I am SO glad to hear from you! I need your email! Please leave it in the comments section, and I'll get it from there, but not post the comment.
{{hugs}} Dy
*edited to add: Thanks, sweetie!!*
Wednesday, August 22
Check, check, 1,2, 3...
Lessons? *check*
Meals? *check*
Practice? *check*
(Sub-check-list for practice:
drinks *check*
uniform *check*
...with all the parts in the right place *check*
snacks *check*
chair!! *check*
cell phone for directions *check*
can-do attitude *check* - ish...
four children leaving the house
four children returning home *check-check*
(Did it have to be the same four children?)
Fret over things I cannot control? *CHECK*
Talk with girlfriends who make me laugh and snort coffee out my nose? *check, thankfully*
Some days are just like that.
Kiss those babies! *check*
~Dy
Meals? *check*
Practice? *check*
(Sub-check-list for practice:
drinks *check*
uniform *check*
...with all the parts in the right place *check*
snacks *check*
chair!! *check*
cell phone for directions *check*
can-do attitude *check* - ish...
four children leaving the house
four children returning home *check-check*
(Did it have to be the same four children?)
Fret over things I cannot control? *CHECK*
Talk with girlfriends who make me laugh and snort coffee out my nose? *check, thankfully*
Some days are just like that.
Kiss those babies! *check*
~Dy
Monday, August 20
Mystery... Solved
OK, so the Great Water Mystery of '07 seems to be coming to an end. I can't believe it.
I first blogged about it here. With an update, here. And I blogged when my mental capacity for logical reasoning was put to the test.
Today I went to the Water Co. to pay our past-due bill (because even under protest, you've got to pay it or they'll turn it off, and that wouldn't do any of us any good!) The counter lady finally let me talk to the maintenance guy. He was great. He ran his own numbers and tried to give me the, "Well, we're a household of four, and we use 143 gallons a day." Song. Dance. Whatever. I asked whether all four people shower daily? (Yep.) And he waters his garden, no? (Yes.) And his lawn? (Oh, um, why yes.) And does he, by chance, have a pool? (Yeah, yeah we do.) Well, then he listened to OUR water habits and it clicked. From that point, on, he was very helpful in helping me figure out how to find the problem.
We walked through all of the things to look for, and how we've already looked for them. Down to using the cell phones while one of us stood at the meter and watched as the other one said, "OK, I'm flushing the toilet now." Or "OK, I'm filling a one gallon jug right now." The meter works, down to the gallons. (It might have an error of <10%, which isn't something we can do anything about.)
I steeled myself, and asked, "Could you give me the reading for 123 Forever Home Rd.?" They pulled it up. There's no account for that address. There IS an account for 127 Forever Home Rd., but it's not active. Been listed as "vacant" for a couple of years. (On the county GIS, 127 IS the house next to ours. I don't know why their mail box says 123.)
The silence in the office was painfully loud, as the implications of this information sank in. People looked at one another and raised their eyebrows. I stood there, praying for all I'm worth, that none of the people standing there are related to either of the families historically associated with this property.
EmBaby broke the silence by slamming into the glass door and yelling at the baby who'd hit her in the face. Then the maintenance guy, with one look around (as if for confirmation or the go-ahead) raised an eyebrow at me and said, "So, um, can you go out of town for a week, or so? You know, lock your meter with a padlock when you go."
That broke the spell. The room erupted in nervous chuckles, and the knowing looks as people said, "Well, we know the C's and the H's, don't we?"
There's no well on the neighbors' property, so they aren't getting their water from a well, and now we know they aren't getting it from the county.
The general consensus is that we've been paying for their water all along. And that they knew it. They had theirs turned off sometime before we bought the place. With the shared power lines, and all of the other "oddities" we've encountered so far. (Strange cars in our meadow, down by the water lines, the barbed wire and tree stumps and spray paint across the drive, the guy who switched out our meter not able to say where the neighbors' meter was at the time, the water never being turned off while we were negotiating the purchase, it goes on and on... one oddity after another, all compiling to make it look like our neighbors are, well, less than stellar citizens. Certainly not good neighbors.)
I was able to choke out, "Well, 'not being from around here,' I never know when I'm about to step into a hornet's nest. But yes, that was our original thought." Nobody jumped me for it. They said from our records, our logs, the reputation that family has for grifting and such, along with everything else we've shown, it's almost a certainty that the neighbors are tapped into our water line.
So.
Huh.
Well, good to know I'm not imagining things. Or thinking we're so water-savvy, when, in fact, we're water-sucking buffaloes. That's good.
So why doesn't the knot in my stomach feel any smaller? Hmpf.
I'm gonna go kiss my babies, and try to remind them that they are always, always responsible for their actions. Be truthful, be kind, be diligent. It's so, so important.
~Dy
I first blogged about it here. With an update, here. And I blogged when my mental capacity for logical reasoning was put to the test.
Today I went to the Water Co. to pay our past-due bill (because even under protest, you've got to pay it or they'll turn it off, and that wouldn't do any of us any good!) The counter lady finally let me talk to the maintenance guy. He was great. He ran his own numbers and tried to give me the, "Well, we're a household of four, and we use 143 gallons a day." Song. Dance. Whatever. I asked whether all four people shower daily? (Yep.) And he waters his garden, no? (Yes.) And his lawn? (Oh, um, why yes.) And does he, by chance, have a pool? (Yeah, yeah we do.) Well, then he listened to OUR water habits and it clicked. From that point, on, he was very helpful in helping me figure out how to find the problem.
We walked through all of the things to look for, and how we've already looked for them. Down to using the cell phones while one of us stood at the meter and watched as the other one said, "OK, I'm flushing the toilet now." Or "OK, I'm filling a one gallon jug right now." The meter works, down to the gallons. (It might have an error of <10%, which isn't something we can do anything about.)
I steeled myself, and asked, "Could you give me the reading for 123 Forever Home Rd.?" They pulled it up. There's no account for that address. There IS an account for 127 Forever Home Rd., but it's not active. Been listed as "vacant" for a couple of years. (On the county GIS, 127 IS the house next to ours. I don't know why their mail box says 123.)
The silence in the office was painfully loud, as the implications of this information sank in. People looked at one another and raised their eyebrows. I stood there, praying for all I'm worth, that none of the people standing there are related to either of the families historically associated with this property.
EmBaby broke the silence by slamming into the glass door and yelling at the baby who'd hit her in the face. Then the maintenance guy, with one look around (as if for confirmation or the go-ahead) raised an eyebrow at me and said, "So, um, can you go out of town for a week, or so? You know, lock your meter with a padlock when you go."
That broke the spell. The room erupted in nervous chuckles, and the knowing looks as people said, "Well, we know the C's and the H's, don't we?"
There's no well on the neighbors' property, so they aren't getting their water from a well, and now we know they aren't getting it from the county.
The general consensus is that we've been paying for their water all along. And that they knew it. They had theirs turned off sometime before we bought the place. With the shared power lines, and all of the other "oddities" we've encountered so far. (Strange cars in our meadow, down by the water lines, the barbed wire and tree stumps and spray paint across the drive, the guy who switched out our meter not able to say where the neighbors' meter was at the time, the water never being turned off while we were negotiating the purchase, it goes on and on... one oddity after another, all compiling to make it look like our neighbors are, well, less than stellar citizens. Certainly not good neighbors.)
I was able to choke out, "Well, 'not being from around here,' I never know when I'm about to step into a hornet's nest. But yes, that was our original thought." Nobody jumped me for it. They said from our records, our logs, the reputation that family has for grifting and such, along with everything else we've shown, it's almost a certainty that the neighbors are tapped into our water line.
So.
Huh.
Well, good to know I'm not imagining things. Or thinking we're so water-savvy, when, in fact, we're water-sucking buffaloes. That's good.
So why doesn't the knot in my stomach feel any smaller? Hmpf.
I'm gonna go kiss my babies, and try to remind them that they are always, always responsible for their actions. Be truthful, be kind, be diligent. It's so, so important.
~Dy
Sunday, August 19
Divested of the plague, we carry on...
We've had a wonderful first week back to school. No, really, the little things that happened are little things that, well, happen. Life is funny; it does that. We simply pause, adjust, and move on.
In our Baldwin readings,
...we finished the couple of stories we had left of The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said. We were all sad to see it end. It feels like there should be many more stories to be told. I suppose that's the sign of a gifted writer, and I look forward to more of Padraic Column's work. (His book, The Children's Homer, is one we've enjoyed more than once over the years.)
...and then we began Celtic Fairy Tales. The boys have noticed that these stories have a different tone, different themes, and different morals to them than the Greek and Roman stories we've been reading. A fun beginning. (Oh, James just came to me and said, "Wait! We don't have to print that one. We have it." I thought he meant we'd already printed it out, but, no, it was in 'the box in the car'! A real, bound copy! WOOHOO!)
We finished The Return of the Indian. Abrupt ending, there, but that left plenty of time for discussions about magic and mystery, people and places, and where we'd go with a magic key. (Because, seriously, they're 8, 7, and three -- how could we pass up all those lovely ideas?)
We finished The Railway Children. I did not, contrary to rumors spread by certain small males, cry as much as with The Littlest Angel. At least I could actually finish The Railway Children aloud, okay? Hrumpf. Okay.
Beowulf has slain Grendel (I'm guessing I don't need to post a spoiler alert with this, right?), and last night he sank to do battle with the Water Witch. Emily is not so fond of this story, but the boys? Riveted. Absolutely riveted. "His men were so loyal," said the boys. Yes. Yes, they were. What a lovely quality to notice, isn't it?
And I, in my Mommy Reading Time, just finished an enchanting journey through India with the Little Friend of All The World, Kim. It took a bit for me to delve into, as Kipling really does require more mental acuity than I willingly put forth in my personal reading time. But it's always, always worth the effort, and in the end, it was such a delightful way to spend a few summer evenings.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
In our Baldwin readings,
...we finished the couple of stories we had left of The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said. We were all sad to see it end. It feels like there should be many more stories to be told. I suppose that's the sign of a gifted writer, and I look forward to more of Padraic Column's work. (His book, The Children's Homer, is one we've enjoyed more than once over the years.)
...and then we began Celtic Fairy Tales. The boys have noticed that these stories have a different tone, different themes, and different morals to them than the Greek and Roman stories we've been reading. A fun beginning. (Oh, James just came to me and said, "Wait! We don't have to print that one. We have it." I thought he meant we'd already printed it out, but, no, it was in 'the box in the car'! A real, bound copy! WOOHOO!)
We finished The Return of the Indian. Abrupt ending, there, but that left plenty of time for discussions about magic and mystery, people and places, and where we'd go with a magic key. (Because, seriously, they're 8, 7, and three -- how could we pass up all those lovely ideas?)
We finished The Railway Children. I did not, contrary to rumors spread by certain small males, cry as much as with The Littlest Angel. At least I could actually finish The Railway Children aloud, okay? Hrumpf. Okay.
Beowulf has slain Grendel (I'm guessing I don't need to post a spoiler alert with this, right?), and last night he sank to do battle with the Water Witch. Emily is not so fond of this story, but the boys? Riveted. Absolutely riveted. "His men were so loyal," said the boys. Yes. Yes, they were. What a lovely quality to notice, isn't it?
And I, in my Mommy Reading Time, just finished an enchanting journey through India with the Little Friend of All The World, Kim. It took a bit for me to delve into, as Kipling really does require more mental acuity than I willingly put forth in my personal reading time. But it's always, always worth the effort, and in the end, it was such a delightful way to spend a few summer evenings.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, August 18
Ah, and this is where we diverge...
So far, there have only been a couple of instances where I've found myself completely unable to connect with the football folks on any level at all. Of course, we haven't even had a game yet, so who knows what that means. Both of these situations have left me pretty jaded toward the football community, and more confident in what we're doing with our overall philosophy toward life.
First case:
This little guy we'll call Dexter. (No, of course it's not his real name - I could use his real name because there are about 6.8 million of them in the South, but that's okay. I like Dexter.) Poor kid cries. A lot. He's not used to this, he's never played sports before at all, and we've had record-breaking heat. He's probably 30 pounds overweight, but I think they weigh on a curve down here, anyway. His parents seem to be accustomed to his crying, and he gets about as much empathy from them as, say... well, none. He's a sweet boy. He cries and cries, but he gets out there and tries. Gotta give the little guy credit.
His Dad was a little encouraging. His Mom turned out to be one of the women I had avoided studiously at the football camp. You know the kind, her kids are harder on her than any other mother's children, her labor was more damaging/difficult/dangerous/etc. than anybody else's ever, her husband is a bigger slacker/less observant/stoopider than any other man on earth. These women, I Avoid. Like. The. Plague.
So, last week, Dexter is practicing, but he's favoring one arm. And he's crying. (He hadn't cried in two days!) His mother starts telling me that he'd hurt it the day before (Monday, I'd missed that practice), but that she'd made him keep practicing, using the argument that he'd "just sprained it real bad". She'd told him not to show the coach. And Tuesday morning, she had made him write his name, and he could do it, although he cried the entire time and "he couldn't eat", but she sent him to school anyway. I looked over at the boy, and could see from several yards off that his wrist was bigger than my ankles are 8.5 months into pregnancy! And there was a huge bump. My immediate thought was, "That kid has broken his arm!" As I turned to ask his mother just how stupid she really was (not normally something I'd actually do, but I'd reached a saturation point with this woman over the last two weeks), the boy walked up to tell his mother the coach had called him over and told him to go get it x-rayed. Right. Now.
She was a little put off that they had to go to the hospital. I don't know if it even dawned on her that she wasn't treating her child very well. Or that, perhaps, she was wrong. She wasn't in a hurry to pack it up, and made him carry all his gear. We haven't seen him since, and today was weigh-in. Zorak took James, so I don't know if Dexter made it for that, or if he'll be out for the season. It breaks my heart to think this little guy is going to live with the attitude that, somehow, it's his fault. With that woman, it always is the kids' fault or the husband's fault. I'll be sorry to see the little guy go, but not so much about not seeing his mother.
Second Case:
Ball-Carrying Positions. In this league, a player cannot weigh more than 85 pounds to play a ball-carrying position. The point being, if you're *that* much bigger than everybody else on the field and you have the ball most of the time, you'll be the cause of nightmares, broken bones, and possibly some post-season bed-wetting among the slight-of-build crowd. We have a couple who came in over 100#, so they obviously won't be in ball-carrying positions.
But I learned yesterday that one little boy lived at the coach's house this past week. The first week of school. He's 8. And he lived at the coach's house for "intensive dieting and physical therapy," so that he could "make weight". In seven days, this boy went from 91 pounds to 85 pounds. Now, lest you think I just "don't get it", I do. I remember the guys in high school walking around in sweat suits for a week before a weigh-in. I remember the guys taking protein shakes and power bars for wrestling weigh-ins. This isn't a completely foreign concept to me (although I do find it ironic that it's perfectly acceptable for a young man to do this to himself, when we acknowledge how damaging and dangerous this practice can be for young ladies -- but that's another topic for another day). I remember one guy getting sick and winding up in the hospital from taking diuretics, too.
But these kids, the ones I'm talking about today, are 7 and 8 years old! And it's not as if the coach and this kid's parents did this for his overall health and well-being, to help him develop a healthier lifestyle. No, he has two all-you-can-eat meals awaiting him "anywhere you want, after you make weight". Because who cares what he weighs once they've got him approved for a ball-carrying position?
There's more to life than football. And it's obvious that some people do not get it. I know some of you out there will disagree with me, and that's fine. I'm not going to back down from my position that children are not pawns. Children are not tools to be used. If this is all about the game, then why are we putting kids through this? Last I checked, a "game" doesn't involve this kind of manipulation in order to "win". And really, who's winning in these two cases? Nobody. Certainly not the children, that's for sure.
This time, I'll be the one to say it: we definitely aren't from around here.
Kiss those babies, and go easy on them. You only get one shot at this.
~Dy
First case:
This little guy we'll call Dexter. (No, of course it's not his real name - I could use his real name because there are about 6.8 million of them in the South, but that's okay. I like Dexter.) Poor kid cries. A lot. He's not used to this, he's never played sports before at all, and we've had record-breaking heat. He's probably 30 pounds overweight, but I think they weigh on a curve down here, anyway. His parents seem to be accustomed to his crying, and he gets about as much empathy from them as, say... well, none. He's a sweet boy. He cries and cries, but he gets out there and tries. Gotta give the little guy credit.
His Dad was a little encouraging. His Mom turned out to be one of the women I had avoided studiously at the football camp. You know the kind, her kids are harder on her than any other mother's children, her labor was more damaging/difficult/dangerous/etc. than anybody else's ever, her husband is a bigger slacker/less observant/stoopider than any other man on earth. These women, I Avoid. Like. The. Plague.
So, last week, Dexter is practicing, but he's favoring one arm. And he's crying. (He hadn't cried in two days!) His mother starts telling me that he'd hurt it the day before (Monday, I'd missed that practice), but that she'd made him keep practicing, using the argument that he'd "just sprained it real bad". She'd told him not to show the coach. And Tuesday morning, she had made him write his name, and he could do it, although he cried the entire time and "he couldn't eat", but she sent him to school anyway. I looked over at the boy, and could see from several yards off that his wrist was bigger than my ankles are 8.5 months into pregnancy! And there was a huge bump. My immediate thought was, "That kid has broken his arm!" As I turned to ask his mother just how stupid she really was (not normally something I'd actually do, but I'd reached a saturation point with this woman over the last two weeks), the boy walked up to tell his mother the coach had called him over and told him to go get it x-rayed. Right. Now.
She was a little put off that they had to go to the hospital. I don't know if it even dawned on her that she wasn't treating her child very well. Or that, perhaps, she was wrong. She wasn't in a hurry to pack it up, and made him carry all his gear. We haven't seen him since, and today was weigh-in. Zorak took James, so I don't know if Dexter made it for that, or if he'll be out for the season. It breaks my heart to think this little guy is going to live with the attitude that, somehow, it's his fault. With that woman, it always is the kids' fault or the husband's fault. I'll be sorry to see the little guy go, but not so much about not seeing his mother.
Second Case:
Ball-Carrying Positions. In this league, a player cannot weigh more than 85 pounds to play a ball-carrying position. The point being, if you're *that* much bigger than everybody else on the field and you have the ball most of the time, you'll be the cause of nightmares, broken bones, and possibly some post-season bed-wetting among the slight-of-build crowd. We have a couple who came in over 100#, so they obviously won't be in ball-carrying positions.
But I learned yesterday that one little boy lived at the coach's house this past week. The first week of school. He's 8. And he lived at the coach's house for "intensive dieting and physical therapy," so that he could "make weight". In seven days, this boy went from 91 pounds to 85 pounds. Now, lest you think I just "don't get it", I do. I remember the guys in high school walking around in sweat suits for a week before a weigh-in. I remember the guys taking protein shakes and power bars for wrestling weigh-ins. This isn't a completely foreign concept to me (although I do find it ironic that it's perfectly acceptable for a young man to do this to himself, when we acknowledge how damaging and dangerous this practice can be for young ladies -- but that's another topic for another day). I remember one guy getting sick and winding up in the hospital from taking diuretics, too.
But these kids, the ones I'm talking about today, are 7 and 8 years old! And it's not as if the coach and this kid's parents did this for his overall health and well-being, to help him develop a healthier lifestyle. No, he has two all-you-can-eat meals awaiting him "anywhere you want, after you make weight". Because who cares what he weighs once they've got him approved for a ball-carrying position?
There's more to life than football. And it's obvious that some people do not get it. I know some of you out there will disagree with me, and that's fine. I'm not going to back down from my position that children are not pawns. Children are not tools to be used. If this is all about the game, then why are we putting kids through this? Last I checked, a "game" doesn't involve this kind of manipulation in order to "win". And really, who's winning in these two cases? Nobody. Certainly not the children, that's for sure.
This time, I'll be the one to say it: we definitely aren't from around here.
Kiss those babies, and go easy on them. You only get one shot at this.
~Dy
Friday, August 17
Cool Celtic Resource
Well, it looks interesting. I, obviously, do not know enough to know what to do with this information. But maybe one of you will. :-) At any rate, you can hear words pronounced, and that should make our Celtic Legends read-alouds go Much. More. Smoothly.
TAIC
TAIC
Thursday, August 16
Blech
Five of six are stricken with some kind of Tremors-like intestinal parasite. It hit... while we were at the market. (Grocery day, what better day to catch the plague?)
We stopped at the sporting goods store and started to run in (and I do mean r-u-n) to grab a new chin strap, when I opened the back door to find one child curled in a ball, crying silently. "My neck hurts."
Ack! Meningitis! Possibly Malaria! Wait, does malaria cause a stiff neck? No. Yellow fever? Hmmm. Wait, is it on the inside or the outside? "The inside, where I swallow." Oh. *phew* That's alright, then, isn't it?
Sprite, crackers, rice, and hot tea for all of us. Throat lozenges for the achy one. Doctor can see us en masse tomorrow at eleven. God bless that man.
But I didn't get a chair. We couldn't all stand still for that long. Ah, well, perhaps tomorrow.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We stopped at the sporting goods store and started to run in (and I do mean r-u-n) to grab a new chin strap, when I opened the back door to find one child curled in a ball, crying silently. "My neck hurts."
Ack! Meningitis! Possibly Malaria! Wait, does malaria cause a stiff neck? No. Yellow fever? Hmmm. Wait, is it on the inside or the outside? "The inside, where I swallow." Oh. *phew* That's alright, then, isn't it?
Sprite, crackers, rice, and hot tea for all of us. Throat lozenges for the achy one. Doctor can see us en masse tomorrow at eleven. God bless that man.
But I didn't get a chair. We couldn't all stand still for that long. Ah, well, perhaps tomorrow.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, August 15
Home Economics, Part 1
Home Ec, as a high school course of study, takes a lot of knocks. Some, admittedly, are well-deserved. My brother took Home Ec in high school to get an "easy A", and to meet girls. (Both plans worked quite nicely.) Thirty years later, I took the same class (though not for the same reasons), with... the same teacher. I did learn a few things:
1) There is a school of thought that says you will go straight. to. hell. if you open your cookbook and leave it on the counter while you're cooking. The only people allowed in heaven are those who dutifully transfer all their recipes onto index cards (preferably then laminating the cards), and keep cookbooks stored out of the kitchen at all times.
Yeah, this did wonders for the instructor's legitimacy in the eyes of a bunch of junior high kids. I can tell you now that if it weren't for the grease stains and bits of stuff stuck to my recipe pages, I wouldn't ever be able to find the right pages. I hope they have double ovens in hell. :-S
2) All you need to know about nutrition you can learn from theFour Food Groups, no, I mean, the Food Pyramid, erm, wait, from the Five A Day poster... and all you plebes who are still following the Basic Four Square from the Stone Age know nothing. Not like the government NOW knows. NOW it's infallible. NOW we've learned all there is to know. (Until the next revision.)
Nothing like a little PBS cartoon-based educational film to prepare young people for going out to forage for themselves in a couple of years, eh?
3) You will have to model in front of a hundred other students (who also don't want to be there) whatever hideous project you end up sewing. Whether that impacts your project choice or not -- entirely up to you. But now you've been warned.
This is when I learned that knits are not for the intemperate, and that a sewing machine WILL sew straight through your pinky finger and spit it back out the other side before you can get out enough bad words to be sent to the Principal's office. (True story.)
And that's... it. That is all I learned after nine long months of taking Home Economics.
Imagine my surprise when I learned you can actually Major in that in college. (You can, wait, what? No. *snort* You can't be serious?) YES! And what's even better? It's a great degree. A degree in Home Economics is a very rich, well-developed Bachelor of Science degree that offers far more than the milktoast high school programs would lead most people to believe. Some of the studies included in college level Home Economics programs include:
Chemistry
food science
economics
math
chemistry (got a little carried away, there)
nutrition
dietary development needs
child development
home management (budgeting, etc.)
cultural studies/sociology
merchandising
textiles
agriculture
husbandry
soil conservation
water management
safety and sanitization (both private and commercial)
food management...
There is a host of other beneficial topics, depending on the focus of study for degree plans within BSHE programs. What a fantastic degree program! Many of the programs I've looked at include teaching certification, corelated to the specialization the student chooses. The only drawback I see in the Home Economics field is that so very much of it is relegated to government jobs. There's no reason for the private sector not to jump on these. There are so many innovative opportunities that are waiting to be made use of by an enterprising individual with a Home Ec. degree. But I guess if most of us just don't know about it outside the out-dated high school classroom set up, it would make sense that it often slips under the radar for those not previously inclined to look into the social services or service/food industry degree applications.
Anyway, all this to say that we've always planned to include "Home Ec", in some manifestation, in the children's studies, but in a vague, not-certain-how-to-pull-it-off, sort of way. Now we're getting closer to building a defined scope and sequence for a year-long high school level course that would work beautifully toward providing children with the knowledge and tools they'll need to manage the Economics of their Homes, as well as to develop an interdisciplinary approach (an almost holistic approach, really) to managing their own decision making processes. It's a lot bigger than making a t-shirt and brownies, and I'm really excited about it.
In the meantime, of course, we cannot just sit idly by and "waaaiiiittt, wait for it..." We include them in all ages and stages in discussions on money management, budgeting choices, allocating funds and projecting plans for future options, preparing meals, maintaining the home (the car, the lawnmower), caring for our bodies, meeting the needs that need to be met, in general, "how it all comes together". Perhaps that's what's helping the high school course idea to gel: seeing what needs to be addressed, and then, addressing it.
And that's how we spent our evening after the children were in bed: discussing ideas, options, tie-ins, and benefits of various courses of study. What a delightful evening!
If you could create, or re-write a high school level course, what would you choose? What would you do differently? What would you incorporate? And have you done it? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
1) There is a school of thought that says you will go straight. to. hell. if you open your cookbook and leave it on the counter while you're cooking. The only people allowed in heaven are those who dutifully transfer all their recipes onto index cards (preferably then laminating the cards), and keep cookbooks stored out of the kitchen at all times.
Yeah, this did wonders for the instructor's legitimacy in the eyes of a bunch of junior high kids. I can tell you now that if it weren't for the grease stains and bits of stuff stuck to my recipe pages, I wouldn't ever be able to find the right pages. I hope they have double ovens in hell. :-S
2) All you need to know about nutrition you can learn from the
Nothing like a little PBS cartoon-based educational film to prepare young people for going out to forage for themselves in a couple of years, eh?
3) You will have to model in front of a hundred other students (who also don't want to be there) whatever hideous project you end up sewing. Whether that impacts your project choice or not -- entirely up to you. But now you've been warned.
This is when I learned that knits are not for the intemperate, and that a sewing machine WILL sew straight through your pinky finger and spit it back out the other side before you can get out enough bad words to be sent to the Principal's office. (True story.)
And that's... it. That is all I learned after nine long months of taking Home Economics.
Imagine my surprise when I learned you can actually Major in that in college. (You can, wait, what? No. *snort* You can't be serious?) YES! And what's even better? It's a great degree. A degree in Home Economics is a very rich, well-developed Bachelor of Science degree that offers far more than the milktoast high school programs would lead most people to believe. Some of the studies included in college level Home Economics programs include:
Chemistry
food science
economics
math
nutrition
dietary development needs
child development
home management (budgeting, etc.)
cultural studies/sociology
merchandising
textiles
agriculture
husbandry
soil conservation
water management
safety and sanitization (both private and commercial)
food management...
There is a host of other beneficial topics, depending on the focus of study for degree plans within BSHE programs. What a fantastic degree program! Many of the programs I've looked at include teaching certification, corelated to the specialization the student chooses. The only drawback I see in the Home Economics field is that so very much of it is relegated to government jobs. There's no reason for the private sector not to jump on these. There are so many innovative opportunities that are waiting to be made use of by an enterprising individual with a Home Ec. degree. But I guess if most of us just don't know about it outside the out-dated high school classroom set up, it would make sense that it often slips under the radar for those not previously inclined to look into the social services or service/food industry degree applications.
Anyway, all this to say that we've always planned to include "Home Ec", in some manifestation, in the children's studies, but in a vague, not-certain-how-to-pull-it-off, sort of way. Now we're getting closer to building a defined scope and sequence for a year-long high school level course that would work beautifully toward providing children with the knowledge and tools they'll need to manage the Economics of their Homes, as well as to develop an interdisciplinary approach (an almost holistic approach, really) to managing their own decision making processes. It's a lot bigger than making a t-shirt and brownies, and I'm really excited about it.
In the meantime, of course, we cannot just sit idly by and "waaaiiiittt, wait for it..." We include them in all ages and stages in discussions on money management, budgeting choices, allocating funds and projecting plans for future options, preparing meals, maintaining the home (the car, the lawnmower), caring for our bodies, meeting the needs that need to be met, in general, "how it all comes together". Perhaps that's what's helping the high school course idea to gel: seeing what needs to be addressed, and then, addressing it.
And that's how we spent our evening after the children were in bed: discussing ideas, options, tie-ins, and benefits of various courses of study. What a delightful evening!
If you could create, or re-write a high school level course, what would you choose? What would you do differently? What would you incorporate? And have you done it? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
School, Schedules, and Reading Aloud
According to the weather channel, it's 104 outside right now. (It's 108, according to the bank display.) But what's the humidity? Nobody is willing to say. Is it because they think we'll all become despondent and burrow into the earth until Halloween? (Because we have been thinking about it, already.)
We're back in full-on school mode now. It's good to be back. It's good to have routine. The children didn't forget *all* of their lessons. James needs a bit of review with math, and John needs a bit of review with phonics. Otherwise, though, they're pretty well on board.
I did panic on two books, because we aren't quite finished with them yet and I know we've been diligent about our studies up until the last month... and you know the monologue that follows:
This year looks a lot like last year, with the exception of the next level books.
Monday - Thursday, regular school.
Fridays - science and history project days.
Daily Work:
Latin
Math
Reading (Includes History, Science, Literature and Free Reading)
Writing (James is going to hate this part, but hopefully he'll survive.)
Narration
Mon, Wed:
History
Tues, Thurs:
Science
James and John will both have spelling 1x a week. They don't seem to need much more of that just now, although we plan to stay alert and flexible. We're still working our way through the Ayers Extended Word list from Writing Road to Reading. Memory work will come from a variety of sources. This year we would like to host an Open House, although I'm still not sure how to put that on. If you've done them, please share your ideas, tips, stunning successes, and would-rather-die-than-repeat-them failures. Pretty please?
The older two are thoroughly enjoying Stories of Beowulf. That little one, though, he's the reason mothers don't read aloud. Not if they can help it.
No flow = no comfort.
No comfort = verbal bloopers.
Verbal bloopers = utter, riotous chaos.
By the time I've got the big ones to quit sniggering at my bloopers (although some of them are funny), the Small One has thought of more questions.
And heaven help me if it's a book with illustrations. It seems this small one has visual sensors in his fingers. And they're slow to process information. Every illustration means an additional ten minutes of waiting, waiting, explaining, waiting. It took me an HOUR to read a chapter of The Railway Children last night. An HOUR. This is not Dante we're reading, here.
But *inhale, exhale, try not to hyperventilate* to him it is. His "whosis" and "whatsis" and "whyses" are just as important and necessary to him as the questions Zorak and I ask on the porch at night about raising young men and DangerGirl into adulthood. Just as important as finding the mouse in Goodnight Moon. Just as necessary as learning to talk, to read, to Be. And if I can suck it up now and not scar his memories of these stories, he will eventually learn that the story makes much more sense when told in some sort of connected fluid momentum.
And at least he doesn't hang from my forehead and scream anymore. So there is progress.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We're back in full-on school mode now. It's good to be back. It's good to have routine. The children didn't forget *all* of their lessons. James needs a bit of review with math, and John needs a bit of review with phonics. Otherwise, though, they're pretty well on board.
I did panic on two books, because we aren't quite finished with them yet and I know we've been diligent about our studies up until the last month... and you know the monologue that follows:
what are we doing wrong? How did this happen? How can we be so far from done when it's time for the next year?!?! Am I just not teaching the material? Are they simply not mastering it and so we are not moving on?Then I remembered: we didn't start those two books until November of last year. So, that would put us, oh, right about where we are. Ah. Yes. Time for more coffee.
This year looks a lot like last year, with the exception of the next level books.
Monday - Thursday, regular school.
Fridays - science and history project days.
Daily Work:
Latin
Math
Reading (Includes History, Science, Literature and Free Reading)
Writing (James is going to hate this part, but hopefully he'll survive.)
Narration
Mon, Wed:
History
Tues, Thurs:
Science
James and John will both have spelling 1x a week. They don't seem to need much more of that just now, although we plan to stay alert and flexible. We're still working our way through the Ayers Extended Word list from Writing Road to Reading. Memory work will come from a variety of sources. This year we would like to host an Open House, although I'm still not sure how to put that on. If you've done them, please share your ideas, tips, stunning successes, and would-rather-die-than-repeat-them failures. Pretty please?
The older two are thoroughly enjoying Stories of Beowulf. That little one, though, he's the reason mothers don't read aloud. Not if they can help it.
Whosis Bee-oh-wuff? Why? Whys him dooos dat? Whosis Rotgar? Whys hes not fighting? Whats a sea-people? Whosis they? Whatsis theys names?This is particularly challenging, as this book was written in 1908. It has a cadence and flow that take me a while to slip into comfortably. I've broken it into a formula.
No flow = no comfort.
No comfort = verbal bloopers.
Verbal bloopers = utter, riotous chaos.
By the time I've got the big ones to quit sniggering at my bloopers (although some of them are funny), the Small One has thought of more questions.
And heaven help me if it's a book with illustrations. It seems this small one has visual sensors in his fingers. And they're slow to process information. Every illustration means an additional ten minutes of waiting, waiting, explaining, waiting. It took me an HOUR to read a chapter of The Railway Children last night. An HOUR. This is not Dante we're reading, here.
But *inhale, exhale, try not to hyperventilate* to him it is. His "whosis" and "whatsis" and "whyses" are just as important and necessary to him as the questions Zorak and I ask on the porch at night about raising young men and DangerGirl into adulthood. Just as important as finding the mouse in Goodnight Moon. Just as necessary as learning to talk, to read, to Be. And if I can suck it up now and not scar his memories of these stories, he will eventually learn that the story makes much more sense when told in some sort of connected fluid momentum.
And at least he doesn't hang from my forehead and scream anymore. So there is progress.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, August 14
OK, I admit it. I was never a little boy!
For the most part, boys are so easy, so intuitive. I love my boys. But there are a few things I just don't get, and I'm willing to attribute them to my being female.
1. Peeing on the toilet lid. Granted, this is in the middle of the night, and if you're awoken from a dead sleep to answer a call to nature, you're not expected to be at your Rocket Scientist Best. Still. Is there no warning system anywhere in the wiring that lets them know something is not right? If Clorox hadn't invented their wipes, I probably wouldn't have been able to bring myself to have touched a toilet in the last six years.
2. Testosterone Play. I don't get that. How, exactly, are you to know the difference between being spiked in the head from behind with a football in fun, or in fiery aggression? You know, if one of my friends walked up behind me and slammed her diaper bag into the back of my head, the response would not be one of frivolity and camaraderie. Ever. But the boys on the field seem to know which is which. I have no idea how to impart this information to my sons. Hopefully they can infer what they'll need in order to survive. Meanwhile, I'm on the sidelines, feeling like Jane Goodall in her early years.
3. Faces. Silly faces in the mirror, in the window, in store display glass, at one another. I don't mind this one, but I also don't get it. It's not a game, it's a pastime. A hobby. A Way of Life. Little boys feel about making silly faces the way little girls feel about... I don't know, something else. Something pretty darned important to little girls. But the faces -- they're never ending!
That's pretty much it. Not bad, really. I do consider myself blessed. It's a good life, this. It's funny, a little stinky (one of the hazards of bodily function jokes, which I will never admit to the boys, but Zorak knows, I do find mostly funny), and always interesting. And there is nothing quite like watching your son do something, knowing his yardstick is Dad, and beaming with love and pride and joy in his eyes when he feels like he's getting it right. That look, I hope to see over and over again in the years to come. That look, I think I understand.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
1. Peeing on the toilet lid. Granted, this is in the middle of the night, and if you're awoken from a dead sleep to answer a call to nature, you're not expected to be at your Rocket Scientist Best. Still. Is there no warning system anywhere in the wiring that lets them know something is not right? If Clorox hadn't invented their wipes, I probably wouldn't have been able to bring myself to have touched a toilet in the last six years.
2. Testosterone Play. I don't get that. How, exactly, are you to know the difference between being spiked in the head from behind with a football in fun, or in fiery aggression? You know, if one of my friends walked up behind me and slammed her diaper bag into the back of my head, the response would not be one of frivolity and camaraderie. Ever. But the boys on the field seem to know which is which. I have no idea how to impart this information to my sons. Hopefully they can infer what they'll need in order to survive. Meanwhile, I'm on the sidelines, feeling like Jane Goodall in her early years.
3. Faces. Silly faces in the mirror, in the window, in store display glass, at one another. I don't mind this one, but I also don't get it. It's not a game, it's a pastime. A hobby. A Way of Life. Little boys feel about making silly faces the way little girls feel about... I don't know, something else. Something pretty darned important to little girls. But the faces -- they're never ending!
That's pretty much it. Not bad, really. I do consider myself blessed. It's a good life, this. It's funny, a little stinky (one of the hazards of bodily function jokes, which I will never admit to the boys, but Zorak knows, I do find mostly funny), and always interesting. And there is nothing quite like watching your son do something, knowing his yardstick is Dad, and beaming with love and pride and joy in his eyes when he feels like he's getting it right. That look, I hope to see over and over again in the years to come. That look, I think I understand.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Clickbook Update -- It works!
I was going to say I could die happy, now. But no. I have a lot of printing to do, first. ;-) You may remember I blogged some time ago about finding this print manager, ClickBook, and that I wanted to try it out. Being the genetic procrastinator that I am, it is now six months later, and I gave it a shot.
I just printed out the first three chapters of The Baldwin Project's Stories of Beowulf Told to the Children, using ClickBook -- and
I have a perfect little book in my hands!
The first three chapters, including front matter and all the images (a total of 26 pages, with my settings) printed out using 7 sheets of paper. Seven! The best I could do before that would have been 13 sheets! Do you *know* how delightful that is?
And I can have it bound at Staples for about $2.00!!
And it fits in the boys' backpacks! Or, in my backpack. Oh. Oh. This is delightful.
I can make workbooks based on our reading (because I have those offbeat children who clamor for workbooks, as fate would have it).
I can make the church booklets in the blink of an eye! No more brain-straining formatting for me! Hee hee!
Ooooooo, I can make my own day planners! (Alright, now I'm just feeding the monkey. But let me bask, okay?)
Now that I've listed a pro (or three), there are a few quirks:
1) The little second side printing instruction sheet that comes out with your print job? It LIES. Don't believe it, unless you want to print your pages upside down. So, do it the way it says not to do it (at least on my Brother HL-2070N, anyway.)
2) I downloaded the free trial copy, and it prints with an annoying banner in the header and footer of EVERY PAGE. "Blue Squirrel * www.bluesquirrel.com" at the top, and "ClickBook Trial Version * Sales: etc. etc. etc." It seems obvious that the "trial version" footer will not print if I buy the software. I need to confirm that the "blue squirrel" header won't print, either, because it's annoying.
3) Staples is not, for some silly reason, OPEN at one in the morning, and so I cannot toodle on down there right-stinkin'-now to have something bound.
But you know, truly, I can live with most of that. Staples has to open eventually. And if this continues to work this easily, I'm most definitely going to buy the full version. (I have seven days left to figure it out.) And, eh, ignore directions? Not. A. Problem.
Our school year just got a whole lot more affordable. Life is good.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I just printed out the first three chapters of The Baldwin Project's Stories of Beowulf Told to the Children, using ClickBook -- and
I have a perfect little book in my hands!
The first three chapters, including front matter and all the images (a total of 26 pages, with my settings) printed out using 7 sheets of paper. Seven! The best I could do before that would have been 13 sheets! Do you *know* how delightful that is?
And I can have it bound at Staples for about $2.00!!
And it fits in the boys' backpacks! Or, in my backpack. Oh. Oh. This is delightful.
I can make workbooks based on our reading (because I have those offbeat children who clamor for workbooks, as fate would have it).
I can make the church booklets in the blink of an eye! No more brain-straining formatting for me! Hee hee!
Ooooooo, I can make my own day planners! (Alright, now I'm just feeding the monkey. But let me bask, okay?)
Now that I've listed a pro (or three), there are a few quirks:
1) The little second side printing instruction sheet that comes out with your print job? It LIES. Don't believe it, unless you want to print your pages upside down. So, do it the way it says not to do it (at least on my Brother HL-2070N, anyway.)
2) I downloaded the free trial copy, and it prints with an annoying banner in the header and footer of EVERY PAGE. "Blue Squirrel * www.bluesquirrel.com" at the top, and "ClickBook Trial Version * Sales: etc. etc. etc." It seems obvious that the "trial version" footer will not print if I buy the software. I need to confirm that the "blue squirrel" header won't print, either, because it's annoying.
3) Staples is not, for some silly reason, OPEN at one in the morning, and so I cannot toodle on down there right-stinkin'-now to have something bound.
But you know, truly, I can live with most of that. Staples has to open eventually. And if this continues to work this easily, I'm most definitely going to buy the full version. (I have seven days left to figure it out.) And, eh, ignore directions? Not. A. Problem.
Our school year just got a whole lot more affordable. Life is good.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, August 13
High School
I stole this from Staci. She didn't tag me, but that's okay. She likes me, anyway. :-)
1. Who was your best friend?
I don't remember having a best friend in high school. I did have several wonderful friends, though.
2. Did you play any sports?
Track my sophomore year, but that was b/c my ride also did track and I needed something to do. I wasn't a sportsy person. At least, not until I became an adult and "backpacking" was considered a sport. :-)
3. What kind of car did you drive?
1971 Chevy pickup. Still have it.
4. It’s Friday night. Where were you?
Hmmm, either at work or out with friends.
5. Were you a party animal?
The mere thought makes me laugh.
6. Were you considered a flirt?
I cringe to even think about it. I didn't think so, but looking back, ugh, probably.
7. Were you in the band, orchestra or choir?
No.
8. Were you a nerd?
Definitely.
9. Were you ever suspended or expelled?
Oh, no. Nono. That would have been terrifying.
10. Can you sing the fight song?
Too many high schools, and I never learned any of them.
11. Who was your favorite teacher?
Barbara Harber, the Academic Decathalon teacher.
12. What was your school mascot?
Freshman year - Badger Pups
Sophomore year - Bears
Junior year - Eagles
Senior year - Badgers, then Matadors
13. Did you go to the Prom?
Twice, but not my senior year.
14. If you could go back, would you?
No. I survived, and did it almost solely so that I could live this very life. While it's tempting to go back and undo the stoopid mistakes, that would also undo who I am now. Sort of that whole killing a butterfly thing. Makes me twitchy.
15. What do you remember most about graduation?
It was hot. My mother was mad that I wanted to go to dinner with friends and not out with my family (Mom, sister, and niece). I had agreed to go out with family, but Mom pitched such a fit during the actual ceremony that nobody wanted to go. So we skipped it. Niece went out and partied with the kids who graduated. *sigh*
16. Where were you on Senior Skip Day?
I have no idea, but I was on campus somewhere, in classess and all that good stuff.
17. Did you have a job your senior year?
Um, yes. I worked as a telemarketer. I did a buttload of volunteer work, also.
18. Where did you go most often for lunch?
Jr. year, we went to Dion's pizza. Sr. year, we all walked to somebody's house for lunch. There were four of us all within two blocks of the school that year.
19. Have you gained weight since then?
Not really. I wasn't what you'd call "wispy" to begin with.
20. What did you do after graduation?
Went to see my Dad in the hospital, then back to the hotel.
21. What year did you graduate?
1991
22. Who was your Senior Prom Date?
I didn't actually go to prom my Senior year. Junior year I went with Dale Hester. He put so much into making it such a sweet evening. Good guy. Sophomore year I went with Paul Lee, one of my dearest friends - we doubled with another friend and his girlfriend (that was awkward, actually). Both were great guys, and we had a lovely time.
23. Are you going/did you go to your 10 year reunion?
I'd wanted to go, but the date conflicted with Corona Days. I'm glad we went to Corona Days, with family, instead. Those are the people who mean so much to me now, and that was good. Maybe I'll catch the 20th?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
1. Who was your best friend?
I don't remember having a best friend in high school. I did have several wonderful friends, though.
2. Did you play any sports?
Track my sophomore year, but that was b/c my ride also did track and I needed something to do. I wasn't a sportsy person. At least, not until I became an adult and "backpacking" was considered a sport. :-)
3. What kind of car did you drive?
1971 Chevy pickup. Still have it.
4. It’s Friday night. Where were you?
Hmmm, either at work or out with friends.
5. Were you a party animal?
The mere thought makes me laugh.
6. Were you considered a flirt?
I cringe to even think about it. I didn't think so, but looking back, ugh, probably.
7. Were you in the band, orchestra or choir?
No.
8. Were you a nerd?
Definitely.
9. Were you ever suspended or expelled?
Oh, no. Nono. That would have been terrifying.
10. Can you sing the fight song?
Too many high schools, and I never learned any of them.
11. Who was your favorite teacher?
Barbara Harber, the Academic Decathalon teacher.
12. What was your school mascot?
Freshman year - Badger Pups
Sophomore year - Bears
Junior year - Eagles
Senior year - Badgers, then Matadors
13. Did you go to the Prom?
Twice, but not my senior year.
14. If you could go back, would you?
No. I survived, and did it almost solely so that I could live this very life. While it's tempting to go back and undo the stoopid mistakes, that would also undo who I am now. Sort of that whole killing a butterfly thing. Makes me twitchy.
15. What do you remember most about graduation?
It was hot. My mother was mad that I wanted to go to dinner with friends and not out with my family (Mom, sister, and niece). I had agreed to go out with family, but Mom pitched such a fit during the actual ceremony that nobody wanted to go. So we skipped it. Niece went out and partied with the kids who graduated. *sigh*
16. Where were you on Senior Skip Day?
I have no idea, but I was on campus somewhere, in classess and all that good stuff.
17. Did you have a job your senior year?
Um, yes. I worked as a telemarketer. I did a buttload of volunteer work, also.
18. Where did you go most often for lunch?
Jr. year, we went to Dion's pizza. Sr. year, we all walked to somebody's house for lunch. There were four of us all within two blocks of the school that year.
19. Have you gained weight since then?
Not really. I wasn't what you'd call "wispy" to begin with.
20. What did you do after graduation?
Went to see my Dad in the hospital, then back to the hotel.
21. What year did you graduate?
1991
22. Who was your Senior Prom Date?
I didn't actually go to prom my Senior year. Junior year I went with Dale Hester. He put so much into making it such a sweet evening. Good guy. Sophomore year I went with Paul Lee, one of my dearest friends - we doubled with another friend and his girlfriend (that was awkward, actually). Both were great guys, and we had a lovely time.
23. Are you going/did you go to your 10 year reunion?
I'd wanted to go, but the date conflicted with Corona Days. I'm glad we went to Corona Days, with family, instead. Those are the people who mean so much to me now, and that was good. Maybe I'll catch the 20th?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, August 12
Back to a small family
Oh, it was so good to see Kris and David today. They look good. Tired, obviously been on the road this week, but good. Contented. Happy. Enthusiastic. You know, *good*.
I think getting their wee ones back under their wings did wonders for the enthusiasm level.
It was helpful to be able to get all the paperwork, filing, searching, loading, shipping, etc. done without worrying about the boys, and that was good. But once a mama, always a mama, and it just feels better to have your chicks back in your own nest.
We had a fantastic visit, and then they headed out. We'd planned to get right back to work on the windows, but...
it was over 100' today...
and that ceiling fan on the porch sure is nice...
combined with iced tea...
and uber-friendly butterflies...
well, the windows can wait.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I think getting their wee ones back under their wings did wonders for the enthusiasm level.
It was helpful to be able to get all the paperwork, filing, searching, loading, shipping, etc. done without worrying about the boys, and that was good. But once a mama, always a mama, and it just feels better to have your chicks back in your own nest.
We had a fantastic visit, and then they headed out. We'd planned to get right back to work on the windows, but...
it was over 100' today...
and that ceiling fan on the porch sure is nice...
combined with iced tea...
and uber-friendly butterflies...
well, the windows can wait.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, August 11
Did you know...
You can tape a glow stick to a water rocket and extend your shooting time by a good two hours? Good to know, huh?
I might have put a twitchy, stammering halt to the firing of the rockets after yesterday (muttering something about eight thousand gallons per launch), but the boys discovered that the rockets fly better using *less* water than they'd begun with. So, one 8oz. cup of water gives you ten minutes of pure entertainment. (Set up, priming, pumping, countdown, ooohhhh-ahhhhh, and then -- search and rescue.) That's really not a bad ROI.
Today I cleaned. Not the daily swish 'n tidy clean, but a gooooooddddddd clean. Zorak took the older four to the ball field. The younger two slept until ten. It was blissful to get caught up. Also (the highlight of my day), I can once again use the bathroom without my feet and/or legs sticking to some random surface. Yes, I know. The inside scoop on a home with six males in it.
Ahem.
So, then. Let's see, what else is going on? Oh, random Em shot:
I love those little fat arms, that expressive face, the duck fluff and wisps of hair.
It's hard to believe James used to have duck fluff and fat little arms and cheeks. He takes off his helmet now and reveals a head of wet, thick hair atop the flushed and browning face of a young man... young men don't have duck fluff. And I didn't take the camera to practice. But I need to. If he doesn't see me, I might be able to get a photo of him where he isn't making a silly face. (The missing teeth on either side of the front teeth aren't helping my case, either. It's just too easy to suck in your lip and do a gopher-smile right before the shutter clicks.) And yes, I know that one day I'll look wistfully back on the gopher-boy shots, so I take plenty in preparation for that time. I'm just not there yet.
The boys' parents arrive tomorrow to fetch them back to their new home. We'll be sad to see them go, but glad that they'll be getting settled in. And they'll only be a few hours away, which will be nice. It's been such a good two weeks in so many ways. I feel guilty for saying out how absolutely exhausted I am, because it sounds like I'm pinning it on the kids. It's not. Well, it's not those kids. It's the small, somewhat parasitical one at the moment that's doing me in. But all-in-all, I think I've been able to hang with the herd okay. And I hope the herd has had a good time, too. We've got to try to get to the Wildlife Refuge in the AM for the sketching we weenied-out on this afternoon, and back by ten. Can we do it? I have no idea. But we'll give it our best shot.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I might have put a twitchy, stammering halt to the firing of the rockets after yesterday (muttering something about eight thousand gallons per launch), but the boys discovered that the rockets fly better using *less* water than they'd begun with. So, one 8oz. cup of water gives you ten minutes of pure entertainment. (Set up, priming, pumping, countdown, ooohhhh-ahhhhh, and then -- search and rescue.) That's really not a bad ROI.
Today I cleaned. Not the daily swish 'n tidy clean, but a gooooooddddddd clean. Zorak took the older four to the ball field. The younger two slept until ten. It was blissful to get caught up. Also (the highlight of my day), I can once again use the bathroom without my feet and/or legs sticking to some random surface. Yes, I know. The inside scoop on a home with six males in it.
Ahem.
So, then. Let's see, what else is going on? Oh, random Em shot:
I love those little fat arms, that expressive face, the duck fluff and wisps of hair. It's hard to believe James used to have duck fluff and fat little arms and cheeks. He takes off his helmet now and reveals a head of wet, thick hair atop the flushed and browning face of a young man... young men don't have duck fluff. And I didn't take the camera to practice. But I need to. If he doesn't see me, I might be able to get a photo of him where he isn't making a silly face. (The missing teeth on either side of the front teeth aren't helping my case, either. It's just too easy to suck in your lip and do a gopher-smile right before the shutter clicks.) And yes, I know that one day I'll look wistfully back on the gopher-boy shots, so I take plenty in preparation for that time. I'm just not there yet.
The boys' parents arrive tomorrow to fetch them back to their new home. We'll be sad to see them go, but glad that they'll be getting settled in. And they'll only be a few hours away, which will be nice. It's been such a good two weeks in so many ways. I feel guilty for saying out how absolutely exhausted I am, because it sounds like I'm pinning it on the kids. It's not. Well, it's not those kids. It's the small, somewhat parasitical one at the moment that's doing me in. But all-in-all, I think I've been able to hang with the herd okay. And I hope the herd has had a good time, too. We've got to try to get to the Wildlife Refuge in the AM for the sketching we weenied-out on this afternoon, and back by ten. Can we do it? I have no idea. But we'll give it our best shot.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, August 10
Still Hot!
We went to the Space & Rocket Museum yesterday, all prepped and ready for a full day of exploring in the air conditioned building. We made it one hour before two of the children decided we didn't really mean it when we said not to wander off. They wandered off. I felt a blood vessel pop in the back of my head. And we left.
Eventually, children grow up and learn that you mean what you say. (As long as you really do mean what you say.) But honestly, sometimes consistency is no fun, even for the grown ups. I wanted to ride on the motion thingy, too! Ah, well, I do look forward to going back sometime. And I'm willing to bet there will be no deviation from the rules when we do. So, there's that to look forward to.
We had the pretense of a storm come through this afternoon. It toyed with us, hovering above us with its impressive Black Clouds, hammering all sorts of thunder at us. We quivvered with anticipation, and got... more humidity. *sigh* Oh, well, it was exciting while it lasted.
The guys did get the new ladder up on the barn. It's now Smidge-accessible. Yay! Looks great, too. (From what I've heard - I haven't actually gone down there. It's hot, don't you know?)
Then we decided, eh, what's five liters of water when the meter says we've already gone through 400 gallons today, and ran a test launch of the newest water rocket design. Good stuff. Sadly, it seems I am completely incapable of using the video feature on our camera. So, all you get is this:
The boys were quite proud of their work, and really thrilled with the end results. Good job, everyone!! The cousins don't know it yet, but we'll be sending this puppy home with them. It's nice to have a little something to show off what you've done over the summer, right?
They're all at the quarry right now. Hopefully, heading home so that James can eat, change, and make it to football practice. Smidge and EmBaby are out. cold. Poor little things. It's like watching miniature dachsunds try to keep up with Great Danes. The nap should do them wonders. I know it's reviving me considerably. (And oh, momanna98, I *do* get tired. I've been a walking zombie all week. We won't speak of the cranky part, though. That's, um, classified information. *grin*) The kitchen is clean, whites are sorted, food is ready, and I'm going to curl up on the couch with a fresh cup o'joe and a book!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Eventually, children grow up and learn that you mean what you say. (As long as you really do mean what you say.) But honestly, sometimes consistency is no fun, even for the grown ups. I wanted to ride on the motion thingy, too! Ah, well, I do look forward to going back sometime. And I'm willing to bet there will be no deviation from the rules when we do. So, there's that to look forward to.
We had the pretense of a storm come through this afternoon. It toyed with us, hovering above us with its impressive Black Clouds, hammering all sorts of thunder at us. We quivvered with anticipation, and got... more humidity. *sigh* Oh, well, it was exciting while it lasted.
The guys did get the new ladder up on the barn. It's now Smidge-accessible. Yay! Looks great, too. (From what I've heard - I haven't actually gone down there. It's hot, don't you know?)
Then we decided, eh, what's five liters of water when the meter says we've already gone through 400 gallons today, and ran a test launch of the newest water rocket design. Good stuff. Sadly, it seems I am completely incapable of using the video feature on our camera. So, all you get is this:
The boys were quite proud of their work, and really thrilled with the end results. Good job, everyone!! The cousins don't know it yet, but we'll be sending this puppy home with them. It's nice to have a little something to show off what you've done over the summer, right?
They're all at the quarry right now. Hopefully, heading home so that James can eat, change, and make it to football practice. Smidge and EmBaby are out. cold. Poor little things. It's like watching miniature dachsunds try to keep up with Great Danes. The nap should do them wonders. I know it's reviving me considerably. (And oh, momanna98, I *do* get tired. I've been a walking zombie all week. We won't speak of the cranky part, though. That's, um, classified information. *grin*) The kitchen is clean, whites are sorted, food is ready, and I'm going to curl up on the couch with a fresh cup o'joe and a book!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, August 8
An Outing
Outings are such fun!
Wednesday we hit the Wheeler Wildlife Refuge. In spite of the heat, the children all had a very nice time.
We bought cheap birding glasses for five bucks, and a handful of arrowheads for a quarter a piece. Not authentic, but certainly a whole lot of fun!
We picked up a tree identification pamphlet, and the boys figured out quite a few new-to-us trees. We also experienced the joy of having this little guy show off his kill by landing on several of the kids.
We got there a bit late in the day to see much bird activity, I think. There was a Small Blue Heron out on the water, and a few up in the canopy that we could hear, but couldn't find.
We hit the observation building -- which is beyond fascinating, and a place we will be frequenting this fall and winter! WOW!
We stopped for a picnic by the water.
Then we hiked the trail through the cypress grove and around through the fields. It was a good outing. The boys all wanted to spend some time sketching Hawkeye, the red-tailed hawk who lives at the Refuge, so we headed back that way.
Isn't she a beauty?
EmBaby and I hung out in the shade of the trees for a bit, wandered back inside, wandered around... all the while, four little boys sat in front of this bird, drawing, drawing, drawing. They sat for a good half hour, and would have continued on for a long time still, but EmBaby was done being hot, sweaty, and *up*. It was time to go.
Promises all around that we'll go back to do more sketching before they leave. (Mental note to take more food next time. I got hungry.)
A good day. A very good day.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday we hit the Wheeler Wildlife Refuge. In spite of the heat, the children all had a very nice time.
We bought cheap birding glasses for five bucks, and a handful of arrowheads for a quarter a piece. Not authentic, but certainly a whole lot of fun!We picked up a tree identification pamphlet, and the boys figured out quite a few new-to-us trees. We also experienced the joy of having this little guy show off his kill by landing on several of the kids.
We got there a bit late in the day to see much bird activity, I think. There was a Small Blue Heron out on the water, and a few up in the canopy that we could hear, but couldn't find.
We hit the observation building -- which is beyond fascinating, and a place we will be frequenting this fall and winter! WOW!
We stopped for a picnic by the water.
Then we hiked the trail through the cypress grove and around through the fields. It was a good outing. The boys all wanted to spend some time sketching Hawkeye, the red-tailed hawk who lives at the Refuge, so we headed back that way.
Isn't she a beauty?EmBaby and I hung out in the shade of the trees for a bit, wandered back inside, wandered around... all the while, four little boys sat in front of this bird, drawing, drawing, drawing. They sat for a good half hour, and would have continued on for a long time still, but EmBaby was done being hot, sweaty, and *up*. It was time to go.
Promises all around that we'll go back to do more sketching before they leave. (Mental note to take more food next time. I got hungry.)
A good day. A very good day.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, August 7
This is a rush, man. Just wild.
This is why God gives me one child at a time. I don't do exponential increases well. I mean, we had a great day, but it was =fast (see the streaks? See how fast that was?) And it was loud. And it started with an earth shattering ka-boom. They all emerged in one large, hungry, talkative group this morning, wanting food and teaching and conversation. (I'll shoot you straight, camp cooks and counselors are now among my most revered heroes. Those people can face larger hoardes at six in the morning, and do it with a smile! Wow. Truly. Wow. Because it's scary when they all start moving toward you like that...)
So, we did Latin, math, and a little reading. Then, being out of fruit (all of it), milk (why don't we have a cow yet?), and creamer (seriously, how did I let *that* happen?), we called it good and headed to the store. Stores. Fruit, milk, creamer, yogurt. Man we really do need a cow. And then, oy vey, where was Charles when it was time to buy the football stuff? (Oh. Yeah. Heh. At work. That probably has a lot to do with why we could buy the football stuff.)
You know you didn't get the brightest employee in the store - the locally owned sporting goods store that caters to the local teams, and the very one everybody shops at - when the clerk asks what you need, you list four standard items... and she completely crumbles. Fell apart and looked at me like I wasn't even speaking English. Like we weren't the hundredth family to come in asking for exactly the same things: padded chin strap, good mouth guard, practice jersey, and socks? Seriously, I could see a path worn in the carpet that followed our exact journey from the mouth guards to the checkout. Evidently, it was worn there by the other employees. The ones who didn't look lost when their customers asked, "Are these the good mouth guards, or is there really a difference?" Or torqued when their customers paid with a debit card, causing the employee to get off the phone to dial the transaction in. *sigh* But we made it, and DangerGirl managed to not crack anybody in the head with the bat display. Yay us.
Then, Zorak vetoed most of the things we bought. I've been informed that James was the only kid on the field tonight in "a white jersey and black socks". This, it seems, is a huge factor. A huge factor for a group of boys running about in fishnet crop tops. Riiiight.
Well, I was told to get black socks. Coach said so. (My new excuse for anything I botch, for the record. I'll let ya know how long I can milk that one.) And they were out of black practice jerseys in James' size. The entire rest of the team, I guess, had purchased them all, with the help of the other clerks in the store. Oddly enough, he loves the practice shirt -- the one item I nearly didn't get. (You know, on that point, could NOBODY have warned me that they are holey and see-through, and... look like that? Seriously, I thought she was joking when she held that thing up. Like some kind of newbie hazing thing.)
We got the super whomperdine padded chin strap with small guard dogs, a proximity alarm system, and a GPS receiver. Zorak said it's something-something too something-or-other.
There also was some issue or concern with the mouth guard, but it eventually passed muster. For now. (Although I have been informed they have mint scented guards. You know, just FYI.) I did get snapped at during the molding process. If you haven't done it before, evidently you simply haven't got the right amount of empathetic encouragement to offer. Yes, that's right, I'm an unsympathetic meanie, and was told to GO. NOW. But it's molded, and Zorak and James have created a shared, (evidently rather painful) experience between them.
Then, James practiced. First practice in pads. One of the hottest days of the year, so far. It was pretty harsh. He told Zorak after practice, "You know, I'm just not sure I'm seeing a return on expending so much energy." (Ah, the beauty of genetics - that boy is all ours!) This is going to be a very interesting season, indeed.
Kiss those hot, sweaty babies!
~Dy
So, we did Latin, math, and a little reading. Then, being out of fruit (all of it), milk (why don't we have a cow yet?), and creamer (seriously, how did I let *that* happen?), we called it good and headed to the store. Stores. Fruit, milk, creamer, yogurt. Man we really do need a cow. And then, oy vey, where was Charles when it was time to buy the football stuff? (Oh. Yeah. Heh. At work. That probably has a lot to do with why we could buy the football stuff.)
You know you didn't get the brightest employee in the store - the locally owned sporting goods store that caters to the local teams, and the very one everybody shops at - when the clerk asks what you need, you list four standard items... and she completely crumbles. Fell apart and looked at me like I wasn't even speaking English. Like we weren't the hundredth family to come in asking for exactly the same things: padded chin strap, good mouth guard, practice jersey, and socks? Seriously, I could see a path worn in the carpet that followed our exact journey from the mouth guards to the checkout. Evidently, it was worn there by the other employees. The ones who didn't look lost when their customers asked, "Are these the good mouth guards, or is there really a difference?" Or torqued when their customers paid with a debit card, causing the employee to get off the phone to dial the transaction in. *sigh* But we made it, and DangerGirl managed to not crack anybody in the head with the bat display. Yay us.
Then, Zorak vetoed most of the things we bought. I've been informed that James was the only kid on the field tonight in "a white jersey and black socks". This, it seems, is a huge factor. A huge factor for a group of boys running about in fishnet crop tops. Riiiight.
Well, I was told to get black socks. Coach said so. (My new excuse for anything I botch, for the record. I'll let ya know how long I can milk that one.) And they were out of black practice jerseys in James' size. The entire rest of the team, I guess, had purchased them all, with the help of the other clerks in the store. Oddly enough, he loves the practice shirt -- the one item I nearly didn't get. (You know, on that point, could NOBODY have warned me that they are holey and see-through, and... look like that? Seriously, I thought she was joking when she held that thing up. Like some kind of newbie hazing thing.)
We got the super whomperdine padded chin strap with small guard dogs, a proximity alarm system, and a GPS receiver. Zorak said it's something-something too something-or-other.
There also was some issue or concern with the mouth guard, but it eventually passed muster. For now. (Although I have been informed they have mint scented guards. You know, just FYI.) I did get snapped at during the molding process. If you haven't done it before, evidently you simply haven't got the right amount of empathetic encouragement to offer. Yes, that's right, I'm an unsympathetic meanie, and was told to GO. NOW. But it's molded, and Zorak and James have created a shared, (evidently rather painful) experience between them.
Then, James practiced. First practice in pads. One of the hottest days of the year, so far. It was pretty harsh. He told Zorak after practice, "You know, I'm just not sure I'm seeing a return on expending so much energy." (Ah, the beauty of genetics - that boy is all ours!) This is going to be a very interesting season, indeed.
Kiss those hot, sweaty babies!
~Dy
Monday, August 6
Fear
Fear is seeing a "what's for dinner" thread on your favorite forum, and realizing you have no. idea.
Thank heaven for pasta!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thank heaven for pasta!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
To Cousins! To Friends! To Life!
I am a horrible host. We have been having so much fun with the boys, and I haven't taken hardly any pictures. Their mother is going to want to strangle me for this. But there's so much to do, and we stay so busy that I forget we didn't hire the professional photographer to follow us around. :-D
The boys have settled into the fold so well. We're really proud of them, and are enjoying them so much. We looked forward to it, but in a different way. What we're getting out of this right now is just a whole lot more. I'm so glad they got to come be with us.
Today we went back to church. Our church. The church John asked about two weeks ago. The church Smidge asked about last week. When the cousins said they'd brought church clothes, I figured God was done whispering to me and about ready to thwack me in the head and we'd best get back to it. We never found anything closer, but that's okay. The final decision is that we'll go on Sundays, and if we do decide we need a Wednesday activity, we will look for something local to fill that niche. Weeknight activities aren't usually heavy on doctrine, and so I don't think we'd have difficulty joining in with some place for that. Fellowship doesn't know doctrine, and that's what the Wed. night activities usually are -- fellowship. Community. Good stuff. OH, MAN, it felt good to be back "home", too!
Yesterday, the guys all worked on projects. Me-Tae and Me-Wah came out for the afternoon. We enjoyed supper together, Me-Wah toasted their anniversary that day. (HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, GUYS!) It was neat to have three couples together for the celebration: Me-Tae and Me-Wah, celebrating 23 years together; Zorak and I coming up on twelve; and T. and P. soon to wed. Things like that warm the heart, and foster hope all around. Just very encouraging.
"The men" went to the river to fish and ride the boat. The girls (aka - those of us who just didn't see the allure of sitting on rocks a hot 'n sticky bank, covered in mosquitos, trying to keep the Small One from getting sucked downstream) stayed home and visited. T and Me-Tae helped me switch out EmBaby's clothes to *sniff* 2T. Smidge was tempted to stay with us, until it dawned on him...
All the kids had a fantastic time. No fish were caught, but that didn't dampen the boys' spirits. There were frogs to catch. Lightning bugs to chase. They came back just as happy and exhausted as young boys should at the end of a warm summer day.
They've been busy with projects and interesting things. Reading good books. Making up stories. I look around and think, "OK, this is really good stuff." I mean, it's challenging, particularly for one with perpetual stamina/motivation issues, but not challenging-in-a-bad-way.
Tomorrow we start back to school. Fourth grade for James. Second grade for John. Maths for Smidge. I've been gathering books and lesson ideas for the cousins - Cousin M. is starting third grade, and Cousin S. is starting 6th. (Wow. Ok. Sixth grade has a lot of stuff in it!) I hope they enjoy it, and I hope they get some good stuff out of it. And I hope I don't really mess up something important and end up making things harder for them. (Ohhhh, talk about guilt! Do they make a card for that? "Sorry I confused your kid this summer.")
But, if I have any hope at all of getting up before they do, I'd better get to bed ten minutes ago! :-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The boys have settled into the fold so well. We're really proud of them, and are enjoying them so much. We looked forward to it, but in a different way. What we're getting out of this right now is just a whole lot more. I'm so glad they got to come be with us.
Today we went back to church. Our church. The church John asked about two weeks ago. The church Smidge asked about last week. When the cousins said they'd brought church clothes, I figured God was done whispering to me and about ready to thwack me in the head and we'd best get back to it. We never found anything closer, but that's okay. The final decision is that we'll go on Sundays, and if we do decide we need a Wednesday activity, we will look for something local to fill that niche. Weeknight activities aren't usually heavy on doctrine, and so I don't think we'd have difficulty joining in with some place for that. Fellowship doesn't know doctrine, and that's what the Wed. night activities usually are -- fellowship. Community. Good stuff. OH, MAN, it felt good to be back "home", too!
Yesterday, the guys all worked on projects. Me-Tae and Me-Wah came out for the afternoon. We enjoyed supper together, Me-Wah toasted their anniversary that day. (HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, GUYS!) It was neat to have three couples together for the celebration: Me-Tae and Me-Wah, celebrating 23 years together; Zorak and I coming up on twelve; and T. and P. soon to wed. Things like that warm the heart, and foster hope all around. Just very encouraging.
"The men" went to the river to fish and ride the boat. The girls (aka - those of us who just didn't see the allure of sitting on rocks a hot 'n sticky bank, covered in mosquitos, trying to keep the Small One from getting sucked downstream) stayed home and visited. T and Me-Tae helped me switch out EmBaby's clothes to *sniff* 2T. Smidge was tempted to stay with us, until it dawned on him...
"OH! The mens is going. The girls is staying. *pause while he digests this news* I is a man! I's going!"And off he went, without a backward glance.
All the kids had a fantastic time. No fish were caught, but that didn't dampen the boys' spirits. There were frogs to catch. Lightning bugs to chase. They came back just as happy and exhausted as young boys should at the end of a warm summer day.
They've been busy with projects and interesting things. Reading good books. Making up stories. I look around and think, "OK, this is really good stuff." I mean, it's challenging, particularly for one with perpetual stamina/motivation issues, but not challenging-in-a-bad-way.
Tomorrow we start back to school. Fourth grade for James. Second grade for John. Maths for Smidge. I've been gathering books and lesson ideas for the cousins - Cousin M. is starting third grade, and Cousin S. is starting 6th. (Wow. Ok. Sixth grade has a lot of stuff in it!) I hope they enjoy it, and I hope they get some good stuff out of it. And I hope I don't really mess up something important and end up making things harder for them. (Ohhhh, talk about guilt! Do they make a card for that? "Sorry I confused your kid this summer.")
But, if I have any hope at all of getting up before they do, I'd better get to bed ten minutes ago! :-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
OCD manifests itself is intersting ways
I have become absolutely obsessed with this stoopid water issue.
20 gallons during the night. That would mean somebody got up and flushed the toilet over and over and over again, for, what, thirty minutes (if they waited for the tank to fill each time). We didn't even make coffee before we went down to check it.
0 gallons used from the time we left for church (8:30) until we returned home (3:30) Seven hours and no movement.
And then, 90 gallons registered through our meter from our return until all the littles got tucked into bed.
That's...
3 pots of coffee (1.5 gal - didn't rinse the filter or the carafe)
6 tooth brushings (no water running, just wet the brush and then rinse the sink once when you're all done - total time for all kids, under a minute, so 3 gallons there, if that much - I think the faucets have low-flow, too))
10 toilet flushes (with a flow of 1.6gpf, for a total of 16 gallons for toilet water use.)
1 quick, timed five-minute shower (1.5gpm flow x 5 = 7.5)
That is all. we. did. No laundry. No dishwasher. No car washing. No bathing the dog. I didn't even wash my face!
What is that? 1.5+3+16+7.5 = 28 gallons
So, ok, let's round up, just for fun - let's just piss away a little water, here -
2+5+20+10= 37 gallons
That still doesn't explain where the remaining 53 gallons went!
That there have now been two fairly long periods where the meter change was zero indicates very strongly that there is not a leak in the lines. (Once, the night of the 3rd-4th, and then again today, during church.)
I'm ready to get out there and dig up the entire line with my bare hands to find out what's going on. Zorak, thankfully, is more patient, more laid-back, more Jimmy Buffet like. That's a good thing.
There are other, wonderful things going on, too. So I'm going to end this entry. (There is nothing I can do at one in the morning, anyway, other than wander down to the meter every half hour and become "that crazy lady who digs in the weeds by the side of the road in the middle of the night", which won't help anybody. I know.)
Dy
20 gallons during the night. That would mean somebody got up and flushed the toilet over and over and over again, for, what, thirty minutes (if they waited for the tank to fill each time). We didn't even make coffee before we went down to check it.
0 gallons used from the time we left for church (8:30) until we returned home (3:30) Seven hours and no movement.
And then, 90 gallons registered through our meter from our return until all the littles got tucked into bed.
That's...
3 pots of coffee (1.5 gal - didn't rinse the filter or the carafe)
6 tooth brushings (no water running, just wet the brush and then rinse the sink once when you're all done - total time for all kids, under a minute, so 3 gallons there, if that much - I think the faucets have low-flow, too))
10 toilet flushes (with a flow of 1.6gpf, for a total of 16 gallons for toilet water use.)
1 quick, timed five-minute shower (1.5gpm flow x 5 = 7.5)
That is all. we. did. No laundry. No dishwasher. No car washing. No bathing the dog. I didn't even wash my face!
What is that? 1.5+3+16+7.5 = 28 gallons
So, ok, let's round up, just for fun - let's just piss away a little water, here -
2+5+20+10= 37 gallons
That still doesn't explain where the remaining 53 gallons went!
That there have now been two fairly long periods where the meter change was zero indicates very strongly that there is not a leak in the lines. (Once, the night of the 3rd-4th, and then again today, during church.)
I'm ready to get out there and dig up the entire line with my bare hands to find out what's going on. Zorak, thankfully, is more patient, more laid-back, more Jimmy Buffet like. That's a good thing.
There are other, wonderful things going on, too. So I'm going to end this entry. (There is nothing I can do at one in the morning, anyway, other than wander down to the meter every half hour and become "that crazy lady who digs in the weeds by the side of the road in the middle of the night", which won't help anybody. I know.)
Dy
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