UI'm, beuing held captuive

One of m,y] chuildren (IU don't jknow whom, becauise they] won't say]) spuilled water on m,y] jke]yboardm, and now m,y] letters are wonjky].

Som, UI'm, beiung held captuive uintuil m,y] ransom,em, a new jkey]boardm, uis paiud.

Of coiursem, we couiold jkuist ,majke thuis a contest. Whoever can decuipher m,y] blog entruies gets to buiy] m,e a new jke]yboard. Doesn't that souind luijke fuin?

UIn the m,eantuim,em, UI'm, worjkuing on a new hobby] whuich UI'll tell y]oui abouit when UI get m,y] vouice bacjk.

Happy] blogguing!

My Love Languages

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Quality Time
with a secondary love language being
Acts of Service.

Complete set of results

Quality Time:		9
Acts of Service:		7
Receiving Gifts:		7
Words of Affirmation:		6
Physical Touch:		1

Information

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

Take the quiz

Why do I have to make things so complicated?

I'm feeling much better today, thankyouverymuch. I took the advice of my dear Bo and made a goal for myself to simply accomplish three things, so I set my sites rather low and decided to:

~Wash all of the linens on my bed,
~Put away the clean laundry
~Eat something

These were completely do-able but still difficult tasks. I know, I know. It sounds horrible that a person would have a difficult time doing such simple things, but when I get into a funk, I have a tendency to spiral into avoidance of all things that are good for me. It's a rebellion, and I'm working hard to train myself to recognize it. Thank God for my husband who knows me and loves me who can give me advice that will help me climb up out of the abyss.

Once I had food in my system, something as simple as yogurt and granola (which I literally had to force myself to eat because I just didn't want to eat anything), I felt much better, but not good. After I stripped my bed of linens, I decided to vacuum my bedroom and clean my bathroom floor. That lead to cleaning the sink and toilet. Once I had begun to put away the clean clothes, I was inspired to wash more clothes. And from there, things got better. I still snapped at people, and I still felt like crying for most of the day, but it got better. It really did.

The point in my day when I most felt like crying was while I was driving to pick up the children from piano lessons. I asked the Lord for some wisdom, and then a song came on the radio that seemed to speak to me where I was. An unlikely source, but God spoke through Avril Lavigne :

Chill out whatcha yelling' for?
Lay back it's all been done before
And if you could only let it be
you will see
I like you the way you are
When we're drivin' in your car
and you're talking to me one on one but you become

Somebody else round everyone else
You're watching your back like you can't relax
You're tryin' to be cool--you look like a fool to me
Tell me

Why you have to go
and make things so complicated?
I see the way you're acting
like you're somebody else gets me frustrated
Life's like this you
And you fall and you crawl and you break
and you take what you get
and you turn it into honesty
and promise me I'm never gonna find you fake it

Now, aside from the terrible grammar, there was a message here for me, as if spoken by God. Okay, so I don't know if God would tell me to "chill out," but the basic message is this: Be still. Be slow to anger. There is nothing new under the sun. Worrying will not add a day to your life. Forget piety.

But the part that perhaps spoke to me the loudest was the line about looking like a fool. A week ago, this may not have stood out to me, but on Sunday, our pastor gave a teaching about how fools don't understand the ways of God, how the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing. So, when I returned home, I did a quick word study on "fool." These verses hit home for me. Maybe they will for you, too.

Job 5:2 Resentment kills a fool, and envy slays the simple.

Psalm 107:17 Some became fools through their rebellious ways and suffered affliction because of their iniquities.

Proverbs 1:7 The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and discipline.

Proverbs 1:32 For the waywardness of the simple will kill them, and the complacency of fools will destroy them;

Proverbs 10:8 The wise in heart accept commands, but a chattering fool comes to ruin.

Proverbs 12:16 A fool shows his annoyance at once, but a prudent man overlooks an insult.

Proverbs 14:1 The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.

Proverbs 14:17 A quick-tempered man does foolish things

Proverbs 18:2 A fool finds no pleasure in understanding but delights in airing his own opinions.

Proverbs 20:3 It is to a man's honor to avoid strife, but every fool is quick to quarrel.

Proverbs 26:11 As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his folly.

Proverbs 29:11 A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control.

1 Corinthians 1:18 For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are
perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

1 Corinthians 1:25 For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the
weakness of God is stronger than man's strength.

1 Corinthians 1:27 But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.

1 Corinthians 2:14 The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned.

I don't know about you, but I've been a fool many times these past few weeks.

Sometimes, though, it takes someone who has their head on straight to pull you out of your foolishness. For me, that person was Bard. She came to me and asked if I would like her to make lunch. Deep in my funk, I said, "Yes. Please." I didn't know what she would make, and I don't think she did either, initially, but after a while I could smell wonderful wafts of basil and pasta cooking and I knew that she had something good going on.

When she called me to dinner, I was very ready to eat. In the kitchen, I found that she had placed a new tablecloth on the table, used the good dishes, and served me grape juice in a wine glass. The fare was fantastic! Homemade three-cheese lasagna with fresh basil (from our summer garden, pulled from the freezer) accompanied by hot garlic bread.

We all enjoyed a wonderful meal, and I find myself truly blessed.

Thanks for all of your thoughts and kind words and prayers.

That about sums it up...

Well, I feel
Like I have to feel
Something good all of the time
With most of life I cannot deal
But a good feeling I can feel
Even though it may not be real
And if a person, place or thing can deliver
I will quiver with delight
But will it last me for all my life
Or just one more lonely night

The lust, the flesh
The eyes
And the pride of life
Drain the life
Right out of me

I'm feeling awfully down this morning. I'm in a funk, and I can't say exactly why, because there are many things that are on my mind.

Part of it is the clutter that is my life,
part of it is comparing myself and my children and our accomplishments with other people, their children and their accomplishments,
part of it is a feeling of hope lost,
part of it is a desire for excellence that seems elusive,
and part of it may just be a bit of undigested morsel.

This morning, I was supposed to pick up the Amish schoolteacher before sunrise. That's quite a task for me, because, while I consider myself somewhat of a morning person, I live in a house full of bohemians. I can't really settle myself into bed well until I feel that everyone and everything else is settled first, so I often find myself burning the candle at both ends, staying up and cleaning, puttering, getting ever-grumpier, while I just wish my day would come to a tidy, comfortable close, and then, as soon as the sun streams through my east-facing, curtainless bedroom window, my eyes pop open and my mind swirls and spins with the limitless things I should do, need to do, and want to do.

My husband's grandfather is moving to Illinois to be with my husband's family. While I know it's the best thing for him, it fills me with guilt. My husband's family all work, and I'm a stay-at-home mom. I should be able to keep him here. They have their hands full already. But I'm not dependable enough, I know. Not qualified. And I highly doubt that he would be comfortable with such a proposition, so I've never offered it. This house is loud and obnoxious. He's used to quiet and neat. It's the main reason we've not visited him, our loudness and obnoxiousness. The last time we visited his house, before Grandma died, Sweetheart left her shoes smack-dab in the middle of the floor and Grandma tripped over them, sending her sprawling to the floor, her shoulder bruised and broken. I was horrified. After that, Bo and I agreed that our visiting was more for our own selfishness than for their benefit, though we ached to be of help to these people who had been so kind to us for so many years. It seemed, though, that any help we offered had already been offered and taken care of by someone else.

When Grandma was taken to the hospital just before she died, we wanted to go visit. We wanted to be there, but we knew that it would cause confusion and stress, so we stayed away. After the funeral, we asked if there was anything we could do. I, for one, felt useless. I wanted to be there to care for grandpa, to comfort him, to do his laundry and cook for him. But it was all taken care of.

This weekend, when we realized that it may be the last time we see this man who has made us laugh for so many years with his magic tricks, who has inspired Houdin to take up illusion as his primary hobby, Bo said that we really needed to go visit him. After all, because of our unreliable cars, we haven't been out to visit Bo's parents in Illinois for years. Grandpa's 86 years old. We had to face reality. We wanted to spend time with him, tell him we love him, enjoy some magic tricks again before he leaves.

It was so wonderful and yet so awful. Just to be there with him, to visit and talk and laugh and question and remember was so very good. He and Houdin swapped magic trick tips, showed each other their fake deck cuts, and Grandpa told Houdin that he had a gift, that he needed to work on it, that he could do well. Bard, who had felt very badly about not spending more time with her grandmothers, stayed by Grandpa's side through the whole day and into the evening.

It was clear to me that we should have been visiting more. Grandpa is so lonely, is grieving so hard over Grandma. After sixty-three years of marriage, he still awakes in the middle of the night and looks for her, still tries to find her in the crowd at church. I thought she was coming home, he said. I thought we'd take her to the hospital, and she'd get better, and she'd be back here with me, he said. And he cried. I can talk about anything, he said, but not her. I break down every time I talk about her. And I wonder, is that what I had that he needed? Someone to talk to about Grandma?

We stayed too late, I know, but it wasn't long enough. I just wanted to sit with him. I knew that he didn't want to be alone in that house, that the night was the hardest part. And I cry now, even thinking about it. He's so lonely for his sweetheart. How could we leave?

But we did, and it was almost midnight when we arrived home. I was too tired to keep my eyes open, but I set my alarm, because I knew I had to get up before dawn to pick up the Amish teacher. I checked the alarm and double-checked it and triple-checked it.

And I awoke to the telephone ringing.

I opened my eyes, oriented myself, and looked at the clock. But before I did, I knew. The sun was up, and I'd overslept. The phone stopped ringing. I tried to call back, but there was no answer.

Must I fail everyone?

Well, I see something and I want it
Bam! Right now!
No questions asked
Don't worry how much it costs me now or later
I want it and I want it fast
I'll go to any length
Sacrifice all that I already have
And all that I might get
Just to get
Something more that I don't need
And Lord, please don't ask me what for

The lust, the flesh
The eyes
And the pride of life
Drain the life
Right out of me

Retail therapy. Saturday morning I awoke and knew that I had to go into the Big City to take Bard for choir practice. It's my chance to buy groceries at The Great Big Warehouse Store Where We Buy Everything In Mega Quanitities to Feed Our Moderately Large Family. It's also my chance to buy real yogurt at the Upper Class Health Food Store, oggle at the puppies in the Very Upper Class Pet Boutique, and shop for clothes at The Store that is Not Stuff*Mart or Thrift*Store. Before I even got out of the house, I had an itch to buy something. Not something I need, because there really isn't very much I need. Something else. Something completely frivolous and feel-goody. I don't know why. I just did. Flowers or nice clothes or a new shiny thing of some sort. I don't do this often, because I quite simply don't have the money for it. Most of the nice things I have are from the Thrift*Store of have been gifts from my mother-in-law or other people who love me and know my champagne taste and my Kool-Aid budget.

But I decided to resist. I would be sensible. I would stay within my budget. I would not overspend.

Somehow, we ended up with:

~A shearling lamb lavendar coat for The Baby
~a Music Man DVD
~and an i-pod shuffle ("ONLY $49.95 if you spend $75 in retail merchandise!").

Cha-ching. Overspent by $75. For some people, that's a drop in the bucket.

For me, it's 1/3 of my groceries for the week.

And I love when folks
Look right at me
And what I'm doing
Or have done
And lay it on about
How groovy I am
And that I'm looking grand
And every single word
Makes me think I'll live forever
Never knowing that they probably
Won't remember what they said tomorrow
Tomorrow I could be dead

The lust, the flesh
The eyes
And the pride of life
Drain the life
Right out of me

So I let the teacher down and I don't even know how or if she got a ride. So Houdin had a show at the County Home on Friday and he messed up or forgot to bring half of his tricks and I feel like it was my fault. So I don't have any people signed up for the upcoming Sprouted Acorn classes and I wonder why I even try. So someone who I though was a friend has basically stopped talking to me and I don't know what I've done wrong, but it makes me sad and angry. So no one came to the play group that I planned for our homeschool group, even though I've heard so many people talking about how there needs to be something for the families with younger kids. So Houdin isn't taking piano lessons anymore because I can't get him to practice and getting him out of the house to piano lessons is like pulling teeth. So a neighbor accidentally left her husband's pants hanging in a bag on my mailbox and I took them because I didn't know whose they were, and two weeks later, she showed up at my door explaining what happened and how she should have called right away but she didn't and they're going to Florida the next day, so could she have them back, and I didn't find them until after they left. So I was supposed to pay for the Irish Step classes by today and I haven't sent the check. So my house is messy today and my porch has chicken poop on it and I don't have any money for retail therapy and I'm trying to eat healthy so I can't go binge, and Grandpa's moving out-of-state and he doesn't need anything because it's all being taken care of by a good Catholic man and I feel like a useless twit.

And I'm just looking for something to make me feel better. A person. A place. A thing. Whatever. It doesn't matter.

The lust, the flesh
The eyes
And the pride of life
Drain the life
Right out of me

1 John 2:16 (Amplified Bible)
Amplified Bible (AMP)

For all that is in the world--the lust of the flesh [craving for sensual gratification] and the lust of the eyes [greedy longings of the mind] and the pride of life [assurance in one's own resources or in the stability of earthly things]--these do not come from the Father but are from the world [itself].

The Lust, The Flesh, The Eyes and The Pride of Life Lyrics by The 77s

houdin with bunny

Sweetheart with bunny.

Looking for BOOKS

I'm currently looking for a few books for our Charlotte Mason curriculum. I've been having a difficult time finding a few of them either in the library or inexpensively. I know some of them are available to read online, but I prefer having the children sit comfortably with a book. So, if you happen to have an extra copy of any of these and would like to make this soul very happy, please let me know! I'd also like to own the Charlotte Mason series, which I currently don't have, so if you have extras of any of those, too, I'd be interested.

An Island Story by H.E. Marshall
This Country of Ours by H.E. Marshall
Trial and Triumph by Richard Hannula
Secrets of the Woods by Wm. J. Long
Parables from Nature by Margaret Patty
Heroes by Charles Kingsley
Children of the New Forest by F. Marryat
Swallows and Amazons or any other books by Arthur Ransome
Any books by Elizabeth Enright
Complete Book of Marvels by Richard Halliburton
Poetry by Sara Teasdale, Hilda Conkling, William Blake or H.W. Longfellow
English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs
Unknown to History by Charlotte Yong
Fifty Famous Stories Retold by James Baldwin
Viking Tales by Jennie Hall
Any books by the D'Aulaires
Any books by Holling C. Holling
Any books by James Herriott
Any books by Thornton Burgess, but especially The Bird Book
The Blue Fairy Book
St. George and the Dragon by Margaret Hodges
The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams

Why not?

If you don't mind long black scuff marks on your wood floor,

And if you don't mind hearing a loud *THUMP* every five minutes which sends you flying to the location of the noise to check for injuries,

And if you aren't concerned about broken bones or bloody noses or bashed-in-heads,

And if you don't mind people moving past you very quickly while you're doing the dishes, making dinner, or talking on the phone
And if the constant chorus of "watch out!" "you're in my way!" and "you ran over my toe!" doesn't affect you at all,

And if you don't mind tripping over extra footwear every time you step,

Then, by all means, go ahead and BUY those roller blades from the thrift store for a buck a pair, one pair for each of three of your five children, and let them roll around the house in them for days upon end.

Why not? After all, life is short. And it's getting shorter every day.

Friday Feast

From Donna over at Quiet Life, the Friday Feast:

Appetizer
What job would you definitely not want to have?

An employee in a customer complaint department. People can be *so mean*! Especially when you're dealing with their money or their food.

Soup
Oprah calls and wants you to appear on her show. What would that day's show be about?

A good thing: Homelearning as a family. A not-so-good thing: Unreconciled mother-daughter relationships (I'm the daughter).

Salad
Name 3 vegetables that you eat on a regular basis.

Corn, onions and fresh spinach.

Main Course
If you were commissioned to rename your hometown, what would you call it?

Something esteemed, like Oxford or Harvard. Or something silly, like Heaven or Confusion or Paradise. Though I actually like the name of my town.

Dessert
If you had a personal assistant, what kind of tasks would you have them to do?

ALL of my bill-paying, ALL of my housework, and I'd have them clean out and wash my vehicles daily. I'd have them bring me ice-water and fresh vegetables because I tend to forget to eat healthy snacks until it's too late and all I want is chocolate covered potato chips.

Oh, the tragedy of it all...

Have you ever awoken with the thought, "Wow. My son has such nice teeth. I'm so blessed that I don't have to get braces for him. His smile is so bright and his teeth are so straight. How wonderful this is." Have you ever woken with this thought?

Neither have I.

Houdin ran into the house last night after playing at the neighbors' house and made a quick visit to the bathroom. Then he ran up to me and threw his mouth open, proudly uttering, "'ook! 'ook!" He's too old to be losing teeth, so I had to peer closely. But there it was. A chip. On his top front tooth.

"What on earth...?"

"We were tossing the basketball back and forth to each other, and Monet had it, and I tried to get it from him, and..."

"Oh, son..."

"Did you see this one?" He asked, pointing to the bottom front tooth. Oh, Lord. Another chip. And the top tooth was loose.

"Oh, son. Why did you do that? Why did you chip your teeth? You have such a *nice* smile. You have such *nice* teeth. What would make you want to go and chip them?"

"I didn't mean to, Mom. So, he had the ball and I..."

"Son, your TEETH are the same TEETH you'll have with you for the rest of your LIFE. Why would you do that? Why would you chip your nice, perfect teeth?"

"Mom, do you think I meant to do it? So I tried to get the ball and..."

I didn't really hear the rest. All I could see was the chips in his perfect teeth, like the tiny scratch on a brand-new vehicle. All I could do was shuffle around the kitchen shaking my head and muttering, "They were such nice teeth. Why wasn't I grateful for them before? Maybe that's it...Maybe I wasn't thankful enough...Oh, his lovely teeth. Oh, the inhumanity!"

If your son has beautiful teeth, count your blessings. Then again, maybe you just shouldn't think about it. It might not hurt so much when he ruins them. For life.

Oh, the pain. The pain. What a world, what a world.

Thank you!

Thank you, Firefly, for the kind words about your visit with us. It was, indeed, wonderful to visit with another homeschooling/ambleside-using/animal-loving blogger. :-) I'm so glad you took the time to meet with us. I do wish you lived closer, too!

Your Banjo is cuter than a button. :-)

For those of you who haven't visited Bioluminescence, what are you waiting for?

Wounded in the Line of Duty

"Mom? Um...you need to come here. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow..."

The words floated up to me from the basement, where ten-year-old Monet had just gone with a bag full of trash. His daily job is to haul the trash to the garage, and his weekly job is to usher it to the curb. He had just begun the first phase of the weekly job--gathering all of the rubbish around the house.

The funny thing is, I panicked, but not really. Does that make sense? Inwardly, I thought, "Okay. He's not screaming his head off. He usually screams his head off if it's just a little scratch. Maybe this is serious?"

As I descended the stairs, there sat Monet, cradling his right foot, while a pool of blood collected beneath it. It was serious.

"Look away. What happened?" I asked, as I gently removed his sock, trying to calm his nerves. He was full-force crying by then.

He explained that he had been swinging the bag into the can when he felt something hit the top of his foot. He didn't think it was anything at first, until he noticed that his sock was soaking wet. I poured peroxide on it, assessed the offending object (the top of a Starbucks Frappuccino bottle--no rust), and applied pressure. After several minutes of pressure, the gaping 1/2 inch wide wound was still gushing blood. I couldn't determine how deep the cut was.

A trip to the doctor's office proved entertaining. Sweetheart went along, for moral support and for the gross-out factor. She was greatly intrigued by the massive amounts of blood. Our doctor, a fellow homeschooling parent with a great sense of humor, helped Monet overcome his fears by talking about their common interest in Calvin and Hobbes.

The doctor explained that he was going to give Monet a pin prick, which was the needle to numb the pain. As he inserted the needle, the wound started gushing blood again. Monet winced. Another poke. A bigger wince. And then, the needle and thread. Now, a great big wince, until...

"Hey! I don't feel anything! It doesn't hurt! Wow. This isn't so bad. You know what? This is kinda cool. Wow! This is GREAT!"

I, on the other hand, was just about to pass out. More blood. Needle going in and out of the foot. More blood. Argh.

"How long does the numbing stuff last?" Monet asked.

"About three minutes, so I have to work fast," the doc replied. After the scared look on Monet's face, the doc admitted that it would stay numb for about an hour.

After the stitching, the doc said, "I'll have my nurse come in here and put some dressing on it. What do you like...thousand island? Bleu cheese...?" Monet didn't quite get it, so I explained it after the doc left.

On our way to the car, Monet continued admiring his wounded foot. "I kinda wish it woulda been more serious," he said.

I glared at him.

"Well, then I coulda just gone home and sat around all day."

Still, he thought it was pretty cool that he could go to the library without his shoe on.

Never a dull moment.

Splish Splash

Yesterday's Tournament

We're enjoying a deliciously lazy Sunday after being out very late last night and getting little sleep since Thursday. While I did get up around 8:00, took care of my chores and read for a while, I went back to sleep and slept, as the rest of my family did, until after noon. Apparently we were all very tired!

And well we should have been. Yesterday was a very long day. We were up before dawn to prepare for thirteen hours of speech competition wherein Bard would present her Programmed Oral Interpretation and Houdin his Persuasive speech three times before three different panels of judges. There were over 200 participants and over 150 judges swarming around the two-building church and fellowship hall that hosted the event. Local newspaper reporters and editors, public figures and politicians were on hand to judge and cover the event.

And all of the participants, from the youngest speaker in the Junior division to the oldest speaker in the debate division, were homeschoolers.

Houdin's speech was on a topic of his own choosing--the dangers of and alternatives to fast food. He had difficulty memorizing the entire speech and, as a result, had to refer to his script often during his presentation, which resulted in a two-rank reduction. Still, the judges' ballots, which he received after the event was over, showed very high mark. Had he not referred to his script, he may have placed second in his category. On the upside, he still has two tournaments to go and might be able to memorize and improve his presentation before then.

Bo and I served as judges for the event, which was a real treat. It's so much fun to listen to the presentations--the creativity, the wonderful literature, and the fine characterizations--and have the opportunity to give them encouragement and written suggestions for improvement.

But the highlight of the day was the awards presentation. Our dear Bard presented a Programmed Oral Interpretation, or POI, a speech weaving three or more pieces with literary merit together, each of them with a common theme. The pieces must be a balance of prose, script and poetry with an original introduction, under ten minutes long, and memorized. Her piece, themed around honesty, included sections of Pirates of the Carribean, a poem called On Lying, and Unicorn in the Garden by Ohio Satirist, James Thurber. There were many competitors and the competition was tough.

We sat through all of the other awards announcements, POI being one of the last to be announced, and...

Drum roll please...

BARD EARNED THIRD PLACE!

The comments on her ballots were glowing and encouraging, and it was clear from her point ranking that the top three places were within just a point or two of each other. She hopes to improve her speech and delivery for the next tournament in order to contend for first place.

We ended the day with a delicious meal and great dinner conversation, getting to know some of the other parents in our speech--or forensics--club a bit better, and winding down from a pretty intense month of preparation.

Oh, and ten-year-old Monet managed to catch his sleeve on fire during dinner while grabbing for the breadsticks--right over the candle centerpiece. I think he has now learned his lesson about the dangers of the boarding house reach.

Next year, Bard hopes to participate in debate as well, and Monet and Sweetheart will join the club.

Thanks for your prayers and good advice!

Prayers, please

In about five hours, we'll be on our way to our second Speech and Debate Tournament. I'm asking for your prayers for Houdin. He has a very difficult time keeping focused on things, and he has chosen to recite a ten-minute speech on the evils of fast food. He has the whole thing memorized, but really stumbles between transitions. He also has a difficult time refraining from stammering, so he repeats many things twice, causing his speech to run over ten minutes, which will lose him a rank.

Please pray for Bard, too. Last tournament, she was in either third or fourth place; we don't know because they only awarded first and second, but she was in the power round with three other participants, two of whom received the first two places. Pray that she will be able to accept the place that she's given, though I know she's really hoping for at least second place.

And pray for our stamina. We'll be at the tournament from 7:30 to 9:00 P.M. and, obviously, I'm still not in bed. The tournament is very fast-paced. The kids barely have time to get a drink and lunch isn't scheduled until 1:45, over six hours from the beginning of the tournament.

In spite of all that, I think this is a good activity for them both. Bard has a hard time speaking in front of people, and this has given her confidence. Houdin has taken to dressing very dapper, which saved us from the constant argument about stained t-shirts and excessively baggy pants. Plus, he needs practice focusing and memorizing. Ironically, his name means "the Lord remembers." May the Lord remember for him tomorrow.

Thank you for your prayers.

(4:53 am)

(4:53 am)Another very inspiring website. Maybe I should begin with a sock monkey?

Inspired

I've been perusing some of the craft blogs, and I'm really feeling inspired. After looking at all of the very cute projects here (hat-tip to Randi!), and because of my affinity for vintage and thrift-store stuff, I very, very, very want to learn to sew. My machine is fixed, and I've spent the morning cleaning the basement craft room (though I'm not done. Not even close!), and I'd like to start making some cute dresses, dolls and quilts for my girls. I need curtains, and I just can't see buying new ones when I can find vintage ones, or at least fabric, to make my own.

I have been waiting for quite a long time to find someone who could teach me to sew, and people have been kind enough to offer, but it never seems to gel. Now, I figure, I taught myself to knit from a book. I think it's time I tackle sewing.

Any suggestions for beginner's resources, books or projects, please share!

Special Guests!

Last week, I received an e-mail from a fellow blogger who, in passing, mentioned that she and her family would be visiting Ohio to pick up their new puppy and wondered if I might be familiar with the area they'd be visiting. The world keeps shrinking and shrinking. Not only am I familiar with the area...I live in it! AND I know the person from whom she acquired the newest member of her family!

So, we arranged to meet here at my home, and around four o'clock on Tuesday, Firefly from Bioluminescence, her husband and their two LOVELY daughters joined us for some chatting and bunny-holding.

Firefly is one of my favorite bloggers. I love her photos and the beauty she adds to the world. When I discovered that she uses many of the same learning materials that we do and that she is a Charlotte Mason/Ambleside mama, I was even more drawn-in. There were so many things to talk about, but time was short, so we made our visit short but sweet.

Firefly, if you ever decide to reside in Ohio, please, please make me the first to know. I look forward to reading your blog for many, many years to come!

In the photo, you see, from left to right: Houdin, Bard, me (the shortest one in the photo), Bo, Mr. Firefly, Mrs. Firefly and the eldest Firefly Daughter (would she be a glow worm?). The other children, my three and her one, were off exploring, swinging on the swing and petting the horse.

Blue glass, swingset and chickens from my bedroom window.

Great Granola!

I've been searching for just the right granola recipe for years. I used to order granola by the five-pound box through our local co-op, but then the kind that I loved the bestest increased their quantity size. I don't think I could eat, nor afford, twenty-five pounds of Maple Almond Date (MAD). So I've been sampling commercial granolas here and there for the past several years, but, sadly, none could compare to my MAD.

A couple of months ago at the homeschool women's luncheon, I was pleased to see that the fare included my favorite breakfast--vanilla yogurt and granola. I sprinkled my yogurt with the chunky concoction, which looked very promising, but I wasn't expecting too much. After all, I'd been on a search for The One for so long, I'd just about given up hope. I just started eating.

And then...

My taste buds sang a symphony! AAAAHHHH! It was the PERFECT granola! Chunky, nutty, sweet--but not too sweet--and generously laced with big flakes of coconut. I asked Beth, the woman who organized the event, where she bought the granola, and she told me that she MADE it! Immediately I insisted that she give me the recipe. Well, she said, she didn't really have a recipe, she said, but I wouldn't accept that. I. Must. Have. The. Recipe. She assured me she'd send it to me via e-mail.

And then, months passed.

I got desperate. I e-mailed Beth and asked for the recipe. No response. Thinking my e-mail may have been lost, I tried again. Nothing. I called and asked her husband to have her call me back with the recipe. Nada. In the meantime, I found another granola that was very yummy, but it was quite expensive. But I was so desperate, I bought it, even at $5.00 for 12 ounces. They do carry it at Sam's Club, if you don't have time to make your own, and they sell it on their website, too.

I started to wonder if I had offended Beth somehow, if she were withholding the recipe from me because I'd done something terribly wrong and not known it. Or, I thought, maybe she didn't really make the granola and just said she did, not realizing it would be so popular, and now was avoiding me and the rest of the homeschooling group, taking off for Nepal so that she wouldn't have to face the angry masses.

But then, last Friday at the homeschooling meeting, I saw her. At the earliest opportunity that didn't seem like complete granola-recipe-stalking, I grabbed a pen and a scrap piece of paper and hunted her down.

She was sorry. She was repentent. She'd been busy. I forgave her. She promised she would send me the recipe via e-mail as soon as possible. I believed her.

And she came through!

I made a batch faster than you can say rolled oats. Still warm from the oven like a big oatmeal cookie, my family, who doesn't have as deep of a love affair with granola as I do, descended upon the pans of sweet, crunchy goodness. Before night's end, an entire pan of granola was gone, gone, gone.

Yesterday I made another batch, which filled two jars. By the end of the evening, one jar was empty. By this afternoon, the second jar had been polished off, too.

I modified the recipe a bit, so I'll present it to you in its original state and with my substitutions/additions. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, and, Beth, if you ever read this, you are AWESOME!

Beth's Granola

7 cups rolled oats (half old-fashioned and half quick, though it probably doesn't matter much)
2 cups of coconut, large unsweetened flakes
1 1/2 to 2 cups nuts (I used two cups of whole raw almonds and a half-cup of chopped pecans. Beth uses chopped walnuts)
I also added 1/2 cup of ground flax seed and 1 cup of toasted wheat germ.

Mix all of the above in a very large bowl.

Then, in a large microwavable bowl, mix:

1 cup canola oil
1/3 to 1/2 cup honey (I use the lesser amount. All of it makes it too sweet for me)
1 1/2 cup brown sugar (I used a bit less and added some maple syrup)
1/3 cup evaporated milk (I used regular milk. Again, evaporated made it too sweet, in my opinion)
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp maple flavoring (I omitted this)

Heat second mixture in microwave for about 40 seconds and stir. Pour over the dry ingredients and stir with big spoons until all ingredients are thoroughly mixed and wet. Bake in 2 9 x 13" pans, ungreased.
Bake for 25 minutes at 325
Switch pan positiions.
Bake another 25 minutes at 225, stir or flip half-way through this time.
Turn off oven and leave granola in for one hour. Take it out, cool, break into desired sized chunks, and store in an airtight container.

Then watch it GO!