Disappointing, selfish night

We were eating dinner, discussing plans for the evening. Mike said he would take the kids to class tonight, and Sarah begged for Double D's afterwards.  He agreed to that, and I started fantasizing about ice cream.  I thought maybe I would go along, but that was a fleeting thought, because my need to be alone for an hour and a half is much greater than my craving for ice cream.  Then a brilliant thought struck me:  after they leave, I will go to Dairy Queen by myself!

I was more cheerful than usual as I cleaned up the kitchen and wished them a jolly goodbye.  A few minutes later, I skipped out to the garage to start my vacation.

What a disappointment to find that I couldn't get out because Mike's darling motorcycle was parked behind my vehicle.  How I loathe that thing!  It's almost always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Way too hot and humid to ride my bike to DQ, so I trudged back into the house.

I decided to whip up a batch of cream puffs. As I was putting them in the oven, I was thinking how quickly and easily that dough came together.  I was starting to feel hopeful and happy again as I made the filling. Twenty minutes later I excitedly opened the oven to see my beautiful golden brown puffs of deliciousness, but wait...what's this?

 Hockey pucks of yuck. Just as the disappointment hits, I know exactly where I went wrong.  In my haste, I forgot to add the eggs.  If you've ever wondered what French pastry dough becomes if you don't add eggs, now you know. The eggs are absolutely vital.

Now I'm faced with a decision: Should I just eat the filling and call it a night or start the whole thing over?  I started over.  The butter and milk were heating in the pan, and I went to get a new bag of flour from the pantry, because I had used the last of the other bag on the hockey pucks. Disappointment #3: the only flour in the pantry is whole wheat.  Who wants whole wheat cream puffs?  No one!  But that's all I have, so in it goes.  I added a little sugar and almond extract to the batter in hopes it would counteract the grossness of the whole wheat.

My precious free time was all gone before I even got to eat a puff.  I hid them behind the lettuce where no one will ever find them, so I can eat one after everyone goes to bed.

Hillbilly daughter-in-law

My dear son has always had horrible table manners.  I thought it would get better as he got older, but so far, no.  Today he was sitting at the table shoveling huge spoonfuls of food into his mouth and onto his face, chewing with his mouth open, smacking his lips like a wolf.  I watched this disgusting display for awhile before I decided to take a different approach than my usual nagging/training.  I calmly said, "Noah, the kind of wife you're going to attract if you continue to eat like that is not the kind of daughter-in-law I'm hoping for.  You'll end up with a redneck hunchback hillbilly fool with no teeth, smacking her gums and screeching, 'Honey, I done fried us up some deeee-lish-us rat for supper! Y'all git in here and smear it on your face with me and gimme a big ole kiss!'"  He laughed and laughed and laughed.  I hope he got the point.

Is nothing sacred?

I was eating popcorn.  Sarah flopped down right next to me and took my popcorn.  I went to get cookies to console myself.  She took my cookies.  I got out my phone to play a word game to console myself.  That darn kid took my phone right out of my hand!  That was the last straw.  I grumbled, "You took my popcorn; you took my cookies; you took my phone. Is nothing sacred?"  She said, "Well, you still have Jesus."

Making flags

Today in geography class, we were making flags of European countries. While drawing Sweden's, Sarah said, "Sweden looks like a present!  I want to put a bow on it!"  But when she was drawing Armenia's, she said, "Ewww, Armenia looks like ugly sweater day."  She had something even worse to say about Lithunia's: "Lithuania looks rancid."  That made Noah gag.

I should know better by now, but every time we get involved in a project, I make the same mistake.  Instead of stopping when things heat up or people lose interest, I keep pushing to finish.  I should break big projects up into smaller chunks so people don't get burned out, instead of trying to finish it all in one fell swoop.  Long past the point where we should have stopped for today, Sarah and I were fighting about Moldova's flag. First, for reference, here is the flag of Moldova:

and here is the flag of Romania:

She drew the flag of Romania, labeled it "Moldova" and hung it on the wall.  Then the fight:
M: Umm....where's the crest?
S: What's a crest?
M: That symbol in the middle of the flag.
S: Oh. That looked too complicated, so I left it off.
M: You can't just leave it off.
S: Yes, I can. I did.
M: If you skip the crest, you turn Moldova's flag into Romania's.
S: No, Romania's is a different shade of red. It's dark pink.
M: It's red. The Moldovan flag is exactly the same as the Romanian flag, except it has the crest.
S: No, it's different.
[Sweet, peace-making Noah interjects at this point]
N: Hey, you know a good tip I heard?  We should treat every person we meet as if they're dying.

S: Bye. It was nice knowing you.

 So I got stuck drawing Moldova's flag.  I told Noah to hang it wherever he thought it should go.  He said, "It should go in an art museum!  It's fan-stinkin-tastic!" 

In the end, Sarah summed up the whole thing by saying, "Well, this was kinda fun....emphasis on the 'kinda'."

Another random day

I always have a plan for the school day, but it almost always takes a different direction than my plan.  I'm all about following the students' interests, but it is a little chaotic and random sometimes.  Today it all started with looking out the window.  We saw Marty walking to her meditation tree (an apple tree by the creek where she spends many hours looking like she's contemplating life).

Noah wasn't out of bed yet, and Sarah suggested we go meditate with Marty.  That led to some interesting conversation and watching apples fall.  I don't know why I never thought of this before, but I finally realized we could be using these apples instead of watching them rot on the ground.   So Sarah climbed into the tree to pick some.

We brought back seven apples to make applesauce, and some branches for the chinchillas to chew. 

By the time Noah got up, there was warm cinnamon applesauce for breakfast. They ate that while I read our current read-aloud, which is a book about a missionary to the Philippines.  We wondered why people from the Philippines (with a Ph and two p's) are called Filipino (with an F and one p).

Then we started on math, and Noah asked a question.  This is usually where the train goes off the tracks.  Noah asks a question that appears simple until I realize I can't answer it, and then we're off searching for the answer.  The question he was supposed to write in his math book was, "1 cup = ______ fluid ounces."  His question to me was, "One cup of what?  One cup of feathers weighs more than one cup of lead." I said it was a fluid ounce, so one cup of fluid weighs how much?  He said, "One cup of water or one cup of molten lava?"  I stared blankly for a few seconds before I said, "Well, it's measuring volume, not weight."  He said, "Isn't 'ounce' a measure of weight?" and I was stumped.  He knows he's supposed to write 8 in the blank, and he's not trying to be a smart-aleck; he's just curious. 

I searched in the internet and finally asked the principal, who is smart but was also stumped. He searched the internet better than I did and found that a "fluid ounce" is a measure of volume, and a plain old "ounce" is a measure of weight.  First of all, how did I never know this?  And second, why don't we have a better term than "fluid ounce" for measuring the volume of something other than fluid? Perhaps something less similar to the word for measuring weight?

Then Marty pinned a cicada under her paws on the driveway and caused it to make a horrible screeching noise (the cicada, not the driveway).  We went out to investigate.  And then Noah asked a question.  "How do they make that sound? Do they make it with their wings like crickets?"  I said vaguely, "No, they vibrate some part of their body..." and he said, "Their balls?"  I said, "No. Cicadas don't have balls."  Sarah piped up then with, "Well then how do they mate?"  Back to the internet to research cicada sound-making technique and reproductive organs. How on earth did people ever homeschool before the internet???  We learned some VERY interesting things about cicada mating and had some good conversation about it.  Noah ended up chasing Sarah around the house with a screaming, gyrating cicada in his hand, making her absolutely freak out.  I made him throw the bug outside and sit down for a lecture about "when a woman says no, that means stop." I refuse to raise a rapist.

By this point in the day, according to my plan, we should be locating Slovakia on the map, but somehow it's well past noon and we haven't even had lunch. 

Pate a choux class

I couldn't sleep last night because I was craving cream puffs.  Finally at 2:00 a.m., I wrote a curriculum for a class I could teach later that day that would result in cream puffs.

First was a lesson in spelling, pronunciation, and etymology.  

I just about lost them at "cabbages", but I assured them there was no cabbage involved.  Then we whipped up the dough.  We decided to divide in half and experiment with different flavors.  We added garlic salt and cheddar cheese to one half and baked them into cheese puffs.  

Included in that lesson was a cheapskate cooking tip:  save butter wrappers and use them as parchment paper for baking.  I also save the paper that Subway sandwiches come in, and gondolas from La Gondola.

We added some vanilla and sugar to the other half of the dough and baked it into sweet puffs.  That's where the disagreement arose.  Sarah wanted to be in charge of making the filling.  I said she could.  She wanted to make chocolate, but my craving that kept me up most of the night involved vanilla.  We didn't really have the time or resources to make both. Usually I accommodate her whims in the kitchen, but I stood up for my fantasy this time. 

I ate way, way too many of them. All in the name of education. :)

Sarah's sermon

Sarah has had a special bond with Pastor Harry ever since the church hired him about 3 years ago.  She is always drawing pictures for him and giving him little encouraging notes.  He bought her flowers one time and gave her a gift card another time.  Recently, she gave him this:

I don't usually see the things she gives him (or else I would have corrected her spelling), but the whole congregation ended up seeing this one, because he asked her to join him in preaching a sermon on it.  

They did a great job preaching about how to protect our hearts by living the Word of God.  

Follow this link to watch it: video 

 

Since then, Sarah has been a changed girl!  Today she thanked me for unloading the dishwasher.  She hardly ever thanks me for anything, so I thought I hadn't heard her correctly.  She repeated it, and I said, "You're welcome.  Thank you for thanking me!" She said, "Thank YOU for thanking ME for thanking YOU!"  I hope this change of heart lasts, because it's very pleasant.

Farmdale Reservoir

 Sarah found a pretty white shell (which you can't really see in this picture)

 I thought this would be a good place for a family picture. I set up the camera on a stump, set the timer, and raced to get into the picture.  I didn't make it.

 This time I made it, but just barely, and I look gigantic from that angle. 

 Noah on this uprooted tree looks like a brown peacock.

Another ill-advised picture taken by the self-timer on the camera.

 Sarah found a tiny strip of beach where she wrote her name.

 Noah found a deer print and made his hand print by it.

 Eating a plum from the picnic basket. I packed cheese, crackers, bologna, hummus, and bagel chips.

Hiking back to the car.  This was a road that led to a trail through the woods and across a meadow that ended up at the parking lot.  It was a beautiful day, and we had lots of fun hiking and playing in the creek!

Family day!

My wonderful parents planned a fun day for their children and grandchildren last weekend.  They treated us to a delicious lunch at River 1000 (a buffet with something for everyone).  Then we were supposed to hike the river trail but it was closed due to flood damage.  So we went to Glen Oak Park instead.

 My crazy people, and cousin Ben

 The hostess at the restaurant took this so we could all be in it.

 Bubbles

 Baseball

 Lawn darts

 Phase 10 (which we shortened to Phase 5, because it was really hot out there).

Noah, Sam, and Ben played a quick game of football with some boys they found at the park.

Aunt Amy did a lot of listening.

All that talking wore Sarah out, and she went to sleep on the way home.

Dateless

Mike was rambling on about one of his favorite topics: the Fair Tax.  Noah was mocking him and climbed up into the bay window to use as a soapbox. He stood up and cracked his head hard on the top of the bay.  He crumpled in a heap, and I was concerned about brain injury.  To test him, I asked, "Do you know what day it is?"  He was curled up in a ball, face down, but I heard him mumble, "No.  But then I never know what day it is."  I think his brain is intact.

Factor racist

I was teaching a math lesson about factor trees.  I told Noah that every composite number has a unique set of factors that no other number has, like its fingerprint.  He didn't believe me.  He tested me with several composite numbers.  Then he said, "But what about the really big numbers? There are only a certain number of prime numbers, right?"  I said, "No. Prime numbers march on into infinity." I made little marching motions with my hands.  He got that look that I LOVE.  The one that is realization dawning, learning occurring, the beginnings of an awestruck smile.  My favorite part of teaching.  It's very rare, but it's worth the wait every time.  He gets it.  But he's not done discussing it quite yet.

N: The factors for 35 are only 5 and 7.  Is that right?
M: Yes.
N: I mean, is that good enough?
M: 5 and 7 are the factors of 35.  There's no value judgment of good or bad. It's just a fact.  That's one of the reasons I love math.
N: But all the other numbers I've done have at least 4 prime factors...
M: That doesn't make them better, you factor racist. [He understood and laughed, which is another reason it's a joy to be with him.] Just as each person has different characteristics that make him unique, he's not better than another person with different characteristics.

Mussels

Sarah just completed the "el" unit in spelling.  One of the words she learned was "mussel".  I made sure she was aware that it wasn't a "muscle".  She asked what it was, and I told her it was a kind of shellfish. She said, "Can we have it for dinner?"  So we did.  None of us had ever bought, cooked, or eaten a mussel before, so it was a fun experience.

 Sarah didn't like the way they looked, but she took a cautious bite and instantly hated them. 

Shiloh took a sniff and decided she didn't like them either.

Mike, Noah, and I thought they were ok, but nothing we'd go out of our way to eat again. 

Nudist

Last night I saw a naked guy.  I was driving the kids home from Pekin, and I glanced over and saw an old fat guy coming out of his house (it might have been an apartment; I didn't really notice the building).  He was standing there in his doorway in broad daylight on a busy street, completely naked.  I was shocked but not disgusted.  In fact, I kind of admired him. 

Here's something about me that most people don't know: I would love to live in a nudist community.  Not the ones full of tan, muscular people, but one that is just regular people walking around naked.  I hate having to wear clothes all the time.  But thanks to society, I don't feel comfortable opening my front door to get the paper naked. That's why I admired the naked guy on Route 98.  He was naked and he didn't care who saw him.

My favorite class

My favorite class to teach is literature, because all we do is read good books and discuss them.  My kids are old enough to engage in fascinating discussions now, which gives me such a charge!  At the moment, we're reading Waking Up in Heaven by Crystal McVea.  It has brought up some very heavy topics that we have not discussed before, like sexual abuse and abortion.  I try to just guide the discussion and not lecture, but sometimes I can't help myself.  I lectured at length about abortion today. The kids asked some good questions. Noah thinks deeply about everything and is very articulate. Sarah spouts out a golden nugget once in awhile, and sometimes she just provides comic relief.  For instance, after I told them to never, ever allow my grandchildren to be aborted and that I would raise them myself if I had to, Sarah said, "How about I give you my baby and you raise it until it's about three or four years old and starts to be a decent person, and then I'll take it back." 

Not surprisingly, my favorite class in college was a literature class about short stories.  We read fantastic short stories and discussed them in class.  Since class participation was 50% of the final grade, everyone had to participate.  I still think about some of those stories to this day.  There was one called "Letter to a Young Lady in Paris" by Julio Cortazar.  I don't remember a thing about it except that I was skimming along the fairly boring story when all the sudden this line appeared: "I was going up in the elevator and just between the first and second floors I felt that I was going to vomit up a little rabbit."  Wait....what?!  I went back and reread that sentence, and it certainly grabbed me.  I don't remember any plot or characters or anything except the fact that this guy would occasionally puke up a live bunny and let it graze on his balcony, where he grew clover for them.

Another one that rocked my world was "Bartleby, the Scrivener" by Herman Melville.  Bartleby worked for a lawyer and did a great job and didn't bother anyone, until he was asked to do something above and beyond his usual tasks.  His reply was, "I would prefer not to."  Having always been a people-pleaser and authority-obeyer myself, I would never have dared to say anything like that to my boss or anyone else.  Bartleby became my hero for awhile. I tried to copy his line, but I was never really able to pull it off.  Bartleby did less and less as the story went on, and rather than fire him, the lawyer ended up moving his practice to another building.  Bartleby finally starved to death because he preferred not to eat.

The one that really blew my mind was "The Circular Ruins" by Jorge Borges.  All the characters turned out to be figments of other characters' imaginations.  The whole thing was a dream.  You're going along reading what you assume is a normal narrative, and then you realize the whole thing was a farce.  I felt betrayed, like someone had yanked the rug out from under me.  Then the professor said, "What if we're all just characters in someone else's dream?"  That actually still haunts me.