Zorak helped me write last night's post. I needed him to make sure I didn't inadertently gloss over anything important, like dimensions or the fact that your semi-decorative stuff needs to be fireproof. Let's be honest: my goal isn't so much to instruct as it is to try to make you smile, or show you that normal people are capable of things they wouldn't ever dream possible.
You see, we share the same basic philosophy: people are capable of doing much more than they generally do. The difference is how we think that happens. I tend to be a "if you convince yourself you can do it, you can find a way to make it work" person. Zorak tends to be a "if you have enough information at your disposal, you can figure it out" person.
It's not that he think people don't need motivation and encouragement -- he works on the assumption that they've already got it. And it's not that I think the details and knowledge are unimportant -- I work from the assumption that if people are focused and ready to try, they'll find the information. And this, my friends, would be why it took both of us, working together, to rehab the Forever Home.
Here's where I could veer off into philosophical diatribes on the character of human nature. But I won't. I'll just share with you a snippet of how it plays out, here, when we're working together.
At one point, he got a little zealous with the wordsmithing on a technical point, thus frustrating my efforts to say something witty (it takes effort, at least for me). We had the following exchange:
Me: Dude. You're not helping with the humor.
Z: Well, that's your job, not mine. I'm the tech guy.
Me: Yeah, but you're... you're blocking my flow. You're not doing a very good job of supporting me.
*awkward pause*
Me: Or, enabling me, whichever.
Z: *raises eyebrow at me* Well, you're not exactly feeding my darker side, you know.
And that's how it goes around here. I'm pretty much comic relief and parts hag. I do get to pinch hit for the Idea Guy. Zorak's the brains behind the operation. And if I ever write and sound a little... too detailed... for your taste, please keep in mind that it doesn't *have* to be that technical. But that it was probably worse than what I wrote, because sometimes I do have to feed his darker side.
And sometimes, he even laughs at my jokes.
It's all about working together.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, November 13
"Fix it! Fix it, in my head!"
This is the request I received today. I will now attempt to undo the damage I did in my earlier post.
Let me be perfectly clear, I am not over-estimating anyone's abilities but ours. But look, by overestimating our own abilities, and then refusing to let go of those illusions, just look at all we have accomplished! So, if you find yourself thinking to yourself, or to whomever is nearest you, "I swear, if she says 'This is so simple' one. more. time.. so help me..." I want you to take a deep breath, and give me enough warning to duck.
This is so simple.
Figure out where you want to put your stove. Use whatever criteria is important to you. We wanted it fairly centrally located, but not actually IN a hallway, or doorway, or right by the leaky window. (Yeah, I know it won't always be leaky, but that's not the point.) And, be aware of where your joists/studs/other structural obstacles may be located. That needs to factor in to your placement plans, unless you're wanting to get really wild with the framing work... in which case, you don't need this post.
Here's the quick 'n easy way to determine if your desired happy spot is going to be happy: find your spot, check the back clearance and use that to measure how far the center of the vent pipe will be from the wall. Now, use a square and mark on the ceiling that exact spot out from the wall. Stick a bamboo skewer/wire/something pokey through that spot. Send someone brave into the attic area to look for the thing poking out through the insulation. If you'll clear the joists with the pipe, you're golden. If you won't, then you want to either re-orient your stove, pick another spot, or get creative with the pipe. The manual has specifications and details for just that situation.
You're going to need about a 3'x4' base. Pick a non-flammable material. Brick, pavers, tile... asbestos. Whatever works for you. If you knit, sew, or crochet, I can only explain it like this: find a variation in pattern using your material that will fit somewhere close to those dimensions. Ta-da! You're almost there! (OK, not really, but that felt good, didn't it? I use that on myself a lot.)
Now, you need something to put that non-flammable material on. Go ahead and buy a full sheet of 3/4" plywood, because you are going to feel SO empowered after you finish this project, that you'll practically dream up a project just to use the rest of that plywood. (And also because you may not be able to buy a half sheet. But just trust me. Run with it.) Pick up a 3'x5' sheet of 1/4" hardibacker ("TM"), screws, and a bag of "thinset" mortar. (Get a notched trowel while you're there, if you don't already have one.)
OK, now this part is right up there w/ layering a lasagna, piecing a quilt, or mating socks: a little mundane, not difficult, but oh-so-necessary. Cut the plywood to match the size/shape of your pattern. (Might wanna use a masonry blade in your skilsaw so you can cut the ankle-biting corners off the front two corner bricks. I'm just sayin'...) Do a dry run, stack it all up nice and neat. It's like Legos for Big People. Stand back, and feel productive.
Now (working on site - right where you want it) slap a little mortar on your plywood, lay the hardibacker on it, and screw it in. More mortar on top of that, and then the Fireproof Material of Your Choosing atop that. C'mon, you've made sandwiches before. It's easy.
Let that cure while you install the chimney kit that you picked up at Lowe's (HD doesn't carry them, here, get it at Lowe's). It has directions. Good directions. Right now, we're focusing on the pad. Stay with me. Breathe. We're almost done. (I mean it this time.)
Get someone to help you lift the stove and set it right where you want it on your nifty, new, fireproof pad!
Look at you GO!
And then kiss those babies!
~Dy
Let me be perfectly clear, I am not over-estimating anyone's abilities but ours. But look, by overestimating our own abilities, and then refusing to let go of those illusions, just look at all we have accomplished! So, if you find yourself thinking to yourself, or to whomever is nearest you, "I swear, if she says 'This is so simple' one. more. time.. so help me..." I want you to take a deep breath, and give me enough warning to duck.
This is so simple.
Figure out where you want to put your stove. Use whatever criteria is important to you. We wanted it fairly centrally located, but not actually IN a hallway, or doorway, or right by the leaky window. (Yeah, I know it won't always be leaky, but that's not the point.) And, be aware of where your joists/studs/other structural obstacles may be located. That needs to factor in to your placement plans, unless you're wanting to get really wild with the framing work... in which case, you don't need this post.
Here's the quick 'n easy way to determine if your desired happy spot is going to be happy: find your spot, check the back clearance and use that to measure how far the center of the vent pipe will be from the wall. Now, use a square and mark on the ceiling that exact spot out from the wall. Stick a bamboo skewer/wire/something pokey through that spot. Send someone brave into the attic area to look for the thing poking out through the insulation. If you'll clear the joists with the pipe, you're golden. If you won't, then you want to either re-orient your stove, pick another spot, or get creative with the pipe. The manual has specifications and details for just that situation.
You're going to need about a 3'x4' base. Pick a non-flammable material. Brick, pavers, tile... asbestos. Whatever works for you. If you knit, sew, or crochet, I can only explain it like this: find a variation in pattern using your material that will fit somewhere close to those dimensions. Ta-da! You're almost there! (OK, not really, but that felt good, didn't it? I use that on myself a lot.)
Now, you need something to put that non-flammable material on. Go ahead and buy a full sheet of 3/4" plywood, because you are going to feel SO empowered after you finish this project, that you'll practically dream up a project just to use the rest of that plywood. (And also because you may not be able to buy a half sheet. But just trust me. Run with it.) Pick up a 3'x5' sheet of 1/4" hardibacker ("TM"), screws, and a bag of "thinset" mortar. (Get a notched trowel while you're there, if you don't already have one.)
OK, now this part is right up there w/ layering a lasagna, piecing a quilt, or mating socks: a little mundane, not difficult, but oh-so-necessary. Cut the plywood to match the size/shape of your pattern. (Might wanna use a masonry blade in your skilsaw so you can cut the ankle-biting corners off the front two corner bricks. I'm just sayin'...) Do a dry run, stack it all up nice and neat. It's like Legos for Big People. Stand back, and feel productive.
Now (working on site - right where you want it) slap a little mortar on your plywood, lay the hardibacker on it, and screw it in. More mortar on top of that, and then the Fireproof Material of Your Choosing atop that. C'mon, you've made sandwiches before. It's easy.
Let that cure while you install the chimney kit that you picked up at Lowe's (HD doesn't carry them, here, get it at Lowe's). It has directions. Good directions. Right now, we're focusing on the pad. Stay with me. Breathe. We're almost done. (I mean it this time.)
Get someone to help you lift the stove and set it right where you want it on your nifty, new, fireproof pad!
Look at you GO!
And then kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, November 12
Feels like Monday - Project Blogging
Zorak had yesterday off, in honor of Veteran's Day. We celebrated by working on the stove installation. (Sweetheart, thank you for your service to your country. Can you fix this, too, please?) No rest for the capable!
Oh, and for those who asked, this is the stove we purchased. If you want, I can list the pros/cons that led us to this one. It was a ball park homerun over anything carried at Lowe's or Home Depot, for overall utility (construction, design, and features), as well as overall value.
We have nothing to show for it yet, really, unless you count CAD drafts, which just don't make for interesting blogging. First, we had to figure out where to put it. (Check.) Then, we had to come up with a good, fireproof platform to put it on. (Not-so-check.) Or, sorta-check. It's hard to say, with us.
The floor is laminate, which is fantastic for living with five children! Not so fantastic for coping with hot cast iron. According to the spec sheet, just a layer of stove board would suffice, but we're all about over-engineering, if nothing else. So, here's the plan:
* 3/4" plywood base, extending to the specified dimensions around the stove. (Ideally, we'd screw that base to the floor, but just on the off chance that anyone would ever want to move the stove, screw holes would entail removing the floor from all the way at the other end of the kitchen, including moving the mongo-stove, just to replace the planks with holes - that would probably cause a lot of angry language and possibly some domestic abuse, which we wouldn't want to wish on anyone. So, we're going to put the spongy shelf liners - you know, the ones your Grandma has on her shelves. You can't slide anything across those. Ever.)
* Thinset/mortar atop the plywood base, to which we'll apply brick pavers in a lovely, semi-decorative design, thus providing the first layer of fireproof barrier beneath the stove.
(Editor's note: we wanted to put a layer of hardibacker between the plywood and the bricks, and would recommend anyone who has floor joists with the integrity to handle the weight do so. The stove isn't terribly dynamic - I mean, if it MOVES, you've probably got bigger issues than just the plywood base. But, it wouldn't hurt to have that additional support. We, however, haven't got such noble joists, and the more we thought about it, the more terrified we became of putting THAT much weight on that spot of floor. So. Just in the spirit of full disclosure.)
* The bricks are not a solid layer, but rather a full perimeter, with interior bricks placed to support the legs of the stove. Atop this, we'll put a stove board, thus providing another fireproof layer, as well as creating dead air space within the structure.
(Again with the editor's notes... man, this editor is busy today! If your joists can handle it, go with the full-brick option. But if you've seen the posts supporting the spine of this house, you understand why we chose to get creative with the goal of weight-reduction. Those posts will be replaced one day, and we'll probably re-do the brick layout then, but we have full confidence that this current design will provide more than ample protection for the floor.)
We'll trim it out nicely, for aesthetics. Finally, the stove goes atop all of that (which probably sounds monstrously tall, but it's not), and then we will have heat.
Wait. No, we won't have heat. THEN, we've got to transfer the attic assembly to the new location, repair the hole in the roof from the removal, put a new hole in the roof (with all the joyful flashing and caulking that entails), hook it up, double-check to make sure EmBaby hasn't put another baby doll in the firebox (that's a disturbing thing to see, first thing in the morning!), run a few initial light-n-pray leak tests. And THEN we'll have heat!
See? Nothin' to it!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Oh, and for those who asked, this is the stove we purchased. If you want, I can list the pros/cons that led us to this one. It was a ball park homerun over anything carried at Lowe's or Home Depot, for overall utility (construction, design, and features), as well as overall value.
We have nothing to show for it yet, really, unless you count CAD drafts, which just don't make for interesting blogging. First, we had to figure out where to put it. (Check.) Then, we had to come up with a good, fireproof platform to put it on. (Not-so-check.) Or, sorta-check. It's hard to say, with us.
The floor is laminate, which is fantastic for living with five children! Not so fantastic for coping with hot cast iron. According to the spec sheet, just a layer of stove board would suffice, but we're all about over-engineering, if nothing else. So, here's the plan:
* 3/4" plywood base, extending to the specified dimensions around the stove. (Ideally, we'd screw that base to the floor, but just on the off chance that anyone would ever want to move the stove, screw holes would entail removing the floor from all the way at the other end of the kitchen, including moving the mongo-stove, just to replace the planks with holes - that would probably cause a lot of angry language and possibly some domestic abuse, which we wouldn't want to wish on anyone. So, we're going to put the spongy shelf liners - you know, the ones your Grandma has on her shelves. You can't slide anything across those. Ever.)
* Thinset/mortar atop the plywood base, to which we'll apply brick pavers in a lovely, semi-decorative design, thus providing the first layer of fireproof barrier beneath the stove.
(Editor's note: we wanted to put a layer of hardibacker between the plywood and the bricks, and would recommend anyone who has floor joists with the integrity to handle the weight do so. The stove isn't terribly dynamic - I mean, if it MOVES, you've probably got bigger issues than just the plywood base. But, it wouldn't hurt to have that additional support. We, however, haven't got such noble joists, and the more we thought about it, the more terrified we became of putting THAT much weight on that spot of floor. So. Just in the spirit of full disclosure.)
* The bricks are not a solid layer, but rather a full perimeter, with interior bricks placed to support the legs of the stove. Atop this, we'll put a stove board, thus providing another fireproof layer, as well as creating dead air space within the structure.
(Again with the editor's notes... man, this editor is busy today! If your joists can handle it, go with the full-brick option. But if you've seen the posts supporting the spine of this house, you understand why we chose to get creative with the goal of weight-reduction. Those posts will be replaced one day, and we'll probably re-do the brick layout then, but we have full confidence that this current design will provide more than ample protection for the floor.)
We'll trim it out nicely, for aesthetics. Finally, the stove goes atop all of that (which probably sounds monstrously tall, but it's not), and then we will have heat.
Wait. No, we won't have heat. THEN, we've got to transfer the attic assembly to the new location, repair the hole in the roof from the removal, put a new hole in the roof (with all the joyful flashing and caulking that entails), hook it up, double-check to make sure EmBaby hasn't put another baby doll in the firebox (that's a disturbing thing to see, first thing in the morning!), run a few initial light-n-pray leak tests. And THEN we'll have heat!
See? Nothin' to it!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, November 8
Stoopid Virus, Energy Plans, and Such
(With totally random pictures, for Julie.)
ARGH. Em's come down with something (probably Fifth Disease). She's rashy. splotchy. cranky. Her skin, where the rash is, feels hot to the touch, but she says it doesn't itch or hurt or, well, actually, she just gets very angry when we discuss it at all. She stomps her little foot and says, "I am NOT sick! I am jus' a sweet little Em'lee!"
We plunked down way too much money today for a wood stove. Actually, it'll pay for itself by Februrary, and we'll be more comfortable in the meantime than we've been in four winters. So, there's that. It's just more painful to cough it up in one lump than to spread it out over four months. We found *the stove* to buy last year, but it was $1300 (which would *not* have paid for itself in four months), so we planned to save for it and purchase it this year. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Who knew things would tank (don't answer that), and the same stove this year would run $2300? Damn. Back to the drawing board. We found a decent deal on another stove and picked it up today. Yay for Tractor Supply Co.!
Tomorrow, we re-arrange! Weee!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
ARGH. Em's come down with something (probably Fifth Disease). She's rashy. splotchy. cranky. Her skin, where the rash is, feels hot to the touch, but she says it doesn't itch or hurt or, well, actually, she just gets very angry when we discuss it at all. She stomps her little foot and says, "I am NOT sick! I am jus' a sweet little Em'lee!"
We plunked down way too much money today for a wood stove. Actually, it'll pay for itself by Februrary, and we'll be more comfortable in the meantime than we've been in four winters. So, there's that. It's just more painful to cough it up in one lump than to spread it out over four months. We found *the stove* to buy last year, but it was $1300 (which would *not* have paid for itself in four months), so we planned to save for it and purchase it this year. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Who knew things would tank (don't answer that), and the same stove this year would run $2300? Damn. Back to the drawing board. We found a decent deal on another stove and picked it up today. Yay for Tractor Supply Co.!
Tomorrow, we re-arrange! Weee!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, November 5
What a day!
The boys did so well with piano today. John finished two books this week, and played out of every song his teacher gave him today. So, he gets a new theory book and moves onward. The glow on his face, and the sweet, sheepish grin he bore, as his teacher gushed to him about how incredibly well he's doing... oh, why don't I have a camera implanted in my temple yet? I need one. I need one that will snap photos whenever I think or say, "Awwww". James, too, moved through his lessons beautifully. I so enjoy listening to his lessons. The songs he's playing now are really beautiful. I wish she'd start teaching them some Christmas songs, though. (But perhaps that's just me - love me some Christmas music!)
Autumn has come, in all the splendor it has to offer! Oh, it's gorgeous. I think the wetter year, combined with the colder weather conspired to create a magnificent display this fall. Sitting on the balcony, where I'm about mid-way into the bulk of the canopy, absolutely surrounded by the colors and shadows, the squirrels, the peace... I find myself reaching for poetry to fit the moment. Sadly, nothing comes readily to mind. I don't want the kids to lack that, in their later years. Hence, the plethora of poetry books we reach for almost every day. From Belloc to Frost - from giggles to glory - humans have always sought to find the words to express the sensations of the soul. Some have come close, and I want the kids to know them and be able to draw upon them, even if its some day too far away for me to see. They'll have it when they need it.
There's no Scouts this week! Yay! (I need to get more posterboard, and was a wee bit panicky when I realized tonight that tomorrow is traditionally Scout night. *whew*)
The play at TCTSHBN (The Church That Shall Not Be Named, as we'll be calling it from now on) is coming along. John was pretty stoked about two things tonight: he got to use the cordless mike at rehearsals, and they "finally have a song with no movements in it!" Seriously, it's an hour-long musical performance, and every song is choreographed heavily. The one with no movements in it does, actually, have movement, it's just that John doesn't have to do any of it. They are enjoying the work, though, which is part of the reason we stay (the other being that there are people counting on them for their parts, and they have a responsibility to see that through). However, I don't think they'll have any qualms with leaving when the time comes.
And, did I mention it's FALL? Bread baking weather. Sweater weather. Time to find a good book and a cup of hot tea weather. Yes, this is my happy time of year. And we have a lot to do this fall, too, so that'll be nice. (Does anybody else think a pecan tree would be a romantic gift? You know, for a guy who wants a pecan tree, anyway?)
What's your favorite part of Autumn?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Autumn has come, in all the splendor it has to offer! Oh, it's gorgeous. I think the wetter year, combined with the colder weather conspired to create a magnificent display this fall. Sitting on the balcony, where I'm about mid-way into the bulk of the canopy, absolutely surrounded by the colors and shadows, the squirrels, the peace... I find myself reaching for poetry to fit the moment. Sadly, nothing comes readily to mind. I don't want the kids to lack that, in their later years. Hence, the plethora of poetry books we reach for almost every day. From Belloc to Frost - from giggles to glory - humans have always sought to find the words to express the sensations of the soul. Some have come close, and I want the kids to know them and be able to draw upon them, even if its some day too far away for me to see. They'll have it when they need it.
There's no Scouts this week! Yay! (I need to get more posterboard, and was a wee bit panicky when I realized tonight that tomorrow is traditionally Scout night. *whew*)
The play at TCTSHBN (The Church That Shall Not Be Named, as we'll be calling it from now on) is coming along. John was pretty stoked about two things tonight: he got to use the cordless mike at rehearsals, and they "finally have a song with no movements in it!" Seriously, it's an hour-long musical performance, and every song is choreographed heavily. The one with no movements in it does, actually, have movement, it's just that John doesn't have to do any of it. They are enjoying the work, though, which is part of the reason we stay (the other being that there are people counting on them for their parts, and they have a responsibility to see that through). However, I don't think they'll have any qualms with leaving when the time comes.
And, did I mention it's FALL? Bread baking weather. Sweater weather. Time to find a good book and a cup of hot tea weather. Yes, this is my happy time of year. And we have a lot to do this fall, too, so that'll be nice. (Does anybody else think a pecan tree would be a romantic gift? You know, for a guy who wants a pecan tree, anyway?)
What's your favorite part of Autumn?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, November 4
I have an idea...
I just read that an estimated $2.4 BILLION has been spent on campaigning for this election. How about some real campaign finance reform for a change?
Next election, stick to one flier or program per candidate, mass-mailed to every home in the country... and put the rest of that money into something else. I don't know, reducing our national debt, perhaps?
Put it in Directly. No special interest groups. No lobbyists. No campaign managers. No paid staff. Surely, candidates with people who believe in them could rally the manpower to get ONE flier sent to each and every home without having to pay even half that much, right?
Make it tight. Make it good. Make it honest, 'cuz God help you if something you wrote isn't true - that's your only shot.
Maybe splurge in the last month and make one trip around the country. OK, that'll cost a bit more. Still nowhere near $2.4 BILLION. Because, seriously, anybody who can spend that kind of money without blinking is probably not really in touch with a single thing that takes place on Main Street, Burbon Street, or the back alleys in towns along Route 66.
We've been among the demographics pandered to this election, and it's been disgusting. It's been like sitting in on an Andy Kauffman sketch, only there is no joke in there. I don't know how groups who generally get pandered to can put up with it. This entire election, we've heard nothing but how stoopid, how incapable, how incredibly lost we all are without the Federal Government taking care of us. And worse yet, how they're going to take care of us. It's insulting. The fact that these people think we want this kind of condescension blows my mind. The fact that there are people clamoring along with the "oh, me, too! me, too!" tirades I've also seen is mind-boggling.
We need some kind of opt-out feature. Give me an affidavit that says I didn't ask for you to look out for me, I didn't accept your "help", and I don't acknowledge your premise that I'm stoopid, incapable, or lost. I'll sign it and be on my way. I don't think I'd be alone, either. I think the candidates may actually be quite shocked to find how many signed, notarized forms they'd get back.
Gah, I'll be glad when this is over. Probably not happy with the results, but at least, for a little while, we'll have a reprieve from the onslaught of just how ridiculously incompetent We The People are.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Next election, stick to one flier or program per candidate, mass-mailed to every home in the country... and put the rest of that money into something else. I don't know, reducing our national debt, perhaps?
Put it in Directly. No special interest groups. No lobbyists. No campaign managers. No paid staff. Surely, candidates with people who believe in them could rally the manpower to get ONE flier sent to each and every home without having to pay even half that much, right?
Make it tight. Make it good. Make it honest, 'cuz God help you if something you wrote isn't true - that's your only shot.
Maybe splurge in the last month and make one trip around the country. OK, that'll cost a bit more. Still nowhere near $2.4 BILLION. Because, seriously, anybody who can spend that kind of money without blinking is probably not really in touch with a single thing that takes place on Main Street, Burbon Street, or the back alleys in towns along Route 66.
We've been among the demographics pandered to this election, and it's been disgusting. It's been like sitting in on an Andy Kauffman sketch, only there is no joke in there. I don't know how groups who generally get pandered to can put up with it. This entire election, we've heard nothing but how stoopid, how incapable, how incredibly lost we all are without the Federal Government taking care of us. And worse yet, how they're going to take care of us. It's insulting. The fact that these people think we want this kind of condescension blows my mind. The fact that there are people clamoring along with the "oh, me, too! me, too!" tirades I've also seen is mind-boggling.
We need some kind of opt-out feature. Give me an affidavit that says I didn't ask for you to look out for me, I didn't accept your "help", and I don't acknowledge your premise that I'm stoopid, incapable, or lost. I'll sign it and be on my way. I don't think I'd be alone, either. I think the candidates may actually be quite shocked to find how many signed, notarized forms they'd get back.
Gah, I'll be glad when this is over. Probably not happy with the results, but at least, for a little while, we'll have a reprieve from the onslaught of just how ridiculously incompetent We The People are.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, November 3
Meet Viggie. He's French.
So the boys are working on their Latin. James is... I don't know what James is doing. He's moved so far past me and my SLACKER STUDY BUDDY (erin...) that he could be writing dirty jokes in Latin and I'd have very little clue.
John is at the dry erase board, conjugating verbs. (It's more fun when you can smear the words with your fingers.) Suddenly, he turns to me and says, "It's 'viggie la MOOSE', Mom."
Uh, no. It's /vig-i-LA-moose/, honey.
He looked at me a bit funny, and repeated his "Viggie la MOOSE" schtick.
Just as I started to worry that perhaps Latin is not going to be his thing, James pointed out, oh so helpfully, "Mom, I think he's trying to emphasize the verb ending, 'mus'. That that's the right one for 'we watch'."
Ahhhh... clever child.
I may be outmanned, and outgunned around here, but I'm going to go down chuckling. And I plan to get the boys plush Viggie 'la moose' toys for their stockings, too. Who wouldn't love a Latin-speaking French Moose?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
John is at the dry erase board, conjugating verbs. (It's more fun when you can smear the words with your fingers.) Suddenly, he turns to me and says, "It's 'viggie la MOOSE', Mom."
Uh, no. It's /vig-i-LA-moose/, honey.
He looked at me a bit funny, and repeated his "Viggie la MOOSE" schtick.
Just as I started to worry that perhaps Latin is not going to be his thing, James pointed out, oh so helpfully, "Mom, I think he's trying to emphasize the verb ending, 'mus'. That that's the right one for 'we watch'."
Ahhhh... clever child.
I may be outmanned, and outgunned around here, but I'm going to go down chuckling. And I plan to get the boys plush Viggie 'la moose' toys for their stockings, too. Who wouldn't love a Latin-speaking French Moose?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday Morning
It's always nice, the first Monday after the time change. Probably the only Monday I don't oversleep. It doesn't make up for the chaos that ensues come Spring's time change (which takes weeks to work out), but for now, it's nice
We had a fun Halloween, completely avoiding anything weird or awkward this year (woohoo!) The kids had a great time, the grown-ups had a great time. It was cooler than I'd anticipated, and although nobody froze, I did lament that I'd missed a prime opportunity to wear a sweater. (Yes, I'm a sweater freak. I'm a Maine fisherman, Arctic explorer, Canadian lumberjack -style sweater freak. And I live in the moderate South, where there's no call for those sweaters, and there's no such thing as a "summer weight" sweater. It's the small things that get ya, sometimes.) We learn a little something every year, and this year was no exception. For example, next year we'll be heading out earlier, coming home earlier, and putting the apple cider in the crockpot before we leave so it's already warm when we get home. Ohhh, next year Claudia and I can spike the apple cider! YAY!
We worked our tails off on the windows this weekend. They're coming along nicely. Zorak's developing some wicked-cool glazing skills, we're flying through the "0000" ("four ought") steel wool, and soon there will be no more drafty spots by the sparkly clean windows. Wish we'd bought stock in the company that makes those foam adhesive gaskets, though. Wow. Who uses just one little package of that stuff? And why can't you buy it in 50' rolls? That's what we need.
We go to vote tomorrow. I'll be glad when the election is over. Somebody stole our campaign signs from the lower meadow. That's lovely. And oh, so likely to convince people to change their votes, too. Zorak mentioned that it might be a prank, but when it was just a prank, ALL the signs would eventually re-appear, crammed, upright and unharmed, in one little front yard somewhere. It would make the front of the little local paper, thus ensuring that next year's crop of children would feel the need to go one better. But at least you could go get your sign out of Mrs. Murchison's yard after you finished your paper over coffee. Signs here just disappear. They'll probably end up in the landfill. And the only message they're sending is that our neighborhood has a problem infestation of delinquents.
But today, we must work, and on that note, I'd better get the small ones rounded up and fed. (We did find the missing school books this weekend. One on the dry erase easel, under the... phonebook. Why was the phonebook in their room??? The other mysteriously re-appeared in the library basket. Hmmm... funny kids. It's like living with poltergeists. Or brownies. Depends on the antics.)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, October 31
Typical Virtual Friday
A kind-of, sort-of Day in the Life. Thursday is the new Friday!
No, not really, but it's late, and that's the best I could offer. Although, it *is* our friday...
*aherm* Anyway...
8:00 - We stage our own little revolt this morning and refuse to get dressed. You can carry compost to the heap in your jammies, right? It's not like the neighbor's chickens care if you match. The kids grab fruit and start their lessons while I read the news and warm up with a cup of coffee.
8:20 - They're all in here, reading the news over my shoulder. From the comments they're making, I'm guessing they'd like a little breakfast. (Namely EmBaby: "That boy looks hungry, mama. Hungry like your Em-lee. I'm jus' a hungry girl." Someone tell me she will somehow master "subtle" without going into "codespeak", right?)
8:45 - I start the pancakes and ask them to get back to their lessons. James starts with reading. John starts with math.
8:50 - We're fixing pancakes while we discuss random thoughts that pop into their heads. Not a lot of reading or math getting done. Redirect the Bigs. Throw pancake scraps to Em. Flip pancakes. Redirect again.
9:15 - Pancakes are ready, John's math is done, but James' reading book is now lost. We don't know how it happens. He never once moved from the breakfast bar. The breakfast bar has a finite flat surface and no shrubbery surrounding it. Where'd the book go? *shrug* Oh well, let's eat.
11:00 - I've been done for an hour and a half. The boys are still eating. After I finished, I took advantage of having a semi-captive audience to read two chapters of Five Little Peppers, do a little geography, and cover Music History. But still... I've been dancing with Embaby to Handel's Hallelujah Chorus for forty minutes, and my knees ache.
11:30 - I finally declare that if they keep this up, I am going to put us all on a public school schedule, complete with "bus ride" at six in the morning, pee breaks only between "classes", twenty minute OUTSIDE recess (no matter how cold it is), and the one that always gets them, HALF HOUR LUNCH PERIOD.
11:32 - Their spots are cleaned, books gathered, and all the happy, well-fed children are looking at me expectantly for the next lesson. (Um, it's art. But I didn't expect my public school schedule speech to be quite *this* effective, and I must go dig up the art book.) Oh, hey, this one is on observation and detail! We're supposed to go outside and "observe the marvels of the world"! James looks outside, at the 40-degree day and says, "How 'bout we observe the marvels of the MODERN world?" Yeah. We'll stay inside. I don't know where your coats are, yet.
1:27 - Art is done. Chores are done. Math, latin, reading - all done. James has my Henle because he cannot find his LP text. The four principle parts are laid out differently, and it makes us batty. I really hope his book turns up. (Perhaps it's hiding with his reading book? I'm sensing a pattern, here. Remember to check the pantry and cupboards tonight, when he's in bed.) James makes lunch for everybody. John sets the table. Jase serenades us with jokes in his native tongue, and laughs maniacally at each and every one. I wish at least one of us could speak Infantese. Smidge and Embaby do not fight. This is a beautiful moment in my day.
1:45 - They're done eating. (I'm having that "schedule speech" printed out, dipped in gold, and hung on the wall behind the dining table!)
2:00 - Break time. Video games, stories, games, reading, playing, napping. Kind of a free-for-all, but in a good way that doesn't result in any broken bones or bleeding noses. Smidge helps me make banana bread. I send him on his way with a kiss and a snuggle after he blows flour from the bowl all over my head. Love that help, though. It changes so quickly into "can I do it all by myself".
At some point, Zorak gets home. Since it's Virtual Friday, we have a special movie to watch. Zorak suggests a finger food supper (he brought shrimp! *swoon*), and so that's what we do. Shrimp, green olives, tortilla-cheese-ham-wrap-things, pickles, okra, and banana bread. Journey to the Center of the Earth (the new one, with Brendan Fraser).
And then, bedtime. Quiet time. I'll do the dishes tomorrow, unless the Project Fairy* comes and does them for me. Not holding out much hope on that one. It's okay.
But first, I'll kiss those babies!
~Dy
* The Project Fairy, from the tv show, The PJs - who the super told his wife he thought magically came in and cleaned the apartment each night.
No, not really, but it's late, and that's the best I could offer. Although, it *is* our friday...
*aherm* Anyway...
8:00 - We stage our own little revolt this morning and refuse to get dressed. You can carry compost to the heap in your jammies, right? It's not like the neighbor's chickens care if you match. The kids grab fruit and start their lessons while I read the news and warm up with a cup of coffee.
8:20 - They're all in here, reading the news over my shoulder. From the comments they're making, I'm guessing they'd like a little breakfast. (Namely EmBaby: "That boy looks hungry, mama. Hungry like your Em-lee. I'm jus' a hungry girl." Someone tell me she will somehow master "subtle" without going into "codespeak", right?)
8:45 - I start the pancakes and ask them to get back to their lessons. James starts with reading. John starts with math.
8:50 - We're fixing pancakes while we discuss random thoughts that pop into their heads. Not a lot of reading or math getting done. Redirect the Bigs. Throw pancake scraps to Em. Flip pancakes. Redirect again.
9:15 - Pancakes are ready, John's math is done, but James' reading book is now lost. We don't know how it happens. He never once moved from the breakfast bar. The breakfast bar has a finite flat surface and no shrubbery surrounding it. Where'd the book go? *shrug* Oh well, let's eat.
11:00 - I've been done for an hour and a half. The boys are still eating. After I finished, I took advantage of having a semi-captive audience to read two chapters of Five Little Peppers, do a little geography, and cover Music History. But still... I've been dancing with Embaby to Handel's Hallelujah Chorus for forty minutes, and my knees ache.
11:30 - I finally declare that if they keep this up, I am going to put us all on a public school schedule, complete with "bus ride" at six in the morning, pee breaks only between "classes", twenty minute OUTSIDE recess (no matter how cold it is), and the one that always gets them, HALF HOUR LUNCH PERIOD.
11:32 - Their spots are cleaned, books gathered, and all the happy, well-fed children are looking at me expectantly for the next lesson. (Um, it's art. But I didn't expect my public school schedule speech to be quite *this* effective, and I must go dig up the art book.) Oh, hey, this one is on observation and detail! We're supposed to go outside and "observe the marvels of the world"! James looks outside, at the 40-degree day and says, "How 'bout we observe the marvels of the MODERN world?" Yeah. We'll stay inside. I don't know where your coats are, yet.
1:27 - Art is done. Chores are done. Math, latin, reading - all done. James has my Henle because he cannot find his LP text. The four principle parts are laid out differently, and it makes us batty. I really hope his book turns up. (Perhaps it's hiding with his reading book? I'm sensing a pattern, here. Remember to check the pantry and cupboards tonight, when he's in bed.) James makes lunch for everybody. John sets the table. Jase serenades us with jokes in his native tongue, and laughs maniacally at each and every one. I wish at least one of us could speak Infantese. Smidge and Embaby do not fight. This is a beautiful moment in my day.
1:45 - They're done eating. (I'm having that "schedule speech" printed out, dipped in gold, and hung on the wall behind the dining table!)
2:00 - Break time. Video games, stories, games, reading, playing, napping. Kind of a free-for-all, but in a good way that doesn't result in any broken bones or bleeding noses. Smidge helps me make banana bread. I send him on his way with a kiss and a snuggle after he blows flour from the bowl all over my head. Love that help, though. It changes so quickly into "can I do it all by myself".
At some point, Zorak gets home. Since it's Virtual Friday, we have a special movie to watch. Zorak suggests a finger food supper (he brought shrimp! *swoon*), and so that's what we do. Shrimp, green olives, tortilla-cheese-ham-wrap-things, pickles, okra, and banana bread. Journey to the Center of the Earth (the new one, with Brendan Fraser).
And then, bedtime. Quiet time. I'll do the dishes tomorrow, unless the Project Fairy* comes and does them for me. Not holding out much hope on that one. It's okay.
But first, I'll kiss those babies!
~Dy
* The Project Fairy, from the tv show, The PJs - who the super told his wife he thought magically came in and cleaned the apartment each night.
Thursday, October 30
Wow, talk about lazy... and weird.
Not us. We've actually been quite productive. (But there's some swearing in this post, so, you know, brace yourself.) I'm talking about the Sparkle Hands church. I've probably hinted before that it's not going well. Did I write about the seriously boundary-challenged nursery worker (BCNW) physically barring me from EmBaby and telling me to "step out into the hall"? No? That's because I still foam at the mouth just thinking about it.
Basically, Zorak was gone, it had been a rough week, and EmBaby didn't want to go into the nursery. She and I did go into it to use the bathroom there, as that commode is little, and I had Jase, and so, well, that seemed reasonable. On the way out, though, I asked Em if she was sure she didn't want to stay. She said, "No, I just want to stay with you." I told her that was okay, put out my hand for her and we headed for the door.
That's when BCNW physically picked the child up (yes, taking her out of my hand) and told me to step out into the hall. Um... pardon me? Yeah. I reiterated that I was leaving, and taking Em. Badda-boom, badda-bing, I ended up exerting every. ounce. of grace God was willing to spare me not to go all Wild Wild West on this woman and ask her to step outside at High Noon. Give me my child and get out. of. my. way. She did finally put Em down, but she mad-dogged me the entire time.
I wasn't going to say anything, just figured I'd keep Em and Jase with me from now on. Thinking perhaps this is not a good place for us to be, but whatever. UNTIL I found out she'd been talkin' 'bout it around the church. And, of course, her story involved what a helicopter parent I am, and how I'm really-really wrong, and what are they gonna do about me? Ohhhhkay... yeah, not okay with that.
Long story shorter than it could be: the Children's Minister and I have talked, and she's "pretty sure" they could "make an exception to church policy" in allowing a parent to come and get her child "without the church staff insisting otherwise". You know, "just for you". Oh. Policy? You have a policy that mandates church workers interfere with parents like that? Wow. Don't I feel special? But we're going to have to sit down with BCNW to have a mediation, first. (Can you sense the tension? Good.)
So, on to other things, they've been riding these kids hard for two months, now. ("Sharp hands! SHARP HANDS!") Last week, two kids were visiting from out of town and their grandmas brought them to the church on Wednesday night. The kids were told they can't come. (Because they'd be too far behind the rest of the group, and you know it's far more important to have a perfect show than it is to welcome visitors! And since nobody ever shows up anywhere in the Autumn, we wouldn't want to keep a bag of Cheetos and some Bible games on hand. Just in case. Pffttt.)
Zorak mentioned a couple weeks back that he can hear me seething at night, and to be truthful, it's kind of starting to freak him out. What with having to sleep near me, and all. The truth of the matter is, this place has very different goals and priorities than what we are comfortable supporting in a church.
Last night was the last straw.
I sit at the sign-in table, with the Big People. I suspect it's so that they can keep on eye on me and my subversive tendencies, but whatever. The Powers that Be started going through the roster, figuring out who is keeping up the pace and who isn't. There's one little boy who hasn't been there in a month. The Children's Minister says, "Oh, yeah *sad face* I talked to his Mom, and they can't afford the shirt. That's why he hasn't been coming."
*blink* *blink* (I'm waiting for her to say something like, "I told her that's SO not a problem and to bring him back," but that didn't happen.)
Another lady says, "Oh, yeah, they're really struggling. Like, they're living from paycheck to paycheck, and having trouble keeping it together." Minister says, "Awww. That's so rough."
*blink* What the--?? I'm sitting here, watching this bizarre scene from a how-not-to-run-a-church video, waiting for the rest of it... still nothing. I hadn't moved or spoken up because I just couldn't believe that this was happening.
The woman picks up her pen, folks, and starts to CROSS THIS CHILD OFF THE ROSTER! Suddenly, I realize they're going to do it. They're cutting dead weight. They're... what the fuck is WRONG with you people?!?!? You can carry the interest on a million dollar mortgage without batting an eye, but you can't fork up TEN DOLLARS for a child?
I didn't smack the pen out of her hand, but I got very, very close before I could just force my hand down on the paper, instead. (I'm thinkin' an assault charge wouldn't bode well for me at this point in my life.) I'll buy the kid the damned shirt. Put the pen down. NOW.
What do they say? "Oh, but you have five kids!" Um... what, exactly, does that have to do with it? You know what, just... don't talk to me. Don't look at me. Do. Not. Engage. Me.
I can't begin to tell you how absolutely disgusted I am with this place. So, yay for them, they have wireless mikes (what is the abbreviation for microphones? mics?) for all the chosen children, but if you can't hang with the Ralph Lauren crowd, Jesus doesn't love you? I know this isn't in the New Testament anywhere, but I'm pretty sure Jesus has a big ol' bitch-slap waiting for people who behave like this in His name. (He may have one for me, too, for plenty of things I've done in my life. I get that, too.)
"Let the little children come to Me," He said. I know that part's in there.
December 14 is the date of the play. December 15, I'm going to have a Captain Morgan's and Coke to celebrate never having to wade through that place's BS again.
Kiss those babies! Oh, kiss them and love on them with all your heart.
~Dy
Basically, Zorak was gone, it had been a rough week, and EmBaby didn't want to go into the nursery. She and I did go into it to use the bathroom there, as that commode is little, and I had Jase, and so, well, that seemed reasonable. On the way out, though, I asked Em if she was sure she didn't want to stay. She said, "No, I just want to stay with you." I told her that was okay, put out my hand for her and we headed for the door.
That's when BCNW physically picked the child up (yes, taking her out of my hand) and told me to step out into the hall. Um... pardon me? Yeah. I reiterated that I was leaving, and taking Em. Badda-boom, badda-bing, I ended up exerting every. ounce. of grace God was willing to spare me not to go all Wild Wild West on this woman and ask her to step outside at High Noon. Give me my child and get out. of. my. way. She did finally put Em down, but she mad-dogged me the entire time.
I wasn't going to say anything, just figured I'd keep Em and Jase with me from now on. Thinking perhaps this is not a good place for us to be, but whatever. UNTIL I found out she'd been talkin' 'bout it around the church. And, of course, her story involved what a helicopter parent I am, and how I'm really-really wrong, and what are they gonna do about me? Ohhhhkay... yeah, not okay with that.
Long story shorter than it could be: the Children's Minister and I have talked, and she's "pretty sure" they could "make an exception to church policy" in allowing a parent to come and get her child "without the church staff insisting otherwise". You know, "just for you". Oh. Policy? You have a policy that mandates church workers interfere with parents like that? Wow. Don't I feel special? But we're going to have to sit down with BCNW to have a mediation, first. (Can you sense the tension? Good.)
So, on to other things, they've been riding these kids hard for two months, now. ("Sharp hands! SHARP HANDS!") Last week, two kids were visiting from out of town and their grandmas brought them to the church on Wednesday night. The kids were told they can't come. (Because they'd be too far behind the rest of the group, and you know it's far more important to have a perfect show than it is to welcome visitors! And since nobody ever shows up anywhere in the Autumn, we wouldn't want to keep a bag of Cheetos and some Bible games on hand. Just in case. Pffttt.)
Zorak mentioned a couple weeks back that he can hear me seething at night, and to be truthful, it's kind of starting to freak him out. What with having to sleep near me, and all. The truth of the matter is, this place has very different goals and priorities than what we are comfortable supporting in a church.
Last night was the last straw.
I sit at the sign-in table, with the Big People. I suspect it's so that they can keep on eye on me and my subversive tendencies, but whatever. The Powers that Be started going through the roster, figuring out who is keeping up the pace and who isn't. There's one little boy who hasn't been there in a month. The Children's Minister says, "Oh, yeah *sad face* I talked to his Mom, and they can't afford the shirt. That's why he hasn't been coming."
*blink* *blink* (I'm waiting for her to say something like, "I told her that's SO not a problem and to bring him back," but that didn't happen.)
Another lady says, "Oh, yeah, they're really struggling. Like, they're living from paycheck to paycheck, and having trouble keeping it together." Minister says, "Awww. That's so rough."
*blink* What the--?? I'm sitting here, watching this bizarre scene from a how-not-to-run-a-church video, waiting for the rest of it... still nothing. I hadn't moved or spoken up because I just couldn't believe that this was happening.
The woman picks up her pen, folks, and starts to CROSS THIS CHILD OFF THE ROSTER! Suddenly, I realize they're going to do it. They're cutting dead weight. They're... what the fuck is WRONG with you people?!?!? You can carry the interest on a million dollar mortgage without batting an eye, but you can't fork up TEN DOLLARS for a child?
I didn't smack the pen out of her hand, but I got very, very close before I could just force my hand down on the paper, instead. (I'm thinkin' an assault charge wouldn't bode well for me at this point in my life.) I'll buy the kid the damned shirt. Put the pen down. NOW.
What do they say? "Oh, but you have five kids!" Um... what, exactly, does that have to do with it? You know what, just... don't talk to me. Don't look at me. Do. Not. Engage. Me.
I can't begin to tell you how absolutely disgusted I am with this place. So, yay for them, they have wireless mikes (what is the abbreviation for microphones? mics?) for all the chosen children, but if you can't hang with the Ralph Lauren crowd, Jesus doesn't love you? I know this isn't in the New Testament anywhere, but I'm pretty sure Jesus has a big ol' bitch-slap waiting for people who behave like this in His name. (He may have one for me, too, for plenty of things I've done in my life. I get that, too.)
"Let the little children come to Me," He said. I know that part's in there.
December 14 is the date of the play. December 15, I'm going to have a Captain Morgan's and Coke to celebrate never having to wade through that place's BS again.
Kiss those babies! Oh, kiss them and love on them with all your heart.
~Dy
Monday, October 27
Funday Sunday
Heh, you can mock. I couldn't think up a decent title. I'm beat. Happy, but beat. We had such a great time today. Ben and Claudia, et al., came over to carve pumpkins and have supper! I had helpers in the kitchen while we got ready for company...
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
(P.S. I figured out the watermark feature, but it seems to be a bit of a PITB to use. Bummer.)
Sunday, October 26
Busy, Busy
Has it been four days? Sorry 'bout that. With Zorak out of town, and new schedules all-around, I lost track of time. However, he's back, we're all rested up, and we just had the best Saturday!
James and I headed into town early for his Citizenship badge service project. He picked the project, and put it together on his own - making contacts, getting all the legwork done. It was hideously difficult for me to let go and let him handle it all (and I didn't hit it spot on, at first, but eventually I did my part and got out of his way). He did his part and pulled it off splendidly.
We arrived in time to help unload the truck and set up (this was for Angel Food Ministries). Then we spent the next three hours putting together food boxes and assisting customers with hauling things to their cars. I didn't take any pictures because we were too busy learning the ropes and trying to stay helpful. Well, James stayed helpful. I hung out in my corner, drinking coffee and hauling heavy things when needed. He was the brains of this organization. He just took me along for the muscle and the driver's license.
From there, we headed to the downtown Fall Festival in Decatur. Nothing like sugar, costumes, sugar, music,
and a little more sugar, to make a day fun!
Yes, those are basically Pixie-Sticks, but the tube is the diameter of a Sharpie, and as long as a twirling baton. WEEEE! Interestingly, it was the church we've been attending that had this set-up. I think we may let the kids have their sticks for breakfast before church tomorrow... just as a thank-you to the Children's Minister. ;-) (I jest - she planned for the kids to eat them on the spot and then just ping up and down the street until the effects wore off, I'm sure.)
The weather was gorgeous, just cool enough to necessitate a hat for Jase. You know, those just don't work so well once they've been chewed on for an hour or two. Ew.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, October 22
Teamwork
The "help" was entirely Em's idea. Smidge went along with it. They're pulling vines off one of the persimmon trees down by the barn.
And Em made her own chopsticks to handle the persimmons. I don't know if it's a textural thing and she doesn't like touching them, or if she just thought it seemed like a fun idea to try out. She's pretty good with those chopsticks, though.
Why we do what we do, no?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
~Dy
Tuesday, October 21
He Has Your Quirks
Ever notice how much time people spend analyzing babies? ~ Oh, he looks just like his Daddy! ~ Aw, she has your thinning hair. ~ He's built just like great-great-granddaddy's side of the family. It's like playing with those build-a-creature books. Remember those? The head of an aligator, torso of a hippo, legs of an emu. You could be the next Andy Warhol, or the next Dr. Moreau. Either way, it's fun.
But what about temperament? Y'all ever parse that one out? Zorak and I do. And not just to blame each other for the more interesting qualities that emerge in the children, either. We're both honest enough to willingly chuckle and say, "Oh, yeah, sorry 'bout that." But it's not really something we give much thought to until it's staring us in the face (or mortifying us in public).
Zorak's gone right now, and I miss him, but the day-to-day is not as challenging as one might think. For when one of us is away, the other one is free to get it done (or blow it off) according to his (or her...) own natural bent. It's not ideal. I'd much rather spend the next eight decades compromising, and for the most part, we do it so well that I forget about some of the differences until he's gone.
So tonight, after an early supper, a quick house tidy, a short movie and/or story, the lights went out with all the children kissed, snuggled, and tucked in, at 8:32. (My i-d-e-a-l evening, lemme tell ya!) I've had time to think back on the kids, who made me laugh a lot today. They are funny, witty, quirky. They could make the Pope think dark thoughts, and they could make Scrooge feel warm and fuzzy and generous. All in one fell swoop.
I can see myself in them, and I can see Zorak in them. Uncle Creighton, Aunt Sally, Granny, some cousin I vaguely remember meeting when I was 12. It all comes together to make distinct, unique, amazing people.
And then, because I had WAY more time on my hands than I normally do, I started wondering about my parents. How did this happen? How did I happen? What will pass through to the kids, and what will get filtered out by more dominant genes?
My mother was a pack rat with the kind of kitchen table that you were welcome to sit at, but there was no guarantee you could set your coffee cup there. Same thing with the counter tops, the washing machine, dressers, shelves. Oh, the woman loved her horizontal surfaces and paper goods. She wrote beautiful letters. Every morning began with a cup of coffee and a letter. She loved to laugh, even at herself. She loved to cook, and by extension to feed people. She didn't have to know who you were, just show up around meal time. Or earlier. Or later. If you left her place hungry, it wasn't going to be her fault.
My father, from what I've heard, was a strict disciplinarian with a firm belief in order, self-discipline, punctuality, (Yeah, I know. If it weren't for the whole genetic combination feature, I would have inquired about the personality of the milk man, just out of curiosity), fortitude and self-reliance. He valued integrity above sentiment, loyalty above whimsy, and honesty above all else. He wasn't so hot with keeping in touch. He was fiercely devoted and doting, but also set the bar pretty high for those around him, as well as for himself. 
But what do you get when you cross those two? You get a person who disdains clutter of any form, has no emotional attachments to things that require dusting, yet harbors an utterly irrational fondness for stationery products. Paper, pens, envelopes. And stranger still, can't seem to put a stamp on something and part with it to save my soul.
You get a control freak who wants things done "Just So", yet wings it, herself, every time. There is no recipe I cannot alter, no process I cannot botch, no system I cannot over-analyze. But if I'm going to make it up, then I'm going to make it up "my way".
You get a scheduling list-maker who was late to her own wedding. (HOW does that happen?)
You get someone who is totally, utterly, completely loyal and devoted, who loves wholeheartedly. But more directly, you get someone who gets that to put up with me can be a challenge that deserves rewarding. And then some, I'm sure. My parents seemed so normal. I guess you just never know what you'll get.
So while it's nice to have things all Spartany and done once in a while, I much prefer the compromise. I hope the kids got a good lot of Zorak to carry them through. A little quiet humor to counteract the hypertension, a little easygoing sway to balance out the rigid spontaneity (in itself, an enigma), a touch of gentleness to overlook the control issues.
The double dose of fortitude, loyalty, love, and integrity won't hurt. But when it comes to organization, punctuality, or attention to detail, well, they'd best hope they marry into those qualities. 'Cuz they just didn't get those genes from us.
Kiss those babies!~Dy
Sunday, October 19
Autumn Joy
We're breaking out the flannel sheets! That means the temps will probably be back in the high 80's at night sometime in the next two weeks! heh. I hadn't even thought of it, until James asked tonight if we could turn up the heater, and I realized we don't have the heat on. Uh, come to think of it, why don't you try wearing warmer jammies? Oh, and hey - warmer bedding! Ta-da! We don't need to turn on the heat yet, at all.
Zorak took all the kids to work on the barn and lower meadow Saturday, leaving me in relative peace and quiet (so there were no witnesses, should the whole experiment go horribly awry) to put up four jars of persimmon jelly and eleven jars of pear jelly. They haven't set yet, and that's okay. The pathetic level of enthusiasm I garnered just hearing the little "pop" of the jars as they sealed, one by one... that was worth it, right there. (I was somewhat certain the whole canning thing may be the homemaker's parallel to snipe hunting.)
Me-Wa is back! He'd been gone the last four months. Long months, for the kids. (Probably a lot longer for Me-Tae!) And today we were able to head up that way to visit. It was good to see him, great to visit. We got to meet the newest member of their clan, little Katie (a golden lab - oh, so cute!) The older dogs are not so fond of her, but she's sweet enough that I'm sure she'll grow on them.
There's a little boy who lives just up the road from them who comes over to visit - he's a sweetie. They play outside, go in to play pool, and migrate to the computer after a while. He hit me today with a doozie out of nowhere, though, and I had to laugh at how it all turned out.
There's an awful lot going on right now, not the least of which is that I can't seem to carve out time during the week to be left alone for fifteen minutes or so. Long enough to compose my thoughts, find something humorous in it, and write it up. I've been able to compose my thoughts, but I could sure use a few more minutes to find the humor before having to move on to the next thing. Hopefully, a little more rest, and a better schedule will help. I'm going to give that a shot this week and see how it goes. The kids deserve a Mom who can find humor in the daily things. I'm sure Zorak prefers that, too, over the rather irritable alternative he's been presented with lately. So. Yeah, gotta work on that.
And in that vein, I think I'm going to sweep up a bit, lay out tomorrow's plan, and try to hit the hay before eleven! (Livin' large, no?)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Zorak took all the kids to work on the barn and lower meadow Saturday, leaving me in relative peace and quiet (so there were no witnesses, should the whole experiment go horribly awry) to put up four jars of persimmon jelly and eleven jars of pear jelly. They haven't set yet, and that's okay. The pathetic level of enthusiasm I garnered just hearing the little "pop" of the jars as they sealed, one by one... that was worth it, right there. (I was somewhat certain the whole canning thing may be the homemaker's parallel to snipe hunting.)
Me-Wa is back! He'd been gone the last four months. Long months, for the kids. (Probably a lot longer for Me-Tae!) And today we were able to head up that way to visit. It was good to see him, great to visit. We got to meet the newest member of their clan, little Katie (a golden lab - oh, so cute!) The older dogs are not so fond of her, but she's sweet enough that I'm sure she'll grow on them.
There's a little boy who lives just up the road from them who comes over to visit - he's a sweetie. They play outside, go in to play pool, and migrate to the computer after a while. He hit me today with a doozie out of nowhere, though, and I had to laugh at how it all turned out.
He left it at that, and we moved on to an in-depth discussion of Dodgeball. I'm not entirely sure what the converation meant from his perspective, but it made me chuckle.Boy: You still homeschoolin' them?
Me: Yes, we are.
Boy: What's wrong with y-- uh, I mean, why don't you just send 'em to school?
Me: *aherm* WELL, we like the education we can give them at home.
Boy: Hmpf. Well, they're lucky, then.
There's an awful lot going on right now, not the least of which is that I can't seem to carve out time during the week to be left alone for fifteen minutes or so. Long enough to compose my thoughts, find something humorous in it, and write it up. I've been able to compose my thoughts, but I could sure use a few more minutes to find the humor before having to move on to the next thing. Hopefully, a little more rest, and a better schedule will help. I'm going to give that a shot this week and see how it goes. The kids deserve a Mom who can find humor in the daily things. I'm sure Zorak prefers that, too, over the rather irritable alternative he's been presented with lately. So. Yeah, gotta work on that.
And in that vein, I think I'm going to sweep up a bit, lay out tomorrow's plan, and try to hit the hay before eleven! (Livin' large, no?)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, October 16
Playing With Pictures
One of these pictures has been sharpened, and the other had the "film grain" filter applied to it. I haven't had enough coffee, yet, to see a difference. May be the subject matter, though. Can you see a difference?
Also, can you see the watermark? Picasa added that feature in the last upgrade, and I've been wanting to try it out. Not because I think my pictures are just so awesome that everyone will want to steal them and enter them in their county fairs as their own (although the thought makes me chuckle - wouldn't that be a silly thing to do?) Just because I think it's neat. And it's a nice additional protector against people who steal pictures of children and claim that those are their own. (Did you know people do that? How weird. Get your own kids. Or send money to help feed these.)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
~Dy
Tuesday, October 14
Fall Fun
Smidge took that picture. The SmidgeCam has come a long way in three years. I love digital cameras - the kids can take pictures til their eyes bleed, and we don't have to pay to develop the nostril shots. But we can enjoy the gems that come with progress, and with seeing the world through their perspectives.
Just as Smidge had his pear tree, John had his apple tree. He picked the first apple of the season (not counting the ones we picked and cut open to see if they were ripe yet...)
And we began collecting apples. (And a stray pear.) Man, that tree will be a lot easier to harvest from when we're done pruning it properly! (We have to move slowly so the tree doesn't succumb to Fire Blight while we restore it.) However, the metal bucket is about half-full now with fresh apples, and they will become, hopefully, (magically...) apple pie filling this weekend!Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Hey.
Well, Ernie and KathyJo swear it's a mushroom. I'm inclined to think Josh is on to something, personally. Either way, I figure if we lock the doors and clean the air filters, we should have all our bases covered. Thanks for playing, guys!
Today we began week 10 of the school year. Ten-ish, anyway. Of the previous nine weeks, we've taken three off. That sounds so bad. I can hear NEA members puckering in their seats from here. And yet, the boys have worked up to the nine-week point in a couple of subjects, and worked beyond the nine-week point in all the rest. Heh. Yeah. I love this lifestyle.
So this morning, we sat on the balcony, re-working our plans that will take us through Christmas break. The boys opted to adjust some of their goals to reflect the progress they've made. We sorted, sifted, printed, and planned. Then they got to work. I got sucked into the Tanglewood site. *sigh* There ought to be something I could take for that. Really.
We're off to the library, where we won't find anything and I will return with a bigger Amazon list. (It is SO easy to justify book purchases when you know you'll use each book through five children. So, so easy. I'm going to owe Zorak big-time for this.) But it'll be nice to hit the library again. And, they've fired the wacky library lady and replaced her with someone from an organization we refer to as "The Northern Alabama Branch of the Illuminati" - so I want to be sure to stay on top of the library sale, as they'll be culling all the good books soon, and I don't want to miss out on those buys!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Today we began week 10 of the school year. Ten-ish, anyway. Of the previous nine weeks, we've taken three off. That sounds so bad. I can hear NEA members puckering in their seats from here. And yet, the boys have worked up to the nine-week point in a couple of subjects, and worked beyond the nine-week point in all the rest. Heh. Yeah. I love this lifestyle.
So this morning, we sat on the balcony, re-working our plans that will take us through Christmas break. The boys opted to adjust some of their goals to reflect the progress they've made. We sorted, sifted, printed, and planned. Then they got to work. I got sucked into the Tanglewood site. *sigh* There ought to be something I could take for that. Really.
We're off to the library, where we won't find anything and I will return with a bigger Amazon list. (It is SO easy to justify book purchases when you know you'll use each book through five children. So, so easy. I'm going to owe Zorak big-time for this.) But it'll be nice to hit the library again. And, they've fired the wacky library lady and replaced her with someone from an organization we refer to as "The Northern Alabama Branch of the Illuminati" - so I want to be sure to stay on top of the library sale, as they'll be culling all the good books soon, and I don't want to miss out on those buys!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Oh, help.
WHAT...
ARE...
THESE...
THINGS?!?!?!?
Zorak found these near the cedar tree the other day, while we were picking apples. I'd gladly post the apple picking pictures, but we really want to know what these are. I don't even know how to begin Googling this...
The closed pods are bigger than a golf ball, slightly smaller than a tennis ball. The opened (exploded? bloomed? erupted?) pods are about 4 1/2" across.
I have no idea if they smell.
And, as with the other weird-ass things we find around here, no, I did not touch it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)