Classic Adventures

Saturday, September 24

Wow, that was weird.

I fell asleep at a really early hour last night. Unfortunately, I fell asleep sitting upright, reading a book. Ow. It must have been good rest, though, because I was up bright 'n early this morning, before the sky grew light. How wonderful to sit on the porch, sipping coffee, reading a book (different book), and listening to the birds.

Oh, a PSA for this morning: JANET!! Calling JANET!! Can you email me? I saw your note to me on Donna's blog, but I can't find your email.

Let's see. Well, tonight we're going to see *squeal* *giggle* *jump up and down* Don Williams perform at the Big Spring Jam downtown. I'm not big on "seeing celebrities", and generally concerts aren't something I enjoy, but oh! This is Don Williams! This man sang in the background (8-track and cassette tape!) for almost every family gathering I can remember. In the Lefty Frizell/Kenny Rogers/Hank Williams Sr./Dolly Parton mix, Don Williams made appearances at a ratio of 3:1 for each other performer. I don't know who was the fan in the family was, but he was heavily represented in the soundtrack of my childhood. And he's playing here!!! *swoon*

If Zorak were the squealing, giggling, swooning type (which, of course, he's not, and I'm sure he'd like me to make that implicitly clear), he'd be right here with me, because after Don Williams plays, Dwight Yokam takes the stage. I'm pretty sure that although Zorak isn't visibly reacting, he's doing it on the inside...

So, yes, we are keeping our children out until the wee hours of the night to see these men play. To dance on the grass. To sing out of key along with the masters. To laugh as James shrieks, "I LOVE THIS SONG!" for the hundredth time in one evening. To watch Smidge smile and spin in circles with his arms outstretched. To sit with John on my lap, swaying to the ballads and hear his happy humming along with the tune. (The only thing that would make this event perfect would be a set by Freddy Fender as a nightcap. Like Zorak said, "Our children have impeccable taste in music.") To smile at each other and maybe slip in a waltz or two on the lawn.

I finished the biography of Ayn Rand, and the last chapter touched on her critics and followers. That was, perhaps, the best chapter of the entire book. It included quotes and reasoning both for and against. It highlighted the actual issues her critics took, both against her as a person and against her philosophy and fiction. I'm glad I finished the book.

And now, I'm going to go kiss my babies and enjoy a lovely Saturday morning. Hopefully our last one for a while without any work to be done!

~Dy

Thursday, September 22

Rather Anti-Climactic Week, Here

Hey.

Quiet tonight.

Boys are in bed. House is looking gorgeous. Caught up on laundry and seriously considering some kind of clothing moratorium for fall. You can change (must change, actually) skivvies daily, but everything else gets three days' wear or you go nekkid until the three days is up. We produce too much laundry. It's amazing. Then I think of Mel Gibson's poor mother and feel pretty footloose about our piles. Still, there's probably room for improvement in here somewhere.

I'm reading a biography of Ayn Rand (and why didn't anyone tell me it rhymes with mine not payne?!? Thanks, y'all! Sheesh. At least I can pronounce Goethe, even if I can't do the little doppleganger doohickies on top of my vowels when I type. What are those, again?) Anyway. Wow. It must be time for an early night. The words are flowing, but not in any one direction.

SO. *ahem* *sips coffee* Yes. I'm reading this biography, in which the author claims to be "neither a disciple nor a critic" of Rand's. He comes across as just a wee bit schizophrenic, to be honest. I'm toolin' along, reading pretty basic discourse and then out of nowhere he throws out, at the end of a paragraph, "Obviously, she missed the point of the complexity of the issue." Then he moves on, and the reader is left thinking, "What the hell is he talking about?" (Pardon the swearing, but that is EXACTLY the word that comes to mind 98 pages into this book, after he pulls that weird segue for the umpteenth time.) He makes a number of random judgement calls out of nowhere, but does nothing to back them up or expound on them, leaving the reader going back time and again in a futile attempt to figure out what she missed. (Futile because you did not miss anything. His comments are just There. Alone. With nothing to hold them up or tell you where they came from. They're like mental orphans.) At this point, I'm finishing the book because I'd like to see if this continues, and if I ever grow accustomed to it. Still better than Huxley, but man I miss O'Brian, and as far as non-fiction goes, this guy has nothing on Forrester. *smile*

Let's see... what else? It's only mid-August. Or that's what you'd think if you woke from a coma and wandered outside today. Hot. Too hot for late September. It's hot. Yuck.

Oh! And did I TELL YOU that our library is going to be adding the ability to put books on hold?!?!? This is better than Christmas for me. Well, it might be Christmas before it kicks in, so that's probably not a good description. Anyway, I made a pathetic attempt to hit the library sans children one night after supper, before they closed. (Have you seen those shopping game shows, where contestants fly down the aisles, indiscriminately throwing items into their carts, careening around corners to beat the clock to the checkout stand? There's your image. I still have no idea what I checked out.) I asked at the counter if they had *pant, pant* considered adding that *wheeze, pant* feature. You know, since iBistro was *gassssspp* developed here... it would make sense to *pant* use the features incorporated into it... and... I had to stop talking or risk passing out from hyperventilation. It's hard to run down stairs carrying a basket of books when you're out-to-here pregnant! The nice man waited for my gasping to subside so I could hear him over the sound of my own inhalations and said yes, they've actually been trying to get it up and running for a while and it's just taken a lot longer than anyone anticipated. He does expect it to kick in soon, though. WOOHOO!!! I'm so psyched!! HOLD! HOLD! A beautiful word. It is the blessing of mothers in libraries everywhere to be able to pick up preselected titles and then spend the library time snuggling, teaching and guiding their children through the Library Experience. Yay for the Madison County Library System!!

Ah, and on that note, I'd better get some rest. I promise not to be so random with tomorrow's blog.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Wednesday, September 21

Forever House Update!

Wow, I'll bet y'all didn't think we meant it's going to take forever when we named this place, did ya? Well, here is the most recent news.

Mr. Mold Inspector went Tuesday with Wonderful Realtor to see if the house could pass muster. He commended Zorak's work, was thoroughly impressed, and would like to find out where he got "the stuff" (oh, and for those of you who asked, I have to go find the jug, but I will do that today).

However, that said, he said he'd estimate a test performed yesterday would have produced results "8-10 times higher than allowable levels" inside the house. We had only treated where the appraiser had mentioned, and what we could see ourselves outside that. Those places were clear of mold, but there's more (which we guessed, not a big surprise) - enough more that it would fail testing.

*blech!*

First, the ironic. The guy at the Seller Company is named Dante. Two images immediately popped into my head, and the combination made me laugh so hard I choked on my coffee. Bonus points for anyone who can guess both images, and I'll love ya forever if you get why I thought it was funny!

Now for the good. Seller Co. is good w/ extending the closing date to the 29th (next Thursday). They also do not want us to do the mold abatement AT ALL. It's not a caring thing, it's a liability thing, but it's making them offer to take care of it in a timely enough manner that the testing can be done and we can close on the 29th... (that part is so key right now. So yeah, I don't have to wear a HEPA filter mask, gloves and a friggin UFO containment suit? And I can still get my house? I am ALL OVER THAT!!

And to top it off, Wonderful Realtor is doing ALL THE LEGWORK to get bids, find a mold treatment guy, line up testing, and all we have to do is show up at the closing table with one or two kids for collateral and a fresh ink pen.

So I'm doin' the Happy Dance here today. Kind of. It's a little hot for an all-out dance. This is more of a wiggle. A very, very happy wiggle.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Happy 7th Birthday, Sweet Baby James!

Well, not a baby anymore. He curled up in my lap this evening, and had to sort of fold, accordian-style, to fit. There's a lot of limb to that boy!

He Who Normally Sleeps Late awoke this morning before six-thirty and came bounding into our room, whispering, "I'm seven! I've been seven for almost seven hours! Want to sing to me?" We sang. We talked. We told stories. We stole the covers from Zorak. We giggled and made plans for the day.

He loves life. He loves learning and growing and loving and sharing. What more could we ask for?
He loves his brothers and adores his parents.
He thinks "family" is the ultimate God-ordained gift given to man to enjoy on this earth.

He's funny. I mean honest-to-goodness funny. His jokes make sense now, and his wit is pretty sharp. The twinkle in his eye is a dead giveaway that he's just laid out a good one, too, and knows it.

He still laughs with the abandon of childhood, ending with the gasping breath of exhaustion and a giggly comment about laughing so hard he's weak.
He appreciates beauty. Strength. Friends. Sunshine. Chemistry.

He believes in ends of rainbows and making wishes on any occasion.

He thinks relighting the candle will give it an extra wish for his brother to share.

He takes disappointments with the kind of grace I can only

dream of having. But he still hurts with his whole Big-As-Texas heart. He forgives quickly, and seeks forgiveness when he's wronged someone. Little joys make him smile. Little losses make him cry.
He's there. He's in the game, and there's no stopping it.

He's still a little guy in so many ways. He still can't keep his hands to himself in the car, and he still would rather wear his pajamas and cowboy boots to church than have to wear clothes. He still tackles Zorak in the doorway at the end of each day and hangs on him as if he hasn't seen him in years. He questions everything, accepts very little for face value, and yet will gladly obey his parents simply because they've asked him to (but he would still kinda like to know what's up *grin*.)

I know it won't be long before he stops bringing his blanket to the couch to snuggle and watch a movie by my side. There may not be many more nights where he asks me to scale to the top bunk to read stories by the glow of his reading lamp. Someday he won't need my help opening a fresh jar of olives, or getting the laundry done so he has fresh clothes.

All the ways I have to show him how much I love him will someday be the ways he knows he was loved and can take care of himself. And I will have to find new ways to show him how much I love him. Well, no. I will get to find new ways to show him I love him. They will come as I get to know him in each new season of his life, as long as I take the time to get to know him in each new season.

In the meantime, words of encouragement, spontaneous laughter, time together, and shared joys will help bridge that gap. They might even fill the gap so there simply isn't one and we'll journey together even as he explores at his own pace. That's exciting. He's exciting.

And to think it all started just seven short years ago, with the birth of one tiny baby boy, and the birth of two new parents. He made us parents, and we will cherish that gift, always.

HAPPY SEVENTH BIRTHDAY, JAMES!

Love, Mom

Tuesday, September 20

Drawing With Children - some thoughts

I am not an artist.

I cannot draw realistically.

(Admittedly, there are times I cannot even draw recognizable stick figures.)

My family has "an artist".

I am not it.

So why bother?

These are the thoughts that implanted themselves in the dark recesses of my brain by the time I was an adult. Some of them had pretty much proven themselves as fact, if you go by observation and tangible evidence. I loved to draw as a child, and tried my best to continue to draw well into adolescence. But there was already an artist in the family who had "natural ability". We also had a Beauty Queen and The Smart One. I was The Smart One. That was my path, and those were the avenues made available to me (whether I took them or not is a different entry altogether.)

Now, did this scar me for life? Do I no longer consider drawing an enjoyable way to spend time? Am I incapable of enjoying art because of it? Will I end up flaying small animals and using their hides for decorative furnishings? Not really. No, I don't. No. Possibly, if it's a nice fur-bearer. In that order.

But... the point is that my attitude toward drawing, art, sketching, is affected by the influences of my life. The mere thought of "exploring art mediums" made me cringe. I just didn't really care until now. For people who love art and incorporate it into their daily existence, this may sound like sacrilege. If I were to switch out "art" for "reading", then yes, I'd be equally aghast. I cannot imagine a life without books! Egads! But art? Eh. No big loss.

So when I read the (painfully misleading) description for Drawing With Children in Veritas Press' catalog, I thought, "Oh, now this would be perfect for the boys!" (Translation: This is a no-brainer, step-by-step guide I can just throw together a couple days a week and satisfy that pesky niggling sensation that we must "do art". YAY!)

They lie.

Drawing With Children puts forth an entire philosophy toward art, drawing, creating, and ability. It will not permit you to proceed until you've convinced yourself that most of what the average person believes about art is, in fact, a myth. Then, and only then, can you proceed.

You work with your child.

You learn the tools to creating art.
You learn the process of creating art.
You learn that it's okay to say you really aren't satisfied with something you've done. It's no different than writing an essay and critiquing it when you've finished.
You learn that art is fluid, and creating art is an ongoing process.
You learn how to adapt.
Adjust.
Keep going.

One of the things I truly like about Ms. Brookes' philosophy is that is closely matches my philosophy about teaching reading, writing or math. (I'm going to paraphrase, here.) There is no magic lamp to rub in order to learn to create, whether it be art, writing, or mathematical models. There are tools and guidelines you must learn in order to be successful. We need structure and creativity in order to be successful. You can be as creative as ever, but without the proper structure and tools, you won't know where you want to take your creativity. Yet don't get so hung up on the technical aspects that you forget about the fluid, revealing and exciting nature of things. Remember, you need both.

Oh, how I love that. But I have never, ever, ever seen it applied to art. For some reason, everyone I've encountered treated art as though it was the one immaculate exception to this rule.

She does get a little Doe-Eyed Utopian-Liberal If-only-every-child-had-this-program-there-would-be-no-more-suffering-or-crime-or-shattered-children-bad-bad-feds-for-cutting-art-funding. I pretty much just take a sip of coffee, grab more bean dip, and move on. It's her book. If she wants to propagandize, well, that's between her and her publishers. I bought it for the art instruction, and it's in there.

I'm going to wait to begin using Drawing With Children. I want to be able to do it right, rather than just sling paper at the boys and call it good. They deserve better, and I can give it to them. It's going to take a lot more time, material and effort than I anticipated when I purchased it, but I'm very glad I did. And I look forward to exploring realistic drawing with the boys. Even Zorak said he might like to work through the book with us.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Sunday, September 18

Sometimes You Just Don't Want To Know

We loaded up this morning: bikes, boys, backpacks, and heebie-jeebie masks (or, as some would say, HEPA filters). We opened up the Forever Home and set fans a-goin' in all the rooms. Zorak could not believe the difference. Neither could I, but for completely different reasons. He was astounded at what an improvement the Mold-Be-Gone made on "all the vertical surfaces". I was astounded at all the dead mold on all the... Well, EVERYWHERE. What did it look like yesterday? I don't want to know.

We searched for water problems (identified a few), rounded up the boys and headed out for lunch. Decatur has a little buffet place called Barnhill's that pretty much fries everything it serves. We had the fried ice to drink. I'm serious. It's good, although I'm pretty sure some Association of Cardiac Specialists Somewhere has a hit out on the owner's head. It also has a good variety of non wheat-slathered foods (penance? peace offering? I'm not sure...) Zorak and I always eat enough at a buffet to send ourselves into involuntary hibernation. I finally had to push myself from the trough with the pronouncement that "I have puppy belly" (Our term for being full - ever notice that small children get that same puffed out belly that puppies do when they've eaten their fill? After six years of having it in the house, it's become part of our regular vocabulary.) I leaned back and sighed the sigh of the truly stuffed, when James snickered and said, "Ya know, Mom, you have puppy belly all the time, whether you've eaten or not." Ahhh. The humor in that boy is sharp (and rightfully inherited). Good thing he was smilin'.

When we couldn't talk the boys into going home for a (nap) movie and (nap) popcorn, we headed out to Point Mallard State Park to check out their bike trail. That was fun. It's not nearly as nice as Monte Sano, as far as remote location, varying terrain, and scenery. But it's not chopped liver, either. The path is wide and level, which makes it perfect for beginners (or those *ahem* carrying the beginners). The boys rode for two and a half hours. They had a fantastic time. Zorak thinks *I* need a bike for Christmas. And a trailer.

John's abilities on his bike have far surpassed anything we could have hoped for, and the enjoyment he gets from riding now has more than made up for the frustrations and fears of pushing the issue. That boy is an excellent rider! He's a happy rider.

James stopped his bike once and called back to Zorak for the camera. He'd found a particularly lovely display of mushrooms growing on a fallen log and wanted a photo of it. My heart nearly burst inside my (heaving, oxygen deprived) chest! Just when you think it's *whisper* not working, they go and do something like that and you realize the gentle walks, the whimsical stories, the field guides scattered strategically about... It works, it really, really works!

Smidge and Zorak did a little impromptu study of "vines". Which ones are pokey, which are soft. Which are vines and which are actually long tree limbs. Smidge touched every. single. vine. on. the. path. (Might this have contributed to Zorak's Great Christmas Gift For Mommy Idea mentioned above?)

When we became concerned that we might die on the trail, leaving the boys to figure for themselves how to get our bodies back to the road (or not), we decided to turn back. The official reasoning: we had to close up the house before nightfall. (They bought it. We're still officially immortal to them. *happy sigh*)

The house has been wiped down and closed back up for inspection tomorrow. It's no longer under Eminent Threat of Mold. It will also photograph a wee bit better without the hairy surfaces, and if the Good Lord's willin' we'll have keys on Friday. Weee!

And on a completely different note:
Famous Men of Rome: WOW! Loving this book, and I haven't even shown it to the boys yet!
Drawing With Children: will have to do a full blog entry on this one. It has much, much more than I anticipated. I'm stunned.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Saturday, September 17

This just might work!

Mr. Newest Appraisal Guy gave the Forever Home an all-clear, except for... Mold. Well, yes. It has mold. It probably had mold when the previous owners lived in it, and we knew it had Mold, but planned to remove anything Moldy and improve (or create, as the case may be) proper drainage once we were in. However, Fannie Mae says we can't have it if it has Mold now. OK, this is a hurdle we can leap. We don't mind that. We imagined the mold had become worse since Katrina swept through, anyway (and as we cannot convince the listing agent to turn off the water to the leaking water heater!!!) We were told Friday that if we could treat for that problem, the appraiser would give a clean bill of health and we could maybe kinda sorta possibly make it for our scheduled closing on Friday. This coming Friday. (I probably don't need to tell you how exciting the mere prospect of closing on this place is to us!)

Zorak did the legwork, discovered that bleach is a serious no-no in treating mold, ran through a number of searches and phone calls that make folks nervous about The Patriot Act, and found The Chemical Guru who helped hammer out the details. Yay! He left on his hunt this morning and returned bearing large quantities of stuff I didn't know you could buy without some kind of Federal licensing. Very cool.

We were all going to trek out together, but Smidge has An Alien hatching from his nostrils and John's digestive system rebelled violently to some unknown aggressor. By the time I contained the various HazMat issues, we decided the boys and I would stay home and Zorak would venture forth to conquer and destroy The Mold.

While the boys and I stayed home battling various unseen contaminants, Zorak stealthily began his recon mission. The Mold is, well, yeah. We can't blame Mr. Appraiser for marking it down. Zorak called me four hours after he left and whispered into the phone, "It's gotten worse. Way worse. Every internal door is hairy, and they're nothing compared to the baseboards. This is gross!" Um. Ew. (It was at this point that I quit feeling a wee bit put out that domestic duties prevented me from going on the excursion.) Zorak was glad the boys and I weren't there. I can only imagine how bad it must be by now.

Anyhow, several hours and a gallon of Mold-Be-Gone later, the house is decontaminating overnight. Zorak disturbed some kind of legless reptile (aka - unidentified, but angry snake) that was nestled happily between the window panes in the kitchen (and he killed it quite valiently, with a cafe curtain rod!) He came down with two or three cases of The Willies from all the Mold (and the realization that the Jacob's Ladder bathroom in the master suite is actually in better condition than the main bathroom, which is funny because I will. not. set foot in that back bathroom, and I now doubt my ability to accurately assess a situation for potential dangers. Do you take the back alley at midnight or cut through the biker bar? Normally, I'd take my chances in the biker bar... now, I don't know...) The high point of his trip came after he had the fans going. He stepped outside and said, "Oh, good. It smells like Mold outside the house now. I hope that means it's working." Poor guy. It was a noble mission, but probably rather nasty, as well.

Sorry, I ramble.

We'll go out tomorrow to open windows, put fans in all the rooms, and let it air out all day. (Please, please don't let it rain tomorrow.) We'll go back and vacuum/sweep out the ickies in the evening, and then meet the appraiser Monday morning for a final perspective check. WOOHOO! Now why couldn't it have been this easy from the beginning, eh? *snicker*

Lots of other stuff to write about, but I need to go do laundry, so it'll have to wait.

Kiss those babies,
~Dy

Thursday, September 15

And It's Outta Here!!!

What a milestone! And here he is, on the phone with Dad, absolutely bubbling over with the good news - and showing me the gap at the same time. Too funny.

Where did my baby go? *sniff, sniff*
Congratulations, Big Boy! I love you.

Kiss those babies - they aren't babies for long!
~Dy