It seems I have temporarily run out of space on my free picture host, Walagata. I suppose that means I need to pull out the old credit card and buy myself some more. But tonight, borrowing my brother's laptop, I haven't the means to upload any photos, larger account or not.
Williamsburg was a lot of fun. The final night we saw a performance called "The Grand Medley." a sort of 18th century vaudeville show. It was corny and funny, and we all had a very good time. S was singled out of the crowd and asked her name, which was a huge coincidence, because the name of the princess in the puppet segment of the show also happened to be named S (wink, wink.) I have now conclusively decided that my hard-to-type, G, must definitely be an Introvert, because she absolutely refused to play along with the juggler warming up the crowd. She simply shook her head repeatedly to his promptings to play ball with him. A chip off the old block she is. And S, is a complete history reenactor groupie, asking to have her picture taken with Patrick Henry, the Medley cast, and any other character she came in contact with.
L is fascinated with rocks and has been collecting them throughout the trip, tucking them into her pockets, suitcases, and my backpack. I found one she dropped on the bathroom floor that, at first glance, I mistook for a rotten tooth. I imagined my father getting ready for bed, taking out his plate and knocking out his last whole tooth. We had a big laugh when I showed it to him, and then and even bigger one when he convinced the girls that it was indeed his tooth and the next morning found a hundred dollar bill under his pillow from the Tooth Fairy. It was so valuable because it's an antique.
We lost, or ditched my parents a few times and that's when I noticed that most older people look alike. The women all seemed to dress like my mother and all had the same short white hair. It made finding her in a crowd very difficult.
On the way to New Jersey, we tried to hook up with Dy, in Fredericksburg, Virginia, but it didn't work out, so we'll give it another try on the return trip.
My brother has a condo in an old estate up on Lake Hopatcong in NJ, and we spent this morning looking around the property and the lake before S, G and I went off into NYC to visit The Cloisters, part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art specializing exclusively in medieval art. In addition to an amazing collection, the building itself is pieced together from remnants of old cloisters and other medieval architectural elements. There is so much to see there and just not enough time, so we rented the headphones and focused on the highlights of the collection. We took a cab from Penn Station to the museum and then the A train back to Penn station. While on the subway, we were treated to a real New York moment, when two black kids, one about 7 years old and his partner, about 18, got on the train, pulled out a small boom box, introduced themselves, and started dancing in the center of the car. The bigger one even flipped the little one over his head. In the train car. My little angels sat there slack-jawed, even after they had passed the hat.
Tomorrow we are planning to go down to Philadelphia, but my brother says we would have as long a train ride as we would driving. He would like to go with us, so we'll see what everyone is up for in the morning.
Saturday, May 01, 2004
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Jamestown, Yorktown, and Williamsburg
At Jamestown, we opted for the actual site, vs. the 'Jamestown Experience' attraction. The Old Town and fort area are a bit of a mishmash of eras, Colonial, Revolutionary, and Civil War, but we did watch an archaeological dig in progress, which was worth the trip. They are uncovering gunmounts on the Civil War era earthenworks.
S is definitely her father's daughter. She has been chatting it up with every person she has met, beginning with the student working the dig.
My parents pooped out and waited with Elle, while Sarabelle, Grice, and I took the walking tour of New Town. A sense of foreboding when my mother suggested she might wait in the car, instead of on a bench beside the river on a picture-perfect day.
At Yorktown, we watched the movie explaining the battle, and planned to go out walking the battlefield and through the town, until Elle insisted she be carried. Plan B: Try to get Elle into the car to wait with Nana. Lots of tears, she didn't want to be left behind. Plan C: Do the drive-thru version. Elle falls fast asleep. You'd think it would now be a nice relaxing drive, right? Well, my mother, formerly content to sit in the back seat and read her latest Tom Clancy/Scott Turow/John Grisham sensation, has now commandeered the front seat because she no longer wants to have to help pass things back and forth to the girls. Too much work, I guess. But riding shotgun carries certain responsibilities too. My request for assistance with navigation during the driving tour was met with the negative response, "I can't."
Oh.
So, I drove, and read the map, and maneuvered through some pretty tricky roads, all by myself, thank you very much.
The road of the Allies encampment dips through a shallow stream at one point, and you cross like the soldiers had to. Sarabelle and Grice thought this was so cool, they had to get out and ford it on foot.
The drive on Colonial Parkway between Jamestown and Yorktown, and then onto Williamsburg in the late afternoon was wonderful. Swooping around on the wide National Park road, through the woods, golden light flickering between the trees, and suddenly coming upon broad expanses of water made the whole ride enjoyable. The people who live around there are incredibly lucky to have an area like that as their backyard, with trails and quiet scenic roads all over the place. Made me think about finding a realtor.
Caught a terrific show, "Remember Me When Freedom Comes," just after checking into the hotel in Williamsburg. This was a live performance, narrated by a free-born slave and interspersed with scenes of slaves singing and dancing. The two young guys playing the drums were outstanding.
---------
This morning I got four people washed and dressed while my father was downstairs enjoying a cup of coffee and my mother lazed in bed. Tensions were running a little high, so when the girls and I lost my parents in the historic area, nobody seemed to mind.
After visiting the Geddy House, which we were already familiar with from Mary Geddy's Day, we went out behind the Governor's Palace to hear a speech by Thomas Jefferson on the hot topics of the day. You and I know, of course, that it is an actor, or interpreter as they like to say around here. Sarabelle knew it, and Grice even knew it too, but she was disgusted because it was fake. That is, until Jefferson made his way through the crowd, and suddenly stopped to wish them a good morning and shake their hands as he passed by. Nobody else's, just their's. Now it's one of the highlights of their day. Did I have my camera ready? Of course not.
Exterior, and interior entrance hall of the Governor's Palace:
Visiting the wigmaker, and our favorite shop, the cabinetmaker:
The cabinetmaker was hilarious. For a long time we were the only ones in the shop and he was so interested in where we live, that we didn't have a chance to learn about cabinetmaking or take any pictures until some other people showed up and finally got him back on track.
Here's Grace sitting on the throne in one of the jail cells:
We watched and followed the fife and drum band march up Duke of Gloucester Street, and then I had the girls pose with the major. I'm one of those embarrassing kind of mothers.
Sarabelle, Grice, my Dad and I ended the day with an evening walk through the town to hear some spooky legends told by characters at various locations. Sarabelle was really uneasy after the first, and worst, one, but ended up having as enjoyable a time as the rest of us. Another round of excellent performances.
-------
One quick note before I start getting, "Why don't you turn that thing off and go to bed?!" (like I did the other night when I posted):
This place is not Atkins friendly.
Spoonbread, Gingerbread, Queen's Cake, Ham Biscuits, Pecan Pie...
Oops, too late, I was just reminded of the time. G'night.
S is definitely her father's daughter. She has been chatting it up with every person she has met, beginning with the student working the dig.
My parents pooped out and waited with Elle, while Sarabelle, Grice, and I took the walking tour of New Town. A sense of foreboding when my mother suggested she might wait in the car, instead of on a bench beside the river on a picture-perfect day.
At Yorktown, we watched the movie explaining the battle, and planned to go out walking the battlefield and through the town, until Elle insisted she be carried. Plan B: Try to get Elle into the car to wait with Nana. Lots of tears, she didn't want to be left behind. Plan C: Do the drive-thru version. Elle falls fast asleep. You'd think it would now be a nice relaxing drive, right? Well, my mother, formerly content to sit in the back seat and read her latest Tom Clancy/Scott Turow/John Grisham sensation, has now commandeered the front seat because she no longer wants to have to help pass things back and forth to the girls. Too much work, I guess. But riding shotgun carries certain responsibilities too. My request for assistance with navigation during the driving tour was met with the negative response, "I can't."
Oh.
So, I drove, and read the map, and maneuvered through some pretty tricky roads, all by myself, thank you very much.
The road of the Allies encampment dips through a shallow stream at one point, and you cross like the soldiers had to. Sarabelle and Grice thought this was so cool, they had to get out and ford it on foot.
The drive on Colonial Parkway between Jamestown and Yorktown, and then onto Williamsburg in the late afternoon was wonderful. Swooping around on the wide National Park road, through the woods, golden light flickering between the trees, and suddenly coming upon broad expanses of water made the whole ride enjoyable. The people who live around there are incredibly lucky to have an area like that as their backyard, with trails and quiet scenic roads all over the place. Made me think about finding a realtor.
Caught a terrific show, "Remember Me When Freedom Comes," just after checking into the hotel in Williamsburg. This was a live performance, narrated by a free-born slave and interspersed with scenes of slaves singing and dancing. The two young guys playing the drums were outstanding.
---------
This morning I got four people washed and dressed while my father was downstairs enjoying a cup of coffee and my mother lazed in bed. Tensions were running a little high, so when the girls and I lost my parents in the historic area, nobody seemed to mind.
After visiting the Geddy House, which we were already familiar with from Mary Geddy's Day, we went out behind the Governor's Palace to hear a speech by Thomas Jefferson on the hot topics of the day. You and I know, of course, that it is an actor, or interpreter as they like to say around here. Sarabelle knew it, and Grice even knew it too, but she was disgusted because it was fake. That is, until Jefferson made his way through the crowd, and suddenly stopped to wish them a good morning and shake their hands as he passed by. Nobody else's, just their's. Now it's one of the highlights of their day. Did I have my camera ready? Of course not.
Exterior, and interior entrance hall of the Governor's Palace:
Visiting the wigmaker, and our favorite shop, the cabinetmaker:
The cabinetmaker was hilarious. For a long time we were the only ones in the shop and he was so interested in where we live, that we didn't have a chance to learn about cabinetmaking or take any pictures until some other people showed up and finally got him back on track.
Here's Grace sitting on the throne in one of the jail cells:
We watched and followed the fife and drum band march up Duke of Gloucester Street, and then I had the girls pose with the major. I'm one of those embarrassing kind of mothers.
Sarabelle, Grice, my Dad and I ended the day with an evening walk through the town to hear some spooky legends told by characters at various locations. Sarabelle was really uneasy after the first, and worst, one, but ended up having as enjoyable a time as the rest of us. Another round of excellent performances.
-------
One quick note before I start getting, "Why don't you turn that thing off and go to bed?!" (like I did the other night when I posted):
This place is not Atkins friendly.
Spoonbread, Gingerbread, Queen's Cake, Ham Biscuits, Pecan Pie...
Oops, too late, I was just reminded of the time. G'night.
Monday, April 26, 2004
St. Augustine
Well, so far, we've surpassed my expectations. I was pretty sure we would only make it to about West Palm Beach before any arguments ensued, but the first little squabble came this afternoon passing through South Carolina. Pretty good, huh?!
Yesterday we pulled into town, earlier than expected. We stopped in at Fountain of Youth Park, which is pretty much the typical tacky tourist rip-off one would imagine, but at least it was inexpensive. And would any trip to St. Augustine really be complete without a visit to Ponce de Leon's spring?
The girls in front of an old Spanish anchor in the garden:
Our guide preparing to fill our paper cups from the fake silver pitcher at the Fountain:
S and G grimace after drinking sulfury "egg water":
Entering St. Augustine's old city gate:
After dinner, S, G and I strolled through the city. We're all architecture buffs here, so we thoroughly enjoyed the spectacular old buildings, especially Flagler College. Marvelous. I'd been here years ago, looking at real estate naturally, and never really took in what a beautiful city this is.
The girls and I learned that three signers of the Declaration of Independence were held prisoner by the British in St. Augustine.
---------
This morning we got up early and walked across the street to the Castillo de San Marcos, the oldest masonry fortification in the U.S.
Crossing the drawbridge with Nana and Papa:
Girls firing a canon down in the moat:
This view from the Castillo looks toward the old city gate, with a section of the restored wall visible:
---------
A few comments:
First, see that lovely abrasion on G's forehead and nose? It's from smashing into the wall in Nana and Papa's pool. She was swimming with her eyes closed because the chlorine was too strong. I swear I didn't do it.
Second, it seems the senior citizens' equivalent of wearing West Coast Choppers apparel is sporting baseball caps with names of Navy ships on them. My dad has been wearing his USS Arizona hat, with his pin of the "Lone Sailor" attached, and sure enough, just as I suspected, he was questioned as to whether he had served on the Arizona. Oh brother. It's as bad as a bumpersticker.
--------
Tomorrow, Jamestown and Yorktown.
Yesterday we pulled into town, earlier than expected. We stopped in at Fountain of Youth Park, which is pretty much the typical tacky tourist rip-off one would imagine, but at least it was inexpensive. And would any trip to St. Augustine really be complete without a visit to Ponce de Leon's spring?
The girls in front of an old Spanish anchor in the garden:
Our guide preparing to fill our paper cups from the fake silver pitcher at the Fountain:
S and G grimace after drinking sulfury "egg water":
Entering St. Augustine's old city gate:
After dinner, S, G and I strolled through the city. We're all architecture buffs here, so we thoroughly enjoyed the spectacular old buildings, especially Flagler College. Marvelous. I'd been here years ago, looking at real estate naturally, and never really took in what a beautiful city this is.
The girls and I learned that three signers of the Declaration of Independence were held prisoner by the British in St. Augustine.
---------
This morning we got up early and walked across the street to the Castillo de San Marcos, the oldest masonry fortification in the U.S.
Crossing the drawbridge with Nana and Papa:
Girls firing a canon down in the moat:
This view from the Castillo looks toward the old city gate, with a section of the restored wall visible:
---------
A few comments:
First, see that lovely abrasion on G's forehead and nose? It's from smashing into the wall in Nana and Papa's pool. She was swimming with her eyes closed because the chlorine was too strong. I swear I didn't do it.
Second, it seems the senior citizens' equivalent of wearing West Coast Choppers apparel is sporting baseball caps with names of Navy ships on them. My dad has been wearing his USS Arizona hat, with his pin of the "Lone Sailor" attached, and sure enough, just as I suspected, he was questioned as to whether he had served on the Arizona. Oh brother. It's as bad as a bumpersticker.
--------
Tomorrow, Jamestown and Yorktown.
Friday, April 23, 2004
Books I'd Like to Read
Waiting for the Barbarians
Left Back: A Century of Battles Over School Reform
Queen Bees and Wannabes: Helping Your Daughter Survive Cliques, Gossip, Boyfriends, and Other Realities of Adolescence (Pop psychology, especially the self-help genre, is, in my opinion, to generally be avoided, but this title has piqued my interest. Not that I think it applies so much in our present situation, but it may smooth some of the inevitable bumps further down the road.
Books I've Started and Would Like to Finish
Asimov's Chronology of the World
Utopia
Books I Have Sitting on My Shelf That I Should be Reading
Undaunted Courage
Gods and Generals
The Killer Angels
That's just off the top of my head. There are so many more.
-------
And maybe I'm being a tad optimistic, but I'm already planning Lewis and Clark, and Civil War field trips for the fall and next spring, respectively.
-------
Thinking I had my plans set for next year's history rotation using A History of US as our spine, the girls have indicated they prefer a more global approach to history, so we may swing back to Genevieve Foster's George Washinton's World and Abraham Lincoln's World.
Back to the drawing board.
Left Back: A Century of Battles Over School Reform
Queen Bees and Wannabes: Helping Your Daughter Survive Cliques, Gossip, Boyfriends, and Other Realities of Adolescence (Pop psychology, especially the self-help genre, is, in my opinion, to generally be avoided, but this title has piqued my interest. Not that I think it applies so much in our present situation, but it may smooth some of the inevitable bumps further down the road.
Books I've Started and Would Like to Finish
Asimov's Chronology of the World
Utopia
Books I Have Sitting on My Shelf That I Should be Reading
Undaunted Courage
Gods and Generals
The Killer Angels
That's just off the top of my head. There are so many more.
-------
And maybe I'm being a tad optimistic, but I'm already planning Lewis and Clark, and Civil War field trips for the fall and next spring, respectively.
-------
Thinking I had my plans set for next year's history rotation using A History of US as our spine, the girls have indicated they prefer a more global approach to history, so we may swing back to Genevieve Foster's George Washinton's World and Abraham Lincoln's World.
Back to the drawing board.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Arrived at my parents' house and found that Aunt ML is here for a visit.
Aunt ML kindly took me in at the nadir of my relationship with my mother, mid junior year of high school. She still worries that she was too strict with me and that I must resent her terribly. On the contrary, ML. Besides, when she did get too strict, I simply asked Nana, who was suffering from Alzheimer's, although we just called it senility back then, and she would say, "Who cares what ML says, this is my house and I make the rules!" Yes ma'am!
Aunt ML talks in her sleep. Not just a few mumbles here and there, she'll hold an entire conversation with you. When she napped, it was always fun to suggest that, maybe, Nana was riding a motorcycle down the street, even doing wheelies, or capitalize on her fear of flying by pretending to be the captain making announcements in preparation to land. She would invariably start off with a hearty, "Jeeeesus, Mary and Joseph..."
I can't wait to show the girls.
--------
I enjoyed all my time spent in the car running errands today, as it gave me the opportunity to listen to WLRN and an endless stream of NPR. Our west coast public radio station can only afford to play classical music and the hourly news updates. Realizing how much I've been missing, I ran out this evening to Barnes & Noble and grabbed a New Yorker, Atlantic, Utne, and an extra-large (never say "Venti") iced Cafe Americano. I think it has about four shots of espresso, and not wanting to be up until next Tuesday, I get it decaf. Forgot to look for Smithsonian, but, tomorrow is another day.
Off to catch up on the news of the day...
Aunt ML kindly took me in at the nadir of my relationship with my mother, mid junior year of high school. She still worries that she was too strict with me and that I must resent her terribly. On the contrary, ML. Besides, when she did get too strict, I simply asked Nana, who was suffering from Alzheimer's, although we just called it senility back then, and she would say, "Who cares what ML says, this is my house and I make the rules!" Yes ma'am!
Aunt ML talks in her sleep. Not just a few mumbles here and there, she'll hold an entire conversation with you. When she napped, it was always fun to suggest that, maybe, Nana was riding a motorcycle down the street, even doing wheelies, or capitalize on her fear of flying by pretending to be the captain making announcements in preparation to land. She would invariably start off with a hearty, "Jeeeesus, Mary and Joseph..."
I can't wait to show the girls.
--------
I enjoyed all my time spent in the car running errands today, as it gave me the opportunity to listen to WLRN and an endless stream of NPR. Our west coast public radio station can only afford to play classical music and the hourly news updates. Realizing how much I've been missing, I ran out this evening to Barnes & Noble and grabbed a New Yorker, Atlantic, Utne, and an extra-large (never say "Venti") iced Cafe Americano. I think it has about four shots of espresso, and not wanting to be up until next Tuesday, I get it decaf. Forgot to look for Smithsonian, but, tomorrow is another day.
Off to catch up on the news of the day...
Monday, April 19, 2004
Huzzah!
I was beginning to second guess myself, afraid that maybe the kids wouldn't be as interested in this trip as my father and I are, but tonight they are glued to the television, watching "Patriots Day" on PBS, about the re-enactment of the first engagement at Lexington. Even my three year old -- who, by the way, commented, "Hey, those guys look like George Washington." Cool.
G is taking all three girls back east with him very early tomorrow morning, delivering them to my parents' house, while I have my spa day, dahling, then I will head over too. Depending on my mood, credit, and pain tolerance, I may have them do a few other, ahem, problem areas.
My friend Alex trained her boyfriend to administer bikini waxes. The first time around, they noted the directions stated, "May cause smarting." She called me up, yelling that she had blood leaking out from hundreds of empty hair follicles, and "Is this what they mean by smarting?!"
Anyway, we're excited and ready to go.
G is taking all three girls back east with him very early tomorrow morning, delivering them to my parents' house, while I have my spa day, dahling, then I will head over too. Depending on my mood, credit, and pain tolerance, I may have them do a few other, ahem, problem areas.
My friend Alex trained her boyfriend to administer bikini waxes. The first time around, they noted the directions stated, "May cause smarting." She called me up, yelling that she had blood leaking out from hundreds of empty hair follicles, and "Is this what they mean by smarting?!"
Anyway, we're excited and ready to go.
Friday, April 16, 2004
Obsequious
That's a word I've always liked, and this week, I finally met someone I could describe as truly obsequious.
Which caused this song to resurface and lodge itself in my head...
Grandmother's Song
performed by Steve Martin
Be courteous‚ kind‚ and forgiving
Be gentle and peaceful each day
Be warm and human and grateful
And have a good thing to say
Be thoughtful and trustful and childlike
Be witty and happy and wise
Be honest and love all your neighbors
Be obsequious‚ purple and clairvoyant
Be sure to stop at stop signs
And drive fifty-five miles an hour
Pick up hitchhikers foaming at the mouth
And when you get home get a master's degree in geology
Be pompous‚ obese‚ and eat cactus
Be dull and boring and omnipresent
Criticize things you don't know about
Be oblong and have your knees removed
(Ladies only) Never make love to Bigfoot
(Men only) Hello‚ my name is Bigfoot
(Everyone) Put a live chicken in your underwear
Go into a closet and suck eggs
Which caused this song to resurface and lodge itself in my head...
Grandmother's Song
performed by Steve Martin
Be courteous‚ kind‚ and forgiving
Be gentle and peaceful each day
Be warm and human and grateful
And have a good thing to say
Be thoughtful and trustful and childlike
Be witty and happy and wise
Be honest and love all your neighbors
Be obsequious‚ purple and clairvoyant
Be sure to stop at stop signs
And drive fifty-five miles an hour
Pick up hitchhikers foaming at the mouth
And when you get home get a master's degree in geology
Be pompous‚ obese‚ and eat cactus
Be dull and boring and omnipresent
Criticize things you don't know about
Be oblong and have your knees removed
(Ladies only) Never make love to Bigfoot
(Men only) Hello‚ my name is Bigfoot
(Everyone) Put a live chicken in your underwear
Go into a closet and suck eggs
We'll be heading over to Fort Pierce again tomorrow, our third trip so far, in hopes of gaining the approval of our potential landlord. The housing situation there is dismal at best, so we sure hope he likes us.
Meanwhile back at the ranch...
Schoolwork is done for the year! We'll now return to the unschooling portion of our homeschooling program. The girls made hardtack yesterday from a recipe they found in A History of US. They initially planned to bake a cake, but alas, the cupboard is bare, so jaw-breaking, baked lumps of flour and water it was. Mmmmm. Just like those poor soldiers had to eat.
Sam continues to tempt me with dreamy thoughts of a Mexican villa, complete with casita and full-time help for $50/week. She's heading down in May for a couple months and has invited me and L down to visit with her and her three year old, and to presumably show me some real estate. No problemo.
Sweet G* bought me a gift certificate at a local spa. I must look like hell. I'll skip the froufrou stuff -- just give me a massage and a full leg wax, please. When you can feel the wind tousling the hair on your shins, it's definitely time to do something about it. I must squeeze that in before we head over to the east coast prior to our field trip departure.
And then over there, horrors, I have to go shopping. Once I get the kids' clothes and the LeapPad out of storage, and evaluate the damage done to my own stored wardrobe, I plan to cash in the hoard of gift certificates I've amassed. This is not fun for me, since I prefer dresses and skirts -- not because they make me look more godly or feminine, but because they much more easily camouflage a fat ass -- and it's difficult to find something casual in between old lady cruise wear and beach cover-up. Sand and saltwater have destroyed my Birkies, so I will also need to purchase replacements, but I look forward to that.
Ugh, and then supplies for the ride: scrapbooks and miscellaneous art supplies, earplugs (you thought I was kidding about those -- HA!), headphones, a book on tape, cooler, drinks, snacks (unless I have the girls whip up some more hardtack), and on and on it goes...
-------
*Sweet G does not refer to my spouse's usual demeanor, but was coined during a miscommunication between employees. A staff member had been instructed to deliver paperwork to "Suite G." She thought is was my husband's nickname.
Meanwhile back at the ranch...
Schoolwork is done for the year! We'll now return to the unschooling portion of our homeschooling program. The girls made hardtack yesterday from a recipe they found in A History of US. They initially planned to bake a cake, but alas, the cupboard is bare, so jaw-breaking, baked lumps of flour and water it was. Mmmmm. Just like those poor soldiers had to eat.
Sam continues to tempt me with dreamy thoughts of a Mexican villa, complete with casita and full-time help for $50/week. She's heading down in May for a couple months and has invited me and L down to visit with her and her three year old, and to presumably show me some real estate. No problemo.
Sweet G* bought me a gift certificate at a local spa. I must look like hell. I'll skip the froufrou stuff -- just give me a massage and a full leg wax, please. When you can feel the wind tousling the hair on your shins, it's definitely time to do something about it. I must squeeze that in before we head over to the east coast prior to our field trip departure.
And then over there, horrors, I have to go shopping. Once I get the kids' clothes and the LeapPad out of storage, and evaluate the damage done to my own stored wardrobe, I plan to cash in the hoard of gift certificates I've amassed. This is not fun for me, since I prefer dresses and skirts -- not because they make me look more godly or feminine, but because they much more easily camouflage a fat ass -- and it's difficult to find something casual in between old lady cruise wear and beach cover-up. Sand and saltwater have destroyed my Birkies, so I will also need to purchase replacements, but I look forward to that.
Ugh, and then supplies for the ride: scrapbooks and miscellaneous art supplies, earplugs (you thought I was kidding about those -- HA!), headphones, a book on tape, cooler, drinks, snacks (unless I have the girls whip up some more hardtack), and on and on it goes...
-------
*Sweet G does not refer to my spouse's usual demeanor, but was coined during a miscommunication between employees. A staff member had been instructed to deliver paperwork to "Suite G." She thought is was my husband's nickname.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Thinking, I think
This quote from William James has been spinning around in my head since it was posted the other day on Mental Multivitamin:
"A great many people think they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices."
Uh oh. I hope that's not me, but it could be. How do you avoid falling into this trap?
The non-fiction books I choose to read mostly reaffirm what I already believe, or suspect to be true, that's partly why they interest me, and also because they may more eloquently express what I've been contemplating on my own. To stretch myself, it would seem simple enough to chose a book diametrically opposed to my beliefs. But why would I waste my time reading something so contrary to common sense?
Just kidding.
Sort of.
Is it as easy as keeping an open mind? Is it possible to have any strong convictions without being mired in prejudice?
Hmmmm.
"A great many people think they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices."
Uh oh. I hope that's not me, but it could be. How do you avoid falling into this trap?
The non-fiction books I choose to read mostly reaffirm what I already believe, or suspect to be true, that's partly why they interest me, and also because they may more eloquently express what I've been contemplating on my own. To stretch myself, it would seem simple enough to chose a book diametrically opposed to my beliefs. But why would I waste my time reading something so contrary to common sense?
Just kidding.
Sort of.
Is it as easy as keeping an open mind? Is it possible to have any strong convictions without being mired in prejudice?
Hmmmm.
Monday, April 12, 2004
A perfect day for reading
We had a little rain late in the evening yesterday, first time I can remember it ever raining on Easter, and some severe weather this morning. All my orchids are outside, enjoying a good soaking and fresh air, and we are all inside, snuggled up, enjoying our books.
G has finished her last history reading for the year and is busy writing a summary in her notebook, while S is about 1/3 of the way through Yankee Doodle Boy. S still has to get through The Great Little Madison, but she's a fast reader, so no worries about not finishing before our trip.
The rest of today shall be occupied with our various read-alouds.
-------
We successfully staved off all holiday invites, and had a very low-key Easter. S and I took a long walk down to the south end of the island, while G took the other two to grocery shop for a proper dinner, and by the laundromat for a quick load of sheets and blankets after L's late-night gastrointestinal mishap. Aside from some chocolate treats, it was business as usual.
-------
Back to the books...
G has finished her last history reading for the year and is busy writing a summary in her notebook, while S is about 1/3 of the way through Yankee Doodle Boy. S still has to get through The Great Little Madison, but she's a fast reader, so no worries about not finishing before our trip.
The rest of today shall be occupied with our various read-alouds.
-------
We successfully staved off all holiday invites, and had a very low-key Easter. S and I took a long walk down to the south end of the island, while G took the other two to grocery shop for a proper dinner, and by the laundromat for a quick load of sheets and blankets after L's late-night gastrointestinal mishap. Aside from some chocolate treats, it was business as usual.
-------
Back to the books...
Saturday, April 10, 2004
And now, something pertaining to homeschooling for a change...
Our security level has been raised from Green (Low), to Blue (Elevated), because our trouble-making neighbor, with whom until now we have maintained a friendly relationship, has asked what I deemed an odd, rhetorical question.
-----
First, a little background:
This is the neighbor that L ran off to visit twice in one day, without permission. She did it again recently when we had our friends over, and I had walked to a nearby vacant lot for sale, to show an interested party. L secretly tailed me and then detoured to the neighbors' for another unauthorized visit. Of course, we knew to look there first.
Now, Mr. and Mrs. N are both former education administrators and have told me directly, they feel the best place for children is in the classroom, although they grudgingly acknowledge we are doing a good job raising our girls.
They are also the ones stirring up a hornets nest with several other neighbors. I think they are trying to scare residents off in an effort to preserve the island from any future development. Code enforcement and state park officers have been poking around the last couple days in response to several anonymous complaints...
I'm flying under the radar right now when it comes to home schooling. I know, I know better, but that's the way I am sometimes.
I found Mrs. N. sneaking through our yard three days ago. She appeared to be eavesdropping on us.
----
Well, Mrs. N came over the day before yesterday day and asked, "Now why is it, you suppose, that little one of yours keeps running away?" I had the creepy feeling she was implying some sort of abuse or neglect.
Needless to say, I'm getting back on the radar, quickly.
-----
First, a little background:
This is the neighbor that L ran off to visit twice in one day, without permission. She did it again recently when we had our friends over, and I had walked to a nearby vacant lot for sale, to show an interested party. L secretly tailed me and then detoured to the neighbors' for another unauthorized visit. Of course, we knew to look there first.
Now, Mr. and Mrs. N are both former education administrators and have told me directly, they feel the best place for children is in the classroom, although they grudgingly acknowledge we are doing a good job raising our girls.
They are also the ones stirring up a hornets nest with several other neighbors. I think they are trying to scare residents off in an effort to preserve the island from any future development. Code enforcement and state park officers have been poking around the last couple days in response to several anonymous complaints...
I'm flying under the radar right now when it comes to home schooling. I know, I know better, but that's the way I am sometimes.
I found Mrs. N. sneaking through our yard three days ago. She appeared to be eavesdropping on us.
----
Well, Mrs. N came over the day before yesterday day and asked, "Now why is it, you suppose, that little one of yours keeps running away?" I had the creepy feeling she was implying some sort of abuse or neglect.
Needless to say, I'm getting back on the radar, quickly.
Is it just me?
Or do other people notice this stuff?
Mostly, the laundromat I visit attracts white bread, retired snowbirds. But once in a while you see some really interesting people.
The mother was short, about as big around as she was tall, and braless with enormous, pendulous breasts. While she struggled with the wash, her two daughters, a malnourished yellow and orange haired preteen and her rapper influenced, pantyhose-on-her-head older sister, occupied themselves by rummaging through a box left under the attendant's desk like a couple of rats. They were looking for something to steal, but it was only a box of mismatched, left behind socks, which they left scattered across the floor.
Mama flip-flopped her way to the car, make and model difficult to ascertain under the multiple layers of duct tape, hollerin' for her girls. They backed out and drove away. After about half a minute, I noticed bugs. Hundreds of bugs. Marching toward me and the front door of the laundromat from the now empty parking space. I figured roaches, but, no, they were termites. Termites! Living in their car and shaken loose when the motor started.
These people are out there somewhere, spreading pestilence in their wake.
Mostly, the laundromat I visit attracts white bread, retired snowbirds. But once in a while you see some really interesting people.
The mother was short, about as big around as she was tall, and braless with enormous, pendulous breasts. While she struggled with the wash, her two daughters, a malnourished yellow and orange haired preteen and her rapper influenced, pantyhose-on-her-head older sister, occupied themselves by rummaging through a box left under the attendant's desk like a couple of rats. They were looking for something to steal, but it was only a box of mismatched, left behind socks, which they left scattered across the floor.
Mama flip-flopped her way to the car, make and model difficult to ascertain under the multiple layers of duct tape, hollerin' for her girls. They backed out and drove away. After about half a minute, I noticed bugs. Hundreds of bugs. Marching toward me and the front door of the laundromat from the now empty parking space. I figured roaches, but, no, they were termites. Termites! Living in their car and shaken loose when the motor started.
These people are out there somewhere, spreading pestilence in their wake.
Friday, April 09, 2004
If anyone out there happens to be around Fort Lauderdale the weekend of May 1 - 2, don't miss this. Forget about the traffic and crowds, it's worth it.
I love airshows -- don't think I'm getting all soft and patriotic on you -- it has to do with the sheer power and speed of the aircraft. The chance to float out in the water on a beautiful spring day while F-14 Tomcats, F-18 Hornets, 747s, a Harrier, the Stealth Bomber or the Blue Angels cruise right over your head, well, you just can't hardly beat it.
G's mom invites everyone up to her place for this weekend. Her Las Olas condo makes the perfect base to walk over to the beach for the first day's excitement and then watch it again from her living room the next day. The jets fly eye-level right past her balcony. Too cool.
I love airshows -- don't think I'm getting all soft and patriotic on you -- it has to do with the sheer power and speed of the aircraft. The chance to float out in the water on a beautiful spring day while F-14 Tomcats, F-18 Hornets, 747s, a Harrier, the Stealth Bomber or the Blue Angels cruise right over your head, well, you just can't hardly beat it.
G's mom invites everyone up to her place for this weekend. Her Las Olas condo makes the perfect base to walk over to the beach for the first day's excitement and then watch it again from her living room the next day. The jets fly eye-level right past her balcony. Too cool.
Guaranteed to lift my spirits:
-- A momma and baby porpoise enjoying a leisurely swim by our dock
-- Watching my daughters dance around the living room to KISS's "Rock And Roll All Nite"
-- Finding the tee shirt belonging to the special friend I miss so much, safe on the bottom of my clothes trunk and wearing it to bed
--------
Finding the tee shirt was not only a small comfort, it got me through the night with the last bit of clean clothing I have out here. G had taken a week's worth of dirty laundry with him when he left for the east coast a few days ago, intending to drop it off. It's still in the back of the car. So today, with everyone wearing bathing suits, not because it's beach weather, but because nobody has any clean underwear left, and with a second large pile of smelly clothes, I head off to the laundromat.
-- A momma and baby porpoise enjoying a leisurely swim by our dock
-- Watching my daughters dance around the living room to KISS's "Rock And Roll All Nite"
-- Finding the tee shirt belonging to the special friend I miss so much, safe on the bottom of my clothes trunk and wearing it to bed
--------
Finding the tee shirt was not only a small comfort, it got me through the night with the last bit of clean clothing I have out here. G had taken a week's worth of dirty laundry with him when he left for the east coast a few days ago, intending to drop it off. It's still in the back of the car. So today, with everyone wearing bathing suits, not because it's beach weather, but because nobody has any clean underwear left, and with a second large pile of smelly clothes, I head off to the laundromat.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
Picking scabs
That's what I did last night and opened up a big, bloody sore.
I had written a story and submitted it for a particular column in the literary supplement to a major paper years ago. The editor was interested and sent it back with some suggestions for fine-tuning it. Unfortunately, by the time I was satisfied with it, the column had been discontinued.
Because of the sensitive nature of the essay, a story about the road not taken, and deeply regretted, I destroyed all copies and hoped the pain of the events would eventually fade away. Almost ten years later, it still hasn't, and I still feel compelled to write about it.
So today, I'm all written out.
I had written a story and submitted it for a particular column in the literary supplement to a major paper years ago. The editor was interested and sent it back with some suggestions for fine-tuning it. Unfortunately, by the time I was satisfied with it, the column had been discontinued.
Because of the sensitive nature of the essay, a story about the road not taken, and deeply regretted, I destroyed all copies and hoped the pain of the events would eventually fade away. Almost ten years later, it still hasn't, and I still feel compelled to write about it.
So today, I'm all written out.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
Time Warp
Lots of griping about the time change going on.
I just got up a few minutes ago (yeah, go ahead and check the time of this post) and am very glad that I can live by my internal clock rather than the one staring at me in the morning -- or early afternoon, or whatever time I can finally drag myself off the futon -- admonishing me for such slovenly behavior. The only downside is our new glass front door, that allows visitors an unobstructed view of what a lazy slob I really am. If I had a schedule to keep, I'd be in big trouble.
Someone wondered the other day if the email that arrived from me around 4:00 AM was a Yahoo glitch, or was I really up that late. I don't know. I could've been up. My laptop's clock consistently runs three hours behind, in spite of my attempts to fix it, so it often doesn't feel that late.
Last night I was up several times, awakened by scary wildlife sounds (did I mention that I've seen a bobcat twice recently?) and later had to break up a raccoon fight over the cat food container we accidentally left outside. Then I locked myself out and had to hunt around in the dark until I could find the secret hidden key.
(Yawn) No wonder.
I just got up a few minutes ago (yeah, go ahead and check the time of this post) and am very glad that I can live by my internal clock rather than the one staring at me in the morning -- or early afternoon, or whatever time I can finally drag myself off the futon -- admonishing me for such slovenly behavior. The only downside is our new glass front door, that allows visitors an unobstructed view of what a lazy slob I really am. If I had a schedule to keep, I'd be in big trouble.
Someone wondered the other day if the email that arrived from me around 4:00 AM was a Yahoo glitch, or was I really up that late. I don't know. I could've been up. My laptop's clock consistently runs three hours behind, in spite of my attempts to fix it, so it often doesn't feel that late.
Last night I was up several times, awakened by scary wildlife sounds (did I mention that I've seen a bobcat twice recently?) and later had to break up a raccoon fight over the cat food container we accidentally left outside. Then I locked myself out and had to hunt around in the dark until I could find the secret hidden key.
(Yawn) No wonder.
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
I wasted most of today on the internet researching Mexico and it's all my friend Sam's fault. She found a house down there that she desperately wants and is trying to finagle some financing. Of course, she thinks the area would be just perfect for us too. She's as nutty as we are.
Sam changes her mind about where to live about as often as we do, but I think she's serious this time because she's taking Spanish lessons.
---------
The politics on our little island are heating up. There's talk of sewer and water coming, maybe a real road to replace the sand track, changes in channel locations, slower speed limits for boats, a land base to eliminate our dependence on marinas... There's a been a steering committee formed. I'm not sure who's driving or where we're headed, but development is inevitable. It's just deciding how far you want to go.
I am for keeping this place low key, that's the charm of it, but obviously water and sewer are going to increase property values, and certainly make life a little easier. A shell road for emergency vehicle access doesn't seem like a problem.
One of our virulently anti-development neighbors has been getting nasty lately, though. Little things here and there, until yesterday when she chased off a buyer for one of Sam's Gulf front lots. I suppose they don't want someone building a big house right next door to them, and I suppose they don't want to buy it for themselves either. To say Sam was pissed would be putting it mildly. The nasty neighbor is, unfortunately, our area representative for the new property owners group that's been organized. Today the busybody started harassing some workers cleaning brush from Sam's lot, asking about permits and such. That's the last thing we want, feuding neighbors. We came out here specifically to get away from that stupidity, and now find ourselves right in the midst of it.
All of this reminds me of a very funny Carl Hiaasen story, Sick Puppy, which could have been written about this place, and my friend, Alex, who could be the female equivalent of the character Twilly Spree (except for the trust fund.)
---------
Speaking of Alex, where has she disappeared to? No emails, so she must be off the grid. Hog hunting? Jail?
Don't make me call your mother, Alex...
Sam changes her mind about where to live about as often as we do, but I think she's serious this time because she's taking Spanish lessons.
---------
The politics on our little island are heating up. There's talk of sewer and water coming, maybe a real road to replace the sand track, changes in channel locations, slower speed limits for boats, a land base to eliminate our dependence on marinas... There's a been a steering committee formed. I'm not sure who's driving or where we're headed, but development is inevitable. It's just deciding how far you want to go.
I am for keeping this place low key, that's the charm of it, but obviously water and sewer are going to increase property values, and certainly make life a little easier. A shell road for emergency vehicle access doesn't seem like a problem.
One of our virulently anti-development neighbors has been getting nasty lately, though. Little things here and there, until yesterday when she chased off a buyer for one of Sam's Gulf front lots. I suppose they don't want someone building a big house right next door to them, and I suppose they don't want to buy it for themselves either. To say Sam was pissed would be putting it mildly. The nasty neighbor is, unfortunately, our area representative for the new property owners group that's been organized. Today the busybody started harassing some workers cleaning brush from Sam's lot, asking about permits and such. That's the last thing we want, feuding neighbors. We came out here specifically to get away from that stupidity, and now find ourselves right in the midst of it.
All of this reminds me of a very funny Carl Hiaasen story, Sick Puppy, which could have been written about this place, and my friend, Alex, who could be the female equivalent of the character Twilly Spree (except for the trust fund.)
---------
Speaking of Alex, where has she disappeared to? No emails, so she must be off the grid. Hog hunting? Jail?
Don't make me call your mother, Alex...
Monday, April 05, 2004
My mother-in-law doesn't want anyone pawing through her stuff when she dies, so to prevent that, she plans to leave nothing behind. Papers, photos, dust collectors, documents on her hard drive, "Down the chute!" as she likes to say. Her motives are partly to relieve her survivors from the responsibility of disposing of all those items, and partly privacy.
After seeing the vast amounts of photos, scrapbooks, and personal papers, including a fourteen volume diary, that my father-in-law, BL, left behind, I can certainly see her point. It is a burden to those who survive you. You can't throw it away. You have to store it. Somewhere. Who needs all that in addition to all the junk you already own? Much of BL's writing is important family and town history, and much of it is probably stuff he never meant anyone to read.
But then, isn't that what writers do? They leave behind bits and pieces of themselves, some meant to be discovered and shared and others, better left unseen. Do I want that kind of paper trail? I'm not sure.
My mother once told me to never put anything down on paper that you wouldn't want everyone to see. I learned my lesson the hard way when I drew a picture, a very good one too, of my Social Studies teacher, Miss DiColo, dressed as a Nazi, tucked it safely in my Social Studies book and then left the book behind in my haste to leave her dreadful class.
There are stories I'd like to write, one obviously autobiographical, but can I live with the repercussions? How do writers balance self-expression with self-censorship and still manage to tell their tales? Do you just give up caring what people will think? I'm close to that point, but I do worry about what my children and husband will think.
After seeing the vast amounts of photos, scrapbooks, and personal papers, including a fourteen volume diary, that my father-in-law, BL, left behind, I can certainly see her point. It is a burden to those who survive you. You can't throw it away. You have to store it. Somewhere. Who needs all that in addition to all the junk you already own? Much of BL's writing is important family and town history, and much of it is probably stuff he never meant anyone to read.
But then, isn't that what writers do? They leave behind bits and pieces of themselves, some meant to be discovered and shared and others, better left unseen. Do I want that kind of paper trail? I'm not sure.
My mother once told me to never put anything down on paper that you wouldn't want everyone to see. I learned my lesson the hard way when I drew a picture, a very good one too, of my Social Studies teacher, Miss DiColo, dressed as a Nazi, tucked it safely in my Social Studies book and then left the book behind in my haste to leave her dreadful class.
There are stories I'd like to write, one obviously autobiographical, but can I live with the repercussions? How do writers balance self-expression with self-censorship and still manage to tell their tales? Do you just give up caring what people will think? I'm close to that point, but I do worry about what my children and husband will think.
Saturday, April 03, 2004
Every stupid sitcom I've ever seen where someone schedules two dates on the same day is coming back to haunt me.
Our friends are still in town and are expecting us to spend the whole day with them over on Boca Grande for scheduled activities including a visit to the beach, downtown stroll, and cookout at their hotel. At the same time, some other friends, out for a weekend sail, were planning to stop by for a visit. The simple solution would be to phone our sailboat friends and have them hook up with us over on Boca Grande, the more the merrier, right? The group dynamics might be fun since the two are on fundamentally opposite ends of the spectrum.
We are generally antisocial and shun planned playdates, especially the all-encompassing ones. Holidays bring a sense of dread with their obligatory get-togethers and forced merry-making and every year we promise ourselves that we'll get away and do our own thing, but we usually get sucked right back into it. Guilt. I'm thinking that Easter would be a good time to go house hunting in Fort Pierce.
Our friends are still in town and are expecting us to spend the whole day with them over on Boca Grande for scheduled activities including a visit to the beach, downtown stroll, and cookout at their hotel. At the same time, some other friends, out for a weekend sail, were planning to stop by for a visit. The simple solution would be to phone our sailboat friends and have them hook up with us over on Boca Grande, the more the merrier, right? The group dynamics might be fun since the two are on fundamentally opposite ends of the spectrum.
We are generally antisocial and shun planned playdates, especially the all-encompassing ones. Holidays bring a sense of dread with their obligatory get-togethers and forced merry-making and every year we promise ourselves that we'll get away and do our own thing, but we usually get sucked right back into it. Guilt. I'm thinking that Easter would be a good time to go house hunting in Fort Pierce.
Friday, April 02, 2004
This should be fun
Our friends, with their bottlecap collector son and very sophisticated 12 year old daughter, well, compared to our hillbilly children anyway, are coming out to the island for a visit. Much hilarity to be had, I'm sure.
L is scared. Big dramatic sobs this morning because Bottlecap Boy wants "to mawwy me, and I just want my sistahs!"
L is scared. Big dramatic sobs this morning because Bottlecap Boy wants "to mawwy me, and I just want my sistahs!"
Thursday, April 01, 2004
Spoke too soon Part 2
Just when it looks like we've made our decision about how and where to live, a twist. This will not surprise anybody who knows us. They've been waiting for it. What's it been, a month or two?
G has been given the opportunity to build and manage a large commercial project with our family being financially vested, courtesy of his mother. It's up in Fort Pierce, Florida, which is only notable for two things: 1) It's the shortest distance between exits from I-95 to the Florida Turnpike; and 2) Its neighbors.
Remember this story? A few years back, a girl felt threatened by some black kids at her Fort Pierce high school and called up the Klan to offer support. They sent over skinheads for bodyguards. It earned an episode on Jerry Springer -- lots of chair throwing on that one.
G and I drove up there in the late 90s to check out an old shopping center that his brother was considering for redevelopment. The old Winn-Dixie supermarket still had three restrooms. Men, Women and Colored. The third had been in use as a broom closet, but the sign was still there. Horrifying and surreal.
--------
Most people doubt our sanity, and would be unnerved by constantly changing plans. It doesn't bother me, and only recently do I realize why that is. It's all Mr. Casey's fault.
Mr. Casey was my cute, guitar-playing, fifth grade teacher. In the year 2000, he told us, the planets were going to align and wreak havoc. Earthquakes, hurricanes, your basic Armageddon. Let's see, I'll be 35 years old. I wonder if I'll be married? Will I have any kids? Will I at least have had sex yet? I'd better get busy.
I committed myself to cramming as much living as possible into my remaining 24 years. (More on that some other time, perhaps. Suffice to say, I've got some great cautionary tales for my daughters.)
There just isn't enough time. I want to live in a townhouse in Oxford, a stone cottage on a rocky coast, an apartment in Manhattan, a dairy farmhouse in Vermont, a Mayan village in the Belizean rainforest, a boat, a log cabin in a pine mountain forest, Gaugauin's Tahiti, a plantation under the granddaddy oaks, a cave house in Cappadocia...
Thank goodness for books.
-------
We can keep the island, will probably have to dump the hotel, and will begin looking for something over there very soon. At least that's the plan du jour.
Fort Pierce is definitely not up there on my list of places to live, but the thought of not worrying about the expense of health insurance and retirement plans (of which we have none) and braces and college...
Oooh, and more books.
G has been given the opportunity to build and manage a large commercial project with our family being financially vested, courtesy of his mother. It's up in Fort Pierce, Florida, which is only notable for two things: 1) It's the shortest distance between exits from I-95 to the Florida Turnpike; and 2) Its neighbors.
Remember this story? A few years back, a girl felt threatened by some black kids at her Fort Pierce high school and called up the Klan to offer support. They sent over skinheads for bodyguards. It earned an episode on Jerry Springer -- lots of chair throwing on that one.
G and I drove up there in the late 90s to check out an old shopping center that his brother was considering for redevelopment. The old Winn-Dixie supermarket still had three restrooms. Men, Women and Colored. The third had been in use as a broom closet, but the sign was still there. Horrifying and surreal.
--------
Most people doubt our sanity, and would be unnerved by constantly changing plans. It doesn't bother me, and only recently do I realize why that is. It's all Mr. Casey's fault.
Mr. Casey was my cute, guitar-playing, fifth grade teacher. In the year 2000, he told us, the planets were going to align and wreak havoc. Earthquakes, hurricanes, your basic Armageddon. Let's see, I'll be 35 years old. I wonder if I'll be married? Will I have any kids? Will I at least have had sex yet? I'd better get busy.
I committed myself to cramming as much living as possible into my remaining 24 years. (More on that some other time, perhaps. Suffice to say, I've got some great cautionary tales for my daughters.)
There just isn't enough time. I want to live in a townhouse in Oxford, a stone cottage on a rocky coast, an apartment in Manhattan, a dairy farmhouse in Vermont, a Mayan village in the Belizean rainforest, a boat, a log cabin in a pine mountain forest, Gaugauin's Tahiti, a plantation under the granddaddy oaks, a cave house in Cappadocia...
Thank goodness for books.
-------
We can keep the island, will probably have to dump the hotel, and will begin looking for something over there very soon. At least that's the plan du jour.
Fort Pierce is definitely not up there on my list of places to live, but the thought of not worrying about the expense of health insurance and retirement plans (of which we have none) and braces and college...
Oooh, and more books.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Creating links to old posts
Here's what Blogger has to say about it:
Permalinks are created in two steps. First, a unique identifier is applied to each post using an anchor tag, like this:
(a name="($BlogItemNumber$)") (/a)*
This should go somewhere in your post body. If you include it in the itemtitles section, your post will only get numbered if you specify a title.
Second, you need to display the permalink for each post. This is usually done in the footer and near the author name:
(a href="($BlogItemPermalinkURL$)" title="permanent link")#(/a)*
* I've substituted ( ) for <>
---------
In the first step, do I simply cut and paste? Which part of their code example do I replace, if any? With what?
OK, in step two, this goes in the template, correct? Again, which part of their code example do I replace, if any, and with what, to have it locate the actual post? All I could figure here was the copy for the link replaces the #.
Thank you!
Permalinks are created in two steps. First, a unique identifier is applied to each post using an anchor tag, like this:
(a name="($BlogItemNumber$)") (/a)*
This should go somewhere in your post body. If you include it in the itemtitles section, your post will only get numbered if you specify a title.
Second, you need to display the permalink for each post. This is usually done in the footer and near the author name:
(a href="($BlogItemPermalinkURL$)" title="permanent link")#(/a)*
* I've substituted ( ) for <>
---------
In the first step, do I simply cut and paste? Which part of their code example do I replace, if any? With what?
OK, in step two, this goes in the template, correct? Again, which part of their code example do I replace, if any, and with what, to have it locate the actual post? All I could figure here was the copy for the link replaces the #.
Thank you!
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Spoke too soon...
This from the island just south of us. Except for the threatened sexual assault, which may have been wishful thinking, hilarious.
Florida Books We Enjoy
I'm relocating these to this post, rather than clog up my sidebar.
Betrock's Guide to Landscape Palms
Betrock's Florida Plant Guide
Florida Gardener's Guide
Fruits of Warm Climates
Gardens By The Sea: Creating A Tropical Paradise
Key West Gardens and Their Stories
Landscape Plants for Subtropical Climates
The Sabal Palm: A Native Monarch
Tropical Gardening
Wild Plants For Survival in South Florida
Xeric LandscapingWith Florida Native Plants
A History of Hollywood, Florida
Black Cloud: The Great Florida Hurricane of 1928
Classic Cracker: Florida's Wood-frame Vernacular Architecture
Crackers in the Glade: Life and Times in the Old Everglades
Florida Architecture of Addison Mizner
Florida's Past: People and Events That Shaped the State Vol. I, II, III
Hollywood (Images of America: Florida)
Hoot
'Jose' Gaspar: The Last Marauder (A Pirate Story)"
Race and Change in Hollywood Florida
Tales of Old Florida
Team Rodent: How Disney Devours the World
The Everglades: River of Grass
The Florida Keys: A History of the Pioneers
The Florida Keys: The Wreckers
The Florida Keys: True Stories of the Perilous Straits
The Highwaymen: Florida's African-American Landscape Painters
The Houses of Key West
The Yearling
Totch: A Life in the Everglades
Twenty Florida Pirates
Orlando returns!
The cat came back. Looks a little ragged and he's terribly hungry, but he's back. Phew!
And no, he's not named for that abysmal city in Central Florida, but rather for the title character of my husband's favorite childhood books.
And no, he's not named for that abysmal city in Central Florida, but rather for the title character of my husband's favorite childhood books.
Yesterday we rode over to McIntosh, FL, to check on our other oddball property. We have a hotel. It's really old, well, for Florida that is, very decrepit, but most importantly, it's big. We've been interested in McIntosh for years, and always loved this place. When it finally went on the market, we couldn't resist. That's what happens when you spend too much time in small places, I guess.
The entire town is on the National Historic register. It's an old railroad town and almost all the original Victorian buildings are still standing. The flowers were blooming, the birds were singing, it was just beautiful.
We're planning to clean up the downstairs, not this weekend, but maybe next, and move our belongings up there, rather than pay for a storage unit.
I'm so glad we didn't decide to get rid of it during our big relocation turmoil.
--------
We got back last night and discovered our cat missing. Our next door neighbor said she heard a cat cry, similar to the noise she heard when cat #3 disappeared. Sounded like something getting its throat ripped out. I haven't mentioned that part to the kids...
S, ever hopeful, made up a flyer to hand out to the neighbors. We should just produce a fill-in-the-blank flyer at the rate we go through animals.
------
This week I'm living it up. We have a nanny! Well, actually, our neighbor has a nanny, but the neighbor's out here all week and has made her nanny's services available to us because her three year old daughter is best friends with our little one and they want to be together every minute. You could really get used to this.
------
G left this morning to the east coast for a day or two, taking G with him. He got about a third of the way back when his truck started acting up. May be the fuel pump. He limped back into town, I met him at the Ford dealership and he took my car (which might be developing transmission trouble...) I did a quick grocery shop while he was still here and he dropped us at the marina to take the boat home.
When we got to the house, there was a note addressed to S written on our dock in sidewalk chalk:
S, I saw your cat -- it's around somewhere
The nanny spotted him running through our yard!
Keep your fingers crossed. I still don't see any vultures...
The entire town is on the National Historic register. It's an old railroad town and almost all the original Victorian buildings are still standing. The flowers were blooming, the birds were singing, it was just beautiful.
We're planning to clean up the downstairs, not this weekend, but maybe next, and move our belongings up there, rather than pay for a storage unit.
I'm so glad we didn't decide to get rid of it during our big relocation turmoil.
--------
We got back last night and discovered our cat missing. Our next door neighbor said she heard a cat cry, similar to the noise she heard when cat #3 disappeared. Sounded like something getting its throat ripped out. I haven't mentioned that part to the kids...
S, ever hopeful, made up a flyer to hand out to the neighbors. We should just produce a fill-in-the-blank flyer at the rate we go through animals.
------
This week I'm living it up. We have a nanny! Well, actually, our neighbor has a nanny, but the neighbor's out here all week and has made her nanny's services available to us because her three year old daughter is best friends with our little one and they want to be together every minute. You could really get used to this.
------
G left this morning to the east coast for a day or two, taking G with him. He got about a third of the way back when his truck started acting up. May be the fuel pump. He limped back into town, I met him at the Ford dealership and he took my car (which might be developing transmission trouble...) I did a quick grocery shop while he was still here and he dropped us at the marina to take the boat home.
When we got to the house, there was a note addressed to S written on our dock in sidewalk chalk:
S, I saw your cat -- it's around somewhere
The nanny spotted him running through our yard!
Keep your fingers crossed. I still don't see any vultures...
Saturday, March 27, 2004
The trade off
Living with blandly homogeneous demographics in a geographically isolated location:
PROS
1) Violent crime is non-existent (We don't even lock our doors. Never thought I could say that living in South Florida.)
2) Everything is very clean and neat
CONS
No good restaurants (Pizza is about as exotic as it gets)
To make up for this one shortcoming, G brought me some more Indian food last night when he returned. Vegetable somosas with tamarind sauce...the breakfast of champions.
---------
My mother brought out a reading primer for L. a while back. I just finally took a good long look at it. Appalling. Bizarre. Too bad posting it would be a copyright infringement, 'cause you really need to see this.
Following is a sample. I've rewritten vowels marked with the long sound as UPPERCASE; silent letters written in a smaller type size, as non-bold italics; and blended sounds which are connected, as underlined, so that you can see how busy and confusing the page looks, but allowing for my limited knowledge of changing type styles within this post. Red type remains unchanged. The entire text is set in this giant, thick typeface, as if members of their audience were not just new readers, but completely myopic. It's like speaking loudly to someone who doesn't understand your language.
Running underneath each line of text is a red line beginning with a dot on the left and ending with an arrow on the right, to be sure the child knows which direction to go. I'll have to leave that to your imagination...
Story 94 (This book begins with Story 91, presumably there is a pre-primer with 90 simpler stories.)
a little fish sat on a fat fish. thE little fish said, "wow."
thE little fish did not hAte thE fat fish. thE little fish said, "that fat fish is mom."
Story 96
a fish Ate a rock. thE fish said, "I Ate a rock."
a cow Ate thE fish. thE cow said, "I Ate a fish. and now I fEEl sick."
Story 97 (By now I guess the children are supposed to have figured out the meaning of the quotes, because they are no longer in red.)
shE can kick. shE can lick. shE said, "I am not a cat." she said, "I am not a fish." is shE a man?
The content is horrible. By the end of the book, twenty inane stories later, they have only doubled the number of words in each lesson, and nothing beyond monosyllables. Look what Dr. Seuss did with a limited vocabulary.
Why would they teach quotations, but not capitalization?
I'm so glad that I read The Language Police. It opened my eyes to the fact that even though most of the characters in the book are animals, there is still a balanced, politically correct cast of humans covered in the illustrations:
1 Caucasian boy
1 Asian girl
1 black boy and 1 black adult female
1 Caucasian girl kissing a darker Caucasian boy
1 Native American boy with 1 Native American girl in a wheelchair
1 Caucasian old woman
1 Caucasian girl
1 Hispanic girl, 1 Hispanic boy and 1 Hispanic old man
1 Caucasian old man
1 black girl, 1 black boy
1 old man who looks a lot like Abe Vigoda
1 possibly Hispanic adult male
1 black girl, 1 white boy playing in the sand box in the yard of a Caucasian man wearing dark sunglasses (is he blind? or just shady? do we need to have equal representation of child molesters too?)
1 morbidly obese black adult male
1 redneck farmer with a piece of hay sticking out of his mouth
1 black girl
1 Middle Eastern looking girl
Did we leave anyone out? I'm never politically correct, so if I've used the wrong terms in describing someone, oops.
This literary masterpiece, Reading Mastery I, Storybook 1, Rainbow Edition, is brought to you by the geniuses at SRA Macmillan/McGraw-Hill.
PROS
1) Violent crime is non-existent (We don't even lock our doors. Never thought I could say that living in South Florida.)
2) Everything is very clean and neat
CONS
No good restaurants (Pizza is about as exotic as it gets)
To make up for this one shortcoming, G brought me some more Indian food last night when he returned. Vegetable somosas with tamarind sauce...the breakfast of champions.
---------
My mother brought out a reading primer for L. a while back. I just finally took a good long look at it. Appalling. Bizarre. Too bad posting it would be a copyright infringement, 'cause you really need to see this.
Following is a sample. I've rewritten vowels marked with the long sound as UPPERCASE; silent letters written in a smaller type size, as non-bold italics; and blended sounds which are connected, as underlined, so that you can see how busy and confusing the page looks, but allowing for my limited knowledge of changing type styles within this post. Red type remains unchanged. The entire text is set in this giant, thick typeface, as if members of their audience were not just new readers, but completely myopic. It's like speaking loudly to someone who doesn't understand your language.
Running underneath each line of text is a red line beginning with a dot on the left and ending with an arrow on the right, to be sure the child knows which direction to go. I'll have to leave that to your imagination...
Story 94 (This book begins with Story 91, presumably there is a pre-primer with 90 simpler stories.)
a little fish sat on a fat fish. thE little fish said, "wow."
thE little fish did not hAte thE fat fish. thE little fish said, "that fat fish is mom."
Story 96
a fish Ate a rock. thE fish said, "I Ate a rock."
a cow Ate thE fish. thE cow said, "I Ate a fish. and now I fEEl sick."
Story 97 (By now I guess the children are supposed to have figured out the meaning of the quotes, because they are no longer in red.)
shE can kick. shE can lick. shE said, "I am not a cat." she said, "I am not a fish." is shE a man?
The content is horrible. By the end of the book, twenty inane stories later, they have only doubled the number of words in each lesson, and nothing beyond monosyllables. Look what Dr. Seuss did with a limited vocabulary.
Why would they teach quotations, but not capitalization?
I'm so glad that I read The Language Police. It opened my eyes to the fact that even though most of the characters in the book are animals, there is still a balanced, politically correct cast of humans covered in the illustrations:
1 Caucasian boy
1 Asian girl
1 black boy and 1 black adult female
1 Caucasian girl kissing a darker Caucasian boy
1 Native American boy with 1 Native American girl in a wheelchair
1 Caucasian old woman
1 Caucasian girl
1 Hispanic girl, 1 Hispanic boy and 1 Hispanic old man
1 Caucasian old man
1 black girl, 1 black boy
1 old man who looks a lot like Abe Vigoda
1 possibly Hispanic adult male
1 black girl, 1 white boy playing in the sand box in the yard of a Caucasian man wearing dark sunglasses (is he blind? or just shady? do we need to have equal representation of child molesters too?)
1 morbidly obese black adult male
1 redneck farmer with a piece of hay sticking out of his mouth
1 black girl
1 Middle Eastern looking girl
Did we leave anyone out? I'm never politically correct, so if I've used the wrong terms in describing someone, oops.
This literary masterpiece, Reading Mastery I, Storybook 1, Rainbow Edition, is brought to you by the geniuses at SRA Macmillan/McGraw-Hill.
Friday, March 26, 2004
On Writing Well
Clarity, simplicity, brevity and humanity.
These are William Zinsser's four articles of faith from On Writing Well.
Yesterday, between loading the clothes and the spin cycle, and again during the long, hypnotic dry cycle at the laundromat, I managed to read a few more chapters. Apparently, I need to re-read the part on clarity. An email I had written was interpreted with the completely opposite meaning I had intended. The result was comic and earned me a cameo on one of my favorite blogs.
-----------
Following are a variety of well written quotes on education and knowledge from classical and other ancient sources I came across when looking for some philosophical statement to dress up our official school letterhead. (I don't know if they all do it or not, or how professional it looks, but my high school included the motto, "Pax et bonum," on its stationery.)
Aristotle:
Educated men are as much superior to uneducated men as the living are to the dead.
Education is the best provision for old age.
All men by nature desire knowledge.
Hippocrates:
There are in fact two things, science and opinion;the former begets knowledge, the latter ignorance.
Epictetus:
Only the educated are free.
Socrates:
There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.
I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance.
Plato:
The direction in which education starts a man will determine his future life.
Let early education be a sort of amusement; you will then be better able to find out the natural bent.
Publius Syrus:
It is only the ignorant who despise education.
Heraclitus:
Much learning does not teach understanding.
Euripides:
Whoso neglects learning in his youth,
Loses the past and is dead for the future.
Confucius
Learning without thought is labor lost; thought without learning is perilous.
When you know a thing, to hold that you know it; and when you do not know a thing, to allow that you do not know it -- this is knowledge.
--------
I liked both of Socrates's, but S. thought they were a little too strong, so we agreed on Plato's "...direction in which education starts..."
This is subject to change when I get around to ordering Latin Proverbs: Wisdom from Ancient to Modern Times, in favor of something like Caesar's, "Alea iacta est."
--------
Ignoring the advice on brevity, here's a link justifying chocolate as an educational resource. Right, like you needed a reason.
--------
Anyone have any good recommendations for very specific tips and/or examples on teaching Socratic dialogue?
These are William Zinsser's four articles of faith from On Writing Well.
Yesterday, between loading the clothes and the spin cycle, and again during the long, hypnotic dry cycle at the laundromat, I managed to read a few more chapters. Apparently, I need to re-read the part on clarity. An email I had written was interpreted with the completely opposite meaning I had intended. The result was comic and earned me a cameo on one of my favorite blogs.
-----------
Following are a variety of well written quotes on education and knowledge from classical and other ancient sources I came across when looking for some philosophical statement to dress up our official school letterhead. (I don't know if they all do it or not, or how professional it looks, but my high school included the motto, "Pax et bonum," on its stationery.)
Aristotle:
Educated men are as much superior to uneducated men as the living are to the dead.
Education is the best provision for old age.
All men by nature desire knowledge.
Hippocrates:
There are in fact two things, science and opinion;the former begets knowledge, the latter ignorance.
Epictetus:
Only the educated are free.
Socrates:
There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.
I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance.
Plato:
The direction in which education starts a man will determine his future life.
Let early education be a sort of amusement; you will then be better able to find out the natural bent.
Publius Syrus:
It is only the ignorant who despise education.
Heraclitus:
Much learning does not teach understanding.
Euripides:
Whoso neglects learning in his youth,
Loses the past and is dead for the future.
Confucius
Learning without thought is labor lost; thought without learning is perilous.
When you know a thing, to hold that you know it; and when you do not know a thing, to allow that you do not know it -- this is knowledge.
--------
I liked both of Socrates's, but S. thought they were a little too strong, so we agreed on Plato's "...direction in which education starts..."
This is subject to change when I get around to ordering Latin Proverbs: Wisdom from Ancient to Modern Times, in favor of something like Caesar's, "Alea iacta est."
--------
Ignoring the advice on brevity, here's a link justifying chocolate as an educational resource. Right, like you needed a reason.
--------
Anyone have any good recommendations for very specific tips and/or examples on teaching Socratic dialogue?
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Can You Teach Old Dogs New Tricks?
Maybe, depends on the dogs.
My parents, for example, are in the middle of another negligible home improvement project and have asked my husband, the general contractor, to oversee the work. In spite of every piece of expert advice he has ever offered them over the years, they do the opposite. Penny wise and pound foolish, they are impossibly stuck in their ways.
G, on the other hand, has learned a new trick: Suggest the opposite of good sense and quality. Tell them what they want to hear and offer the cheapest option. That's what they'll end up doing anyway.
--------
After working on costuming last night, G and L tried to put on their show this morning for Dad.
CAST
Mr. Crocodile.....G
Monkeys............L
Narrator............Me
(Monkey holds arms above her head, appearing to swing from branches. Mr. Crocodile crawls menacingly on opposite side of room.)
Narrator: Five little monkeys swinging from the tree, teasing Mr. Crocodile...
Monkey: You can't catch me!
(Mr. Crocodile approaches Monkey)
Narrator: Along comes Mr. Crocodile... (Mr. Crocodile opens wide) quiet as can be, and...
But as Mr. Crocodile approaches, and before we get to the highly dramatic "SNAP!" L goes screaming out of the room and slams the door behind her.
Curtain!
My parents, for example, are in the middle of another negligible home improvement project and have asked my husband, the general contractor, to oversee the work. In spite of every piece of expert advice he has ever offered them over the years, they do the opposite. Penny wise and pound foolish, they are impossibly stuck in their ways.
G, on the other hand, has learned a new trick: Suggest the opposite of good sense and quality. Tell them what they want to hear and offer the cheapest option. That's what they'll end up doing anyway.
--------
After working on costuming last night, G and L tried to put on their show this morning for Dad.
CAST
Mr. Crocodile.....G
Monkeys............L
Narrator............Me
(Monkey holds arms above her head, appearing to swing from branches. Mr. Crocodile crawls menacingly on opposite side of room.)
Narrator: Five little monkeys swinging from the tree, teasing Mr. Crocodile...
Monkey: You can't catch me!
(Mr. Crocodile approaches Monkey)
Narrator: Along comes Mr. Crocodile... (Mr. Crocodile opens wide) quiet as can be, and...
But as Mr. Crocodile approaches, and before we get to the highly dramatic "SNAP!" L goes screaming out of the room and slams the door behind her.
Curtain!
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
One nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all (PERIOD)
No way it's nine out of ten. Who did they ask? Obviously not a large enough sample. Surely those among us who don't believe in God or don't agree with the verbage are more than ten percent.
I thought this was already decided. Take out the "under God," it was a late addition, and it's just plain exclusionary.
Yep, I'm also one of those people who thinks that flag burning is no big deal and should not be illegal. It's a symbol. We live in America. It's freedom of expression or performance art.
-------
Three little bunnies lying in the bed
And the little one said,
"Roll over!"
So they all rolled over when they heard him shout
And the bunny on the outside, gave a gentle but firm shove trying to realign them all...
And when this didn't work, I got up and started writing. At 3:00 AM. I'm having some sort of manic episode. Ideas were streaming into my head this morning and as I realized it would be futile to try and remember them all, I had to get up and put them somewhere. Besides the fact that I wouldn't be getting any sleep until they were all out. Spent about 15 minutes on my laptop and crawled back into bed. Ahhhhh, much better.
Three little bunnies lying in the bed
And the little one said,
"Roll over!"
So they all rolled over when they heard him shout
And the bunny on the outside heard teeth grinding that meant someone had to use the bathroom...
After getting them both on the pot and getting everyone settled in again, I jumped up once more to jot a few more notes down, and then up and down a few more times to adjust the room temperature. OK. Ready for bed.
Nope.
Next, the littlest bunny screamed in my ear, having a nightmare. And by this time, more crunchy teeth grinding. Middle bunny had to use the bathroom again. Back in bed. Room temp is good. Everybody in tolerable positions. Ideas are still running together, but their volume is diminishing and they are less coherent, softening to a hum in the background. More crunching noise. OH MY GOD! She can't have to go to the bathroom again! Nudge her with foot and loudly call her name. Oops. It's just the cat having an early morning snack.
Zzzzzzzzzzzz
---------
Every once in a while I have one of these sleepless episodes. Thankfully, unlike a true manic episode, I don't get the horrible crash afterward. Just need a nap. Some creative idea is trying to burst out of my head. Usually it involves architectural drawings, or, occasionally, ideas for photo compositions. Nothing really ever comes from it, but you can't risk passing on a possibly pure stroke of genius.
There is actually a physical buzzing sensation, mostly in my hands, like too much caffeine. (I'm only a novice coffee drinker, so this is mostly supposition. One Starbucks doubleshot Espresso & Cream in the morning does it for me. My dear friend Jose, RIP, once talked me into having a thimbleful of Cuban coffee. I immediately broke out in a sweat and had to put my head on his desk for about 20 minutes.)
Tingling in the hands... Maybe it's not a stroke of genius. Maybe it's just a stroke.
---------
I've often wondered, why is it when I think of my friend Alex, my mind's eye sees Queen Victoria? A more incongruous pair I could not imagine. Last night it came to me. The Bombay Gin bottle. Cheers.
I thought this was already decided. Take out the "under God," it was a late addition, and it's just plain exclusionary.
Yep, I'm also one of those people who thinks that flag burning is no big deal and should not be illegal. It's a symbol. We live in America. It's freedom of expression or performance art.
-------
Three little bunnies lying in the bed
And the little one said,
"Roll over!"
So they all rolled over when they heard him shout
And the bunny on the outside, gave a gentle but firm shove trying to realign them all...
And when this didn't work, I got up and started writing. At 3:00 AM. I'm having some sort of manic episode. Ideas were streaming into my head this morning and as I realized it would be futile to try and remember them all, I had to get up and put them somewhere. Besides the fact that I wouldn't be getting any sleep until they were all out. Spent about 15 minutes on my laptop and crawled back into bed. Ahhhhh, much better.
Three little bunnies lying in the bed
And the little one said,
"Roll over!"
So they all rolled over when they heard him shout
And the bunny on the outside heard teeth grinding that meant someone had to use the bathroom...
After getting them both on the pot and getting everyone settled in again, I jumped up once more to jot a few more notes down, and then up and down a few more times to adjust the room temperature. OK. Ready for bed.
Nope.
Next, the littlest bunny screamed in my ear, having a nightmare. And by this time, more crunchy teeth grinding. Middle bunny had to use the bathroom again. Back in bed. Room temp is good. Everybody in tolerable positions. Ideas are still running together, but their volume is diminishing and they are less coherent, softening to a hum in the background. More crunching noise. OH MY GOD! She can't have to go to the bathroom again! Nudge her with foot and loudly call her name. Oops. It's just the cat having an early morning snack.
Zzzzzzzzzzzz
---------
Every once in a while I have one of these sleepless episodes. Thankfully, unlike a true manic episode, I don't get the horrible crash afterward. Just need a nap. Some creative idea is trying to burst out of my head. Usually it involves architectural drawings, or, occasionally, ideas for photo compositions. Nothing really ever comes from it, but you can't risk passing on a possibly pure stroke of genius.
There is actually a physical buzzing sensation, mostly in my hands, like too much caffeine. (I'm only a novice coffee drinker, so this is mostly supposition. One Starbucks doubleshot Espresso & Cream in the morning does it for me. My dear friend Jose, RIP, once talked me into having a thimbleful of Cuban coffee. I immediately broke out in a sweat and had to put my head on his desk for about 20 minutes.)
Tingling in the hands... Maybe it's not a stroke of genius. Maybe it's just a stroke.
---------
I've often wondered, why is it when I think of my friend Alex, my mind's eye sees Queen Victoria? A more incongruous pair I could not imagine. Last night it came to me. The Bombay Gin bottle. Cheers.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Miss Ann Thrope
Dear Miss Ann Thrope,
My sister-in-law refuses to breastfeed her baby, she complains that she feels like a 24-hour convenience store. I'm so disappointed. She decided on Carnation baby formula, but they make enough money, they should be using Enfamil, or at least Similac! Any advice?
Concerned
Dear Concerned,
Consider suicide. Stop diluting the gene pool.
Miss T.
---------
Today is a day for floor puzzles, make-believe, Sims, silly dances and even sillier songs. It's cold and windy and we're just shut up inside the house goofing off today. Well, in deference to friends up north, it's not that cold, but it really is windy. The weather, it's all relative, you know.
G will eventually get around to reading a few more chapters in A History of US and taking notes and has been picking through Mr. Revere and I periodically, so the day is not a complete loss. G even surprised me and asked me what "misanthropic" meant, which was a word we encountered weeks ago in a writing lesson on describing places, taken from Dickens's A Christmas Carol, from Write With the Best. Out came the dictionary (and a new superhero was born.)
S has been calling from her Dad and Grandma's office, asking me to quote dialogue from Hamlet as she works on her latest screenplay, and called once so that G could phone in her interview for G's pet column, for the next edition of the News Peeper, S's whenever-she's-at-the-office publication.
Unschooling is fun!
-----------
Write With the Best is a curriculum with lessons based on literary models from great writers. I had picked both volumes 1 and 2 up when, after beginning Classical Writing, a writing course following the progymnasmata, I realized that we would be outstripping their publishing schedule and desired something along the same lines. This is writing by imitation, plain and simple. I had put it aside when I experimented with Tapestry of Grace, opting for their integrated writing lessons, but now that TOG has been set aside, I'm happily back to Write With the Best.
The girls enjoy it because the lessons are very short and they get to use their colored pencils, when marking adjectives, adverbs, and descriptive verbs within the excerpt and their work.
My sister-in-law refuses to breastfeed her baby, she complains that she feels like a 24-hour convenience store. I'm so disappointed. She decided on Carnation baby formula, but they make enough money, they should be using Enfamil, or at least Similac! Any advice?
Concerned
Dear Concerned,
Consider suicide. Stop diluting the gene pool.
Miss T.
---------
Today is a day for floor puzzles, make-believe, Sims, silly dances and even sillier songs. It's cold and windy and we're just shut up inside the house goofing off today. Well, in deference to friends up north, it's not that cold, but it really is windy. The weather, it's all relative, you know.
G will eventually get around to reading a few more chapters in A History of US and taking notes and has been picking through Mr. Revere and I periodically, so the day is not a complete loss. G even surprised me and asked me what "misanthropic" meant, which was a word we encountered weeks ago in a writing lesson on describing places, taken from Dickens's A Christmas Carol, from Write With the Best. Out came the dictionary (and a new superhero was born.)
S has been calling from her Dad and Grandma's office, asking me to quote dialogue from Hamlet as she works on her latest screenplay, and called once so that G could phone in her interview for G's pet column, for the next edition of the News Peeper, S's whenever-she's-at-the-office publication.
Unschooling is fun!
-----------
Write With the Best is a curriculum with lessons based on literary models from great writers. I had picked both volumes 1 and 2 up when, after beginning Classical Writing, a writing course following the progymnasmata, I realized that we would be outstripping their publishing schedule and desired something along the same lines. This is writing by imitation, plain and simple. I had put it aside when I experimented with Tapestry of Grace, opting for their integrated writing lessons, but now that TOG has been set aside, I'm happily back to Write With the Best.
The girls enjoy it because the lessons are very short and they get to use their colored pencils, when marking adjectives, adverbs, and descriptive verbs within the excerpt and their work.
Monday, March 22, 2004
Before S left this morning, she suggested that since she will be gone, Sophie's World should be put on hiatus and G and I should read The Hobbit in the meantime. Good idea.
---------
Friends of ours surprised us this weekend when they called to say they were driving over from Hollywood with their kids and in-laws for lunch on Boca Grande and asked if we'd meet them over there. Spontaneous creatures that we are, we did.
During lunch, the mom kept teasing her five year old son, asking him if he would be taking our L to the prom.
Leaving the restaurant, their son scooped up bottle caps he found in the parking lot to add to his collection. We headed down to the lighthouse with the son in tow. Riding in our car, he discussed his latest hobby with my girls, adding that he thought he might put a bottle cap on his wiener. Now, I know nothing about little boys, and maybe they all say odd, inappropriate things like this sometimes, but this was a bit worrisome to me. Dad dispelled the awkward silence that followed, replying that he thought it "might be a little uncomfortable, don'tcha think?"
I think the prom might be out of the question.
---------
Friends of ours surprised us this weekend when they called to say they were driving over from Hollywood with their kids and in-laws for lunch on Boca Grande and asked if we'd meet them over there. Spontaneous creatures that we are, we did.
During lunch, the mom kept teasing her five year old son, asking him if he would be taking our L to the prom.
Leaving the restaurant, their son scooped up bottle caps he found in the parking lot to add to his collection. We headed down to the lighthouse with the son in tow. Riding in our car, he discussed his latest hobby with my girls, adding that he thought he might put a bottle cap on his wiener. Now, I know nothing about little boys, and maybe they all say odd, inappropriate things like this sometimes, but this was a bit worrisome to me. Dad dispelled the awkward silence that followed, replying that he thought it "might be a little uncomfortable, don'tcha think?"
I think the prom might be out of the question.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
Total homeschooling moment
S is serenading us this evening with her rendition of "God Save the Queen," played on a toy squeezebox she received for a Christmas present awhile ago. She dug up the complete lyrics from the Victorian Era issue of Learning Through History magazine.
I purchased the back orders and was impressed enough to try and sneak them into the girls' reading, but they found them on their own and begged to go ahead and read them, even though that's not what we're studying. No problem! They're plain, but loaded with good articles, projects, literature guides, questions and additional resources, and they're secular.
--------
It was almost six years ago that S began piano lessons. It lasted just under two years, but her first year out she came in second place in a statewide competition. Her former instructor has produced champion pianists for the past 25+ years, but it was just too stressful for the both of us. S truly has a gift for music and I didn't want to kill the love she has for it, so after much debate we let her stop.
She has mentioned lately that she just might like to try piano again. Of course our pianos are on permanent loan with G's sister, a music teacher, in West Palm Beach. And I really don't want to imagine trying to barge them over to the island, not to mention the lack of space, and forget getting a tuner to come out for a house call...
Looks like we made a good decision to back off.
---------
Another bizarre musical moment:
Last year S's hedgehog, Fred, died while she was over on the east coast with Dad. There was a tremendous thunderstorm brewing and I had maybe a five minute window to get the smelly little thing buried before being struck by lightning. She begged that we wait for her return. She didn't have to ask twice. I double wrapped him in newspaper (those damn prickles) and double bagged him in freezer-strength Ziplocks before placing him in cold storage.
My mother called to console the girls, telling L, "Oh, honey, it's all right, he's in heaven now." To which L replied, "Akchuwee Nana, he's in da fweeza."
Anyway, S and Dad came back around 11:30 PM the next night and we organized a quick funeral: a midnight candlelight vigil with S playing "Taps" on her toy accordian. What will the neighbors say?
--------
S is planning to return to the east coast for the week with Dad on Monday, so she spent part of the day completing work she missed this week and getting a head start on some of next week's as well. We're only focusing on History, related Reading, and Math. Once I know we're through the History, we'll work some more in, at least until our field trip departure.
How's the field trip shaping up? Glad you asked...
St. Augustine (1 day) Tour Castillo de San Marco
Jamestown/Yorktown (1 day) See settlement and battlefield
Williamsburg (3 days) Take our time wandering around, see what we can see
My brother's in NJ (3 days) with day trips in to NYC, maybe to the Cloisters (we missed this during our Medieval studies) and Philadelphia
Boston (4 days) visiting family mostly, but one day for the Freedom Trail with lunch at Durgin Park to try the Indian Pudding
Cape Cod (2 days) visit family and Plimouth Plantation
Salem (1 day) Salem Wax Museum and House of the Seven Gables
Mystic (1 day) Tour the Seaport
Washington DC (5 days) Tourmobile tour to see monuments; waiting for final details on White House and Capitol tours; Smithsonian National Museum of American History, National Museum of Natural History, and National Air and Space Museum; National Archives; Mount Vernon
Monticello (1 day) and a quick peek at Greenville, maybe
There's a few more days worked in here and there for relaxing, no touring, just taking it easy. That's plenty. The plan is to have the girls make scrapbooks of the trip, yes, even L. Must never let gluestick out of my sight...
-----------
Patrick Henry is now officially one of my favorite patriots. Not only was he a late bloomer, he was wary of creating a single governing body, preferring individual states' rights instead.
"I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!"
Go, Pat!
----------
In the midst of an anti-war protest, my brother called this morning, fighting his way into work in NYC. It obviously brings out all kinds of wackos with their own agenda. His favorite sign, "Kill Babies, Not Iraqis."
I purchased the back orders and was impressed enough to try and sneak them into the girls' reading, but they found them on their own and begged to go ahead and read them, even though that's not what we're studying. No problem! They're plain, but loaded with good articles, projects, literature guides, questions and additional resources, and they're secular.
--------
It was almost six years ago that S began piano lessons. It lasted just under two years, but her first year out she came in second place in a statewide competition. Her former instructor has produced champion pianists for the past 25+ years, but it was just too stressful for the both of us. S truly has a gift for music and I didn't want to kill the love she has for it, so after much debate we let her stop.
She has mentioned lately that she just might like to try piano again. Of course our pianos are on permanent loan with G's sister, a music teacher, in West Palm Beach. And I really don't want to imagine trying to barge them over to the island, not to mention the lack of space, and forget getting a tuner to come out for a house call...
Looks like we made a good decision to back off.
---------
Another bizarre musical moment:
Last year S's hedgehog, Fred, died while she was over on the east coast with Dad. There was a tremendous thunderstorm brewing and I had maybe a five minute window to get the smelly little thing buried before being struck by lightning. She begged that we wait for her return. She didn't have to ask twice. I double wrapped him in newspaper (those damn prickles) and double bagged him in freezer-strength Ziplocks before placing him in cold storage.
My mother called to console the girls, telling L, "Oh, honey, it's all right, he's in heaven now." To which L replied, "Akchuwee Nana, he's in da fweeza."
Anyway, S and Dad came back around 11:30 PM the next night and we organized a quick funeral: a midnight candlelight vigil with S playing "Taps" on her toy accordian. What will the neighbors say?
--------
S is planning to return to the east coast for the week with Dad on Monday, so she spent part of the day completing work she missed this week and getting a head start on some of next week's as well. We're only focusing on History, related Reading, and Math. Once I know we're through the History, we'll work some more in, at least until our field trip departure.
How's the field trip shaping up? Glad you asked...
St. Augustine (1 day) Tour Castillo de San Marco
Jamestown/Yorktown (1 day) See settlement and battlefield
Williamsburg (3 days) Take our time wandering around, see what we can see
My brother's in NJ (3 days) with day trips in to NYC, maybe to the Cloisters (we missed this during our Medieval studies) and Philadelphia
Boston (4 days) visiting family mostly, but one day for the Freedom Trail with lunch at Durgin Park to try the Indian Pudding
Cape Cod (2 days) visit family and Plimouth Plantation
Salem (1 day) Salem Wax Museum and House of the Seven Gables
Mystic (1 day) Tour the Seaport
Washington DC (5 days) Tourmobile tour to see monuments; waiting for final details on White House and Capitol tours; Smithsonian National Museum of American History, National Museum of Natural History, and National Air and Space Museum; National Archives; Mount Vernon
Monticello (1 day) and a quick peek at Greenville, maybe
There's a few more days worked in here and there for relaxing, no touring, just taking it easy. That's plenty. The plan is to have the girls make scrapbooks of the trip, yes, even L. Must never let gluestick out of my sight...
-----------
Patrick Henry is now officially one of my favorite patriots. Not only was he a late bloomer, he was wary of creating a single governing body, preferring individual states' rights instead.
"I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!"
Go, Pat!
----------
In the midst of an anti-war protest, my brother called this morning, fighting his way into work in NYC. It obviously brings out all kinds of wackos with their own agenda. His favorite sign, "Kill Babies, Not Iraqis."
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Read-Aloud Quandary Solved
Here's what we'll do...
After we finish Sophie's World, a quick trip through an abridged version of Gulliver's Travels. Yeah, so reading abridgments happens to be one of those things I swear I'll never do, and one of my peeves with The Well Trained Mind.
I think their recommendations for reading junior versions of the classics underestimates your children. Nothing wrong with reading an edition where the story is blatantly rewritten to get an overview of the story, for example, we LOVE Marcia Williams's Tales From Shakespeare: Seven Plays and Bravo, Mr. William Shakespeare! Nobody is going to even remotely mistake those for the originals. My problem is with the bowdlerized stories, the ones that don't make it clear that what you are reading is not the whole story.
In fact, this series, The Whole Story series, has a great premise offering all kinds of related information in the margins, to enhance the story. I looked at their version of Heidi which states on the back cover that it is "unabridged," side by side with another version, also purporting to be complete. The first had many fewer pages compared with the latter, probably one third fewer. It also had much larger type. And all those illustrations and sidebars...
Ah, but I digress.
Just to give them a working knowledge of Gulliver and Swift's commentary on the politics of the day, we'll quickly read the knock-off. And then, on to bigger and better things, The Scarlet Pimpernel. Robinson Crusoe, unedited of course, will be great on tape for our long ride up north. (Thanks, Beth, Donna, and Dy!) Thus I eliminate the guilt of skimping on my reading list for the year. Ta da.
---------
The Giving Tree post yesterday, and the subsequent replies, on Sarah's blog cracked me up. I always felt bad for the tree, but, until Sarah pointed out the (now) obvious implications, never understood why exactly. It's easy to see she's being taken advantage of and that the boy is an ingrate. I never thought about it in the context of woman's or a mother's duty. How interesting.
Here's my entry for Darby's suggested list of children's stories with dubious messages:
Guess How Much I Love You
The constant competition and one-upmanship by Big Nutbrown Hare over Little Nutbrown Hare doesn't seem likely to foster a healthy parent/child relationship. Big Nutbrown Hare uses his size to an unfair advantage, and eventually uses his words to trounce poor Little Nutbrown Hare.
I see Little Nutbrown Hare in therapy one day.
After we finish Sophie's World, a quick trip through an abridged version of Gulliver's Travels. Yeah, so reading abridgments happens to be one of those things I swear I'll never do, and one of my peeves with The Well Trained Mind.
I think their recommendations for reading junior versions of the classics underestimates your children. Nothing wrong with reading an edition where the story is blatantly rewritten to get an overview of the story, for example, we LOVE Marcia Williams's Tales From Shakespeare: Seven Plays and Bravo, Mr. William Shakespeare! Nobody is going to even remotely mistake those for the originals. My problem is with the bowdlerized stories, the ones that don't make it clear that what you are reading is not the whole story.
In fact, this series, The Whole Story series, has a great premise offering all kinds of related information in the margins, to enhance the story. I looked at their version of Heidi which states on the back cover that it is "unabridged," side by side with another version, also purporting to be complete. The first had many fewer pages compared with the latter, probably one third fewer. It also had much larger type. And all those illustrations and sidebars...
Ah, but I digress.
Just to give them a working knowledge of Gulliver and Swift's commentary on the politics of the day, we'll quickly read the knock-off. And then, on to bigger and better things, The Scarlet Pimpernel. Robinson Crusoe, unedited of course, will be great on tape for our long ride up north. (Thanks, Beth, Donna, and Dy!) Thus I eliminate the guilt of skimping on my reading list for the year. Ta da.
---------
The Giving Tree post yesterday, and the subsequent replies, on Sarah's blog cracked me up. I always felt bad for the tree, but, until Sarah pointed out the (now) obvious implications, never understood why exactly. It's easy to see she's being taken advantage of and that the boy is an ingrate. I never thought about it in the context of woman's or a mother's duty. How interesting.
Here's my entry for Darby's suggested list of children's stories with dubious messages:
Guess How Much I Love You
The constant competition and one-upmanship by Big Nutbrown Hare over Little Nutbrown Hare doesn't seem likely to foster a healthy parent/child relationship. Big Nutbrown Hare uses his size to an unfair advantage, and eventually uses his words to trounce poor Little Nutbrown Hare.
I see Little Nutbrown Hare in therapy one day.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Anna and the King
We watched this last night and everybody enjoyed it. The scenery and the costuming were beautiful. Made me want to go straight to Thailand, or at least eat some green curried anything.
This was so much better than The King and I. But wait, before everyone jumps all over me, and in defense of Rodgers and Hammerstein, I must confess to never having viewed the movie version, just a live production with quite possibly the worst casting gaffe ever. Yes, I am referring to Rudolf Nureyev as the King of Siam. His only intelligible lines throughout the show were, "Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera." It was truly a puzzlement.
I'm just glad I didn't pay to see that one. Back in the days before children, I worked for a Broadway producer in the touring theatrical division, as a PR assistant, and that happened to be one of the many shows we did. Part of my job was setting up opening night cast parties, which sounds glamorous, but wasn't. I had to prostitute myself to the big shot restaurant and club owners, convincing them to give us a free party, with the promise of maybe some press coverage, a few comp tickets and a chance to schmooze with the stars. Oh boy! Besides a one day stint at Taco Bravo, that was the least fulfilling job I've had. Fun, but meaningless.
We had a CEO, who prided himself on being the rare top exec not requiring a personal assistant, except that when he was in New York, Houston or Miami, there was just some poor overworked girl singled out for all his personal assistant-type work. That was me: Take his car to be serviced, pick up drycleaning, talk my way past his condo security to search the suit pockets in his closet for a missing receipt, compose letters to his son and forge his name, convince an out-of-state bank to send me the contents of his departed grandmother's safety deposit box. I was good too. He would bellow for me in his office, regardless of whatever crisis I was currently attending to, and then ask me to flip his light switch on for him, while he sat back and cleaned his glasses. Instead of splitting his time equally between the three offices, he chose to spend as much time as possible in Miami because we had an office full of young, single, attractive, heterosexual women, which in that business is a little unusual.
Then there were the annual marketing meetings where all the partners from across the U.S. would get together and these were always held in January for some inexplicable reason. Where does everybody want to go in January? Yep, Florida. That was enjoyable though, and made the most of my planning gene. Unlimited budget, just make sure everybody has fun. No problem!
I sure miss the chance to see all those silly shows.
This was so much better than The King and I. But wait, before everyone jumps all over me, and in defense of Rodgers and Hammerstein, I must confess to never having viewed the movie version, just a live production with quite possibly the worst casting gaffe ever. Yes, I am referring to Rudolf Nureyev as the King of Siam. His only intelligible lines throughout the show were, "Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera." It was truly a puzzlement.
I'm just glad I didn't pay to see that one. Back in the days before children, I worked for a Broadway producer in the touring theatrical division, as a PR assistant, and that happened to be one of the many shows we did. Part of my job was setting up opening night cast parties, which sounds glamorous, but wasn't. I had to prostitute myself to the big shot restaurant and club owners, convincing them to give us a free party, with the promise of maybe some press coverage, a few comp tickets and a chance to schmooze with the stars. Oh boy! Besides a one day stint at Taco Bravo, that was the least fulfilling job I've had. Fun, but meaningless.
We had a CEO, who prided himself on being the rare top exec not requiring a personal assistant, except that when he was in New York, Houston or Miami, there was just some poor overworked girl singled out for all his personal assistant-type work. That was me: Take his car to be serviced, pick up drycleaning, talk my way past his condo security to search the suit pockets in his closet for a missing receipt, compose letters to his son and forge his name, convince an out-of-state bank to send me the contents of his departed grandmother's safety deposit box. I was good too. He would bellow for me in his office, regardless of whatever crisis I was currently attending to, and then ask me to flip his light switch on for him, while he sat back and cleaned his glasses. Instead of splitting his time equally between the three offices, he chose to spend as much time as possible in Miami because we had an office full of young, single, attractive, heterosexual women, which in that business is a little unusual.
Then there were the annual marketing meetings where all the partners from across the U.S. would get together and these were always held in January for some inexplicable reason. Where does everybody want to go in January? Yep, Florida. That was enjoyable though, and made the most of my planning gene. Unlimited budget, just make sure everybody has fun. No problem!
I sure miss the chance to see all those silly shows.
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Robinson Curriculum and more
I've been looking around the Robinson Curriculum website the last day or two. I'll admit it...I'm really attracted to a program that bills itself as self-teaching. The price even seems reasonable. The more I dig, however, the more references I see about training children to take back our country from those horrible secular humanists and liberals -- you know, like me. (SIGH) Should've known it was too good to be true.
----------
Our penpal friends are coming out for a visit to the island Friday and are curious about our neighbor's house for sale. I happen to have my real estate license, although I am by no means a sales-type person, so I contacted my neighbor to discuss showing her house and commission arrangements. She wants me to go ahead and show for her potential clients too, at a flat-rate fee, since she is not out here full-time, which I'm very happy to do.
----------
In keeping with our space theme, we watched Apollo 13 last night. Excellent movie. Good thing it ended when it did though, since I was holding my breath for practically the last hour. We'll probably watch it again tonight since Dad is coming out and this is one he'll really like.
I don't remember any of the events surrounding that mission. My parents had a launch party to coincide with one of the Apollo missions and I remember laughing hysterically, actually falling down on our prickly St. Augustine grass, because friends leaving the party, unfamiliar with our neighborhood, kept orbiting our block (hey, I was little.) My mother even sat us down to watch Neil Armstrong make his giant leap for mankind. But all the hoopla over Apollo 13, she must have been shielding us from that. Much like the Viet Nam war. My parents never seemed to have turned on the evening news during that time and Viet Nam never entered my consciousness until after high school; the Apollo 13 near-disaster until last night.
I wonder if G remembers any of it. He was definitely glued to the evening news every night around that time, along with the rest of his family, waiting to see if his brothers' draft numbers would come up in that nightmare lottery.
----------
Reservations for the critical parts of our trip: the first night, three nights in Williamsburg on the way up and four in Washington DC on the return, are all firmed up. We'll wing the rest. Most of the remainder of the trip is staying with family, so there's not too much else to worry about.
Except finishing our history lessons.
tick...tick...tick...
----------
Our penpal friends are coming out for a visit to the island Friday and are curious about our neighbor's house for sale. I happen to have my real estate license, although I am by no means a sales-type person, so I contacted my neighbor to discuss showing her house and commission arrangements. She wants me to go ahead and show for her potential clients too, at a flat-rate fee, since she is not out here full-time, which I'm very happy to do.
----------
In keeping with our space theme, we watched Apollo 13 last night. Excellent movie. Good thing it ended when it did though, since I was holding my breath for practically the last hour. We'll probably watch it again tonight since Dad is coming out and this is one he'll really like.
I don't remember any of the events surrounding that mission. My parents had a launch party to coincide with one of the Apollo missions and I remember laughing hysterically, actually falling down on our prickly St. Augustine grass, because friends leaving the party, unfamiliar with our neighborhood, kept orbiting our block (hey, I was little.) My mother even sat us down to watch Neil Armstrong make his giant leap for mankind. But all the hoopla over Apollo 13, she must have been shielding us from that. Much like the Viet Nam war. My parents never seemed to have turned on the evening news during that time and Viet Nam never entered my consciousness until after high school; the Apollo 13 near-disaster until last night.
I wonder if G remembers any of it. He was definitely glued to the evening news every night around that time, along with the rest of his family, waiting to see if his brothers' draft numbers would come up in that nightmare lottery.
----------
Reservations for the critical parts of our trip: the first night, three nights in Williamsburg on the way up and four in Washington DC on the return, are all firmed up. We'll wing the rest. Most of the remainder of the trip is staying with family, so there's not too much else to worry about.
Except finishing our history lessons.
tick...tick...tick...
Sunday, March 14, 2004
Same Sex Public Schools
Wouldn't this solve the problem of gender bias in school? NPR's Talk of the Nation discussed this recently. I missed most of the broadcast, so you can fill me in, however, as a high school student, I was enrolled in both types, so I can give you my, ahem, educated opinion.
Freshman, sophomore and the beginning of junior year were spent in a co-ed Catholic high school. For the remainder of my high school years, I attended an all girls Catholic school. I was so much happier in the latter. The simple fact was, there were no boys around and therefore, fewer distractions. I was far less self-conscious, it didn't matter what you looked like when you got to school, there was no one to impress; I think it's safe to say that the teaching methods used were specifically adapted to females, since that's all they taught; and we were even spared idle sports coaches masquerading as real teachers between practices, favoring their players. It was just plain more comfortable and I got a whole lot more learning done.
A listener called in to say that her son was enrolled in a public school that was experimenting with single-sex education. It seems as if the results were generally positive, but the program would most likely be cancelled because of the additional expense to the school board in teaching subjects twice. Huh? If you have x number of students, and they're pretty equally divided by sex (an average of 105.2 school age males to 100 females according to the 2000 Census), seems to me you'd still have x students being taught, whether they're divided by sex or alphabetically, and no additional expenses. Right? Maybe I'm just not getting it.
Anyway, I think it's a great idea, don't you?
Freshman, sophomore and the beginning of junior year were spent in a co-ed Catholic high school. For the remainder of my high school years, I attended an all girls Catholic school. I was so much happier in the latter. The simple fact was, there were no boys around and therefore, fewer distractions. I was far less self-conscious, it didn't matter what you looked like when you got to school, there was no one to impress; I think it's safe to say that the teaching methods used were specifically adapted to females, since that's all they taught; and we were even spared idle sports coaches masquerading as real teachers between practices, favoring their players. It was just plain more comfortable and I got a whole lot more learning done.
A listener called in to say that her son was enrolled in a public school that was experimenting with single-sex education. It seems as if the results were generally positive, but the program would most likely be cancelled because of the additional expense to the school board in teaching subjects twice. Huh? If you have x number of students, and they're pretty equally divided by sex (an average of 105.2 school age males to 100 females according to the 2000 Census), seems to me you'd still have x students being taught, whether they're divided by sex or alphabetically, and no additional expenses. Right? Maybe I'm just not getting it.
Anyway, I think it's a great idea, don't you?
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Atlas 3A
G and I saw it, right on schedule. We tried to keep the kids up, but they just couldn't make it. Too bad, because it was a good one. It took almost two minutes before it was visible over the tops of the mangroves, straight off the end of our dock. Pretty amazing considering it's about 150 miles away. The small red flare was visible for almost three minutes, before it winked out with a small burst of white.
Someone else was outside watching. From a dock to the south, I heard a hearty, "Yeah!"
Someone else was outside watching. From a dock to the south, I heard a hearty, "Yeah!"
Friday, March 12, 2004
Ovo Caput
That was our team name, in pidgin Latin, for the rover drop we did yesterday at Kennedy Space Center's salute to Homeschoolers. We had to build a landing vehicle that would protect our astronaut (an egg) from a two-story fall. Supplies provided included six balloons, string, masking tape, straws, popsicle sticks and a paper napkin. Teams had 25 minutes to design their vehicle. We saw many models using fully inflated balloons, hard frames, and parachutes, but we opted for simplicity: The egg was wrapped in the crumpled napkin for extra padding, enclosed inside the regulation "bioshield" (Ziplock bag), and then encased in the six, partially inflated balloons. We squashed it together and secured the package with masking tape and string.
3-2-1...
Well, the results, as read by a KSC employee, were aptly described by the mispronunciation of our team name, "Team Ovo Kaput," accent on the second syllable.
We had a material failure when one of our balloons developed a leak, causing a hairline fracture in our little astronaut. But we were congratulated on our design.
-----------
What a great day we had! Dad was able to join us, and we spent the whole day with our homeschool/penpal family. Their girls are so sweet and mine were so happy to visit with them. The parents all had a good time too. It's such a relief to find like-minded people. Oh, and their egg made it...GO L. LUNARS!
G was much more impressed with this group of homeschoolers than those he saw at the Florida Parent Educators Association convention last year. He said these families seemed "more normal." FPEA attracts all types of families, but they are closely linked to the HSLDA, and reflect a predominantly Christian membership. The difference, I believe, is in the science. These were people willing to believe the world wasn't created in six days.
----------
If you ever have the opportunity to visit Central Florida, please, do us all a favor, forget Disney World (The Cr-happiest Place on Earth) and visit Kennedy Space Center. We watched an animation of the launch and delivery of the Mars rovers. The engineering is just mind-boggling.
Standing in the Apollo/Saturn V Center, watching a re-enactment of the first launch, the room empty except for the original instrument panels blinking away, while voice-overs of the control room chatter and big screen videos play actual footage of both the employees inside the room and the rocket itself, I got a tear in my eye. It was that good. And I'm not even PMSing.
-----------
Driving home through Orlando, S had asked if we could take a detour through Celebration, the weirdly sterile Disney subdivision, or town, as they prefer. It is an eerie place, all about facades. It is what Paul Fussell would call "BAD."
As we drove through, we discussed income levels of the residents of Celebration. Why would someone spend so much money to live there? S wanted to know if they were rich people. We talked about the fact that real rich people, or more specifically, upper middle and upper class people, don't draw attention to themselves (as explained in another Paul Fussell riot, CLASS: A Guide Through The American Status System .) The Celebration residents are all about show.
-----------
Something about driving through and seeing the horrible mess of Orlando solidified in my mind what I don't want for my children:
Any type of career in a service industry. I don't want them to be a cog in some corporate machine; a worker bee.
What they do is up to them, but I hope they end up in a career where they must use their minds, and if they do work for someone else, let it be in an industry making a positive contribution to society, not just a contribution to someone's bottom line. Like the brilliant people at NASA.
-----------
We'll be watching for the Atlas 3A Rocket tonight at 12:40 EST.
3-2-1...
Well, the results, as read by a KSC employee, were aptly described by the mispronunciation of our team name, "Team Ovo Kaput," accent on the second syllable.
We had a material failure when one of our balloons developed a leak, causing a hairline fracture in our little astronaut. But we were congratulated on our design.
-----------
What a great day we had! Dad was able to join us, and we spent the whole day with our homeschool/penpal family. Their girls are so sweet and mine were so happy to visit with them. The parents all had a good time too. It's such a relief to find like-minded people. Oh, and their egg made it...GO L. LUNARS!
G was much more impressed with this group of homeschoolers than those he saw at the Florida Parent Educators Association convention last year. He said these families seemed "more normal." FPEA attracts all types of families, but they are closely linked to the HSLDA, and reflect a predominantly Christian membership. The difference, I believe, is in the science. These were people willing to believe the world wasn't created in six days.
----------
If you ever have the opportunity to visit Central Florida, please, do us all a favor, forget Disney World (The Cr-happiest Place on Earth) and visit Kennedy Space Center. We watched an animation of the launch and delivery of the Mars rovers. The engineering is just mind-boggling.
Standing in the Apollo/Saturn V Center, watching a re-enactment of the first launch, the room empty except for the original instrument panels blinking away, while voice-overs of the control room chatter and big screen videos play actual footage of both the employees inside the room and the rocket itself, I got a tear in my eye. It was that good. And I'm not even PMSing.
-----------
Driving home through Orlando, S had asked if we could take a detour through Celebration, the weirdly sterile Disney subdivision, or town, as they prefer. It is an eerie place, all about facades. It is what Paul Fussell would call "BAD."
As we drove through, we discussed income levels of the residents of Celebration. Why would someone spend so much money to live there? S wanted to know if they were rich people. We talked about the fact that real rich people, or more specifically, upper middle and upper class people, don't draw attention to themselves (as explained in another Paul Fussell riot, CLASS: A Guide Through The American Status System .) The Celebration residents are all about show.
-----------
Something about driving through and seeing the horrible mess of Orlando solidified in my mind what I don't want for my children:
Any type of career in a service industry. I don't want them to be a cog in some corporate machine; a worker bee.
What they do is up to them, but I hope they end up in a career where they must use their minds, and if they do work for someone else, let it be in an industry making a positive contribution to society, not just a contribution to someone's bottom line. Like the brilliant people at NASA.
-----------
We'll be watching for the Atlas 3A Rocket tonight at 12:40 EST.
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Don't get me started...
Maitresse's blog entry for today (plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose*) brought up a few separate topics that taken together, get me all worked up: Cuba and Haiti.
I was going to email her, but figured I'd share my rant on gross injustice with you all.
First let me tell you, your South Florida experience just isn't complete until you've seen a boatload of refugees wash up on the beach. I witnessed a large group of Haitians leaping off a small cabin cruiser onto Fort Lauderdale Beach one morning. People with clothes and shoes held high over their heads as they scrambled for the beach, then dressing themselves as they ran for their life. Just another day in paradise.
How can our government honestly say that these people are only economic refugees and thus deserve to be repatriated? Especially in light of the recent political turmoil. Only there, it's not just recent, it's constant.
I try to adhere to that old Yankee quip: Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without. I have outfits that all three girls have been through, and by the time L finishes with them, they are really done. Once upon a time I would have dropped everything in reasonable condition off at Goodwill, but lately the clothing has been in such bad shape that would have been insulting. Not to G's Haitian employees. Initially I was embarrassed to hand the bags over to them, but G promised me they would appreciate it all. And they do. How sad.
The Cubans are allowed to remain here in the US, if they physically make it to shore. How ridiculous is that? Oops, interdicted at sea, sorry guys, better luck next time. Either let them in, or don't. But don't make it a game where they're safe if they tag home plate. At least they stand a chance.
And the bogus embargo? Friends sailed over and spent last New Year's Eve in Havana and then went on a week long art spree. Can't you get in trouble for that? Nah. Engine trouble (wink, wink, nudge, nudge.) By the time the Coast Guard got around to checking up on them in their home port, the coast was clear, so to speak.
Maybe it's just me, but isn't this just blatant racism?
With thoughts wafting around my head like the smoke of a Cohiba, I'll leave you with this.
I was going to email her, but figured I'd share my rant on gross injustice with you all.
First let me tell you, your South Florida experience just isn't complete until you've seen a boatload of refugees wash up on the beach. I witnessed a large group of Haitians leaping off a small cabin cruiser onto Fort Lauderdale Beach one morning. People with clothes and shoes held high over their heads as they scrambled for the beach, then dressing themselves as they ran for their life. Just another day in paradise.
How can our government honestly say that these people are only economic refugees and thus deserve to be repatriated? Especially in light of the recent political turmoil. Only there, it's not just recent, it's constant.
I try to adhere to that old Yankee quip: Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without. I have outfits that all three girls have been through, and by the time L finishes with them, they are really done. Once upon a time I would have dropped everything in reasonable condition off at Goodwill, but lately the clothing has been in such bad shape that would have been insulting. Not to G's Haitian employees. Initially I was embarrassed to hand the bags over to them, but G promised me they would appreciate it all. And they do. How sad.
The Cubans are allowed to remain here in the US, if they physically make it to shore. How ridiculous is that? Oops, interdicted at sea, sorry guys, better luck next time. Either let them in, or don't. But don't make it a game where they're safe if they tag home plate. At least they stand a chance.
And the bogus embargo? Friends sailed over and spent last New Year's Eve in Havana and then went on a week long art spree. Can't you get in trouble for that? Nah. Engine trouble (wink, wink, nudge, nudge.) By the time the Coast Guard got around to checking up on them in their home port, the coast was clear, so to speak.
Maybe it's just me, but isn't this just blatant racism?
With thoughts wafting around my head like the smoke of a Cohiba, I'll leave you with this.
The Honor System
Thinking, initially, that we would be out on the island for only approximately two weeks, I brought a minimum of clothing with us, and with our weekend jaunt to Ft. Lauderdale, there was no opportunity to do laundry, so today we were fresh out of clean clothing.
Guess what I did today. Woohoo.
I left instructions with G, that the girls absolutely, positively had to at least finish their reading and history while I was out. Well, imagine my surprise when I returned to find that S had helped her sister with her math and Latin, and they had both done their grammar and logic in addition to the mandatory assignments. Awwwwww, they're such good girls.
While I was out, G had me stop by Home Depot where I made a complete fool of myself, when he had me pick up some "door stop." He needed one 3 ft. and two 7 ft. pieces. This type of wood trim is sold in 12 ft. lengths, so he explained over the Nextel, that there is a table where I can measure and cut it. Oh. Now, I am not one to play damsel in distress, but I looked pretty pathetic, and some old man who spoke German ended up helping me. Before he came along, I was trying to juggle three 12 ft. pieces of wood (yeah, I know, I only needed two...), a tape measure, and a hand saw, while clenching my purse between my knees; clenching it so tightly in fact, that I kept pressing the call button, causing my husband to think I was trying to reach him, so that the sound of his slightly annoyed voice kept squawking out from my purse. And the store was packed. I was lucky that I made it out of there without whacking someone in the head with my lumber. There were several near misses.
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G spent the evening changing out our front door from an old aluminum piece of junk to a glass louvered one. It's very strange. It looks like the door is open, and several times I've caught myself about to yell at the kids for leaving it ajar.
Guess what I did today. Woohoo.
I left instructions with G, that the girls absolutely, positively had to at least finish their reading and history while I was out. Well, imagine my surprise when I returned to find that S had helped her sister with her math and Latin, and they had both done their grammar and logic in addition to the mandatory assignments. Awwwwww, they're such good girls.
While I was out, G had me stop by Home Depot where I made a complete fool of myself, when he had me pick up some "door stop." He needed one 3 ft. and two 7 ft. pieces. This type of wood trim is sold in 12 ft. lengths, so he explained over the Nextel, that there is a table where I can measure and cut it. Oh. Now, I am not one to play damsel in distress, but I looked pretty pathetic, and some old man who spoke German ended up helping me. Before he came along, I was trying to juggle three 12 ft. pieces of wood (yeah, I know, I only needed two...), a tape measure, and a hand saw, while clenching my purse between my knees; clenching it so tightly in fact, that I kept pressing the call button, causing my husband to think I was trying to reach him, so that the sound of his slightly annoyed voice kept squawking out from my purse. And the store was packed. I was lucky that I made it out of there without whacking someone in the head with my lumber. There were several near misses.
----------
G spent the evening changing out our front door from an old aluminum piece of junk to a glass louvered one. It's very strange. It looks like the door is open, and several times I've caught myself about to yell at the kids for leaving it ajar.
Sunday, March 07, 2004
Home Sweet Home
What I wrote yesterday was inaccurate. Not six hours for brunch. Six hours for my Dad.
He was surprised and got a little tear in his eye when he saw everybody there.
---------
It almost didn't turn out so well. We figured to be on the road no later than 7:30 with the boat ride and the uncertain traffic. I had to get up extra early to take a shower, since everybody else had taken one last night and our water heater only holds about one and a half showers' worth.
I woke up to S saying, "Mom, it's 7:30."
Oh my God. Zero to sixty instantly. We made it, without any tickets, arriving about ten minutes before the birthday boy. Phew.
He was surprised and got a little tear in his eye when he saw everybody there.
---------
It almost didn't turn out so well. We figured to be on the road no later than 7:30 with the boat ride and the uncertain traffic. I had to get up extra early to take a shower, since everybody else had taken one last night and our water heater only holds about one and a half showers' worth.
I woke up to S saying, "Mom, it's 7:30."
Oh my God. Zero to sixty instantly. We made it, without any tickets, arriving about ten minutes before the birthday boy. Phew.
Saturday, March 06, 2004
One of the reasons I try to stick to such a firm school schedule, is because we are a spontaneous bunch, known to ditch school at the slightest provocation. For example, this week we will head up to the Kennedy Space Center for their Salute to Homeschoolers. The girls and I went last year and enjoyed ourselves, but looking over the brochure for this year, I figured it wasn't the kind of event we need to attend annually. Then, Dad says he'd like to go this time. OK. And the girls found out that their penpals are going. So, we're going.
-----------
We're looking forward to visiting with the penpal family. We met them via the Well Trained Mind Secular Yahoo group. They spend some time down here in SW Florida and also have three daughters just about the same ages as ours. They invited us over to their place last year, the girls got along well and decided to write each other. One of these days we'll have them out here. Hopefully the place won't be a construction zone, as it is now.
G kept L with him when we went down to their place last year. He and I figured it would give us moms a chance to have a peaceful visit and not be chasing her around the beach all day. It worked. This time, L will be going for a sleepover party at Nana and Papa's. There is no way she would make it all day at the Space Center. She does not understand the concept of being quiet. When she wants to tell you something, she will get right in your face, even grab you by the cheeks if necessary, and no matter how much you try to deter her, she will speak her mind. They are going to wonder if we really do have a third daughter.
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Speaking of spontaneity: My Dad is celebrating his 70th birthday tomorrow. Does not seem possible. Guess I can't be annoyed when he has his senior moments -- he's certainly old enough to have earned the right to be a little doddering sometimes. Anyway, my Mother decided the day before yesterday, to organize a big surprise brunch for him at a nice waterfront restaurant in Ft. Lauderdale. Six hours round-trip for brunch. Great chance to catch up on all those magazines piling up around here.
-----------
We're looking forward to visiting with the penpal family. We met them via the Well Trained Mind Secular Yahoo group. They spend some time down here in SW Florida and also have three daughters just about the same ages as ours. They invited us over to their place last year, the girls got along well and decided to write each other. One of these days we'll have them out here. Hopefully the place won't be a construction zone, as it is now.
G kept L with him when we went down to their place last year. He and I figured it would give us moms a chance to have a peaceful visit and not be chasing her around the beach all day. It worked. This time, L will be going for a sleepover party at Nana and Papa's. There is no way she would make it all day at the Space Center. She does not understand the concept of being quiet. When she wants to tell you something, she will get right in your face, even grab you by the cheeks if necessary, and no matter how much you try to deter her, she will speak her mind. They are going to wonder if we really do have a third daughter.
----------
Speaking of spontaneity: My Dad is celebrating his 70th birthday tomorrow. Does not seem possible. Guess I can't be annoyed when he has his senior moments -- he's certainly old enough to have earned the right to be a little doddering sometimes. Anyway, my Mother decided the day before yesterday, to organize a big surprise brunch for him at a nice waterfront restaurant in Ft. Lauderdale. Six hours round-trip for brunch. Great chance to catch up on all those magazines piling up around here.
Friday, March 05, 2004
Somehow, in spite of a major temper tantrum and threats of boarding school this morning, we managed to get all our work done early, and took the afternoon off to unwind at the beach. The girls splashed around in the slightly too cold, but perfectly clear, green water, while I sprawled under the chickee with On Writing Well. (One can always hope, no?)
You might have guessed they were homeschoolers when they played Three Musketeers, and argued about who got to be D'Artagnan and Porthos. Nobody wants to be Athos for some reason, and they always make their little sister, Aramis.
Dad comes back tomorrow, probably around noon, so that means we need to get an early start, otherwise Dad's distraction will throw us off course. Must...stay...on...course!
Six weeks to go.
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We nearly finished Harry Potter tonight; only one or two more chapters left. Our next read-aloud may be either Gulliver's Travels, Robinson Crusoe, or The Scarlet Pimpernel, I haven't decided yet...
You might have guessed they were homeschoolers when they played Three Musketeers, and argued about who got to be D'Artagnan and Porthos. Nobody wants to be Athos for some reason, and they always make their little sister, Aramis.
Dad comes back tomorrow, probably around noon, so that means we need to get an early start, otherwise Dad's distraction will throw us off course. Must...stay...on...course!
Six weeks to go.
-------------
We nearly finished Harry Potter tonight; only one or two more chapters left. Our next read-aloud may be either Gulliver's Travels, Robinson Crusoe, or The Scarlet Pimpernel, I haven't decided yet...
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
Going through some old links...
The Powers of Ten
Night view of Earth from space
You may have seem them before, but I thought they were pretty cool.
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We spent the day with our old homeschool group for their monthly park meeting. The girls jumped right into the mix and reacquainted themselves with old friends. L (3.5) made a new friend. Carson, an 8 y.o. (but tiny) boy, came up to me, introduced himself and asked if I had a pencil so that he and L could exchange phone numbers. The little guy was so serious, it took all I had not to laugh!
Night view of Earth from space
You may have seem them before, but I thought they were pretty cool.
-----------
We spent the day with our old homeschool group for their monthly park meeting. The girls jumped right into the mix and reacquainted themselves with old friends. L (3.5) made a new friend. Carson, an 8 y.o. (but tiny) boy, came up to me, introduced himself and asked if I had a pencil so that he and L could exchange phone numbers. The little guy was so serious, it took all I had not to laugh!
Magister Mundi sum!
"I am the Master of the Universe!"
You are full of yourself, but you're so cool you
probably deserve to be. Rock on.
Which Weird Latin Phrase Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
What a difference in L's behavior today! I started the day off reading her a chapter in The Complete Tales and Poems of Winnie the Pooh, and then several stories from her Little Bear collection. Next she wanted me to show her how to write a few words, which she practiced tracing, and that was it. She went and kept herself occupied for most of the remainder of her sisters' study time. I hope this continues!
The book was her Christmas present from her father and me. We had been reading it together regularly at bedtime, and everybody greatly enjoyed it. G would sneak out of her bed to curl up and listen, and Dad could even be heard chuckling at Pooh's exploits. A.A. Milne is very silly and so much fun to read, and the illustrations by Shepard are some of my favorites.
"An Ambush," said Owl, "is a sort of Surprise."
"So is a gorse-bush sometimes," said Pooh.
"An Ambush, as I was about to explain to Pooh," said Piglet, "is a sort of Surprise."
"If people jump out at you suddenly, that's an Ambush," said Owl.
"It's an Ambush, Pooh, when people jump at you suddenly," explained Piglet.
Pooh, who now knew what an Ambush was, said that a gorse-bush had sprung at him suddenly one day when he fell off a tree, and he had taken six days to get all the prickles out of himself.
"We are not talking about gorse-bushes," said Owl a little crossly.
"I am," said Pooh.
Now that we are on track again after the big relocation commotion, we're adding this treasure back to our read-aloud stack.
------------
The hardcover Pooh collection was one of my best book buys. I found it at Books-A-Million on clearance for $6.00 and bought one for L and one for my littlest niece. Shhhh...let my SIL think I paid full price, she'll like it better that way.
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HA! I was right! It IS my mother (aka The Wet Blanket, The Black Hole) trying to put a halt to our trip. My father is totally looking forward to going, his only concern was wanting to know the date we leave. He even suggested I get the first few hotels lined up. Yep, I certainly got my planning gene from him. And my wanderlust.
L received a LeapPad from Santa this year, but now with her strong interest in writing and spelling, I may splurge and buy her the LeapPad Plus Writing. Definitely at least a pair of headphones. That will keep her busy and very happy on the car trip. It might even keep Nana busy and happy, too, but I'm not counting on it.
The book was her Christmas present from her father and me. We had been reading it together regularly at bedtime, and everybody greatly enjoyed it. G would sneak out of her bed to curl up and listen, and Dad could even be heard chuckling at Pooh's exploits. A.A. Milne is very silly and so much fun to read, and the illustrations by Shepard are some of my favorites.
"An Ambush," said Owl, "is a sort of Surprise."
"So is a gorse-bush sometimes," said Pooh.
"An Ambush, as I was about to explain to Pooh," said Piglet, "is a sort of Surprise."
"If people jump out at you suddenly, that's an Ambush," said Owl.
"It's an Ambush, Pooh, when people jump at you suddenly," explained Piglet.
Pooh, who now knew what an Ambush was, said that a gorse-bush had sprung at him suddenly one day when he fell off a tree, and he had taken six days to get all the prickles out of himself.
"We are not talking about gorse-bushes," said Owl a little crossly.
"I am," said Pooh.
Now that we are on track again after the big relocation commotion, we're adding this treasure back to our read-aloud stack.
------------
The hardcover Pooh collection was one of my best book buys. I found it at Books-A-Million on clearance for $6.00 and bought one for L and one for my littlest niece. Shhhh...let my SIL think I paid full price, she'll like it better that way.
-----------
HA! I was right! It IS my mother (aka The Wet Blanket, The Black Hole) trying to put a halt to our trip. My father is totally looking forward to going, his only concern was wanting to know the date we leave. He even suggested I get the first few hotels lined up. Yep, I certainly got my planning gene from him. And my wanderlust.
L received a LeapPad from Santa this year, but now with her strong interest in writing and spelling, I may splurge and buy her the LeapPad Plus Writing. Definitely at least a pair of headphones. That will keep her busy and very happy on the car trip. It might even keep Nana busy and happy, too, but I'm not counting on it.
Monday, March 01, 2004
Slow
The girls took forever to get their schoolwork done today. It was a light day to begin with. At 7:00 this evening, I am sitting here waiting for S to finish taking her shower, washing off all the sand, after she and her sisters took off for the beach with Dad, so that we can correct that one last math problem, then we'll finally be done.
Never got to see the Academy Awards last night or read The Story of Mankind. I got comfy on the couch...zzzzzzzzzzzz. Tonight I will try again.
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My mother is beginning to throw up roadblocks to the Colonial American field trip, blaming my father for not wanting to be gone so long. She is such a stick-in-the-mud, I shouldn't be surprised. Will have to talk to my father and find out what he's really game for. She's already tried to postpone it until September, offered to keep the baby at her house for the duration, and omit some of the stops. I don't know why, it's not any different from their usual preferred mode of travel: bus ride to the major attraction, get off, snap a picture, get back on bus. They've been all over Europe and made several return trips to Ireland, but they always do it the same way. No aimless wandering, no sampling the local flavor, no meeting the natives, no finding little out-of-the-way places. Ugh. My Dad actually complained when they got back from one trip to Italy that the food was horrible. "I ordered an antipasto, and all I got was a damn salad."
Never got to see the Academy Awards last night or read The Story of Mankind. I got comfy on the couch...zzzzzzzzzzzz. Tonight I will try again.
----------
My mother is beginning to throw up roadblocks to the Colonial American field trip, blaming my father for not wanting to be gone so long. She is such a stick-in-the-mud, I shouldn't be surprised. Will have to talk to my father and find out what he's really game for. She's already tried to postpone it until September, offered to keep the baby at her house for the duration, and omit some of the stops. I don't know why, it's not any different from their usual preferred mode of travel: bus ride to the major attraction, get off, snap a picture, get back on bus. They've been all over Europe and made several return trips to Ireland, but they always do it the same way. No aimless wandering, no sampling the local flavor, no meeting the natives, no finding little out-of-the-way places. Ugh. My Dad actually complained when they got back from one trip to Italy that the food was horrible. "I ordered an antipasto, and all I got was a damn salad."
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