TOO MUCH!

Too much to post, and not enough time without people touching me, climbing on me, or digging their bony little elbows into my leg. I could blog regularly and well with a few minor modifications. All I need is voice recognition software, a laptop, a gilly suit, and a caramel launcher. Is that so much to ask?

Tomorrow, ask me about the cool new Grammar program for 1st and 2nd! It's awesome! We're going to use it, and we don't normally use a Grammar program at all. But this? This is cool.

We had a splendid Sunday, hanging with Me-Wa and Me-Tae. They met us at church. Actually, they got there on time. We slipped in even later than usual. But I *had* to mop. There was simply no way around it.

Death by Irony point: this, right after Zorak helped talk me out of mopping Saturday night, by whispering sexy things into my ear, like, "It's okay to drop your standards a little, just one more time..."

See what happens when you listen to the Siren's Song, people? You have to panic-clean before church!

After a typically fantastic service (we are SO fortunate for this church), they came to the house, where I did not have to choke down convulsions and horror, because at least the floor was relatively clean-ish. We ate a weird lunch (I don't remember what we made.) Then the guys sighted in a few things, the kids blew bubbles, and played the piano for Me-Tae, and just generally enjoyed the lovely afternoon and the good company.Monday was gorgeous, but we didn't realize that until about 12:30, because it's the middle of August, and seriously, who expects a gorgeous day in the middle of August in the South? Once we clued in, though, we hustled through the rest of our lessons and then got out and enjoyed it.

When, what we should have done was work in it. Because today it rained and rained and rained. And now everything we should have picked up, or mowed, or harvested, is all sparkly and highlighted by droplets of sparkling guilt. But it's beautiful enough that we really hardly felt the guilt at all.
Dishwasher's still not fixed, another part will arrive Friday. I'm running out of one-pot meals we can all eat straight out of the pot, with our hands.

And that, my friends, is the week so far.

Native Tongue

Mom! Mom! Get the foot cream for the chemo pie!

EmBaby's still somewhat fluent in her first language. The one none of us quite remembers.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Summer Antics

We finished the week strong and took off Friday to enjoy time with our friends.

This group is getting smaller, as some of the families are choosing to send their children to public school for high school. But we still enjoy our time together, even in our smaller ranks. And the high school aged children who were there yesterday, we enjoyed tremendously.

The biggest shock for me was seeing a canoe go by, looking up, and seeing, not Big Kids, but Smidge and two little girls his age maneuvering the thing across the lake. What?!? The BABIES are using the canoe? *sigh* Yes, they don't stay babies very long.

John made an alcohol stove at Scouts this week, and he's been dying to show it off. So, last night, we hunkered down on the front porch and he set it up.But just boiling water isn't that interesting. So he chopped vegetables, added spices, and made us a pot of soup. It was fantastic!

No, they sure don't stay babies for long. Even if they'll always be "my babies", I can't help but enjoy the growing up process, as well.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

I love vocabulary.

Not as an exercise on its own, but as a part of the day, it's wonderful. What's a "mazer"?

What's the difference between a broadsword and a regular sword?

"OH! Well, no wonder, then!"

Heh.

Yes, this is good.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

First Grade for Smidge

That's such a weird sensation. *pause to reflect how quickly it goes. pause, pause, pause* OK, not getting any easier. Let's move on, anyway.

He's pretty much following the path his brothers have packed down ahead of him, with variations to account for support where he needs it, and leeway where I wish I'd given it with the older two. Not a lot of "seat time". Plenty of "couch time". Lots of "outside time" (when it cools off a bit). This isn't Victorian England, and I don't have a stash of opium, so we don't have the pastoral scenes of young children learning that one might expect or desire. We have a lot of paper, tons of colored pencils and drawing materials, books absolutely *everywhere*, and I think there's Sculpey stuck to the bathroom wall. (I don't know how or why. I quit asking years ago.)

Science is Life. Particularly at this age. It's Parables From Nature. It's a magnifying glass and an afternoon on the floor with encyclopedias and Mom. It's drawings and rabbit trails. Leaves and seeds and flowers and fruit. Eggs and larvae and things you probably don't want in your home. It's antibacterial soap and a lot of deep, slow breathing.

Math-U-See Alpha is math for Smidge. It's his happy spot. He enjoyed Primer, learned plenty, and was anxious to start in his new book. (Comes by that last bit honestly. We all just love a fresh, new book, around here. It's almost, but not quite, a sickness.)

Music and Art are still a bit haphazard, here. Although we do still enjoy Artistic Pursuits and Meet the Great Composers, so he'll continue to use those in a light and painfully unstructured way.

For History, I feel like I ought to go back and start him with Vol. I of Story of the World. We had such a good time with that. Then I realize what a scheduling nightmare I'd be inventing for myself. It's not as if he hasn't been listening in along the way, and I have to remind myself (sometimes forcibly) that he's putting up pegs on which to hang future information. Since he draws Hammurabi cartoons, explains how a trebuchet works, and makes jokes about privateers, I'm guessing he's been listening - at least peripherally - and has been, quite happily, slinging pegs here and there along the way. So he's doing Modern Times with us, at a slower, softer pace.

For Reading, Phonics, Spelling, and so forth, I still cannot recommend The Writing Road to Reading highly enough. It is thorough, concise, and well done. And, with apologies to Ms. Spalding, I modify it to suit our needs. Smidge needs extra work on his speech, so this is where I put that in, too. More focus on speech, less on reading for him than is usual.

Copywork, copying the work you're reading together, is the absolute best at this age. Pick the things you enjoyed as you read. Write them out, let them copy, and then turn them loose to illustrate it. Some children love coloring books. So far, none of mine really have. Smidge seems the closest, but even he will draw his own illustrations quite happily. Put them up. I have no clue what color my fridge used to be. Someday, the weight of the tape, magnets and paper will pull the door off, I'm sure, and then we'll remove the pictures and narrations and copy work and see what it looks like. Before we cover it up again.

A note on reading. (Pardon me while I pull out my little soapbox. It's just a little one.) The reading comes. Whether it comes when they are two, four, six, or seven, it does come. Read aloud to them. Tell stories. Make up stories. Let language fill your days and nights. Create for them a world rich in literary texture, tastes, and images, and they'll want to make it their own. You've got a big old bag full of tools to share along the way, and yes, show them those tools. Explain how they work. But if it doesn't click, don't get angry or frustrated. Put the tools away and dive back into the words for a while. Try again later. Definitely keep your eyes open for places where there may be trouble, and address those spots if you find them, but always remember that reading is a gift we can cultivate in their hearts, as well as their minds. It's interesting to me that that's the one area I've never sweated, and it's the one area I have no/few regrets now that I'm in a position to start looking back. I have a horrible suspicion I'll find many other areas where I will wish I'd applied this philosophy a bit more soundly. (Sheepishly tucks soapbox back under the desk.)

Literature. Such a word! For the Littles, it makes it sound much less enjoyable than it is! There are book lists and book lists and book lists. I can't even pretend to know a tenth of what's out there, and when I try to collect it all, Zorak inevitably finds me curled up on the porch, feverishly figuring out what we'd have to sell or go without in order to BUY IT ALL RIGHT NOW. So. I try not to peruse more than one or two lists at a time. Zorak appreciates that, and so does my blood pressure. I like Veritas Press' reading lists, and of course, The Baldwin Project's books are big favorites, here, too. If you find something at Baldwin Project that you'd like to have in print, Yesterday's Classics offers many titles. We've ordered from them, and have always had great service. The books are decent quality softcover books. Lang's Fairy Books are also a staple.

For an all-in-one collection at this stage, the 20th Century Children's Book Treasury is my all-time favorite collection. It gets read, and read, and loved on and read. The binding is crap, and the book won't last through three children before Chicka-Chicka Boom-Boom and part of Swimmy fall out in the hallway. But I haven't found a collection of favorites like this anywhere else. Even Zorak got excited when we received this book, years ago. (Who knew he had such a soft spot for Sylvester?) Ideally, we'd all be able to buy all the books individually, but realistically that's an investment of almost $1,000 all said and done. And you know, if I'm going to lay out a grand for a book collection, it'll be the one *I've* been coveting for almost a decade now, thanks. This, however, does the trick quite nicely. And, as True Favorites emerge, you can pick them up here and there without giving anybody involved in the household finances a stroke. There's that.

Poetry. Don't scoff. (OK, go ahead and scoff, but come back. I'll wait.) Poetry. Charlotte Mason's educational philosophy incorporates daily poetry. As with anybody who has homeschooled more than, say, six months, I've read her papers, poked around Ambleside Online, fallen in love with it, and eventually abandoned it, in general, taking precious gems with me back to my eclectic educational cave. Poetry was one of those gems. It doesn't have to be dry or dull. Hilaire Belloc, Mother Goose, Robert Lewis Stevenson - whimsical, beautiful, rich poetry is available and wonderful for use in daily life. I can tell you this: the best year we've ever had, as far as routine, tone, flavor, and pace, was the year we incorporated poetry into our daily routine. We are bringing it back this year. It was that good.

The bulk of our school is reading, even at this age. When they're older, they read and we discuss. When they're younger, we read together and we discuss. When they're younger, I read to them and we discuss. It looks different at every stage, but you'd be hard pressed to find me, at any stage, putting us in a circle, clipboard on my lap, peering over imaginary spectacles as I toss out a topic and say, in the manner of James Lipton, "Why?" More likely is that Zorak comes home to find us piled up in the boys' room, or the living room, talking animatedly about whatever it was that struck our fancies.

Mostly, it's an organic flow of discussion. Questions, point-counterpoint, more rabbit trails, bantering, back and forth, and always, in the end, more reading. When you care what they think, what they liked, and what they got out of it, they know. And they're happy to share. This is what I'm talking about when I tell people that homeschooling is a lifestyle more than just an exercise in academics. It's how we do things, and who we are, part and parcel, inseparable. Sometimes, you'll want to bang your head against the wall, but not right now (I'll go into that more on the appropriate entry, later). Right now, it's all magic. It's all new and exciting and interesting.

And, I think that's about it, for First Grade.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The Sloth is Among Us

It's more of a mindset than an actual animal. (Lest anybody worry that we've taken to importing critters to, erm, supplement our income.) Although, in the interest of full disclosure, if you'd watched me from 2:00 to about 5:00 this afternoon, you'd have been hard-pressed to see any movement.

This weekend wasn't just hot. It was Hot 'n Sticky. I know, I know, Zorak helpfully reminded me that summer's almost over. (It wasn't helpful.) Add to that, our propensity for not being what one would call "Morning People" (so we don't get out and work early in the day), and you have the ready indication that we are also (as I've pointed out before) "Not Farmers". It is a miracle that we've harvested as much as we have from the garden. Once we found it among the weeds, that is. And after the flush of excitement wore off (about three seconds after the last item hit the bag), we mutinied against our Beloved Commander and headed for the house.

See, he has a work ethic that demands he get things done on the property, no matter how unholy the weather, or how miserable the conditions. So, although he may not get up and at 'em bright and early and go scattering cliches about the property, he still gets work done. Even if that means doing it in the hottest part of the day. While the children and I (lacking such ethic, and sweating profusely) keep edging nearer and nearer the house, keeping in the shade of the trees, in the hope we can make a break for it while he's on the other side of the barn.

I can't blame the boys for taking 30 minutes to "get a glass of water". They'd blow the glass, themselves, if they thought it would buy them some time. And, they do come by it honestly. You should see my lovely, hand-crafted ice cubes. I'm sure that added touch makes Zorak feel much better when he comes in, looking for us.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

New Game Plan

(Filed under: this is why we have nearly two decades to raise them...)

I'm getting a very low power paint ball set. When I'm on the balcony, talking with the Mortgage company or bank, I'm tagging anything that comes out that door.

When I get off the phone, everybody with paint on them gets sent to bed.

And splatters count, because that means you were close enough to intervene, but were most likely egging on targeted sibling.

Yep.

That's the new plan.

On the plus side, I think we've got everything now switched over to USAA, and we are so very glad to be just about done with Bank of America. The difference, thus far, has been amazing!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Not on Wednesdays!

We're not far from the dentist. We're not far from the music store. But the dentist and the music store are quite a trek from one another - the northeast corner of Huntsville down southwest, across the river, to the center of Decatur. And yet, in my head, Wednesdays are good days for scheduling appointments. In theory, we'll already be out of the house, so that's a good day. Maybe for other errands in the same town. But for the dentist? No. So, it was a long day.

This may have been the first visit we've had with no new cavities! The kids are completely un-impressed with the whole thing. I, however, am completely, idiotically ecstatic! We're talking irrationally tickled by such a little thing. It's been a good day, if only in my head.

We had lunch at a little blue plate diner in town before piano lessons. The kids have been dying to go. I'm not sure what's wrong with my children. Every time we eat at a restaurant where the food is mediocre, the service is questionable, and the cost is exorbitant (for the quality), they *RAVE* about it. Today was no exception, and they cannot wait to go back. Weee. (Erin, be ready. I'm sure they'll want to take the girls next time you all come out.)

After getting the car cleaned and filling up with gas, swinging by the bank, and the blowing off a couple of other stops we ought to have made, we got home just 15 minutes before Zorak today. Poor guy didn't get the homey welcome we shoot for. I've gotta go do the dishes. The kids are cleaning up ground zero erm, the playroom. We have no clue what to do for supper.

But it doesn't matter, because not only do the kids not have new cavities, but I remembered today to schedule the next dental checkup for the kids on a Tuesday.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Routine, Sweet Routine

The company and travel and more company of the last month has been so wonderful. Still, it's nice to be back in school (yeah, you can remind me of this is February, when all we want to do is sleep and take pictures of daffodils), and back to the daily grind of living.

We made it to church this morning, and managed to remember to take some of the hog we brought back from our trip down South. Pastor's going to try smoking it. Should be fantastic!

We'd planned to be productive when we returned home, but John's not feeling well, and I've been s-l-e-e-p-y, and the next things we knew, everybody who was still awake was already jammied up. So, we just played and snacked and read and snacked. Of course, come bedtime, the children (who had done little else but graze all day long) realized we hadn't eaten supper! So, of course, we had to have a "proper supper". (Could have fed them the same things they'd been eating all day, as long as it has been deemed An Actual Meal, they're good. Are my kids the only ones who do that?)

Of course, the rain stopped, but even that wasn't motive enough for us to get out there and work. It was just too nice looking out the window, doing nothing for a bit.

Tomorrow, we hit the library, switch out the laundry, and put our thinking caps back on for the week. Today truly was a day of rest. And togetherness.

I'd planned to be in bed long before now, but Zorak offered to fix up a little midnight steak and eggs for two. How could I resist? But it smells ready now, so I'm off!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

And So The Week Ends

Between the Scout-Fiasco thing, the Recovering-From-Travel thing, the Various-and-Sundry-Forever-Home projects, and our return to school, this week flew right by. It seems fitting to touch base on how quickly time always flies by, regardless of our activities or pursuits, and how we hope those pursuits serve us well in the end. In the blink of an eye.

Tonight, my baby, the one who cried and cried during the "Heavy and Light" song from Elmopalooza -- because he worried so very much about poor Elmo -- watched Tremors, and Tremors 2: Aftershocks. He laughed at the funny parts. He appreciated the suspenseful parts. He fell in love with the characters and spent the rest of the day coming up with ideas for Tremors 5 - 10. He dissected the features that go into creating the mood of a movie, compared and contrasted Jurassic Park to Tremors, and then begged us to let him watch The Thing. He'll still happily watch Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang and sing through the great songs and dance with his little siblings.

I'm struck by a few things. First, and foremost, Where Did My BABY Go? But later, when I'm done with my panicky fit, I also think, "Wow. Who is this well-adjusted, insightful, witty, intelligent young man?" Did we have anything to do with that? Or is he turning out this way in spite of us? And, "I'm so glad he's ours." Suddenly, that unfortunate incident with the bug net last month slips easily into perspective. The Big Picture is nice, and we are glad.

Obviously, when we see something good emerge, we hope to God it's us. When we cringe and think they'll never be able to live on their own, we look for some faulty ancestor on the other parent's side to blame it on. But the truth probably lies somewhere in the middle, and that's probably good. Heaven knows I don't want my Mom's Mom's Dad's Sister's issues to crop up, here. But if they do, we'll do our best to cushion the blow. On the other hand, if Zorak's Mom's Dad's brilliant mind happens to seep into the genetic blend, SCORE! And then, we'll do our best to prepare them to use it wisely and well.

No matter the situation, no matter the child, loving parents strive to do the best they can for the children in their care. That "best" will look different in every household, no matter how many windows you peek through. (Before you get arrested, that is. So, just take my word for it and don't do that, 'k?)

Tonight, we stocked up on movie choices for the Littles to watch in another room (no sense in scarring everybody all at once), and sat, watching our eldest child enter a new stage in his life. It was a very small thing, compared with the news of the day around the world, but in our world, it was a very big thing. And an important thing, that bodes well for so many tomorrows.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

On Making Improvements

I've been pretty quiet about our Cub Scouting experience thus far. I blogged about it once, but since have tried to focus on the positive. Instead, we've made a few adjustments to How We Do Things.

For instance, we have a standing agreement that when Zorak's out of town, I don't have to take the kids, mostly because it's just too much wrangling in that particular environment, but also because Zorak knows I'd end up with a police record after going berserk on the parents and leaders for the ridiculous behavior they allow. When he takes the boys to an outing, the entire drive there is spent prepping the boys to be aware of danger, look out for one another, and think-think-think before deciding somebody's suggestion is, in any way, a Good Idea. The list is a long one, but that pretty well sums up the overall gist of it.

This last campout was... horrific? Appalling? Still looking for words. Some of you have been gracious enough to listen to my tirade over the phone. From the poor communication, the coma-inducing menu, and the flipped tents, to the vandalized cabins and data test sites, bad attitudes (don't glare at me like I'm stupid when I tell you to do something your Den Leader has just asked you three or four times to do), rock fights, sugar napalm traps, and beyond, you've listened to me rail against the Stupidity. I thank you. My children thank you. And, since you've been kind enough to listen and empathize, you've been my pressure release valve, permitting me to think up *constructive* suggestions to pass on to the Leadership.

As fortune would have it, the new Pack Leader (who is also John's Den leader) emailed after the campout and asked for honest input. He's seeing too many families leave and not come back. He knows there's a problem, but he's new in this position and doesn't quite know how to pinpoint it. Or fix it. I was going to fill him in, anyway, on why it would be a Cold Day In Hell before we camped with them again, so I'm glad he asked! (Unfortunately, James' Den leader emailed that same day to say it was "the best campout yet", so I'm thinking he does not use the same dictionary we do.)

We've been busy this week. We've tried to identify where we can pitch in effectively. (All of us parents - or, at least the ones who recognize there's a problem - have been trying to pitch in from the beginning, since we "get" that these kinds of organizations are dependent upon parent volunteers, but it's tricky to get certain leaders to relinquish any role whatsoever. Even if it's one they never get around to doing. When you offer to take on that part, they tell you it's covered. This is an endemic problem, and not the biggest one.)

We've tried to encourage the new Pack Leader this week (you could. not. pay. me. to try to do what he's doing). And we've tried not to let our cynicism overtake our desire to do what we believe is right. It is SO easy to want to decide to just leave the little Fly Lords to their island and find ourselves another, less aggravating island. Maybe one with cannibals, or vampires, or perhaps necrotizing fasciitis.

Gah. The things we do for our children, huh?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Summertime Summaries

It's summertime, and the frogs are out. The weather is hot 'n sticky. The kids are growing like weeds, and if the fertilizer I bought in the Spring (and then promptly neglected to put on the trees in time) wasn't still sitting in sealed bags, I'd swear they were eating the stuff.

We're back to school this week, and so far, that's going well. John still stresses over math, and loves history. James still cannot, for the life of himself, pay attention to case endings, but can re-write songs in different keys while he eats breakfast. Smidge is gung-ho to get into the groove, and I'm a bit excited to see what he loves and what he must wrestle with. Also thinkin' I should probably put in the rest of my orders at some point... Anyway, I'll post our plans and winners/losers sometime in the next few days. (I hope y'all are sharing yours! I'll have a spare minute sometime around Midnight, Friday, and plan to go frolick in other people's lesson plans for a bit.)

The dishwasher died, and although I've always appreciated it, I didn't realize how much it HELD. Er, holds. I could still, technically, fill it. But it takes three loads by hand to empty the thing. We must get it fixed, if only for the water conservation. As of right now, the boys still find the novelty of washing dishes by hand quite fascinating. All I've really had to do is stand there and chat with each boy, show him how it's done, and then chit-chat some more while he does it. Sometimes they let me rinse. Not like this is killing us -- one-on-one time, fun, learning, etc. -- but I'd like to get it fixed before the novelty does wear off and I'm left alone in the kitchen as soon as the tub fills with dirty dishes. Which is often. I swear, I suspect the boys are harboring orphans in their room somewhere.

And so, it's one thirty. I'm tahrd. Had more to say, but Zorak was shopping online and I started working on the socks I'm trying to crochet. (I may just run a string through the open end and tell the boys they are juju bags. We'll see.) The next thing I know, my eyes are watery and my head weighs a ton. I believe that's a sign that it's time for bed? Or that my brain is swelling and I need to see an optometrist. But we'll go with exhaustion for a thousand, Alex.

Night!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Campout, Complete

Shiloh Battlegrounds, the site of one of the turning point battles, a scene of horrific bloodshed, and an amazing story in the Civil War. This is where we hiked this weekend. We were fortunate to be able to listen in on a presentation about medicine at the last half of the 19th Century, although I wish we'd had the opportunity to attend more presentations. The Rangers who work there are a wealth of information and history, and do a beautiful job of maintaining that for posterity. I'm still processing much of the visit it in my head, so I won't go on about that. If, however, you ever have a chance to visit, please do so. Just, um, not in the summer. Gah. Hot.
Due to some pretty amazing miscalculations and lack of planning (thankfully, not on my part, this time! Woohoo!) we were only able to complete one hike. The terrain is easily accessible, but you must bring your own broad-shouldered man to carry you, if you so choose.

Or, you can arrange a convenient carriage to tote you about, as modeled by The World's Most Patient Baby.

The boys use the Buddy System pretty extensively in Scouts, so it's hard to get shots that don't have at least one other child (that I don't have permission to blog), and my scenic photography this trip was lacking a bit due to the carriage arrangement referenced above. However, it is beautiful, and powerful.

Still, we were all pretty glad to trudge back into camp at the end of the day. (Edited to add: Zorak was tired, not smug, in this photo. I didn't realize until I uploaded it that it might look a bit odd. So, you know, just touching base on that one.)

Just thinking about what it must have been like to march all the way from Indiana or Ohio, only to engage in battle upon arrival, absolutely boggles our pampered minds.

Humbled, thankful, and as always,
Kissing my babies!
~Dy

Who needs a bed?

We have got to get us one (three?) of these! Wow, what a fantastic addition to any outdoor space.

Of course, we wondered if we could make a hammock fairly easily.

Then we tried to figure out what kind of hammock would be best.

And THEN, I was talking with Melissa, who mentioned they have camping versions!

Well, let's just say that was several.

hours.

ago.

Zorak (not a camper) may not be as enthused as I am at this point.

But he hasn't seen this!

Still, maybe we should keep it simple, at first. I mean, who could resist this?


Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Home Again

We hung out the "gone fishing" sign, and then we went. Literally.

It's been a week of good food...

Beautiful scenery...

And relaxing time on the front porch...

Now, we're home. But I'll spare you any images of the laundry.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Mobile Blogging

Hi! Do I look all small & shiny? I`m blogging from the front porch at the Swamp! (`cuz we have cool friends who name their homes, too.)

But it`s not the Swamp that makes me look different. My guys gots me a preshuss for my birthday. (This is where I`d normally insert a picture or a link, but I haven`t figured out how to use this thing yet & I`m afraid I`d never get back to this page. So go look at the Verizon LG nv3. I`ll wait...)

Pretty cool, huh? Fortunately, it does not allow you to see me while I`m typing this. If you`ve seen Zoolander, though, picture the guys trying to get the files out of the computer. (pause) Yep, that`s it. It`s OK. I`m sure James will show me how it works soon.

I`m going to try to figure out the picture taking bit here next. Will update (or have James do it) later today.

Kiss those babies! (ksthzbbz?)
~Dy

Found it!

We found the upload cord! (Zorak found it. Right where we'd looked several times. Death by irony, I'm tellin' ya.) Anyway, there's no particular story to go with most of this. I've forgotten anything funny by now, too.

Here's Jase, looking incredibly tiny compared to the burn barrel. You can't see it in this shot, but to the left is the shooting bench, to the right is the burn pile (b/c some things just don't fit in the barrel), and to the far left is the carport-that-won't-die. The older boys saw the pictures from this series, and burst out laughing. *Now* they get why I make hillbilly jokes about ourselves, and not other people.
EmBaby planted something (we don't know what) as her tea garden (we can't find it), and she was very excited to drag each of us down to show us (it didn't do any good). However, I took the camera, and had fun watching her walk so daintily among the plants (this is James' corner of the herb/tea garden) in her wee bare feet and her ratty-headed hair. Which, for the record, we do brush daily. But sweat, and rambling, seem to do quite a number on baby fine hair. She looks feral ten minutes after she leaves the front porch. The bare feet probably don't help much, either, but she's made it a verb -- "Can I barefoot?" -- and I can't say no.

Me-Tae gave the Littles their very own pots to grow things in. They had a blast putting them together. And no, we weren't gardening in the dead of night. The camera's still wonky and wouldn't take non-blurry pictures without the flash. So, for your enjoyment, Zombie Gardening:

The Zombie Slayer, with his wooden stake? And, our dying tomato plants in the background. But don't look at those. Look at the beautiful green railings, and the non-child-killing, up-to-code pickets! Swanky, huh?

The infamous Vomitor 2000!

Really, this is a good summary. There are the normal things, the daily things. Kids forget that you really shouldn't wear the same shirt into town that you wore down to the creek. The laundry will. not. stop. I usually don't have any clue what we'll have for supper when Zorak calls to say he's on his way home (hence, the call/warning that I'm rapidly running out of time to figure it out!) And there just aren't enough hours in the day.

I suppose we could get more done. But then we wouldn't have pictures like these, and the memories that go with them. So, tonight it's leftovers and clean undies. Tomorrow, will bring chores and joys of its own. And I wouldn't trade this for anything.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Gates.

Gates are good. We have them on the balcony, now. Now, it does not matter so much that we do not have stairs. At least our beloved friends will not think we are trying to Off their small children. That's always a good thing, not just for the friendship, but for the small children, as well.

And the gates? They ROCK. Someday, I'll find the upload cord. (Shortly after I give up and buy a new one, so I should just do that Thursday, huh?) Then there will be photos. The gates are hung at the stairwell openings on the balcony. They provide a comfortable landing zone for those coming up the (eventual) stairs, and swing completely back to lie flush with the railing when open. They have awesome stops, so they don't go all wonky and lop-eared in five years, from being slammed shut by running children, and a support to prevent them from dangling awkwardly if the children get the wild idea to hang on them. (We give a whole new meaning to "child proofing the home", don't we?)

They're designed to blend perfectly with the picketed railings, and, since it was Zorak who did it, it worked, of course. Just fantastic. Now, if it'll not rain for a few days, we can get them stained!

We had company today, a lovely time. The kids and I worked our tails off this morning, getting the house out of the Condemnable Zone, and then kicked back and enjoyed the visit.

We did a little lesson planning. That's exciting stuff!

We watched The Princess Bride together, piled on the beanbags.

We had bean soup for supper, because nothing says, "I love you" quite like beans.

That didn't sound right.

But Zorak knows what I mean.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Pictures!

And they're stuck on the camera!

Got the software, and now we've lost the upload cord. Again. That settles it. I'm asking for an Executive Assistant for my birthday. Other than that I can't keep track of my own eyeballs, it's been SUCH a great week!

The mower, which I will refer to from now on as The Sea Bear (from Spongebob - "maybe he just doesn't like you"), is running. It will even start for me, as long as Zorak is on the premises. We mowed and mowed and mowed. I even mowed things that haven't been mowed before, just because I was afraid if I stopped, I'd never mow again.

We sucked it up and cleared the upstream side of the culvert. If it should now rain on a Sunday morning, we won't have to miss church out of fear that we'll be flooded off the property. Go us. (It only took two years! We're getting better!) It was pretty gross, and I loathe people who fling their trash out their car windows as they whiz along the street. Where do they think the trash ends up? Is there some roadside vortex that they think will suck it up and transport it to the dump? No. No, there's not. There's a little wind, maybe, and some momentum to overcome. But eventually it just lands, right there, on the side of the road, on somebody's property. Gah.

I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but I can't get over how much the kids are loving the tire swing. Unfortunately, they're also sick to their stomachs at least three times a day. Zorak and I can hardly stand to watch them spinning, spinning, spinning. Knowing that two of the four on the swing have a propensity for volatile reactions, there's no way we'd get on there with them. But siblings are trusting. Or forgetful. Either way, they all have fun together, then stumble back to the house to lie down for a bit before nabbing a bite to eat and heading right back out to do it again. (Yeah, I know. It's like they're *trying* to make it happen.)

We finally put new seed down in the front yard. Me-Wa had mentioned that lime will do magical things to clay soil. So, when we tilled in the leaves, we sprinkled a thin layer of lime, and whaddya know, Magical Things Happened! We have *dirt* in the front yard now! It stays soft, and dirt-like. There is hope that this year, we may grow something other than child-killing clover and dandelions around the perimeter of the clay moat. (Though the dandelions are welcome, the clover is not. And I'd love a break from the trekking in of the clay on the feet.)

Winter garden stuff is going in. Company is coming next week. (Wonderful Neighbors from Maryland are bringing our Wonderful Future Daughters-in-Law for a visit!) And...

WE GOT A NEW CAR!!! Well, new-to-us, new. It's an '03 Suburban, and it's wonderful. It starts on the first try, every time. And the a/c is cold all the way to the back. And the road noise is so significantly reduced that Zorak has started speaking to us on drives, again, now that he can hear. There's not a can of starter fluid anywhere near that thing. Ah, it feels So. Incredibly. Good. to know that the next time somebody hacks off something, or inflames something, or just rips something wide open, we can get to the ER before they loose all their blood. Yes, indeedy. I am blessed beyond measure.

Like I said, it's been a great week.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Firefly and Foliage

First, Firefly. That's pretty much how I've spent my free time in the wee hours of the night this week. How did I ignore that gem up to this point? How fun!

And then, Foliage. After a few weeks of relatively blissful, personally comfortable (yet botanically terrifying) dry weather, the rain finally came, rejuvenating both the Cambodian-style jungle, as well as the humidity. Well, *and* the meadows. Pretty much everything. We can't breathe in the humidity, and I swear you can actually *see* things growing, which is a little creepy for born and raised Desert dwellers. But then again, the oak trees above the balcony don't look like they're about to burst into flame, taking the house down in the conflagration. Eh. It's sort of a toss-up. In all, we're thankful for the rain, even with the accompanying humidity. Four years ago, I'm not sure we'd have said that!

Zorak's still battling the mower. He took it in to the mower shop last week. This was big, as he's not one for taking things in when he could do it, himself. However, he was stumped. The thing's getting spark, fuel, and air. It's got power. But it just. won't. start. He explained it to them. They looked at him with that semi-patronizing look professionals reserve for non-professionals, but he understood. It doesn't make any sense, at all. A week and $65 later, they called. They're stumped, too.

He kept at it, though, and has come further down the road of diagnosis. Today, he picked up another part for the mower. (At some point, we'll have a new mower, altogether! Kind of exciting.) Right now, though, we're just hoping for one that works, before the rest of the land gets reclaimed by the lush jungle foliage and we start losing children in there. The new part looks promising! Let it rain!

Kiss those babies,
~Dy