Today's Rhapsody Playlist

Today's Rhapsody Playlist: Summertime cleaning. Chasing away the dustbunnies and the fleas, vacuuming, changing sheets, and sweating.

But good music makes it bearable.

Here's my playlist for today:

"Let Me Touch You For Awhile" - Alison Krauss
"Choctaw Hayride" - Alison Krauss
"The Lucky One" - Alison Krauss
"Caleb Meyer" - Gillian Welch
"Lonesome Wind" - Del McCoury
"I Feel The Blues Moving In" - Del McCoury
"Politik" - Coldplay
"In My Place" - Coldplay
"God Put A Smile Upon Your Face" - Coldplay
"The Scientist" - Coldplay
"Clocks" - Coldplay
"Daylight" - Coldplay
"Beautiful Day" - U2
"Square One " - Coldplay
"What If " - Coldplay
"White Shadows" - Coldplay
"Fix You" - Coldplay
"Talk" - Coldplay
"X&Y" - Coldplay
"Speed Of Sound" - Coldplay
"A Message" - Coldplay
"Low" - Coldplay
"The Hardest Part" - Coldplay
"Swallowed In The Sea" - Coldplay
"Twisted Logic" - Coldplay
"'Til Kingdom Come" - Coldplay
"Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of" - U2
"Elevation" - U2
"Walk On" - U2
"Kite" - U2
"In A Little While" - U2
"Wild Honey" - U2
"Peace On Earth" - U2
"When I Look At The World" - U2
"New York" - U2
"Grace" - U2
"Green Eyes" - Coldplay
"Warning Sign" - Coldplay
"A Whisper" - Coldplay
"A Rush Of Blood To The Head" - Coldplay
"Amsterdam" - Coldplay
"High On A Mountain" - Del McCoury
"Cheek To Cheek With The Blues" - Del McCoury
"The Cold Hard Facts" - Del McCoury
"Give Me The Love" - The String Cheese Incident
"Sometimes A River" - The String Cheese Incident
"Big Compromise" - The String Cheese Incident
"Until The Music's Over" - The String Cheese Incident
"Drive" - The String Cheese Incident
"45th Of November" - The String Cheese Incident
"Sirens" - The String Cheese Incident
"Elijah" - The String Cheese Incident
"Blackjack County Chains" - Del McCoury
"Eli Renfro" - Del McCoury
"Are You Coming Back To Me?" - Del McCoury
"Drifting With The Tide" - Del McCoury
"Loneliness And Desperation" - Del McCoury & The Dixie Pals
"Over Yonder In The Graveyard" - Del McCoury & The Dixie Pals
"Dry My Tears And Move On" - Del McCoury Band
"Let An Old Racehorse Run" - Del McCoury Band
"My Love Will Not Change" - Del McCoury Band
"I Can Hear The Angels Singing" - Del McCoury Band
"The Cold Hard Facts" - Del McCoury Band
"Smoking Gun" - Del McCoury Band
"Henry Walker" - Del McCoury Band
"The First Time She Left" - Del McCoury Band
"I'll Be There" - Del McCoury Band
"Beauty Of My Dreams" - The Del McCoury Band
"That's Alright Mama" - The Del McCoury Band
"High On A Mountain" - The Del McCoury Band
"Whiskey Girl" - Gillian Welch
"Orphan Girl" - Gillian Welch
"Annabelle" - Gillian Welch
"Pass You By" - Gillian Welch
"Barroom Girls" - Gillian Welch
"One More Dollar" - Gillian Welch
"Paper Wings" - Gillian Welch
"Tear My Stillhouse Down" - Gillian Welch
"Look At Miss Ohio" - Gillian Welch
"Make Me A Pallet On Your Floor" - Gillian Welch
"Wayside,Back In Time" - Gillian Welch
"Ode To A Butterfly" - Nickel Creek
"The Lighthouse's Tale" - Nickel Creek
"Out Of The Woods" - Nickel Creek
"House Of Tom Bombadil" - Nickel Creek
"Reasons Why" - Nickel Creek
"When You Come Back Down" - Nickel Creek
"Sweet Afton" - Nickel Creek
"The Hand Song" - Nickel Creek
"The Fox" - Nickel Creek
"Smoothie Song" - Nickel Creek
"Spit On A Stranger" - Nickel Creek
"Speak" - Nickel Creek
"This Side" - Nickel Creek
"When In Rome" - Nickel Creek
"Somebody More Like You" - Nickel Creek
"Jealous of the Moon" - Nickel Creek
"Scotch and Chocolate" - Nickel Creek
"Can't Complain" - Nickel Creek
"Tomorrow Is a Long Time" - Nickel Creek
"Eveline" - Nickel Creek
"Anthony" - Nickel Creek
"Best of Luck" - Nickel Creek
"Doubting Thomas" - Nickel Creek
"First and Last Waltz" - Nickel Creek
"Helena" - Nickel Creek
"I Had A Real Good Mother And Father" - Gillian Welch
"One Monkey" - Gillian Welch
"No One Knows My Name" - Gillian Welch
"One Little Song" - Gillian Welch
"Wrecking Ball" - Gillian Welch
"Revelator" - Gillian Welch
"My First Lover" - Gillian Welch
"Dear Someone" - Gillian Welch
"Red Clay Halo" - Gillian Welch
"April the 14th Part 1" - Gillian Welch
"I Want to Sing That Rock and Roll" - Gillian Welch
"Elvis Presley Blues" - Gillian Welch
"Everything is Free" - Gillian Welch
"Baby, Now That I've Found You" - Alison Krauss
"Every Time You Say Goodbye" - Alison Krauss
"Stay " - Alison Krauss
"I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow" - Alison Krauss
"When You Say Nothing At All" - Alison Krauss
"Scratch & Sniff" - Bela Fleck
"Blue Mountain Hop" - Bela Fleck
"Will You Be Lonesome, Too?" - Earl Scruggs
"Wabash Cannonball" - Earl Scruggs
"Ballad Of Jed Clampett (Theme from "The Beverly Hillbillies")" - Earl Scruggs
"Country Comfort" - Earl Scruggs
"Borrowed Love" - Earl Scruggs
"Ring Of Fire" - Earl Scruggs
"The Angels" - Earl Scruggs
"Foggy Mountain Breakdown" - Earl Scruggs
"Blue Ridge Mountain Blues" - Earl Scruggs
"Foggy Mountain Rock / Foggy Mountain Special" - Earl Scruggs
"Earl's Breakdown" - Earl Scruggs
"Blue Ridge Cabin Home" - Earl Scruggs
"On My Mind" - Earl Scruggs
"Dear Old Dixie" - Earl Scruggs
"Pray For The Boys" - Earl Scruggs
"Heavy Traffic Ahead" - Earl Scruggs
"Molly And Tenbrooks (The Race Horse Song)" - Earl Scruggs
"Come Back Darling" - Earl Scruggs
"Jimmie Brown, The Newsboy" - Earl Scruggs
"Till The End Of The World Rolls 'Round" - Earl Scruggs
"Foggy Mountain Special" - Earl Scruggs
"Shuckin' The Corn" - Earl Scruggs
"Cripple Creek" - Earl Scruggs
"Sally Goodwin" - Earl Scruggs
"Buffalo Nickel" - Bela Fleck
"When Joy Kills Sorrow" - Bela Fleck
"Polka On The Banjo" - Bela Fleck
"Home Sweet Home" - Bela Fleck
"The Sinister Minister" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Blu-Bop" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"The Star Spangled Banner" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"The Sinister Minister" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Communication" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Big Country" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Almost 12" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Bigfoot" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Bill Mon" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"The Ballad Of Jed Clampett" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Fugue from Prelude & Fugue No. 20 in A Minor, BWV 889" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"P'lod In The House" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Rococo" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Labyrinth" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Kaleidoscope" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Weed Whacker" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Couch Potato" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"the whistle tune" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Down to The River To Pray" - Alison Krauss
"Gravity" - Alison Krauss
"Restless" - Alison Krauss
"Rain Please Go Away" - Alison Krauss
"Goodbye is all We Have" - Alison Krauss
"Unionhouse Branch" - Alison Krauss
"Wouldn't Be So Bad" - Alison Krauss
"Crazy As Me" - Alison Krauss
"Borderline" - Alison Krauss
"If I Didn't Know Any Better" - Alison Krauss
"A Living Prayer" - Alison Krauss
"Baby, Now That I've Found You" - Alison Krauss
"I Will" - Alison Krauss
"When You Say Nothing At All" - Alison Krauss
"Let Me Touch You For A While" - Alison Krauss & Union Station
"The Lucky One" - Alison Krauss & Union Station
"New Favorite" - Alison Krauss & Union Station
"Let Me Touch You For Awhile" - Alison Krauss
"Choctaw Hayride" - Alison Krauss
"The Lucky One" - Alison Krauss
"Caleb Meyer" - Gillian Welch
"Lonesome Wind" - Del McCoury
"I Feel The Blues Moving In" - Del McCoury
"High On A Mountain" - Del McCoury
"Cheek To Cheek With The Blues" - Del McCoury
"The Cold Hard Facts" - Del McCoury
"Give Me The Love" - The String Cheese Incident
"Sometimes A River" - The String Cheese Incident
"Big Compromise" - The String Cheese Incident
"Until The Music's Over" - The String Cheese Incident
"Drive" - The String Cheese Incident
"45th Of November" - The String Cheese Incident
"Sirens" - The String Cheese Incident
"Elijah" - The String Cheese Incident
"Blackjack County Chains" - Del McCoury
"Eli Renfro" - Del McCoury
"Are You Coming Back To Me?" - Del McCoury
"Drifting With The Tide" - Del McCoury
"Loneliness And Desperation" - Del McCoury & The Dixie Pals
"Over Yonder In The Graveyard" - Del McCoury & The Dixie Pals
"Dry My Tears And Move On" - Del McCoury Band
"Let An Old Racehorse Run" - Del McCoury Band
"My Love Will Not Change" - Del McCoury Band
"I Can Hear The Angels Singing" - Del McCoury Band
"The Cold Hard Facts" - Del McCoury Band
"Smoking Gun" - Del McCoury Band
"Henry Walker" - Del McCoury Band
"The First Time She Left" - Del McCoury Band
"I'll Be There" - Del McCoury Band
"Beauty Of My Dreams" - The Del McCoury Band
"That's Alright Mama" - The Del McCoury Band
"High On A Mountain" - The Del McCoury Band
"Whiskey Girl" - Gillian Welch
"Orphan Girl" - Gillian Welch
"Annabelle" - Gillian Welch
"Pass You By" - Gillian Welch
"Barroom Girls" - Gillian Welch
"One More Dollar" - Gillian Welch
"Paper Wings" - Gillian Welch
"Tear My Stillhouse Down" - Gillian Welch
"Look At Miss Ohio" - Gillian Welch
"Make Me A Pallet On Your Floor" - Gillian Welch
"Wayside,Back In Time" - Gillian Welch
"Ode To A Butterfly" - Nickel Creek
"The Lighthouse's Tale" - Nickel Creek
"Out Of The Woods" - Nickel Creek
"House Of Tom Bombadil" - Nickel Creek
"Reasons Why" - Nickel Creek
"When You Come Back Down" - Nickel Creek
"Sweet Afton" - Nickel Creek
"The Hand Song" - Nickel Creek
"The Fox" - Nickel Creek
"Smoothie Song" - Nickel Creek
"Spit On A Stranger" - Nickel Creek
"Speak" - Nickel Creek
"This Side" - Nickel Creek
"When In Rome" - Nickel Creek
"Somebody More Like You" - Nickel Creek
"Jealous of the Moon" - Nickel Creek
"Scotch and Chocolate" - Nickel Creek
"Can't Complain" - Nickel Creek
"Tomorrow Is a Long Time" - Nickel Creek
"Eveline" - Nickel Creek
"Anthony" - Nickel Creek
"Best of Luck" - Nickel Creek
"Doubting Thomas" - Nickel Creek
"First and Last Waltz" - Nickel Creek
"Helena" - Nickel Creek
"I Had A Real Good Mother And Father" - Gillian Welch
"One Monkey" - Gillian Welch
"No One Knows My Name" - Gillian Welch
"One Little Song" - Gillian Welch
"Wrecking Ball" - Gillian Welch
"Revelator" - Gillian Welch
"My First Lover" - Gillian Welch
"Dear Someone" - Gillian Welch
"Red Clay Halo" - Gillian Welch
"April the 14th Part 1" - Gillian Welch
"I Want to Sing That Rock and Roll" - Gillian Welch
"Elvis Presley Blues" - Gillian Welch
"Everything is Free" - Gillian Welch
"Baby, Now That I've Found You" - Alison Krauss
"Every Time You Say Goodbye" - Alison Krauss
"Stay " - Alison Krauss
"I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow" - Alison Krauss
"When You Say Nothing At All" - Alison Krauss
"Scratch & Sniff" - Bela Fleck
"Blue Mountain Hop" - Bela Fleck
"Will You Be Lonesome, Too?" - Earl Scruggs
"Wabash Cannonball" - Earl Scruggs
"Ballad Of Jed Clampett (Theme from "The Beverly Hillbillies")" - Earl Scruggs
"Country Comfort" - Earl Scruggs
"Borrowed Love" - Earl Scruggs
"Ring Of Fire" - Earl Scruggs
"The Angels" - Earl Scruggs
"Foggy Mountain Breakdown" - Earl Scruggs
"Blue Ridge Mountain Blues" - Earl Scruggs
"Foggy Mountain Rock / Foggy Mountain Special" - Earl Scruggs
"Earl's Breakdown" - Earl Scruggs
"Blue Ridge Cabin Home" - Earl Scruggs
"On My Mind" - Earl Scruggs
"Dear Old Dixie" - Earl Scruggs
"Pray For The Boys" - Earl Scruggs
"Heavy Traffic Ahead" - Earl Scruggs
"Molly And Tenbrooks (The Race Horse Song)" - Earl Scruggs
"Come Back Darling" - Earl Scruggs
"Jimmie Brown, The Newsboy" - Earl Scruggs
"Till The End Of The World Rolls 'Round" - Earl Scruggs
"Foggy Mountain Special" - Earl Scruggs
"Shuckin' The Corn" - Earl Scruggs
"Cripple Creek" - Earl Scruggs
"Sally Goodwin" - Earl Scruggs
"Buffalo Nickel" - Bela Fleck
"When Joy Kills Sorrow" - Bela Fleck
"Polka On The Banjo" - Bela Fleck
"Home Sweet Home" - Bela Fleck
"The Sinister Minister" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Blu-Bop" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"The Star Spangled Banner" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"The Sinister Minister" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Communication" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Big Country" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Almost 12" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Bigfoot" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Bill Mon" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"The Ballad Of Jed Clampett" - Bela Fleck & The Flecktones
"Fugue from Prelude & Fugue No. 20 in A Minor, BWV 889" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"P'lod In The House" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Rococo" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Labyrinth" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Kaleidoscope" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Weed Whacker" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Couch Potato" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"the whistle tune" - Béla Fleck & The Flecktones
"Down to The River To Pray" - Alison Krauss
"Gravity" - Alison Krauss
"Restless" - Alison Krauss
"Rain Please Go Away" - Alison Krauss
"Goodbye is all We Have" - Alison Krauss
"Unionhouse Branch" - Alison Krauss
"Wouldn't Be So Bad" - Alison Krauss
"Crazy As Me" - Alison Krauss
"Borderline" - Alison Krauss
"If I Didn't Know Any Better" - Alison Krauss
"A Living Prayer" - Alison Krauss
"Baby, Now That I've Found You" - Alison Krauss
"I Will" - Alison Krauss
"When You Say Nothing At All" - Alison Krauss
"Let Me Touch You For A While" - Alison Krauss & Union Station
"The Lucky One" - Alison Krauss & Union Station
"New Favorite" - Alison Krauss & Union Station
"On "Black Cadillac"" - Rosanne Cash
"On the anticipation of events" - Rosanne Cash
"On "I Was Watching You"" - Rosanne Cash
""I Was Watching You" Pt. 2" - Rosanne Cash
""I Was Watching You Pt. 3"" - Rosanne Cash
"Songs as "postcards from the future"" - Rosanne Cash
"On mortality" - Rosanne Cash
"I'll never write this album again..." - Rosanne Cash
"On "Radio Operator"" - Rosanne Cash
"Dreams" - Rosanne Cash
"Time span of "Black Cadillac"" - Rosanne Cash
"Roses" - Rosanne Cash
"On "Like a Wave"" - Rosanne Cash
"On "The Good Intent"" - Rosanne Cash
"Roots and Tendrils" - Rosanne Cash
"Goodbyes" - Rosanne Cash
"Over My Head" - The Fray
"How to Save A Life" - The Fray
"All At Once" - The Fray
"Look After You" - The Fray
"Heaven Forbid" - The Fray
"Fall Away" - The Fray
"Vienna" - The Fray
"Hundred" - The Fray
"Trust Me" - The Fray
"Little House" - The Fray
"Over My Head (Cable Car)" - The Fray
"Ocean Avenue" - Yellowcard
"Lights And Sounds" - Yellowcard
"Only One" - Yellowcard
"Rough Landing, Holly" - Yellowcard
"Way Away" - Yellowcard
"Empty Apartment" - Yellowcard
"Lights And Sounds" - Yellowcard
"Breathing" - Yellowcard
"Down On My Head" - Yellowcard
"One Year, Six Months" - Yellowcard
"Life of a Salesman" - Yellowcard
"View From Heaven" - Yellowcard
"Sure Thing Falling" - Yellowcard
"Believe" - Yellowcard
"Three Flights Up" - Yellowcard
"Miles Apart" - Yellowcard
"Back Home" - Yellowcard
"City of Devils" - Yellowcard
"Firewater" - Yellowcard
"Two Weeks From Twenty" - Yellowcard
"Holly Wood Died" - Yellowcard
"Inside Out" - Yellowcard
"Words, Hands, Hearts" - Yellowcard
"Twenty-Three" - Yellowcard
"Everywhere" - Yellowcard
"Holy Now" - Peter Mayer
"Holy Now" - Peter Mayer
"World of Dreams" - Peter Mayer
"John's Garden" - Peter Mayer
"Ocean Mary" - Peter Mayer
"Brown County Fair" - Peter Mayer
"Rosa Parks" - Peter Mayer
"Running With The Buffalo" - Peter Mayer
"River Run" - Peter Mayer
"Blessed Disease" - Peter Mayer
"Beat Your Drum Slowly" - Peter Mayer
"Dancing Song" - Peter Mayer
"Magic Beans" - Peter Mayer
"Blue Boat Home" - Peter Mayer
"Elijah Jones" - Peter Mayer
"Awake" - Peter Mayer
"Moon River" - Peter Mayer
"Magic Beans" - Peter Mayer
"Easy Street" - Peter Mayer
"Running with the Buffalo" - Peter Mayer
"Canoe Song" - Peter Mayer
"Molly O'Malley's" - Peter Mayer
"Skyblaster Man" - Peter Mayer
"Scatterbrain" - Peter Mayer
"O Sun" - Peter Mayer
"One More Circle" - Peter Mayer
"Upside Down" - Jack Johnson
"Better Together" - Jack Johnson
"Sitting, Waiting, Wishing" - Jack Johnson
"Banana Pancakes" - Jack Johnson
"Good People" - Jack Johnson
"Never Know" - Jack Johnson
"Broken" - Jack Johnson
"No Other Way" - Jack Johnson
"Breakdown" - Jack Johnson
"Do You Remember" - Jack Johnson
"Flake" - Jack Johnson
"Staple It Together" - Jack Johnson
"We're Going To Be Friends" - Jack Johnson
"Wrong Turn" - Jack Johnson
"Crying Shame" - Jack Johnson
"Situations" - Jack Johnson
"If I Could" - Jack Johnson
"Taylor" - Jack Johnson
"Constellations" - Jack Johnson
"People Watching" - Jack Johnson
"Belle" - Jack Johnson
"Talk Of The Town" - Jack Johnson
"Jungle Gym" - Jack Johnson
"Bubble Toes" - Jack Johnson
"The Sharing Song" - Jack Johnson
"I Don't Think So" - Krista Detor
"Artless" - Krista Detor
"Fishing" - Krista Detor
"Penny on the Road" - Krista Detor
"Under His Skin" - Krista Detor
"On the Water" - Krista Detor
"Buffalo Bill" - Krista Detor
"I'm Still Here" - Krista Detor
"The Hampton Sisters (Glory)" - Krista Detor
"Abigayle's Song" - Krista Detor
"Dancing in a Minefield" - Krista Detor
"Ghosts of Peach Street" - Krista Detor
"Tell Me a Story" - Krista Detor
"Steal Me a Car" - Krista Detor
"Mudshow" - Krista Detor
"A Red Bowl" - Krista Detor
"Salome" - Krista Detor
"Calling Robert" - Krista Detor
"Bus to Indiana" - Krista Detor
"Something Missing" - Krista Detor
"Blue Sky" - Krista Detor
"You Will Be Adored" - The Brothers Creeggan
"Anna On The Moon" - The Brothers Creeggan
"A Vote For Beauty" - The Brothers Creeggan
"Coastline" - The Brothers Creeggan
"Ali Baba's" - The Brothers Creeggan
"I Fumbled" - The Brothers Creeggan
"Rocking Chair" - The Brothers Creeggan
"You Love Fall" - The Brothers Creeggan
"Sometimes" - The Brothers Creeggan
"Long And Slow" - The Brothers Creeggan
"Bye Song" - The Brothers Creeggan
"Grey" - The Brothers Creeggan
"Will You Come Back To Me" - The Brothers Creeggan
"Foups" - Andy Creeggan
"Izzy" - Andy Creeggan
"Prelude" - Andy Creeggan
"Sparrows (excerpt)" - Andy Creeggan
"Attendance" - Andy Creeggan
"Lullaby" - Andy Creeggan
"Viola No. 3" - Andy Creeggan
"Viola No. 2" - Andy Creeggan
"Viola No. 5" - Andy Creeggan
"Ruby Roll" - Andy Creeggan
"Peacock" - Andy Creeggan
"With Dad" - Andy Creeggan
"Dorian" - Andy Creeggan
"Green" - Andy Creeggan
"Brian Wilson (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Some Fantastic (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Adlib (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Maybe Katie (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Alternative Girlfriend (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Upside Down (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"I'll Be That Girl (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"For You (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"One Week (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Pinch Me (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Old Apartment (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Blame It On Me (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Bull In A China Shop (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Falling For The First Time (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"It's All Been Done (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Shopping (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Call And Answer (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"If I Had $1,000,000 (Live) (Seattle 7-25-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Grade 9 (Live) (Portland, ME 02-17-04)" - Barenaked Ladies
"Fall" - Peter Mayer
"John's Garden" - Peter Mayer
"Like A Mountain" - Peter Mayer
"The Dark" - Peter Mayer
"Holy Now" - Peter Mayer
"Charlie Porter" - Peter Mayer
"Africa" - Peter Mayer
"Now Touch The Air Softly" - Peter Mayer
"Magic Beans" - Peter Mayer
"Brand New Harley" - Peter Mayer
"One More Circle" - Peter Mayer
"Ocean Mary" - Peter Mayer
"Awake" - Peter Mayer
"Elijah Jones" - Peter Mayer
"Blue Boat Home (Choir)" - Peter Mayer
"Blue Boat Home" - Peter Mayer
"The Play" - Peter Mayer
"Earth Town Square" - Peter Mayer
"Skyblaster Man" - Peter Mayer
"Crawl In" - Peter Mayer
"Brown County Fair" - Peter Mayer
"Winter Woods" - Peter Mayer
"Astronaut Dreams" - Peter Mayer
"Coming Home" - Peter Mayer
"Straw House Down" - Peter Mayer
"Things I Need" - Peter Mayer
"Rosa Parks" - Peter Mayer
"Running With The Buffalo" - Peter Mayer
"Peppermint Wind" - Peter Mayer
"Angel in the Snow" - Peter Mayer
"River Run" - Peter Mayer
"Blessed Disease" - Peter Mayer
"Beat Your Drum Slowly" - Peter Mayer
"Story of My Life" - Peter Mayer
"Molly O'Malley's" - Peter Mayer
"Straw House Down (reprise)" - Peter Mayer

Interest-Led Education

One morning, Monet, the middle child of our five children, came down to the computer room where I was observing the very beginning stages of a monarch butterfly emerging from her chrysalis. I knew that she would be breaking forth at any moment, because all of her monarch colors were very visible through the casing, and it was the time of the day when monarchs typically emerge. We'd been raising butterflies through the summer, after a fellow homeschooling mom had given us a bouquet of milkweed hosting a half-dozen tiny caterpillars. Though we'd watched the other stages of metamorphosis, the growing caterpillar, the shedding of their caterpillar skins, and the change into a chrysalis, he'd not yet seen the amazing moment when the transformation comes to completion. In the kitchen, a list of the day's goals were sitting on the table--chores, lessons, piano practice, etc. Even though I was standing there watching a miracle about to take place, my mind was on that list of goals. I knew that if we got distracted for too long, the day would run away with us. "Come on, Monet," I said, "let's start our day." He protested, of course, but it wasn't a disrespectful thing. He just really wanted to make sure he didn't miss that moment. "We'll keep checking," I assured him. "We'll only be in the next room." He hesitated, but followed me into the kitchen.

Earlier this week, when a homeschool mother asked me if I would share at Saturday morning's homeschool mothers' luncheon, I was both pleased and surprised; pleased because I'm an attention hog--I love to talk. Surprised because I wasn't really sure what I had to share that would be of interest. The attention-hog me won out, and I told her "yes." Then I did what I normally do under these circumstances--panic. How could I bring all of my thoughts of fifteen years of homeschooling, into focus, and keep it under fifteen minutes? "Talk about your specialty areas, your special interests," she said. Huh. What are my special interests, I wondered. I mean, philosophically speaking, our educational style is all over the map. Homeschooling in the Thicket Dweller household is quite eclectic and, if nothing else, very interesting. At any given time, you might find us looking for formaldehyde to preserve the eyeball of a cat that had been run over by a car, or smearing shaving cream all over the kitchen table to beat the boredom of practicing our letter formations on paper, or recording old time radio drama satires, complete with Rich Chocolatey Ovaltine Bar commercials and blooper reels.

We have a lot of fun with our learning. But I'm never really sure, when someone, say the cashier at Wal*Mart who wonders why my kids aren't in school, asks me to define what we do. We aren't school-at-homers. We tried that for a while, and there wasn't a day when one of us didn't end up crying. We aren't classical homeschoolers, strictly speaking, because, while we read a lot of classical literature and focus on a many aspects of classical education, like art and music and some Well-Trained Mind philosophies, we have many modern interests, like juggling and unicycling and blogging. We aren't unschoolers, because that connotates a completely child-led, structure-free lifestyle, and my kids would be quick to tell you that that's not us. I don't relinquish complete control very easily.

So, while we gleen from many different educational styles, we don't strictly follow any of them. I guess I'm a homelearner of all trades, a master of none. If truly pressed to define our educational style, I would have to categorize us as interest-led learners.

"What does *that* mean," the cashier at Wal*Mart might ask while I lift a bag of potatoes onto the conveyor belt. Well, if she had some time, I'd tell her. Because, if you remember what I said before, I like to talk. I guess talking would be my specialty area.

I'd say, "Well, it's like this. Interest-led learning can be broken down into three sub-categories. We can allow interest, we can express interest, and we can encourage interest." At that point, the cashier would probably hand me my receipt, throw my bag of potatoes into the cart, and send me on my way, but since I have you here, a captive audience, I'll expound.

Allowing interest. I would say that's my biggest priority. To me, allowing interest is God's gift to educating parents. Having five children, ranging in age from three to almost sixteen, it would be difficult to choose one learning style, one out-of-the-box curriculum, and use it successfully with everyone. For me, it's important to be flexible, to appeal to their interest areas for clues on how they learn. Out of my school-age children, I have one child who is a voracious reader, one who is very artistic, one who loves animals, and one who...well...he's easily distracted, a bit strong-willed, and likes to be the center of attention. In other words, he's an awful lot like me. But I think he's the child who taught me the most about the importance of flexibility in our learning environment.

One day about six months ago, I got a call from a homeschooling friend. She was exasperated with her thirteen-year-old daughter. "I can't get her to do anything! She won't write her book reports, she won't do her math, and it's driving me wild! All she talks about is learning how to play guitar. I told her today that I've had enough. No way. I won't stand for it! If she can't handle doing her regular lessons, then she can just forget about ever getting a guitar."

So I told her about my proverbs 22:6 story.

For years, Houdin balked at the idea of learning to read. Reading was something his *sister* did, not him. His sister, who had taken to reading like a homeschooler takes to curriculum fairs, learned to read with very little help by age three. She was reading Pride and Prejudice by age eight. She was off the charts in her language arts assessments by age ten. Houdin, however, showed no interest in reading. As a matter of fact, by the time he was six and still wasn't reading, I went into so much of a panic that I enrolled him in a local private Christian school. By the end of the year, my wallet was quite a bit lighter and he had developed a deep appreciation for recess, but the boy still didn't know how to read. It was about then that I got a hold of Raymond and Dorothy Moore's books and found a bit of comfort, that it was better for a child to be late in reading than too early. Mortimer J. Adler says something very similar, that it will do more damage to force a child to read before he's ready than it would do for them to read after they're ready. So I decided to just stop pushing it.

Proverbs 22:6 says to train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not turn from it. One day, I happened to be reading this verse in my Amplified Bible, and I was encouraged to read this:

Train up a child in the way he should go [and in keeping with his individual gift or bent], and when he is old he will not depart from it.

In keeping with his individual gift or bent. That's one of the beautiful things about homeschooling. We can do this--we can make accomodations for kids who are night owls, or kids who communicate better by speaking than by writing, or kids who think they hate to read.

One of my favorite authors on education, Charlotte Mason, says, "The parent who sees his way to educate his child will make use of every circumstance of the child's life almost without intention on his own part...Does the child eat or drink, does he come, or go, or play--all the time, he is being educated, though he is as little aware of it as he is of the act of breathing."

This quote reminds me of a story that John Holt, the father of unschooling, told about walking across a courtyard on his way to work one day, how he envisioned a seminar where everyone talked about breathing. "How are you breathing today?" One would ask. "Oh, not like Joe Smith...doesn't he breath beautifully?" And so on. If we were to witness this type of convention, we'd wonder if the attendants were sick, or had been sick. Why so much talk and worry about something healthy people do naturally? The same might be said, Holt concludes, about how much we worry about learning. Given room, we all have interests. We all have things that motivate us to learn. Aristotle said that the pleasure arising from thinking and learning will make us think and learn all the more.

So I thought about my son's individual bents and gifts, wondered what would motivate him to think and learn all the more. What does he like? Well, he likes magic, I thought, sleight of hand. Illusion. It's an interest he picked up from his great-grandfather, a master magician who has never failed to wow us with his tricks. I took Houdin to a magic shop and let him choose a few things with the promise of more the next week if he did his chores and cared for these gifts. This, not reading, was clearly his talent. But the beauty was that, in order to learn to do these tricks well, he needed to read the instructions. Bam. The inspiration was there. The motivation was there. And as if by some intervention of the Lord, the next time we went, the shop owner, who had taken a liking to Houdin, suggested...GASP!...some BOOKS for him to read! "Do you know anything about Houdini?" He asked. "A little," Houdin answered. "Do you like to read?" the shop owner asked. "Not really," Houdin answered. "How old are you...about twelve?" Houdin nodded. "When I was twelve, I hated to read, too. And then I got interested in magic. I read about Houdini, and then I started reading books like this one..." he handed Houdin a huge book filled with instructions for different magic tricks. "Can we get it?" Houdin asked me. We took the book home, he got some books on Houdini from the library, and by the end of the week, he was reading every night. When the student is ready, the master appears. Now, Houdin takes his magic tricks to businesses to entertain patrons, uses them as ice-breakers, and presents them at nursing homes. And, he still reads every night.

So, after I told my friend this little story, I suggested that she use the guitar as a motivator, not as a punishment. "Have her research guitars. Tell her to take notes and present them to you. Encourage her to save her own money for lessons. You have a gift here, the gift of motivation that comes with her desire to play guitar. It's the best tool you have." I added, too, the benefit of a lifelong love of music, how it will always be a means of meditation and worship, how it will increase her logical thinking.

Last week, the young girl played her guitar for me. She plays beautifully. she has started a teen worship team at her church. And her mother no longer has problems with getting her to do her lessons--she sees the value in research and written communication. Abbe Ernest Dimnet said that children have to be educated, but they have also to be left to educate themselves. I find that by giving my children a little room, a little benign neglect, they educate themselves quite well.

Of course, there are things that we, as mothers, want our children to learn even if they can't be easily motivated by their gifts to learn them. That's where encouraging interest comes in. Listening to her play a new piece on the piano, asking to hear the new story she's written, showing a guest his latest drawing, and, one of my favorite ways of encouraging interest,"strewing." Strewing is a term I picked up from unschooler Sandra Dodd. Strewing, defined, is leaving materials of interest around for my children to discover. This follows the same course of logic as keeping healthy foods in the pantry. Charlotte Mason, in her book Home Education, says, "The more the child shapes his own course, the less do the parents find to do, beyond feeding him with food convenient, whether love or thought or bodily meat and drink. The parents' chief care is that that which they supply shall be wholesome and nourishing, whether in the way of...books, lessons, playmates, bread and milk, or mother's love." Strewing could be as simple as leaving an interesting book beside the toilet, as effortless as playing Edvard Grieg pieces during meal preparation times, or as pre-planned as taking the whole family to a contra-dance. Sometimes these things meet with a bit of resistence, but with some polite discourse, the child usually trusts that I, the mother, know what I'm talking about, that I've rarely steered them wrong, and they comply. I once heard John Tesh say that it takes introducing a food up to fifteen times before a child will like it, so sometimes, I have to keep trying. The important things stick. The superfluous ones slip away.

And, while encouraging interest, I incorporate those modifications I talked about earlier. For a child who thinks he hates to write, I started a mother/son journal, a place where we communicate with each other in writing on a regular basis. Interest encouraged. For a child who thinks he hates math, we get into discussions about pi at midnight, the ratio of the circumference to the diameter of a circle, by measuring every circle in the house to see if the theory holds true. Interest encouraged. For the daughter who doesn't like to keep records of her lessons or do narrations about the books she's read, we created a blog where she can record her educational progress. Interest encouraged. In these ways, we learn, not just during traditional school hours, and not just during the traditional school year, but all the time. Taking every opportunity to learn. Learning like breathing. We breath everywhere. Last week, while on a date to Coccia House in Wooster, my son Monet and I had a conversation about continents. "Are they, like, cities?" He asked. "No," I answered, "let me explain." And right then, that italian restaurant became the world. Each room became a continent. Each table became a country. He caught on. Each plate became a state or province, my pasta, a tangled mass of cities, towns and villages. "I like my teacher," he said. "Because, in a way, I am my teacher."

And while they do teach themselves, I also feel that there are things that I must teach them, things that resist being learned by allowing interest and encouraging interest. These things can almost always be learned by my expressing interest, by my taking the time to learn and become entranced. Frank Clark said, "Every adult needs a child to teach. It's the way adults learn!" And I believe it's the way children learn, too. A well-publicized study by Harvard University in 1997 found that both literacy and school success could be linked to--guess what?--pleasant dinner table conversation about current events. We know that we influence our children with out interests. Charlotte Mason wrote "The child who sees his mother with reverent touch lift an early snowdrop to her lips learns a higher lesson than the print books can teach" and "If [children] see that the things which interest them are indifferent or disgusting to you, their pleasure in them vanishes." Learning together, showing a never-ending interest in learning, is one way that I have seen inspires my children to love learning.

That's how we got interested in the monarch butterflies. After my friend brought us our first batch of caterpillars, I just fell whole-hog in love with them! I couldn't get enough, checked out every book in the library, made a monarch butterfly habitat and a caterpillar feeding jar, and the kids and I went out in search of fresh milkweed when the caterpillars had eaten through their supply. Monarchs monopolated our lives. But they also taught me another valuable lesson in flexibility.

That morning, Monet and I left the monarch chrysalis and went into the kitchen to begin our day. Not two minutes after we'd walked out of the computer room, I peeked in to check on the monarc. There, dangling from the chrysalis, was a perfectly-formed butterfly, spreading her wings. "WE MISSED IT!" I yelled. Monet came rushing into the room, wide-eyed, yet disappointed. "I told you to wait, Mom!"

He was right. I can't remember specifically what drew us away, what we were doing that was so important, but I do remember that we missed an opportunity to witness a miracle. I don't want to make that mistake again. So I try to be open to learning opportunites, to make accomodations, to allow interest, to encourage interest, and to express interest, and in this way, I believe I can witness miracles rather than busy myself with things that I'll probably not remember in years to come.

I want to leave you with one quote by author Borg Hendrickson, words that have encouraged me to trust myself to develop my own educational philosophies:

"The homeschool parent listens to her inner voice, the voice she recognizes as the world's most natural and suitable teacher for her children. She listens to her own convictions, to her life-earned wisdom, to her love for her children, to her hopes for them and she then knows how and to what purposes she wants her children educated. she then knows her educational philosophies and aims. She also knows that nothing else will do."

There's only two things that money can't buy...

Zucchini and cukes, peaches and pears, strawberries and jalapenos, tomatoes and sugar snap peas, mints and balms and other yummy tea plants, carrots and cilantro and basil and dill.

It's summer.

Our garden is growing and producing, and I'm learning so much about what I need to do next year to make things more successful. I need to take some type of proactive...uh...action with the fruit trees. The peaches we got were large and delicious, but they were riddled with worms. I didn't plant a companion for our asian pear tree, so we have all of one entire asian pear this year.

But it feels really good to have yummy stuff growing right on our own little proven ground. We've been drinking goat's milk, straight from our own sweet goats, eating our own free-range eggs and, this week, we'll do our first butchering session of 25 broilers.

Of course, sometimes we get so busy that we eat mediocre food, at best, from Wendy's and Subway. But it's always a reminder to me that food from home is the very best food there is.

Here's to homegrown.

There's nothin' in the world that I like better than
Bacon, lettuce and home grown tomatoes
Up in the morning and out in the garden
Pick you a ripe one, don't get a hard 'un
Plant 'em in the springtime eat 'em in the summer
All winter without 'em's a culinary bummer
I forget all about the sweatin' and the diggin'
Every time I go out and pick me a big'un

Home grown tomatoes, home grown tomatoes
What'd life be without home grown tomatoes
There's only two things that money can't buy
That's true love and home grown tomatoes

You can go out and eat 'em, that's for sure
But there's nothin' a home grown tomato won't cure
You can put 'em in a salad, put 'em in a stew
You can make your own, very own tomato juice
You can eat 'em with eggs, you can eat 'em with gravy
You can eat 'em with beans, pinto or navy
Put em on the side, put em on the middle
Home grown tomatoes on a hot cake griddle

If I could change this life I lead
You could call me Johnny Tomato Seed
I know what this country needs
It's home grown tomatoes in every yard you see
When I die don't bury me
In a box in a cold dark cemetery
Out in the garden would be much better
Where I could be pushin' up home grown tomatoes

~Guy Clark

The more the child shapes his own course, the less do the parents find to do, beyond feeding him with food convenient, whether of love, or thought, or of bodily meat and drink. And here, we may notice, the parents need only supply; the child knows well enough how to appropriate. The parents' chief care is, that that which they supply shall be wholesome and nourishing, whether in the way of picture books, lessons, playmates, bread and milk, or mother's love.

~Charlotte Mason

Home Grown

Nothing in the world makes a sound
Like a carrot being plucked from the ground.

The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio

See it.

I'm Feeling Bettah

Though still cleaning out my intestines, this virus that took over my body seems to have abated to some reasonable extent. I'm back to walking about in the real world, milking the goats on a regular schedule without the help of the wee children, and I actually took an entire shower last night without passing out. That's real progress.

So, I'm off to work at the greenhouse today. (What? You didn't know I took the greenhouse job? Did I forget to submit "Part Four?" Sheesh. My apologies. More on that later. I'm suddenly feeling a bit...lightheaded. ::swoon::)

When we finish our watering responsibilities at the greenhouse today, the older children, Bo and I are heading Up North (read: "The Big City") to take in Pirates of the Carribean. As my daughter Bard would say, "WOOT!"

Today's lesson: Being sick is bad, but it's worse than the alternative. No, not being healthy, silly! I meant being dead!

Not even Solomon, in all his splendor, was dressed like one of these

My mother-in-law took this photo of one of our lilies when she was last here to visit, just after the terrible storms and tornados came through our area. The power was out, so we enjoyed simple things, like conversation and not doing dishes. Thanks, K, for the absolutely beautiful photos.

Bo's IQ Results: So he's smarter than I am. So what?

Your IQ Is 115

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Above Average Your General Knowledge is Above Average

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

A meme

Nudged by Miss Booshay over at Quiet Life, a Gerund Meme.

Awaking..........Every hour, sweating or freezing.
Missing..........Health
Drinking.........Vitamin Water and Gatorade
Reading..........Guards!Guards! by Terry Pratchett, Traveling Mercies, by Anne Lamott and Growing your Herb Business by Bertha Reppert
Writing..........My lecture for the Arts Conference and poetry in my head
Sending..........Prayers for my in-laws who are going through some difficult transitions.
Hearing..........Daba Dee, the blue parakeet, the sprinkler dousing the hollyhocks and johnny-jump-ups, kids watching the Blind Babysitter.
Weathering.......A messy house and piles of laundry, and the lack of a sister or mom who could come and clean for me during my hours of illness.
Bouncing..........between wellness and utter fatigue.
Breakfasting.....jalapeno poppers. What? They were the easiest thing to make. Don't look at me like that.
Dressing.........Comfy pants and a coffeehouse t-shirt.
Praying.......... For my in-laws who are really going through a difficult time right now. Did I mention that already?
Ironing..........waiting to be done. A pile of tableclothes and napkins which will likely not get used before they need to be ironed again.
Flushing.........Huh?
Measuring........my energy level. Should I go out and weed the garden, or go back to bed?
Cleaning.........my intestines.
Wondering........if everyone else will get this nasty bug.
Reunioning.......with my husband's sister and her family during a 4th of July Camping trip.
Telephoning......my mother-in-law. Actually, she telephoned me.
Eating...........only what will go down.
Watching.........the flashing cursor, and, joy of joys, my husband pulling in the driveway. I love the sight of that green Jeep.
Sleeping.........more than I ever have.

Slow Down!

Today, I am lying around decadently devouring books that I never get to read, dreaming about starting an herb-farm business, staring solemnly at the ceiling and pondering the wonder of God. I am not cleaning the house. I am not working at the greenhouse. I am not reading my children a book, making a gourmet meal or working in my garden. I am very simply lying around, lusciously, lazily, listlessly. There can only be one explanation for this.

I'm sick as a dog.

Our family went camping this weekend with Bo's sister and her family, and I knew then that something was coming around. I just wanted to sleep. I had no energy, no motivation. I only had a very strong desire to curl up under a mountain of blankets and snooze. At first, I thought I'd just take a cat nap, so I climbed into the pop-up and closed my eyes. I opened them an hour and a half later. Took a walk. Ate some food. Went back to sleep. Very unlike me. I'm the kind of person who hates to sleep for fear of missing something. But here I was, heeding the siren song of my pillow, succumbing to its relentless whisper.

Am I pregnant? I wondered.

And then the aching started. And the chills. The need for another blanket. And another. And a thicker one. "But it's very warm in here, Sweetie," my dear husband informed me.

"I don't care. I'm COLD."

He fed me watermelon, which seemed to take the fever away, but then my eyeballs started to ache.

Ah, no. It's the flu.

How can I get the FLU in the middle of SUMMER? When I have so much to do? When the garden is coming into its peak, and the mulch is sitting in the back of the pickup truck, and the black raspberries are hanging on the canes, waiting, BEGGING, to be picked and made into decadent Black Raspberry Cobbler? When the goats need milked, and the laundry needs done, and my boss at the greenhouse is going away TODAY and has asked me to oversee the watering? How can this happen?

One of my new best friends called yesterday. We hadn't talked to each other in a couple of weeks because their family had been on an ambling vacation, driving up along the east coast and camping in their RV, and our family had been on sabbatical--watching movies, reading, experimenting with recipes, eating a lot of grilled meat, gardening, playing miniature golf and driving go-karts. It was good to hear her voice.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Sick," I said.

"You sound like you're sick," she said.

"I am," I said.

And I told her about all the things I felt like I should be doing. But here I am, I said, sitting on my butt, doing nothing but aching and moaning.

"Remember when Joannie was sick with Strep and you told her that if you don't slow down, someone will slow you down for you?" she reminded me.

Yeah, yeah. I remember. Take my own advice and blah, blah, blah.

So today, I get to do all those things that I never allow myself to do. Lay around. Read this stack of books I've been meaning to read. Prepare for the upcoming writing lecture I'm giving at an Arts Conference. Dream.

And blog.

Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

If I could just convince this pain to stop gnawing out my eyeballs.

So, How's the Weather?

Hurrying to throw down the mulch.

Running from the house to the car.

Waiting for the neighbor's generator to come on so we can have water.

Screaming at the top of my lungs when the massive flash of light and the rumbling sonic boom come too close together.

Yep. This week, while Bo is home from work and our family takes a sort of whole-fam sabbatical, most things have pretty much been dictated by the weather around here.

Last week, a tornado grazed our county--a high-powered storm that Bo missed entering by mere minutes on his commute home from work. Downed power lines and toppled trees prevented him from taking his usual route. And the alternate route. And the alternative to the alternate route. He finally found a way home via a driveway that turned into a lane that turned into a road.

When he got home, we were without power. That was Thursday afternoon, and we weren't properly electrified until Saturday morning. In that time, The Baby had a stomach virus, I was getting used to my new mini-herd of dairy goats, we were racing to use the water as it came on (thanks to my neighbor's generosity with their generator and our ability to hook up to his water well), and my in-laws visited from Chicago (hi gmm and tog!).

Today, we were shoveling mulch in between summer showers, working as quickly as we could to throw it off the truck and onto the pathway before we were pummeled again.

And tonight, after awaking, dazed, on the couch, I realized that I still had to go out and milk the two new Nubian dairy goats, Alice and Maggie. The rain was pouring down. The stanchion stood outside, under a tree, because it's nicer to milk outside than in the barn. Expect when the sky is poopin' rain, of course.

So I trudged, clad in my bright pink and yellow garden clogs and my favor-ite raincoat (but no flashlight), with my trusty husband along for company, and we started down the barnyard hill, he with an umbrella (but no flashlight) and I with the milk pail in my hand. We stepped carefully, oh, so carefully, in an attempt to avoid the inevitable fall-downing that occurs when the ground is wet (if it's inevitable, why do we even try? Creatures of habit, I guess. And great optimists). We were just approaching the muddiest, slipperiest fall-downing zone when a HUGE bolt of lightning cracked the sky. I screamed. Bo stood still. My brilliant mind thought, "We'd better move before it hits us!" though it was all over but the thunder, which came very quickly after. And very loudly, to boot.

It's amazing how rapidly silly thoughts can go through a person's mind when they're panicking. Bo's holding an umbrella. We're in a lightning storm, under a tree, on a hill. Lightning just struck. We'd better hurry before it hits us. Bo's not moving. Maybe he's already been hit? Why would he still be standing? Shouldn't the umbrella be all ashes, except for the skeleton, like in the Daffy Duck cartoons? What will I tell my children? "Kids, your father was struck by lightning while accompanying me to milk the goats." Will they hate me for life? Will they swear off of goat's milk for all of eternity? Is this really THE END?

All of this in the time it took for the thunder to come.

But the one thing I apparently didn't think about was the slipperiness of the iminent fall-downing zone. In my panic, I just began to run. And then slide. And then fall. Flat on my keister, milk bucket still in hand, apparently (and I only know this because I can still hear the echo in my head) screaming the entire way. And then, once I was in the barn, I successfully tripped over a potbellied pig, a baby billy goat and a fifty pound block of mineral salt (a flashlight would have been nice), after which I threw my arms around my un-lightning-fried husband, who had successfully navigated the fall-downing zone without muddying his backside and was struggling to close the lightning rod...er, umbrella. I errupted in nervous laughter.

But it's all good. Yeah. It's all good. Weather like this has a way of humbling a person, reminding them that they're human and they can't plan everything, can't really control anything.

So, if you'll excuse me, I have to go change my pants after my sweet little keister-mud-slide stunt and wait for the next power outage.

Genius!

Your IQ Is 95

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Above Average Your General Knowledge is Below Average

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

Words to Consider

"When I was a boy, each week
On Sunday, we would go to church
And pay attention to the priest
As he would read the Holy Word,
And consecrate the holy bread,
And everyone would kneel and bow.
Today the only difference is
Everything is holy now.

Everything, everything,
Everything is holy now . . .

When I was in Sunday school,
We would learn about the time
Moses split the sea in two;
Jesus made the water wine.
And I remember feeling sad
that miracles don't happen still.
But now I can't keep track
'Cause everything's a miracle

Everything, everything
Everything's a miracle . . .

Wine into water is not so small,
but an even better magic trick
is that anything is here at all.
So, the challenging thing becomes
not to look for miracles,
but finding where there isn't one.

When Holy water was rare at best,
I barely wet my finger tips.
Now I have to hold my breath--
like I'm swimming in a sea of it.

It used to be a world half there,
Heaven's second rate hand me downs
but I'm walking with a reverent air
'cause everything's holy now.

Read a questioning child's face--
to say it's not a testament,
now that'd be very hard to say.
To see another new morning come--
to say it's not a sacrament,
I tell you that it can't be done.

This morning outside I stood
And saw a little red-winged bird
Shining like a burning bush
Singing like a scripture verse.
It made me want to bow my head
and I remember when church let out
how things have changed since then.
Everything is holy now.

It used to be a world half there,
Heaven's second rate hand me downs.
I'm walking with a reverent air
cause everything's holy now. "

Lyrics by Peter Mayer Copyright 1999 (ASCAP)

Happy Birthday, Monet!

I'm alive. I'm here. I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. Life has just been terribly busy. Too busy for my sanity, actually. My house is beyond my control now, and I have to buy new socks because no one seems to be able to locate a pair to wear. I'm busier than I can shake a stick at. Don't ask me what that means, because I don't know, either.

Today was Monet's birthday, and, oh silly me, I planned a whole host of things that were suitable for sunny weather. Canoeing. Swimming. Go-Karting. Hiking. But, since we live in Ohio, I should have planned puddle jumping or raindrop dodging. We ended up at the movie theater, which is just what I *didn't* want to do.

On top of that, I let Monet choose his own present. I gave him a set amount of money and told him he could purchase whatever toys he liked. After an hour in the RC aisle and several consultations with Bo and me, he chose two small radio-controlled cars that ran on different frequencies so that he and Houdin could race.

They didn't work.

I've pretty much come to the conclusion that just about any purchase you seriously deliberate over will land you with a piece of junk. Or maybe it's just me.

And as Monet was opening the remainder of his gifts tonight, I realized with horror that he got some of the most boring gifts a little boy could possible get. Sandals, shorts and t-shirts. A pocketknife and a wristwatch. The only "fun" things he got were two Calvin and Hobbes books, one we already had, and a Bionicles set from his sister Bard.

But here's what takes the cake; when it came time to blow out the candles, I had no batteries for my camera.

So, for future reference, Monet, when you look back on your 11th birthday and wonder why you always felt it was the most boring birthday ever, guess what? You were right, and I'm very sorry.

But I love you anyway.

Dogs and ducks, gardens and butts

Whew! The kids are all in showers/baths, and I'm waiting, anticipating, anxiously, the moment that I get my own bath and get to BED. Or at least relax with a movie or a book. I spent the day, from sun-up to sunset, working in the yard or doing errands to work in the yard. It's a humble beginning, but it WILL get there, eventually. I wish I could just *SNAP!* snap my fingers and it would all be lovely!

We tilled the plots a few weeks ago, solarized it for a few weeks, then, today, Bo put a fence around the veggie garden. The kids and I worked all day shoveling manure and planting tomatoes, peppers, pole beans, onions, lettuce, cilantro, carrots, radishes and nasturtiums. Boy, it seems like we planted more than that! Houdin also worked on digging a hole for a small water garden (his idea) in the middle of Bard's garden. She doesn't know yet; she wasn't home for the afternoon.

We let the ducks out while we were working, and they hurried around from one place to another in a little huddle until Lewis, our dopey black lab, just couldn't help himself anymore and carried one away in his big, floppy jaws. I called him and the poor little duckling flopped up and down as Lewis came bounding toward me. Lewis was so pleased with himself for bringing me the prize, and the duckling was very glad to be in my arms instead of in Lewis's mouth.

Here's a good one for you. As I was typing this, Sweetheart called to me from the tub behind me, "Mom? Why is a butt called a 'butt'?"

Garden Update!

The spinach is up! The peas and sugar snaps are up! The lettuces are up! The scallions are up!

The plants in the little greenhouse aren't doing nearly as well as I'd hoped, aside from the nasturtiums, which took for-E-ver to germinate, to the point where I'd actually given up, and then--POP!--up they came, and they seem to grow several inches each day. The peppers--jalapeno, cayenne--are growing well, too. I keep losing the watermelon plants due to overwatering, I think. And my alyssum, which seemed to be doing so well, has just. stopped. growing. Looks like I maybe buying more plants than I'd planned.

The garden is tilled and is currently under black plastic, solarizing and waiting until I can get some fencing around it to keep the dogs out. And as soon as that happens, it's time to start planting. Onions, cilantro, tomatoes, beans, peppers, cucumbers, more lettuces and spinach, swiss chard, pumpkins, squash, watermelon, basil and more.

The herb garden next to the kitchen door is coming along nicely. Tonight I planted some more sage, French and Texas tarragon, two kinds of oregano, cinnamon basil, fennel and dill, rosemary and parsley. Yesterday, I planted chamomile and two different kinds of thyme. And next, I have plans to plant a tea garden around the water hydrants (the thing we use to water the garden, not like a fire hydrant), using the great big tree buckets Bo found in a dumpster today. I'll sink them into the ground around the hydrant; that way, we won't have to mow around the hydrant, and we won't have to worry much about watering the mints, plus, they won't spread because they'll be contained in plastic buckets.

AND--oh joy of joys, I'm so excited--the cherry tree that we planted about five years ago is LOADED with cherries! Here's hoping they'll make it to marturity!

So tell me, how does YOUR garden grow?

The Greenhouse, Part Three

I was so excited about my prospective employment at the greenhouse; to me, it was like a gift from God, an answer to prayer. Yes, it's true, I often bristle when people say, "I prayed that it wouldn't rain today so that I could have my garden party, and God heard my prayer! Hallelujah!" Because what I'm thinking, of course, is, "What about that farmer who's been hoping for rain for two weeks? Whose family is depending on that rain? Who was on his knees last night BEGGING God for rain? How about him?" But in this case, I really feel like God prepared me for the opportunity, prepared the owner of the greenhouse, provided the perfect timing. I believe this because of several things:

1. I've talked to a scad of people over the past week who said they put in an application either just before or just after I walked through the door of the greenhouse; they weren't hired. I was. I didn't present any special talents, didn't try to wow anyone with my expertise, didn't even tell the owner that I was always available or the my schedule is flexible.

2. As I was finishing my conversation with the owner of the greenhouse, she said she'd just told a friend to pray that God would send her two good workers. I walked in just after that and offered myself and Bard as potential employees.

3. My husband was furious.

Okay, maybe "furious" is too strong of a word. He was angry, resentful, angry, upset, angry, frustrated and fairly angry. It was the darndest thing I've seen in quite a while.

See, I got home from the greenhouse and immediately wanted to tell my darling Bo about this exciting new development in my life, so I called him.

"Guess what!" I chattered excitedly. "I've been offered a job at the local greenhouse!"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

By the end of the conversation, it was very apparent that my dear Bo was less than thrilled with the prospect of my new employment. And I was completely puzzled. This was so very not like him. What he was displaying was akin to jealousy, which is a character trait he has never, ever, ever, and I mean NEVER displayed.

And what I felt, immediately, was hurt.

I felt like my joy had been completely stolen from me.

Makin' Muffins like Martha

I couldn't help it. I know I'll be exhausted when it's time to wake up tomorrow morning for the children's speech tournament, but I've been reading an awful lot of Martha Stewart material, and I just couldn't help it.

I made muffins.

No, that's not really a big deal, I know. It's just that I made them only a few minutes ago. After midnight. When I know I have to wake up before God does in the morning.

What can I say? I've been in a baking mood lately, after reading Martha's Pies and Tarts cookbook, and her Baking Handbook, and her authorized biography, Being Martha. I even pulled a couple of back-issues of Living from the library. I've marked about a gazillion recipes to try.

And, get this, today, I even pulled a bunch of my recipes out of the drawer--you know the one. Please tell me you have one, too. The drawer that's so stuffed with every recipe I've ever had--including the mustard pretzel recipe I've never made, and the grocery list from five Thanksgivings ago--that when I open it, seven pieces of sticky, oily paper skim themselves from the top of the pile, sliding down into the cupboard beneath and landing inside a Rubbermaid bowl. It's usually the recipe I'm looking for that makes the migration, the one I don't think to seek in the Rubbermaid bowl until I've dug through the drawer. Twice.

Anyway, I pulled about half of them out and--get this--put them into page protectors and inserted them into hunter green ring binders, to match my kitchen. While I'd like to say, "Isn't that so Martha?" I know it's not completely, because I know that I once began a real Martha project which I still insist on finishing one day; I read on her site a suggestion for printing recipes onto cardstock sheets, two per 8 1/2 x 11 sheet, laminating them, and then punching a hole in the top corner, and then looping them onto a ring. I've printed my favorite ones that way, and I'm bound and determined to do the rest. But, for now, I'll settle for a color-coordinated ring binder.

I'll finally admit it. I LIKE Martha. Just like I LIKE Barry Manilow. I really don't care how much she's made fun of or how much I'm made fun of for liking her. The people who ridicule Martha are just jealous. Mediocre people like to pull others down to their level of mediocrity. Whatever. If it makes them happy in their own little pitiful worlds, let them go ahead and think they're so much better than Ms. Stewart. Ha. As IF.

Martha inspires me. I like her ideas, I like her people's ideas, I like her recipes, and I like her strength and determination. You may call her a female mama dog. Lots of people do. I call her a gutsy woman who knows how to get what she wants without apology.

So, now, my recipes are protected (most of them, anyway), my kitchen is clean, and my muffins are made. The house smells like cinnamon and apples and carrots and dates. Yum.

Hey, it's still the midnight hour. Go make some muffins yourself.

Morning Glory Muffins

INGREDIENTS:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cups white sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups grated carrots
1 1/2 cups peeled and grated apple
3/4 cup flaked coconut
1/2 cup dates, pitted and chopped
1/2 cup chopped pecans
3 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DIRECTIONS:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Lightly oil 18 muffin cups, or coat with nonstick cooking spray.
In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking soda, cinnamon and salt.
In a second bowl, combine carrots, apples, coconut, dates and pecans. Stir in eggs, oil and vanilla. Add this mixture to the dry ingredients; stir until smooth.
Spoon or scoop the batter into the prepared muffin pans. Bake at 375 degrees F (190 degrees C) for 18 to 20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean.

An Outdoor Kinda Day

With the sun so lovely, and the birds singing, and the weather cool and pleasant, can you blame us? Today is an outdoor kinda day! The kids and I planted our annual flower beds with snazzy pink and yellow snapdragons, dusty miller and blue lobelia. I pointed out to Bard that our rows don't march. They sort of, um...meander. ;-) She said, of course, that it doesn't matter.

Bard is planning a garden of her own, an element garden, with different colors and kinds of plants to reflect their element--sun, earth, water, air--with a cluster of red flowers (sun), white flowers (air), blue flowers (water) and earthy things like hens and chicks and fennel for the earth part.

I'm so encouraged to see the perennial garden coming back up. At the end of last season, Bard and I spent all the money we possibly could on gallons of half-priced perennials, enticed Houdin into digging us some space, bribed Bo into filling the pickup truck with rotted horse manure, and buried our treasures. Through the winter, I sprinkled the used rabbit bedding over the perennial beds, and this year, we're being rewarded with happy plants flourishing! I can't wait for the cut flowers this year!

Houdin, too, wants to put in a garden, a pie-shaped piece near the front of the house. Unfortunately, we can't get our little garden tiller started, so we'll have to wait until someone bigger and stronger and more stubborn can do it.

Houdin is also working on our yearly batch of Dandy Burgers:

Dandelion Burgers
1 cup dandelion flowers - pinch the flower at the bottom, roll it and shake off the petals
1/2 cup flower
1/2 tsp salt and garlic powder (or 2 cloves garlic, minced)
1/4 cup chopped onions
1/4 tsp dried thyme
1/4 tsp dried basil
1/4 tsp dried oregano
fresh ground pepper

Mix ingredients and add enough milk to make a stiff batter. Shape in golf ball-size pieces and fry in oil.


Keep the waffle recipes coming!


And now, it's time to resume working. Get out and do some digging!

Belgium Waffle Contest

We recently acquired a Belgium waffle maker via FreeCycle. Now, how to make Belgium Waffles?

If you have a good recipe you'd like to share, please do so. We'll test them and post the results here. The winner will receive a little prize from the folks here at Today's Lessons.

Happy Waffling!

Collage of The Visit from Li'l Sis and Li'l Niece

The glasses Li'l Sis bought me for my birthday.

Li'l Sis and Li'l Niece

I had a wonderful visit with Bo's youngest sibling, Li'l Sis and her adorable daughter, Li'l Niece. It was so good to see her, have her here, play with her, cook together, and just BE. With Li'l Sis, I don't feel like I need to put up a front. She knows my foibles and imperfections and loves me anyway.

We made chicken breasts using a delicious combination of recipes that I've gathered, altered and concocted over the years and Li'l Sis insisted on making fried potatoes--like deep fried--which set my stomach over the edge, but BOY were they good. Later in the evening, we made a run to the movie store to get "something funny" which we couldn't find, so we came home with Dreamer, which was just okay, not amazing or wonderful or particularly inspiring. Dakota Fanning was cute, though. And Li's Sis, who must be obsessed with food, made a sinful dessert by taking rolls of cookie dough, spreading them in the bottom of a baking dish and baking them until the were barely set and still gooey. This, she served with Breyers Vanilla Ice Cream and Reeses Magic Shell. I had justthismuch so that I wouldn't be a victim to my stomach all night long, but I still ended up with a sour stomach. Eeeyuck.

Li'l Niece is S-O-O-O cute and I couldn't stop taking pictures while she was here! I filled my camera card. FILLED it. 279 photos of Li'l Niece swinging and Li'l Niece playing with the duckies and Li'l Niece being cuddled by my dad and Li'l Niece eating bananas.

It was a wonderful time, and I'm so glad she came. Thanks, Li'l Sis for taking the time, and for all of the wonderful gifts you brought from you (the gorgeous mexican glasses!) and g-ma (the beautiful tealight holders!).

And now, after a very mad dash to clean the house, it's time to receive some other guests.

H'asta la Seeya!

The Baby

Li'l Niece with Duckie in her hood. :-)

Li'l Niece with Nibble and Duckie

Li'l Sis and the duckling

The Baby

Li'l Sis and Li'l Niece

Bo, The Baby and Li'l Niece.

The Greenhouse, continued

Immediately as I stepped from the van, I saw a dark-haired woman sporting sunglasses. She was standing beside a Gator, a sort of ATV for agriculture, and I called out a "hello." She returned with a very enthusiastic, "Hey! How are you?" As she removed her glasses, I recognized her as a woman I'd worked with at the cheesehouse.

"Well, hi! Is this your place?" I asked as I approached her.
"Ha! No! Oh, no. I just work here." She went on to tell me how she'd been fired from her other job and had known that she really needed to be in horitculture, anyway. She was much happier. I could tell. She looked much happier. After a bit of chit-chat, I told her I'd seen the sign that they were hiring and wondered who I would talk to.

"That'd be Joannie. She's around here somewhere..." and I followed her off to be there when she located Joannie.

Inside the greenhouse, it was beautiful chaos. Marching rows of flats, not yet blooming, created a sense of order and organization. Baskets and buckets of garden accents not yet set out for display dotted the floor and every possible surface. Birdhouses, garden tools, primary-colored clogs and empty vessels for every shape and size competed for my attention. A few steps beyond the entrance, a miniature fairy garden about the size of a small room sat contentedly, sprouted soft tufts of mosses and tiny ivies.

Joannie approached, a pleasant-looking woman who has the appearance of someone who works very hard. I introduced myself. "I saw that you're looking for help. I stopped to find out what you need." She nodded, paused to think a minute, and then said, "What are you looking for? What kind of work do you want to do?"

I told her that I'm a stay-at-home mom, that I have a sixteen-year-old daughter who is interested in botany and horiculture who would also be interested in working, and that I'm pretty flexible with my hours, now that Summer is approaching and our regular activities are tapering off.

Joannie explained to me what she needed, and then she said, "Can you come, like, tomorrow? I have a huge truck coming in full of plants and I need as many people as I can get to help." I thought for a moment, checking my mental calendar, and then I nodded. "I think I can do that...Yeah. We can do that." Her face visibly lifted.

"Oh, great! I have to tell you, I just got off the phone with my friend this morning and I said, 'Please, if you pray this morning, pray that God will send me a couple of new helpers.' I've had people come in to apply, but I just didn't feel right about them. I didn't feel comfortable. This is wonderful! Well, when you come tomorrow morning, we'll talk more about the other possibilities."

And with that, I shook her hand and went excitedly on my way.

The Greenhouse

On Wednesday night, Bo and I talked about our finances. It wasn't a pleasant conversation, by any means. Bottom line--too many expenses, not enough money. Though I try to bring in enough money to pay for piano lessons and other classes by taking various Amish driving jobs and miscelleneous tasks, growing our own food, shopping thrift stores, raising rabbits to sell and chickens and turkeys to eat, buying food in bulk and cutting corners where we can, we're still, basically, a single-income family struggling to make ends meet.

I offered to get a job at Stuff*Mart. They'd hire me instantly, I'm sure. Bo said he didn't like the idea, but he wasn't going to say "no." Specifically, he said, "I'm not going to say 'no' to God." I thought this was an odd comment, but I held it in my heart.

Yesterday morning, I prayed about our situation. If God could just give me something I could do that I would enjoy, something that would be flexible and keep me close to my family, something that I could do that could take some of the pressure off of my husband and, therefore, take a lot of pressure from me, I would be very grateful.

And then I took Bard to her Biology class.

On the way, I passed my favorite greenhouse. As usual, I checked the sign to see if she was open yet, and saw a small sign announcing, "Opening soon!" On the same sign was written, "Now Hiring."

It took me a few minutes to even consider the option. But as the thought of working there niggle at my brain, it just sounded better and better. Bard has mentioned that she might like to go into botany or horticulture. I love planting, gardening and learning. Maybe the two of us could work together? Maybe Bard could earn enough money to pay for her New England trip or the acting camp she's really been hoping to go to, but we haven't had the money.

I didn't even mention it to Bard. I just dropped her off, went back to the greenhouse, and stepped out of my van...

Today =...

• Nursing The Baby.
• Not making my bed.
• Cleaning the house.
• An argument with Bard.
• Cleaning the house.
• An argument with Monet.
• More cleaning.
• A shower. I could have stayed in there all day.
• Music appreciation class with Mr. L. We studied Hayden. Next week, Amadeus.
• Fresh pineapple for lunch.
• Taking Bard's friends home after class.
• Cleaning rabbit habitats.
• Cleaning duckling and turkey poult boxes.
• Feeding chickens and bringing in ten beautiful eggs. One of them was blue.
• A trip to the bluebird houses. No bluebirds. I had to evict an intruder, however.
• Pizza with my girlies.
• A trip to the library.
• A discussion with my dear Bo about barnyards and the need for better arrangements.
• Me feeling guilty about said discussion.
• A discussion about my feeling guilty about our discussion.
• Nursing The Baby.
• A trip to the mailbox. Nothing for me. Drat.
• Watering and thinning seedlings.
• Dead kittens. It was mama cat's first litter.
• Reading a bit of my current fiction fix, The Lovely Bones.
• Pruning the cherry tree and giving branches to the bunnies.
• Cuddling with my favorite bunny.
• A walk with Bo at dusk. Country dirt road, our little dog running ahead, a large oak tree, some curious horses, a quick chat with the neighbors, return under the stars.
• Realizing that beauty is illogical.
• Wondering if everything will be okay.
• Realizing that asking God for a sign doesn't mean that a shooting star will appear before my eyes.
• Bo and Houding making rabbit hutches.
• Poring over library books.
• A phone call from my mother-in-law.
• The last of the Breyers Butter Pecan, right out of the carton...
• Followed by dinner. Hamburgers with no buns and with A1 sauce.
• Sharing a glass of grape juice with Bo.
• And here we are.

Red Letter Day!

Not only is this a BEAUTIFUL Spring day, but I got some very coolio things in the mail, too. I LOVE getting mail! It's my favorite! Even if I know that I'm going to be getting the thing, like when it's something I ordered, I'm so excited to see that white package sitting on top of my mailbox when I come home from a day of errands that I get giddy. Because we share a mailbox with our neighbors, usually the bulk of the mail is for someone else. I've asked to be removed from most mailing lists because it's just junk that piles up and catalogs that make me greedy.

But today. Oh, TODAY! I approached the mailbox and saw a package perched atop my mailbox and when I looked at it, it was actually FOR ME! I was SO excited! And I knew that it was one of the teapots I had ordered for myself for my birthday!

But, oh happy day, there was MORE! I also received a BEAUTIFUL, brand new hardback copy of Stephen King on Writing that I scored on PaperBackSwap (if you join, be sure to refer to me, as I'll get credits for more awesome books! H.T. to Impromptu-mom). I would never have purchased this book for myself, especially since it's $25.00 brand new, but because I've been watching thrift stores and picking up books from PaperBackSwap, this book cost me little more than the price of media mail. YESSSSS!

AND there's MORE! I also received another birthday gift I bought for myself, my copy of Jason Harrod's newest CD, Bright As You. Jason is one of my favorite indie artists, intelligent and lyrical, and I was way-mobie excited when I saw he had a new release. You can hear a couple MP3s here.

AND, I was able to plant my sugar snap peas, regular peas, cilantro, lettuces and scallions today in my kitchen garden, thanks to the dear men in my life who spent hours tilling and turning the dirt to make it ready for me. I now have two large garden spots as well as my little kitchen garden, and my seedlings are growing like...well, not quite like *weeds,* but like healthy seedlings, just waiting for the day for the "last frost" to be over and done with.

AND (oh, it's just too much, isn't it?) our hens have started laying, so I was able to collect a dozen eggs between yesterday and today. When I finish with this post, I hope to order a few more Aracuana chicks, as well as some turkeys, Indian Runner ducks and broilers.

The perennials in the front garden are thriving, the chives are high, the sage has returned, and I'm so glad that SPRING is HERE!

Oh happy, happy DAY!

The Easter Basket String Maze

Every year, we hide the children's Easter baskets, but we try to do something a bit different each time. Sometimes it's just a matter of finding clever places to hide them. Sometimes we hide them outside, in the trees or in the woods. Last year, we had the children find their baskets treasure-hunt style, with clues leading each to their own basket.

This year, I decided to go with an idea I saw in Family Fun magazine while sitting in the doctor's waiting room.

After church, Bo hid all of the eggs and then we hid the baskets. Each basket was then attached to a piece of yarn and wound around the whole first floor and, in some cases, through the dog door and out onto the porch, then back inside again. About half-way through the winding, we switched yarn color. Then we wound the strings around the stair railings and up the stairs, where the children were waiting in their rooms. We handed each one their string and gave a few rules--no running, no disturbing anyone else's string, no looking for the basket without using the string, and you must have your picture taken with your basket before you tear it apart.

It was a blast. The children seemed to appreciate the challenge, and they really had to work to find their baskets.

I love fun traditions!

Bard's Basket

Houdin's Basket

Monet's Basket

Sweetheart's Basket

He is Risen

I have no wit, no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is in the falling leaf:
O Jesus, quicken me.

My life is like a faded leaf,
My harvest dwindled to a husk:
Truly my life is void and brief
And tedious in the barren dusk;
My life is like a frozen thing,
No bud nor greenness can I see:
Yet rise it shall--the sap of Spring;
O Jesus, rise in me.

My life is like a broken bowl,
A broken bowl that cannot hold
One drop of water for my soul
Or cordial in the searching cold;
Cast in the fire the perish'd thing;
Melt and remould it, till it be
A royal cup for Him, my King:
O Jesus, drink of me.

Christina Rossetti

Birthday Girl

Monet, the artiste

Ten-year-old Monet loves to draw more than just about anything else in the whole world. I do believe he has a gift. The imagination and the detail always amaze me. I don't know the story to this drawing because I just found it lying on the table, but I thought it was too cool to not post. He has a thing for pirates; his room has a pirate-y theme and his dad made him a way-mobie cool treasure chest for Christmas one year. I love the skeleton. So much personality!

In Honor of my Three Year Blogiversary

I began blogging three years ago tomorrow. Three whole years. Sheesh. And my mama told me I'd never amount to anything. Ha!

In honor of my three year blogiversary, I'm going to bless you with a blast from the past.

This, in all of its amateur glory, was my very second blog entry. It was followed shortly after by a description of my outdoor bathtub back in our Little House in the Big Woods days.

Enjoy.

..oOo^**^oOo..oOo^**^oOo..oOo^**^oOo...

Infection

Blogging.

It's amazing to me. I can see why people think it's the revolution of the writing trade. Basically, I can write an entire book--my memoirs--about my adventures in homeschooling, parenting, knitting, writing, birdwatching...whatever I want, and it's here for all the world to see. Published. When I was in high school, my journalism teacher said you can call yourself a "published" author if you've had anything submitted for mass human consumption. How many published authors there must be with the advent of the web! Has the definition of a published author changed?

Well, I will begin my life as a published author (according to my journalism teacher's definition) by writing my memoirs of my life as a homeschooling parent. And to begin, I'll start with some background.

I can't really tell you exactly why I decided to homeschool my children. What I do remember is that I read an article about a homeschooling family when I was in high school. I don't know who it was, but I do remember that they were being given a hard time and, if memory serves me correctly, actually had their children taken from them due to "truancy." This seemed to me very radical and unfair. After all, the parents seemed to be on the right track. They wanted to give their children an excellent education. They seemed intelligent, caring, attentive. They certainly didn't seem like the kind of parents who would just allow their children to permanently play hooky from school. I guess, upon the reading of that article, a seed was planted.

High school, to me, wasn't necessarily completely unpleasant. However, I did lack motivation in certain areas, mostly because the teachers in those areas also lacked motivation. I don't think it's a mistake that my most passionate teachers were my language arts teachers. Mrs. Wise had introduced some of the most fantastic literature to me in the fourth grade--The Red Badge of Courage, A Wrinkle in Time (which I listened to on a borrowed library phonograph record over and over every night), and so many others. In seventh grade, Mrs. Jones introduced me to Eleanor Rigby. I remember being fascinated that she kept her face in a jar by the door.Who was it for? My four favorite teachers in high school were Miss Gradwell (speech), Mrs. George (journalism and English), Mrs. Berry (English Lit) and Mrs. Hunt (Humanities), all language arts teachers. Years later, I would see Mrs. Hunt in the mall and swell with pride as she nodded approvingly at my homeschooled children. I had the chance to tell her just how much her love of literature had meant to me and how she had always inspired me to learn more. I would also have a chance to see Miss Gradwell again, watching in amazement as she received a writer's award at a seminar I had attended on just a whim. Judy Gradwell had endured and conquered breast cancer and decided to use her love for words to share her struggle with other people.

I'm not saying that I homeschooled because I loved language arts.

Necessarily.

What I am saying is that I recognized that a love of learning was contagious. It was contracted by those who also had a love of learning.

I wanted to infect my own children.

My Ongoing Birthday Celebration and Pure Evil

I do believe, and I say this much to my delight, that this has been my most widely recognized birthday. Woohoo! I received cards from each of my in-laws, including two in-the-mail cards, two in-the-e-mail-box cards, and one video of my gift from my mother-in-law who lives oh-so-far-away (how many more dashes can I fit into this filled-with-dashes sentence?). I received a homemade card from Sweetheart and another from Monet, another in-the-mailbox card from my dear friend P. and yes another in-the-e-mail-box from my dear friend Tina. What a blessed woman I am!

On the actual day of my birth, the children and I took our bunnies to auction. Sweetheart and Monet made $25.00 on the sale, and I picked up a couple of bunnies for myself to raise--three sweet mini-rex rabbits, two does and a buck. I bid on a pair of ferrets as well, but the bidding simply ran too high, and I was unsure of their health.

When we returned from the auction, it was time to head into town to pick Bard up from her last Algebra class, where her Algebra teacher and daughters sang Happy Birthday to me, handing me three slices of Treatza Pizza from Dairy Queen. YUM!

And then, it was off to stock up on milk from our favorite farmer. On the way, we dropped off a bunny cage that we'd borrowed from a friend while transporting Brutus, our newest mini-lop, to his new home: our living room. While there, friends Sara and Laura serenaded me with loverly birthday greetings.

After that, it was back home to get ready for Irish Step classes, which were fast-paced and high-energy. Whew!

What I love: extended birthdays. Yesterday, after music appreciation class, Bard and I went thrift store shopping and found, appropriately, a bunch of poetry books in honor of National Poetry Month. We've been lacking in good poetry collections, and I've surely made up for it now, with my thrift-store and PaperBackSwap finds.

And then, Bard took me to a movie! We saw Jon Heder, Rob Scheider and David Spade in The Benchwarmers. Yes, I thought it was funny, but don't take my word for it. Those three guys just know how to make me laugh. We ate half-a-bag of buttered popcorn. More on that later.

After that, we drooled over pet supplies and cute little animals at Petco, where I bought some new water bottles for our rats and covers for our rabbit tanks.

And, finally, we perused the used bookstore, where I found Thornton Burgess's Bird Book and Animal Tales (a later printing of Animal Stories, which was there, too, but was $25.00!), and Minn of the Mississippi, soft cover, but it's our second copy. These are all books I've been looking for forever! The Burgess books will be presented to Sweetheart today...her birthday!

When we arrived home, the plan was for Bo to take me to a movie and out to dinner, but as I unpacked my goodies, I found myself feeling worse and worse. My stomach was in knots, I felt feverish, and every movement or smell made me want to vomit.

Buttered popcorn.

It's evil, I tell you. Pure evil.

I haven't eaten movie theater popcorn or drank pop in months, aside from the one Dr. Pepper I allowed myself for my birthday treat. That popcorn was actually difficult to choke down after the first handful, but I found myself reaching into the bag even after I was sure I couldn't eat another kernel.

While we were walking through the pet store, my stomach began a strange, unearthly gurgling. And by the time I got home, I was extremely repentent of the very moment I purchased the stuff.

While I suffered in my bedroom, struggling to sleep and waiting for the Zantac to work (it's my dad's--I rarely take ANYTHING, so I was quite desperate), Sweetheart called from the other side of the door, "Are you sure the popcorn wasn't poisoned?"

I uttered to myself, "I know it was. Oh, boy, do I know it was..."

Today, I feel much better and can't wait to begin Sweetheart's birthday celebration.

Woohoo for birthdays!

Yeah, Bard!

I would be remiss if I failed to applaud Bard, she who has insisted for fifteen years that she's bad at math, for completing her Algebra course. AND, I would be even more remiss if I failed to note that she received...

...drum roll please...

100% on her final test!

YES!

Way to go, Bard!

Happy Birthday to Me

For those who have asked, yes, I am still alive.

And as of right...about...now, I've been alive for 37 years. Happy Birthday to Me and all that pink icing stuff!

For one of my birthday gifts to myself, I'm going to write a blog entry. Woohoo!

Things have been good and busy here on the hilltop above the thicket. I've been greatly enjoying my weekly thrift store shopping. Last week, I scored--get this--a BRAND NEW, still in-the-box, SEALED Atari game system from 1978! For FIVE BUCKS! Though I wanted very badly to open it and relive my childhood, I sold it on ebay, and I can't even dare tell you what it sold for. Let's just say we'll be taking a sizeable chunk out of a debt this week. Thank you, ebay and my favorite thrift store.

I also found a Coach leather duffle, which is hanging around on ebay, too, but hasn't invited even a nibble. I'm tempted to keep it, since it was only a buck. But if it sells, I can think of things I'd rather use the money for than a leather duffle. Same with the brand new Doc Martens that fit no one in my family (size seven, anyone?) but that I couldn't pass up for $1.00.

I've been collecting nostalgic linens and embroidery pieces, too. The thrift store near us sells most of their things for under $2.00, so I've found Hollie Hobbie, Peanuts Gang and The Empire Strikes Back sheets for a song. I often find embroidered pieces for 25 cents and have found some cutie-patootie embroidery patterns, too.

And that's way-mobie cool, because I've been working on my own embroidery projects, thanks to the help of The Happy Housewife. She came over for a morning with her dear little Peanut and showed me some basic embroidery stitches so I could work on this project, by the incredibly talented Bella Dia, for Sweetheart's birthday, which is coming up soon, soon, soon (how could I forget? She reminds me just about, oh, every forty-three seconds). I actually completed the cutsie little birthday project! And when I find my camera, I'll try posting a picture of it.

No segue here. My darlingest husand in the whole wide world is very not good at birthdays. They seem to sneak up on him, and he never has money when he should, and he has a tendency to get sick or called away to work on my birthday. Huff. Puff. Pout. Grumble. So, I made myself a list of what I want for my birthday so I'll know what to get myself (kitchen shears, a hamburger patty maker, a new iron and ironing board, measuring spoons and cups, a pie server--aren't I boringly domestic? Gag). I pulled a bunch of magazine subscription cards from my favorite glossy drool-books last time I was at Stuff*Mart. Today, I handed them to my dear Bo, so all he has to do is close his eyes, pick one, fill it out, stick it in the mailbox and smile.

I bought myself this and this to add to a collection I started after finding a few pieces at a yard sale for a quarter and falling in love. I still need to get most of the pieces, which I hope to do over time, since they are listed at replacements. I just think they're S-O-O cute and would make such wonderful garden party dishes for my girlies and I. Cucumber and watercress sandwiches under the blossoming apple trees. Ah, yes. Perhaps Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy will join us?

Speaking of gardens, that brings me to the next item on the birthday list I made for myself. Garden seeds and peat pots. While the older children were singing their little hearts out at choir, I trekked to the garden center with Sweetheart and The Baby and we snatched up a fistful of wonderful seeds! Here's what we bought, in additon to the tomatoes, allysum, peppers, watermelons, marigolds and various herbs I started on Friday and the slew of vegetable seeds that are waiting for the warmer weather, when they'll be nestled beneath the ground and awakened from their slumber:

Cress
Salad Scallions
Spinach
Buttercrunch Lettuce
Cilantro (ooh! I can just hear that guacamole calling me!)
Black-Seeded Simpson Lettuce
Bright Lights Rainbow Swiss Chard
Green Peas and
Sugar Peas

AND, one I'm super excited about, Vanilla Berry Nasturtiums. I LOVE nasturtiums. I think they're probably my favorite flower, with their beautiful leaves and fancy flowers and their very, very yummy radish-y taste. I hope to fill some hanging baskets with different goodies this year, and trailing nasturtiums will be among them.

I also bought packs of seeds for each of the kids for their Easter baskets. Shhh! Don't tell them!

I hope to begin this summer's Kitchen Garden tomorrow or Wednesday, and then rent a tiller for the weekend to get the main garden going. I'm finally going to dig in (HA!) and plant some asparagus, garlic and horseradish, onions and I hope to put in some strawberries, blueberries and raspberries, too. Bard wants to make another sunflower house, like we did a few years ago, and she also wants "a small plot of land" for herself. She's made a list of the flowers she wants to plant, and I can't wait to see her do it!

It helps and encourages that I can see my chives, and my hollyhocks, and my bronze fennel, and lots of other happy plants emerging from the ground. I didn't kill them! They live!

No segue here, either. I also plan to buy myself something from this to add to my collection and I'm lobbying hard for Bo to help me make a set of bookshelves, because I've been collecting some great thrift-store and PaperBackSwap books (thanks H.H!). Today, I scored a hardback copy of Stephen King's On Writing. Woot!

Bard is very excited about the fact that tomorrow is her last day of Algebra class and she completed the textbook! Yeah, Bard! She'll be plugging ahead with AlgebraII through the summer so that she can prepare for the PSAT in the Fall.

I've been greatly enjoying the newest addition to my kitchen family, my contact grill. Think George Foreman but without the name or the price. It's a GE with removeable grills, and I have just been LOVING it. We've made hamburgers and marinated chicken and steaks and grilled veggies and paninis and gourment grilled cheese sandwiches on sourdough bread. Oh, yummy yum yum yum.

And we've been keeping busy with DANCING! Bard, Houdin, Monet, Sweetheart and I have been hopping away at Irish Step Dance classes every week, and have been to several square and contra dances in the past couple of weeks. We've been so glad to have a few of Bard's friends along when we've gone. Gotta dance!

Back to the birthday thing. Bard is planning to take me to a movie, bookstore and lunch on Wednesday in honor of my birthday. We're hoping to see The Benchwarmers with Jon Heder, Rob Schneider and David Spade, though I'm open to suggestions.

Well, that about does it, in some strange, stream-of-consciousness, random kind of way.

Happy Birthday to ME!

The Pies

"I'll carry the pies," he said.

"I can get them," I countered.

"Oh, no, you can't..." the two homemade cherry pies sat firmly in the palms of his hands.

"How will I take them into the bake sale building once I get there if you won't let me carry them?"

Joe's wife, Edna, laughed. "Give her the pies."

Edna makes some of the very best pies in the world. She bakes incredible red raspberry pies from raspberries that she deseeds herself. And beautiful! You've likely never seen pies so lovely.

So I can understand Joe's protectiveness. And since the pies were going to a benefit sale for an Amish lady who has leukemia, Joe wanted them to arrive in perfect shape, to bring the most money for the sale. In the end, I carried the pies, and Joe, outfitted with his black hat and suspenders, carried the box of home-baked bread to my van.

I feel particularly self-conscious around my Amish neighbors. I can't tell you exactly why, but I do. They're often very industrious, and I've heard stories of clean houses being declared "filthy" by an Amish housewife, so I know that my filthy van must get even harsher criticism. But living in the country and regularly driving back roads, my van is more often brown than blue. It's important to be careful when you climb in, or your knees might be coated in mud.

I transported the cherry pies with the greatest attention to their welfare. I drove carefully, occasionally looking back to be sure they were alright. It was a short drive. They survived.

As I approached the building where the benefit sale was to be held, a steady stream of black hats, black pants, black jackets and white shirts accompanied an equally steady stream of solid-colored dresses peeking from the bottoms of black coats and white bonnets bobbed along one after another.

I pulled my blue-brown van into the gravel lot, met by the stares of dozens of Amish women who were peering out of the building's windows. I had the only motorized vehicle. All around me were spotless black buggies. Spotless.

I pulled a box of bread from the back of the van, keenly aware that they were aware that I was different. When attending an Amish function, we "English" are in the minority. It's an odd feeling, and because of their common language, it's easy to feel out-of-place amidst the chatter of Dutch words.

I try not to feel intimidated in these situations. I try to just pretend I know exactly what I'm doing, that I belong exactly where I am. I boldly delivered the box of bread to the group of Amish ladies who were laying out table after table after table of baked goods. Cookies, brownies, breads, cakes, fry pies, muffins, and pies of every flavor. On the way back to the van, I silently chided myself for not bringing any money, but since I've been trying to keep the goodies out of the house, I silently applauded myself, too.

I leaned in and pulled the box of breads and one of the cherry pies toward me. The other pie sat on the floor of the van, next to the box. I debated. Do I try to pull it out now? Do I place it in the box on top of the breads? Or do I just come back for it? I checked out the box. Surely there was room for another pie. I slid it into place among the wheat breads and backed away from the van.

As soon as I had the box out of the van, and before I realized what was happening, the strong wind swept up under the pan and lifted the pie from the box. The lid flew across the parking lot and the pie landed.

Splat.

Upside down on the gravel.

Right in the middle of that sea of black hats, black jackets, black shoes, black coats, white bonnets, solid dresses and Dutch words.

Splat.

I stifled a scream. I couldn't believe it. I stood staring at the pie as it oozed over the stones. A young Amish girl came from the building and silently rescued the other box as I ran for the lid that had flown across the gravel lot. Taking the lid, which had the hand-printed word, "CHERRY" on the top, I knelt down in the wind and rain, next to my blue-brown van and scooped up the pie, the sea of black and white and blue and violet and green parting around me, tsking. "What a shame," one woman was saying. Bits of gravel stuck to the once beautiful pie, large pieces of stone scooped up along with the tender crust and bright red cherries.

I slid the ruined pie back into the back of my van, climbed in and headed home.

Grey

Today=Tired and Grumpy.

I don't know what's up. Perhaps it's the weather, which is grey and cold and rainy. Whatever the reason, I feel like hibernating. Completely. I want to crawl into bed and sleep for God-knows-how-long.

And it would probably be best for everyone. My nerves are on edge, and things just aren't working out well today. A friend of ours, a fellow gardener and exotic chicken breeder, died of cancer last Wednesday and the calling hours are tonight. In a half-hour, actually. Because of a mix-up with Bo's schedule, we aren't going to make it there on time, and that has me stressed out. Not only do we have to go to an unpleasant event, but I also have to get five kids, plus myself, ready to go to an unpleasant event.

The wind blew the trash cans over, and my dad, instead of seeing the problem and just taking care of it, came in and announced it, placing the responsibility of cleaning it up on his grandchildren. I guess I'd had about enough today, so I blew up at him. He very easily could have just picked up the bags of trash and the cans, but he "couldn't" because he was "driving the van." "I'm not into picking up trash in fifty-mile-an-hour winds," he said. Sigh.

The phones weren't working because of a glitch in the beginning part of the installation of our new phone system. Didn't affect me too much, but my dad was having a nervous breakdown over it. Turns out he had a doc. appointment but didn't know when, and since the phones were out, he couldn't call the office. It was today at 2:00. He missed it. I feel responsible, but I don't know why.

Surprisingly, things have been going fairly well for the past week or so, but for some reason, today just...isn't. And this is when I choose to write. Of course.

Someone's whining. Someone's crying. It's time for me to intervene.

Rain, rain, go away.

Delicious Lunch

We just had the most yummy lunch, and as we were eating, I was struck by the beauty of the scene, The Baby still in her pajamas eating cauliflower, my favorite earthenware bowls, tall glasses of raw milk, my healthy family all around me. It was lovely! The Baby had just declared, "I love corn, and chicken, and broccoli (meaning the cauliflower) and potatoes, and milk!" I just had to get the camera and take a shot.

And an update on the keyboard. My dear Bo bought me a new one. :-) It's so much quieter than my old one!

I hope your day is blessed with beauty.

After the Square Dance...