Weep with those who weep

Please take a moment and visit The Happy Housewife who is feeling very unhappy right now. She recently announced the excitement of a new pregnancy and is now dealing with the trauma of a miscarriage. She's such a sweet and giving person, I'm very, very sad to know she's suffering.

My prayers are rising high above the treetops, Shannon.

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.
Romans 12:15, NIV

Crash: A Review

I have never considered myself a prejudiced person.

As a child, I cringed at my father's hatred of blacks, a hate justified because they were "lazy, stupid, and ugly." In my childhood household, entire human beings were dismissed because of the shade of their skin, the size of their hips or the width of their nostrils. I told him he was wrong, and I was labeled "naive," a child who "rooted for the underdog."

"I've worked with 'em for fifteen years," he'd say. "I know how they are. You just wait until one of 'em steals your purse." I can still remember the day he literally chased one of my black classmates from my front porch. I was disgusted, humiliated and ashamed.

I saw glimpses of my father in Crash. Bigotry, superficiality, berating off-handedness.

But I also saw glimpses of myself.

If you hear that Crash is a movie about prejudice and dismiss it because, like me, you don't recognize any bigotry in your heart, hear this. Crash is a movie about selfishness, anger, hatred, passion, empathy, fear, compassion, humility, pride, and desperation. It's a story in the vein of Magnolia, an interweaving of complicated lives, people who do what they do because they think it's right, because they think they have no other choice, or because they're driven to their actions by a moment of anger, helplessness, frustration, humiliation or righteousness. These people are moving at the speed of life, and they're bound to crash into one another.

I watched the film, truly gripped and intrigued, recognizing myself in the frightened, angry housewife, in the well-intentioned son, and in the dedicated father. I also recognized myself in the hardened, hateful officer, the spiteful wife, and the vindictive mother.

I've never thought of myself as a prejudiced person.

Today, the film returned to my mind, replaying itself, as provocative films often do. Throughout the day, I studied my life for my own prejudices. And, truly, I thought there were none.

I thought this even as I sniffed my nose at the Burger King employee with the multiple piercings, tatoos and intentionally-crooked hat, dirt under his fingernails and an apathetic attitude about his employment. "He'll mess up my order," I thought, "I just know it."

He did.

I thought I was without prejudice as I mentally shook my head at the teenaged cashier whose t-shirt boasted, "I had a blast last night, who ever he was" (yes, "who" and "ever" really were printed as two separate words). "Does she realize what she's advertising?" I wondered. "Does she understand what she's saying about herself?"

I thought I was without prejudice until I caught myself tsk-tsking the middle-aged man with the greasy bowl-cut who was staring at the cashier's low-riders, her panties' pink waistband peeking just above her jeans. She wouldn't give him the time of day. I guess she wasn't advertising to him.

Can any of us escape prejudice? Can we breeze through life unscathed by its carelessness or untouched by its heartlessness? Have you never thought, "I'm better?" Have you never paled in comparison? When it comes right down to it, are we really prejudiced, or are we just tired, angry, selfish, hurried, fearful, insecure and anxious?

Crash was one film that caused me to raise these questions about myself.

I'm still trying to find the answers.

"Go Figure! The Fascinating World of Mathematics"

I've been brainstorming about having a Family Math Night here in our home as part of The Sprouted Acorn. In pursuit of that, I've been researching activities and ideas. This morning, I came across this website for "Go Figure! The Fascinating World of Mathematics": This page of the besthomeschooling site offers links to "math games, activity ideas, puzzles, articles, learning and teaching aids, freebies, math in daily life, 'unschooling math,' overcoming math anxiety, and much more..." I was amazed by the number of links she gives on this page, with a lot geared specifically towards unschooling. This site looks like it will be an adventure similar to Anne Zeise's site, one that you will need to set aside hours in order to delve into it and learn.

Now that our schedule is easing, up, I hope to do just that!

Family Math and a Math Club

I'm considering organizing a math club or a family math class for my kids and the kids in the community, maybe as part of The Sprouted Acorn. Has anyone ever hosted or been a part of a math club? I'm particularly looking at the Family Math book, as I'd like to learn concepts with my kids. Has anyone used Family Math?

Math is my weakest area. Consequently, it's my children's weakest area as well. I'd like to improve that area by using hands-on family learning, not just worksheets and textbooks. I believe there is value to memorizing facts, so we are focusing on that this summer, but I would like to work together to spark our mathematical synapses.

What has worked for you?

The Math Worksheet Site.com

The Math Worksheet Site.com allows you to create printable math worksheets from your browser. Choose from different customizable levels of addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, mixed problems, fractions, measurement, graphing, telling time and a one hundred chart.

This is especially helpful for us now as we have just instituted a "Nintendo Bank." The kids earn Nintendo time by completing math problems, helping each other with flashcards and practicing math concepts. They earn Nintendo time for each correct answer they get as well as for each session of flashcards. They've each graphed out a chart to record how many minutes they've earned in their "bank" and how many minutes they've used. When they achieve mastery, we'll splurge and purchase a new game system.

So...what's your favorite game system? ;-)

Enki Education

I found thissite about Enki Education. It looks intereresting, but I especially like the concept of gathering of homelearning families to sing, dance and play together. That's part of my goal for The Sprouted Acorn. From Enki's site: "The central task of education is the integration of body, heart, and mind - this is the fundamental premise of Enki Education. To this end, our Homeschool Curriculum weaves together many diverse elements and is informed by the work of several leading educators and a variety of methods. Central among these are the multicultural focus of the United Nations International School, the integrated arts approach of Waldorf Education, the skill building techniques of traditional Western education, and the independent project learning of theme studies programs. "

On First-Hand Experience

My friend Penny Barker was an unschooler long before anyone had thought to print such a concept in a newspaper or claim it as a label. Penny, however, calls what her five children did over the past three decades, and continue to do during their adult lives, "Organic Learning" She, her husband and her adult children share that style of hands-on learning with about thirty young visitors a week all summer long at their Country School Farm.

Recently, Penny and I had an e-mail discussion about labels as they pertain to herbs in our gardens. I had pulled up all of the labels in my herb bed in the fall and, now that they're bursting forth again, I have one plant that I just can't determine whether it's an herb or a weed (or if there's even a difference between the two). I was intrigued by Penny's response to my dilemma and found a bit of my own philosophies in what she said.

"In our present culture I always think we are much, much too big on "labels" and its secondary experience rather than the first-hand experience of the object itself! I think it's great that you're gonna' have to figure this plant out by other means! Neat!

I have a funny story about herbs and labels that I wrote up for an Australian homeschooling publication years ago: When J. was six and B. sixteen, it was their evening to prepare supper for the family. A potato-dill soup and homemade bread were what they decided to serve. No problem with the bread--the girls both learned that one early on--but the soup was a newer recipe. When it came to the time in the recipe to add the dill, which I keep in a mason jar like all my other harvested herbs, J., who'd taken the top off the pint jar, said "no!" when the B. reached her spoon into the jar labeled "dill." It wasn't dill, he told her; she said "nonsense,"--he protested to the point that she used her sense of smell on it and realized he was right! His first-hand approached as opposed to B's secondary one saved our supper! Don't you just love it?!

I think we may have gone a little overboard in our present culture with labels--I see it in our visitors time and again--they will often try to tell us how to do something because they've read about it rather than focusing on the actual doing right before their eyes. Sometimes I think we're creating a culture of "know-it-alls" who actually know very little! They'd rather read about something (second-hand) rather than experiencing it (primary). It's one of the main reasons we started out with pencil and paper with our summer visitors but soon gave them up realizing that kids were too hooked on the abstract!

Reading is, of course, the easier way to experience life and can become such a habit that kids learn to prefer it over doing. When our kids were growing up we read books for pleasure (not our research, of course) only in the evenings and Sundays. (This was not a "rule" but more of a tradition--it just evolved that way because we were so very busy with the farmstead, the outdoors and animals.) It was harder on me than [husband] R (he's not much of a reader for pleasure) since I've always been quite an avid reader but I was so busy "doing" with the kids, that I didn't really have time, anyway, except in evenings and Sundays! As a mother, you know the busyness of which I speak!"

I certainly do. While reading, for me, is a break from the tedium and a mental stimulant, I've long told my children that reading is simply living vicariously. If you have the opportunity, it's so much better to DO!

Stream of Consciousness about an Unschooling Math Experience

We were discussing circles.
I knew there was some magical truth about them, but what was it?
Measure a circle.
Measure its...diameter? Circumference? And then what?
Bo remembered.
He retains so many facts; I retain thoughts and feelings, emotions and memories.
"Measure the circumference of that trampoline," he said.
Kids grabbed the coveted tape measure. They all wanted a chance.
We all held on to a point on the circle, Bo, the Baby, Sweetheart, Monet, Houdin and I, steadying the measuring tape.
"Now measure the diameter," says Bo.
Again, they scramble, eager to get their hands on the measuring tape.
It's cumbersome, but they work it into submission.
We talk about fractions.
We talk about division.
We talk about multiplication.
"How many pieces of candy does each person get?"
We draw circles on paper, divide them, divide them, divide them until they are only hash marks on a page.
1
1/2
1/4
1/8
1/16
1/32
On and on and on.
We measure more circles, this time using the jumprope, measuring its half and multiplying by two.
We divide the circumference by the diameter.
Again and again, the answer is 3.14
A light goes on! And another!
Bo draws a symbol on the board.
"This," he says, "is PI."
BLING! "ARK!"
"What do you want from me?"
"I AM THE PIE!"
Stick figures on the chalkboard
Represent members of the family.
Four girls.
Four boys (counting Papa)
And that's how we discuss ratios.
1 girl for every 1 boy.
A ratio.
1:1
Four boys and four girls become eight people,
And there are more stick figures, this time the four-legged variety.
There are four dogs and eight people.
Each dog wants to walk how many people?
Be fair!
That ratio is 2:1.
And then there are more circles;
On paper with a pencil
On the hardwood floor with chalk,
with a brother in the center holding the rope
and a sister marking the circumference.
Out come the protractors.
Out come the compasses.
Upstairs goes mom, to log this moment.
Bounding up the stairs, a happy nine-year-old boy
And his six-year-old sister.
"I just learned PI," Monet states proudly. "I know what the sign for PI is!"
It's just after twelve a.m.
In this homelearning family,
We have PI at midnight.

Do you have some favorite PI links to share? I do.

Math Humor
Where does PI come from?
A World without Circles Writing Contest Winners from Math Cats

Of Campfires and Marshmallows

Warmer weather is here, and it just has me wondering...

Who came up with the concept of venturing into the dark, setting a bunch of logs, paper and stuff on fire, giving small children sharp metal sticks, leading the children, in the dark, to the fire, and encouraging them to turn puffs of gelatin and corn syrup into deadly torches of flaming goo? Who came up with that idea? Were they really serious, or was it just a joke to see how many stupid people would actually try such a ridiculous stunt? Like a bad urban legend?

Come on. Let's think about this.

Six year old + dim light of the campfire + metal prongs left in the fire long enough to become a cauterizing rod or a branding iron or both...what good can possibly come of that? The only outcome I can surmise is a mother with a permanent nervous tic and a completely rational fear of small children. And we all need extra help with that now, don't we?

And to add marshmallows to the equation. On their own, in their tepid, straight-from-the-bag state, they're dangerous enough. But then we give them to children--CHILDREN!--and watch them set the things on fire. These simple children, who don't understand the properties of oxygen plus fire, panic and begin to swing the flaming goo wildly about without any concern for the lives and safety of others.

So, I ask you, who came up with this brilliant scheme?

Whoever it was, I can guarantee you this: that person was NOT a mother.

Researchers Say Socialization No Longer an Issue

Finally! Someone is getting the message. But do you think there will ever be a day when we stop hearing that question?

From the Christian Post: "Fourteen-year-old Kayla Freeman from Bristol, Tenn. says she knows more people than she did while in traditional school, and she has discovered better friends in the homeschool community.

"Most homeschooled kids I know are outgoing and friendly," Kayla said. 'They are the truest friends I have.'"

The Sprouted Acorn

I'd like to introduce you to my newest blog! It's a site for information about the classes that we are hosting for homeschoolers in our home! The Sprouted Acorn: "The Sprouted Acorn
is a private project designed for the mentoring of homeschooled students by artists, writers, tradesmen and others from Holmes County and the surrounding community. Classes are held in the private residence of a homeschooling family. Classes focus on such things as creative writing, woodworking, fiber arts, drawing, sketching, coopering, foreign languages and more."

I'm excited about it and am anxiously awaiting enrollment. So far, our next art class has six children enrolled. Nine more, and we're all set!

Stressed Out Students

STRESSED OUT
Experts recommend moderation for students who face intense parental pressure to excel

Dave Murphy, Chronicle Staff Writer

Sunday, May 8, 2005

As the boy played behind the bushes at his Redwood City school, his obviously agitated mother grabbed him, abruptly escorting him to her car.

"She asked him what he thought he was doing and proceeded to tell him all in one breath that he would never get into a good university or have a good job if he spent all his time playing and goofing around," said Jim Dassise, a parent who watched the episode unfold. "He should be more like one of his friends, who spent his time studying and having good grades."

The boy was about 9 years old.

Moraga resident Cynthia Brian, an acting and media coach who works with children all over the country, has seen the same sort of pressure -- sometimes self-imposed. "At 7 or 8 or 9," she said, "they're already talking about, 'This is going to look good on my resume.' "

Harried schedules, international competition and unrealistic expectations aren't just for adults anymore. The pressure on students to get exceptional grades and build Harvard-quality resumes has gotten so bad that Stanford University has an annual Stressed Out Students conference this week to help intermediate and high school parents, teachers, administrators and -- most of all -- students.

"They're making themselves sick," said Denise Pope, a Stanford School of Education lecturer and founder of Stressed Out Students. "And we're complicit in that."

Pope, author of "Doing School: How We Are Creating a Generation of Stressed Out, Materialistic and Miseducated Students," said even young students quickly understand that the real parental pressure is for grades, not knowledge, so sometimes cheating is the simplest path. Teachers cheat, too, inflating grades because it's easier than fighting with parents.

"A lot of these behaviors start when grades start being given," Pope said. In other words, in third or fourth grade.

The pressure comes from adult anxiety and competitiveness, said Dr. Alvin Rosenfeld, co-author with Nicole Wise of "The Over-Scheduled Child" and the former head of the child psychiatry training program at Stanford's medical school. Top colleges demand great grades. School funding demands good test scores. Both place demands on students.

"It's not about parents who are over the top," said Rosenfeld, who practices adult and child psychiatry in New York and New Jersey. "It's about a cultural pressure that's endemic."

Pope said she and her husband, Mike, limit each of their three children - - ages 8, 6 and 3 -- to one or two extracurricular activities. "I think kids are overscheduled in school and out of school," she said, "and both of those contribute to stress.

"There is severe parent peer pressure out there. There are more resources than ever before that are available to our children, but that doesn't mean you have to use all those resources."

Rosenfeld said harried schedules also take away the free time that is essential for children to be able to fantasize and create.

"If Einstein's parents were alive today, poor little Albert would get a comprehensive evaluation and end up on Ritalin," he said. "Deprived of his daydreams, he might not discover the theory of relativity, but he certainly would focus more fully on the complex demands of fourth-grade math."

Concerns about childhood pressure are hardly new. One popular book from 1981 was David Elkind's "The Hurried Child." But if children were hurried then, they're frenetic now.

A University of Michigan Institute for Social Research study of 3- to 11- year-olds compared the children of 1997 with those of 1981. The ones from 1997 had 12 fewer hours of free time a week, less frequent family dinners and vacations, and virtually no conversations that involved the entire household.

A 2003 survey of 460 parents of 9- to 13-year-olds by the Lucile Packard Foundation for Children's Health, one of the Stanford conference's sponsors, shows how torn parents from San Mateo and Santa Clara counties can be. When asked to list items that made them moderately or very concerned about their children, the most common responses were school performance and feeling stressed.

Often the children's schedules and parental anxieties mirror what is happening in the parents' careers, said UC Berkeley Sociology Professor Arlie Hochschild, who has studied and written books about family dynamics and workplaces. Intense competition and technological advancements have made jobs less secure, and as parents work longer hours, they put their kids in more scheduled activities.

Brian, the acting coach, said that exposing children to a variety of activities -- even offering a gentle nudge -- can be healthy, but too many parents expect their kids to excel. "If they're not everything to all people, they're nothing."

Parents also face unrealistic expectations, she said. "Every single organization or extracurricular meeting believes it's the most important thing on the planet."

Her son and daughter are in college now, but Brian got off the extracurricular parental treadmill years ago.

"At one point, I was gone every night of the week," she said. "Finally, I thought to myself, 'This is absolutely crazy. I'm doing all this so my kids can be part of XYZ, yet I don't have any time to spend with my kids.' "

Even one activity that has been around for generations -- after-school sports -- has gotten more intense and time-consuming, said Jim Thompson, executive director of the Positive Coaching Alliance, a nationwide nonprofit agency based at Stanford. Many California schools cut back on sports after Proposition 13 passed in 1978, meaning that kids have to be shuttled elsewhere.

There are also fewer opportunities for children who aren't top athletes, as the number of baseball teams, for example, dwindles by the teen years, Thompson said.

"Rather than youth sports being an educational function," he said, "it becomes a screening function."

The level of competition inside the classroom has stepped up as well. Rosenfeld said many parents push for perfect grades so their children might qualify for Stanford or an Ivy League university.

Stanford lecturer Pope said the pressures often lead students to cheat. And if their teachers don't look the other way, their parents will.

"Even in the face of hard, cold evidence," Pope said, "the parents will be in denial."

Research in 1999 by Donald McCabe, founder of the Center for Academic Integrity, found that cheating is common at many universities. In his survey of 2,100 students on 21 campuses, one-third admitted to serious cheating on tests, and half admitted to cheating on written assignments.

"A lot of these kids who cheated their way through high school are cheating their way through college," Pope said. "And it doesn't work."

E-mail Dave Murphy at dmurphy@sfchronicle.com

Dining with Books

Did you know that it's considered rude to read while you're in someone else's presence? The first thing that comes to mind is a father reading a newspaper, especially one who reads his periodical at the breakfast table.

Yet there's something in me, whether learned or inherent, that yearns for reading material when I find myself with a meal before me. I'll grab anything--a cereal box, a periodical, a child's sketchbook--because it just seems necessary for me to feed my mind while I feed my face.

Still, we've maintained a rule in our home that there is to be no reading at the meal table. If I or another family member is eating alone, that's different. But if it's a family meal with one or more people present, the book must be eschewed while we chew.

Yesterday, while I put the finishing touches on a BLT lunch and the kids prepared the table, I thought about my current read, The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, and I ached to digest it along with my bacon sandwich, but, hey, I knew the rules.

But, hey, I MAKE the rules.

And so, as I set the lettuce and mayo on the table, I announced that no one may eat unless they come to the table WITH a book in hand! This, I said, will be a reading lunch! It will be considered rude to talk during this meal, so if you must eat, you must also read! After all, the reason it's ill-mannered to read in another's presence is because the other then has nothing to occupy themselves. Well, I suppose the other reason is because it's assumed that one's reading material is more interesting than one's present company, but we all know in this household that such is not the case. We're all very interesting. :-)

Everyone came to the table with a book. I, of course, with The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, Bard with Sorcery and Cecelia or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot by Caroline Stevermer, Patricia C. Wrede, Houdin with Mark Wilson's Complete Course in Magic by Mark Wilson, Monet with The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin and Sweetheart with Doll Party by Shirley Albert (which was the first book Bard ever read independently).

It was a moderate success. There were two of us, Bard and I, who were nose-first into our books, while the others wanted a combination of reading and general conversation. But I liked it. It felt good, right, and free.

Rewriting the rules: another benefit to being a homelearning family

My Kitchen Garden

I spent the day today reading, writing and working in the garden, with the exception of an excursion to piano lessons. I love what I hear right now; Monet practicing his piece in earnest!

Working in the garden was both a delight and a chore. Our new lawn is a jungle, so I'm working on it bit by bit as time and money allow. My first project this spring has been a longtime goal. I finally have, after many years of dreaming about, planning for and envisioning it, a kitchen garden. It's very humble and just beginning, but it's there, the herb seedlings holding their own in this questionable Ohio spring coolness where it's late enough in the growing season to make me feel guilty that I don't have my vegetables planted, but cool enough that I'm relieved of my guilt. And that's a good thing.

Herbs are my favorite things to grow. I remember the first time I took a whiff of a pineapple sage leaf and thought, "Oh my gosh! It smells just like pineapple!" I remember walking through this huge greenhouse full of the most wonderful herbs, discovering a new world, testing the scent of each scented geranium--orange, peppermint, pineapple, cinnamon, nutmeg, rose, lemon and lime--adoring the tags above each table imploring me to "please touch!" (If you aren't familiar with scented geraniums, read this and learn!) I remember toting home several flats of my new passion, tearing out all of my existing flower beds (planted by the home's previous owner and not my style) and filling them with mints, lemon balms, lavender, lamb's ear, echinacea, chives, fennel, dill, nasturtiums and sweet-faced Johnny Jump-Ups. I kept detailed records of my growing garden, which wasn't exactly a kitchen garden, because it was in my front yard, an olfactory greeting for all who entered into my small city home, but I definitely used much of its harvest in the kitchen.

But now, I have a country home, and when we designed the floor plan, we allowed for an exterior door from the kitchen which steps onto the porch which steps onto the lawn which is bordered by--you guessed it--my new kitchen garden.

I placed the root-bound plants into the ground today, wondering how a greenhouse can have plants that are already root-bound so early in the growing season. The marjoram, cilantro, parsley, golden oregano, dill, columnar basil and rosemary were placed carefully in turn, earning their positions according to the frequency with which I use them, the cilantro and marjoram closer to the door, the dill and parsley further back. And at the furthest edge, grape tomatoes, Marglobe tomatoes and Early Girls, kept company by three jalapeno pepper plants. I'm looking forward to a pesto, bruschetta and salsa summer!

Do you grow herbs? If not, you should definitely give it a shot! They're forgiving, many are very hardy, and a lot of them can be grown in pots on your porch or sunny windowsill. It's always encouraging to me to see the tiny spikes of garlic chives popping through the cold ground early in the Spring. Those chives are my crocuses!

Next project: clear out my neglected tea garden and deep beds. The catnip and mints (and weeds, of course) there have all but taken over since I spent most of last summer finishing the interior of our house.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with gardener's gloved fingers!

Field Trip Coordinator for Ohio Homeschoolers

If you're in the state of Ohio, especially Northeastern Ohio, you might be interested in Field Tripping!.

"Field trips are among the coolest, most effective learning tools ever, but many of us don't implement them as often as we could. Learn more by doing, seeing, touching and sometimes playing! These are the field trips and tours I personally have experienced. "

We've attended several of these field trips and have always been pleased with the organizational skills of the coordinator.

The Dog Poo Blues

We were coming home from a bluegrass jam session and potluck on Sunday when I got a whiff of something fairly...um...unpleasant.

"Someone in this car has dog poop on their feet," I said. I'm pretty brilliant that way. Amazing powers of deduction. Mistress of the Obvious.

Bo, still feeling musical from our time at the jam, offered, "Hey. You could make that into a blues song."

So I did, and I sang it right there on the spot. It made my husband laugh. It made my kids roll their eyes. Yes, I am that good.

Now, for your...uh...enjoyment? You'll have to provide your own blues licks and turnarounds. If you're feeling adventurous, you can even add a verse or two. If you do, be sure to share it.

Without further adoo-doo...

The Dog Poo Blues

Someone in this car now, Baby,
Has dog poop on their feet.
Yeah, I said someone in this car now, Honey,
Has dog poop on their feet.
Well, it's smellin' extra funky, Darlin',
When you're crankin' up the heat.

Somethin' smells real nasty, Mister.
Tell me, Brother, is it you?
Somethin's smelling pretty foul now, Sugar.
Tell me, Sister, is it you?
Ya'll go on and check your feet, now,
Cuz somebody stepped in poo.

Somebody stepped in dog crap, Baby
When they went out for a stroll.
I say, someone stepped in dog crap, Baby,
When they went out on that mornin' stroll.
Oh yeah.
Somebody stepped right in it, Honey,
Now they got dookie on their sole.

::insert turnaround and drunken howls here::

The Art Club

It's good to have a place to gather with other artists where one can share one's works and have them appreciated.

Last Thursday, my husband Bo and I and all of the kids were welcomed into the home of a pair of local artists who were hosting the Bohemian Art Club. Apparently this club kind of travels around from home to home and the nature of it changes from meeting to meeting. Some meetings host guest artists who sing or share their talents with the group. This meeting was a kind of "show and tell" of art. All art is welcomed, including pieces submitted by children of any age and art in any classification.

At the beginning of the meeting, the host collects all visual art and then, after a social time of soup, snacks and wine, he introduces each artist and their artwork, passing around each piece for the group to consider and appreciate. He stops occasionally to allow those with written words or performing arts to present their works as well. Monet and Sweetheart both shared their sketchbooks, Sweetheart shared a painting, Bo shared his version of Rusty Old American Dream by David Wilcox on his acoustic guitar, Houdin wowed 'em with a few magic tricks, Bard read several pieces of poetry, and I performed two of my essays, The Salon and Sliding.

I may just be vain and shallow, or I may just enjoy human feedback, but I really enjoyed the reaction I received to my pieces. I love to make people laugh. I love to see their eyes light up with recognition and agreement. When I read The Salon, the women in the room were laughing. Hysterically! Since I'm really not experienced in the art of stand-up comedy, I didn't know how to pause, when to continue, how to fill the awkward empty space. But I didn't care! With that kind of reaction, I could have stood there reading all night. But I didn't. I pulled myself to earth and ended after the second piece. I'm not sure I could have handled any more of the adrenaline, anyway.

There were many talented artists there--writers, painters, portrait artists, potters, musicians--and I just felt so at home. It was a very good feeling. A warm feeling. An appreciated feeling. A kindred feeling. That's probably a banal way to describe it, but it's accurate. I felt a kinship to some of those folks.

I'm looking forward to more meetings and visiting different homes, getting to know other artists and musicians. When we came to this community, I was worried that the artistic needs we have as a family would not be met. With jam sessions, writing groups, art classes, piano lessons and other gatherings, I'm finding that we almost have more outlets than we can handle.

Wow. That's a nice problem to have.

Intermittent

My 1989 Dodge van has this unique feature.

It's called "intermittent."

When I turn on the windshield wipers, they swish back and forth in intervals. Yeah, I know. You'd like to think you have this feature, too, on your fancy Lexus or your brand new Mercedes. But I can almost guarantee that you don't, Buddy Boy.

See, MOST vehicles have an intermittent feature that causes the vehicle's windshield wipers to swish back and forth in REGULAR intervals. Betcha didn't catch that the first time around, did ya? REGULAR, as I'm sure you've figured out, is the key word here.

But not my van. I should be so lucky. When I twist the control handle, the wipers might flash back and forth at warp speed for a few seconds and then suddenly get too tired to go on any longer. Swish-swish-swish-swish----kaput.

Or they might give a nice, healthy swipe, maybe even two, and then...nada.

But wait! If I hold out for just a few more minutes (like I have a choice), they might decide to come on again for three or four passes, then more nothin', then a couple more, then a great big long expanse of nothin' followed by another interval of warp-speed. I keep trying to tell myself that my wipers have an internal moisture sensor that causes them to spring to life when needed. The fact that I have to peek between little rivers running down my windshield seems to indicate otherwise.

This really wouldn't be much of a big deal, since it only rains, oh, about every day during Spring in Ohio. Unless you've finally put your garden in, which means it won't rain for about three weeks. I mean, sure, it would be a pain to keep having to peek through those little windshield-rivers, but in a pinch I could handle intermittent--and I mean TRULY intermittent--windshield wipers.

The REAL problem for me, though, and I think you'll understand why, is the intermittent starter.

Now that, Buddy Boy, is a royal pain.

Feeling a little challenged...

Do you ever have times when you feel like nothing's working? Like your relationships are suffering, your job stinks, your car won't run, your dreams are taking a serious butt-whoopin', and your hairstyle (0r lack thereof) needs a major overhaul?

Do you ever have times when you just want to give it all up, throw in the towel, toss the baby out with the bathwater?

If you don't, let me just say I hate you.

Don't take it personally. I probably wouldn't hate you if I really knew you, but right now, my defenses are down, so it just feels better to hate you at this moment.

Out of all of my friendships, I've got misunderstandings and unsettled issues going on with two of my friends. The worst thing about it is that I don't see these issues working themselves out. I see the relationships dying. In both of these circumstances, there are some serious double-standards going on that I just can't overlook and they just can't see. I'm not even sure if we like each other anymore.

I'm supposed to be a stay-at-home mom, but I rarely stay at home. Can I get an "Amen, Sister?" I can't remember the last time I spent an entire day at home. And while I don't have a job, per se, the little things I do to help earn money aren't cuttin' it. Actually, the big job my husband Bo is doing isn't cuttin' it, either. Something's gotta give.

Out of our three vehicles, two are totally and completely on their way out and the third is seriously thinking about it. For the first time in my life, I find myself envious of people with new, reliable vehicles. I've never really concerned myself with this before, but now I'm concerned.

Dreams? Well, for some reason, they're taking it in the gut, too. I'm at one of life's crossroads and I just can't decide which way to turn.

And the hair thing, of course...well, I guess that's a perennial problem.

So I'm feeling a little challenged right now. On one hand, I'm looking forward to whatever direction the Lord is planning to take me.

On the other hand, I'm feeling pretty scared.

Oh, and I probably don't really hate you. Sorry I said that. Don't take it personally.

Pizza Delivery

So, we're comin' home from Wal*Mart, right? As we drive along our dusty country roads, we're passing Plain People left and right, dressed in their Sunday best, the men in black suits, black hats and spotless white shirts, the women in blue dresses, white shaws and black bonnets.

"Why do they think their dress is plain? It looks pretty fancy to me," Bo says.

He's right. What I'm wearing today? A pair of khaki shorts, a black tank and a tan baseball cap? No makeup and my hair in a bun? That, to me, is as plain as plain can get, unless you count streakin'. I may be a granola gal, but I'm not ready for that.

To me, the Plain People look downright fancy, too. They stand out from the green grass and grey dirt as they walk from their every-other-Sunday church meeting, journeying from a neighbor's home or shop back to their own, filled up from eating lunchmeat sandwiches topped pickle relish and peanut butter spread, which is known to us English as Amish Wedding Spread, a coma-inducing concoction of corn syrup, peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. Yes, it is often served atop ham and cheese. I've tried it. It's not bad.

So, coming home from Wal*Mart, after passing several Amish families in their fancy-plain clothes, my husband Bo sees a white box laying on our dirt road.

"Is that a pizza?" He asks.

Indeed it was.

Around here, Amish families often gather in a shop to assemble dozens and dozens of pizzas and then sell them door to door or family to family to raise funds for a church member or Amish family in the community who is overwhelmed by medical or funeral expenses. The pizza boxes are plain (I do mean plain this time) white and the content is sealed in a plastic bag. These pizzas are very substantial and are sometimes frozen for later use. It's a real cottage industry, the profits used to help those in need.

This pizza was substantial, and it was also frozen, which was a good thing, because it had become...well, a street pizza, I guess you'd say. When I ducked out of the car to pick it up, I did some quick detective work. Still frozen. Amish-made pizza. Church Sunday. By golly, I'll bet one of our Amish neighbors dropped this just recently while coming home from church!

While we'd passed plenty of families on the main road, we hadn't passed any of our Amish neighbors on our own road, so we figured it was someone going our way. Driving ahead, we were met by one horse and buggy, but they were going the other direction.

"Should we ask them if they were planning on dropping a pizza?" Bo asked.

By the time we got to our lane, we still hadn't passed anyone who looked like they'd lost a pizza, and Bo was saying, "Hey. It's free food," but I'm not accustomed to eating things I scoop off the road, so I suggested we keep on driving until we met the main state route. Surely the owners hadn't lost their lunch that long before, since it was still frozen. Still using my brilliant powers of observation and deduction, see?

Sure enough, around the corner was Roman, a sweet Amishman who lives the next farm over. He was still in his Sunday-go-to-meetin' duds. He was walking AWAY from his farm. His face was filled with consternation. This was probably our guy.

Still, I felt a little silly asking, "Hey, did you lose a pizza?"

He looked at us for just a second and I thought, "He thinks we're nuts," then his mouth burst into a grin as he saw the plain white box on my lap.

"Well, yeah!" He said. "The horse did somethin' funny back 'round the corner, and when we got home, why, we noticed we only had two pizzas instead of three!"

"I'm kinda sorry we found ya," Bo said. "We were figuring we'd have it for lunch."

"Well, come on down!" Roman said. And he meant it.

Thanks but no thanks, we said. I knew our clan would finish off all three pizzas and ask for more, no matter how substantial those pies were.

So Roman thanked us sincerely, waved goodbye, and we turned ourselves around and headed for home. Strange happenings on a Sunday afternoon.

Sign me, The Street Pizza Delivery Gal who's going to figure out what to do for lunch.