Harvest Dance, the first our "big town" has ever had.

But at least my kids don't have to sit in a tyrant's classroom while their noses drip onto a germ-infested wooden desk in the corner of the room. That's one of the great things about being a stay-at-home mom--I get to stay at home, especially when I'm needed. Plus, we cut out schooling for the week--that's one of the great things about homeschooling--and my kids still did some of their lessons, even though I told them they didn't have to. We've been cuddling up on the couch, watching Cosby Show DVDs and living on fresh bread, Ramen noodles and Nyquil.
It stinks to be sick, but at least we're all in this together, in the relative comfort of our own home.

A word of advice: start the elderberry/echinacea NOW. This thing's nasty as all get-out.

I'm off to dole out the Nyquil. I might have to go to the fruit cellar and open a new case.

Current Reading List

A Circle of Quiet asked for current reading lists. I tried to post this before but was thwarted by the evil BloggerBot.

Here are the books on our current reading list; this is a list of all the books being read by everyone. I didn't note who was reading what because several are being read by many of us:

1-2-3 magic /
by Phelan, Thomas W., 1943-

The amazing Mr. Franklin, or, The boy who read everything /
by Ashby, Ruth

American tall tales.
by Stoutenburg, Adrien

Applying algebra /
by McCabe, John L. P.

At the back of the North Wind;
by MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

B. Franklin, printer /
by Adler, David A.

Bard of Avon : the story of William Shakespeare /
by Stanley, Diane.

Beethoven : 1770-1827 /
by Koolbergen, Jeroen

Benjamin Franklin : a photo-biography /
by Riley, John, 1955-

Benjamin Franklin : a photo-illustrated biography /
by Usel, T. M.

Benjamin Franklin : writer, inventor, statesman /
by Nettleton, Pamela Hill

Benjamin Franklin, founding father and inventor /
by Foster, Leila Merrell

A child's history of the world,
by Hillyer, V. M. (Virgil Mores), 1875-1931.

Ferdinand Magellan /
by Hurwicz, Claude

Fizz, bubble & flash! : element explorations and atom adventures for hands-on science fun! /
by Brandolini, Anita J., 1956-

Formation of character /
by Mason, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Maria), 1842-1923

Galileo : astronomer and physicist /
by Doak, Robin S. (Robin Santos), 1963-

Galileo : on the shoulders of giants /
by Moriarty, Michael, 1941-

Galileo for kids : his life and ideas /
by Panchyk, Richard

Galileo Galilei : father of modern science /
by Hilliam, Rachel.

Galileo Galilei and the science of motion /
by Boerst, William J.

Handbook of nature-study.
by Comstock, Anna Botsford, 1854-1930.

The heroes.
by Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

Home education /
by Mason, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Maria), 1842-1923

How to read a book,
by Adler, Mortimer Jerome, 1902-

The Italian Renaissance.
by Marshall Cavendish Corporation

Leonardo da Vinci /
by Witteman, Barbara

Leonardo, beautiful dreamer /
by Byrd, Robert

Ludwig van Beethoven : musical pioneer /
by Greene, Carol.

Men of iron /
by Pyle, Howard, 1853-1911

Minn of the Mississippi,
by Holling, Holling Clancy.

The ordinary parent's guide to teaching reading /
by Wise, Jessie

Ourselves /
by Mason, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Maria), 1842-1923

Parents and children /
by Mason, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Maria), 1842-1923

A philosophy of education /
by Mason, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Maria), 1842-1923

Phonics pathways : clear steps to easy reading and perfect spelling /
by Hiskes, Dolores G.

The Pilgrim's Progress /
by Bunyan, John, 1628-1688.

The princess and the goblin /
by MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

Sailing alone around the world
by Slocum, Joshua, b. 1844.

School education /
by Mason, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Maria), 1842-1923

Science lab in a supermarket /
by Friedhoffer, Robert

The story of inventions /
by McHugh, Michael J.

The story of mankind /
by Van Loon, Hendrik Willem, 1882-1944.

Swallows and Amazons;
by Ransome, Arthur, 1884-1967

Tales from Shakespeare /
by Lamb, Charles, 1775-1834

Time lines : world history year by year since 1492 /

The timetables of history/
by Grun, Bernard

The voyage of Magellan.
by Humble, Richard.

The water-babies /
by Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

The well-educated mind : a guide to the classical education you never had /
by Bauer, S. Wise

The well-trained mind : a guide to classical education at home /
by Wise, Jessie

Donating New and Used Curriculum to Katrina Homeschooling Families

From the Website:

"Hurricane Katrina And The Homeschool Community

In the aftermath of hurricane Katrina, many of you are rushing to send help to our friends in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. The recovery and cleanup will be a very long process and there are things that will be needed in the future, but not immediately. This is why I am writing to you today.

Project Noah is a homeschooling ministry that helps homeschooling families in crisis. We only provide curriculum and school supplies to the families that come to us with crisis needs – whether it is because their home has burned, or been flooded, or the primary wage earner has been without work for an extended period of time, or other similar crisis, we try to help. We have been serving the homeschooling community for almost 5 years now and will continue as long as there are families in need.

Although some of you that receive this letter do not homeschool, you can still help. There will be a great need for school supplies, even the workbooks that you see at Sam’s Club and Wal-Mart will help.

The majority of homeschooling families in these states operate through their local churches. The churches, as well as the families, have lost much, including school books and school supplies. Having worked in the arena of these types of crisis for a number of years, I can tell you that these things are not on their minds right now. BUT…when they begin to think about these things, Project Noah wants to be able to have those things ready for them. All the things that we use throughout the course of our homeschooling year, books, calculators, rulers, notebooks, pens, pencils, erasers, teaching tapes, textbooks –these things will be needed, even lunchboxes, crayons, markers, and on and on and on.

If you would like to help us help these families in this unique nitch of need, we would be honored."