I've been listening to an audio rendition of Gordon Wood's book Revolutionary Characters lately. Wood is an extremely clear writer, who, fairly economically, gives us a wonderful comprehensive introduction to the characters of America's founding.
I put it on here in the kitchen while I've been cleaning and cooking this afternoon. About 40 minutes ago, Madison wandered in with her sewing kit. "Okay if I sit here and listen and sew?" she asked.
(Are you kidding? I LIVE for this, child!)
"Sure. Enjoy."
We've been hearing all about Thomas Paine. Next is Aaron Burr. Madison says she doesn't understand a lot of what is being said, and she's not asking any questions, but she's still content to sit and listen to an explanation of the ideas of America's founding.
This has always been my vision of how life/school/intellectual & personal growth should be (not the lack of questions, of course, but the interest and harmony). I would love to think that this is just the beginning for her.
I'm pretty much done with what I was going to do here in the kitchen, and was going to go work on some accounting stuff downstairs. But Madison is so happy sitting here, and sewing, and listening, that I can't bring myself to break the rhythm.
Think I'll make a pumpkin pie.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Balance and fixing broken stuff
There is a lesson here, some principle to be derived about the appropriate place that "fixing what is broken" should have in one's life, but I'm still not sure what the principle is.
By "fixing what is broken," I am not being metaphorical.
When something breaks -- a light bulb fizzles, a hinge comes off, the pipes burst, a gutter comes down in a snowstorm, your car starts emanating horrible screeching noises from the engine at random intervals -- there is (and by "there is," I mean, "I have") a real tendency to hope that it goes away on its own. Especially the car thing.
Why? Because, in our division-of-labor society where many things are fairly disposable and where schedules are terribly tight, you never know what is worth it to get fixed, or to let die when their impairment is getting in your way.
But then, there is the undeniable pleasure of fixing something that is broken. Especially when I fix, or get something fixed, right away, I take a real pride in feeling grown-up and capable. And, often, it is easy to do, and you feel like a dodo for not having investigated earlier.
Take yesterday. All week, the Subaru has been emitting the aforementioned horrible screeching sounds when the wheels have been moving, but never consistently; sometimes, when turning. Sometimes, whenbreaking (sorry, Freudian slip typo) braking. Sometimes, when accelerating. I was never convinced that I was in imminent danger, but boy was it getting on my nerves. So, I uncharacteristically decided to take action right away and get it fixed. Called the mechanic Tuesday, got in Wednesday morning.
One hour after I arrived, I was driving away in my happy car. The screeching problem had been the alternator belt; it just needed to be tightened.
But more to the point: Something else was fixed. In the summer, the phalange holding together the front and back parts of the exhaust system had rusted through and finally de-coupled during The Big Engine Blowout when we were downstate. As a consequence, we were sufficiently de-muffled that people on the street would turn and look at the car every time we accelerated. I learned that it would be $700 to get a new exhaust pipe system, and I was damned if I thought it worth $700 to fix a noise. So, I got used to feeling like the teenage guy who lived across the street when I was a kid, the guy who thought mufflers were uncool.
But then, yesterday, after the mechanic tightened the alternator belt, he turned his attention to that pipe. From the waiting room, I heard the unmistakable sound of metal being grindingly severed, and twenty minutes later, Rich came back in, smiling. "Patched it!" he said, triumphantly. He had welded a bit of spare pipe in, and voila.
My car is now whisper-quiet. Or, as whisper-quiet as a nine-year-old Subaru can be. No screeching, no vrooming. And all for $80. It had not been necessary to accept and endure the noise for the past five months. I feel a little silly for having done so.
There is a lesson here, a lesson that goes beyond the truistic, about why we should fix things that are broken even when it's slightly inconvenient and the benefits are not immediately obvious. I just have to figure out what it is. It has to do with the need to take a few simple additional steps, if possible, to figure out the full reality of the situation.
I'd love to hear feedback.
By "fixing what is broken," I am not being metaphorical.
When something breaks -- a light bulb fizzles, a hinge comes off, the pipes burst, a gutter comes down in a snowstorm, your car starts emanating horrible screeching noises from the engine at random intervals -- there is (and by "there is," I mean, "I have") a real tendency to hope that it goes away on its own. Especially the car thing.
Why? Because, in our division-of-labor society where many things are fairly disposable and where schedules are terribly tight, you never know what is worth it to get fixed, or to let die when their impairment is getting in your way.
But then, there is the undeniable pleasure of fixing something that is broken. Especially when I fix, or get something fixed, right away, I take a real pride in feeling grown-up and capable. And, often, it is easy to do, and you feel like a dodo for not having investigated earlier.
Take yesterday. All week, the Subaru has been emitting the aforementioned horrible screeching sounds when the wheels have been moving, but never consistently; sometimes, when turning. Sometimes, when
One hour after I arrived, I was driving away in my happy car. The screeching problem had been the alternator belt; it just needed to be tightened.
But more to the point: Something else was fixed. In the summer, the phalange holding together the front and back parts of the exhaust system had rusted through and finally de-coupled during The Big Engine Blowout when we were downstate. As a consequence, we were sufficiently de-muffled that people on the street would turn and look at the car every time we accelerated. I learned that it would be $700 to get a new exhaust pipe system, and I was damned if I thought it worth $700 to fix a noise. So, I got used to feeling like the teenage guy who lived across the street when I was a kid, the guy who thought mufflers were uncool.
But then, yesterday, after the mechanic tightened the alternator belt, he turned his attention to that pipe. From the waiting room, I heard the unmistakable sound of metal being grindingly severed, and twenty minutes later, Rich came back in, smiling. "Patched it!" he said, triumphantly. He had welded a bit of spare pipe in, and voila.
My car is now whisper-quiet. Or, as whisper-quiet as a nine-year-old Subaru can be. No screeching, no vrooming. And all for $80. It had not been necessary to accept and endure the noise for the past five months. I feel a little silly for having done so.
There is a lesson here, a lesson that goes beyond the truistic, about why we should fix things that are broken even when it's slightly inconvenient and the benefits are not immediately obvious. I just have to figure out what it is. It has to do with the need to take a few simple additional steps, if possible, to figure out the full reality of the situation.
I'd love to hear feedback.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Inauguration at lunch
The girls and I were at a restaurant today; it was a TVs-all-over kind of place, and every set had the inauguration on. I've never seen a restaurant like that be so quiet.
We were seated during Obama's speech. We didn't pay that much attention; they weren't that interested in the content, and I didn't want to hear or dwell on how much government intervention was in the works, how much more I was going to have to pay to fix the auto industry or the health care industry or whatever industry.
But, people near us were talking about the "first black guy to be president," and as I figured the girls were going to hear about this sooner or later, I decided to use the occasion casually to introduce the idea. We don't think of people in terms of race, David and I don't use "race words" to designate groups of people, because it has become anachronistic and, rather than being useful, it gets in the way of actual meaningful ideas about who individuals are. And so, the girls do not see people in terms of their physical characteristics; they really don't notice what people look like at all, unless they're thinking of how well someone's skin and hair color blends with what they have on (like when we're watching What Not To Wear). They certainly don't think of themselves as "white" -- when they find out that some people think this is meaningful, they're going to be surprised.
So, they're naive, and properly so, I think, when it comes to this issue. But I figured I'd rather be the one to float the idea than someone else, who wouldn't know their context. So, while we were munching away, I said,
"You know, some people are making a fuss because Obama is the first U.S. President to have dark skin."
"Why?" said Madison, mildly interested.
"Well, people like 'firsts.' I guess it's the same kind of fuss that people will make when the first woman becomes President."
"Well, even I might make a fuss about that," said Madison.
"Why?" I asked.
"Hmm. I don't know," she said.
And that was that. The exact right level of discussion, I think.
We were seated during Obama's speech. We didn't pay that much attention; they weren't that interested in the content, and I didn't want to hear or dwell on how much government intervention was in the works, how much more I was going to have to pay to fix the auto industry or the health care industry or whatever industry.
But, people near us were talking about the "first black guy to be president," and as I figured the girls were going to hear about this sooner or later, I decided to use the occasion casually to introduce the idea. We don't think of people in terms of race, David and I don't use "race words" to designate groups of people, because it has become anachronistic and, rather than being useful, it gets in the way of actual meaningful ideas about who individuals are. And so, the girls do not see people in terms of their physical characteristics; they really don't notice what people look like at all, unless they're thinking of how well someone's skin and hair color blends with what they have on (like when we're watching What Not To Wear). They certainly don't think of themselves as "white" -- when they find out that some people think this is meaningful, they're going to be surprised.
So, they're naive, and properly so, I think, when it comes to this issue. But I figured I'd rather be the one to float the idea than someone else, who wouldn't know their context. So, while we were munching away, I said,
"You know, some people are making a fuss because Obama is the first U.S. President to have dark skin."
"Why?" said Madison, mildly interested.
"Well, people like 'firsts.' I guess it's the same kind of fuss that people will make when the first woman becomes President."
"Well, even I might make a fuss about that," said Madison.
"Why?" I asked.
"Hmm. I don't know," she said.
And that was that. The exact right level of discussion, I think.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Another accurate observation
Madison, who is a bit less graceful than your average child, was looking forward to a lazy day.
"You know what I like about Sundays when we have nothing scheduled?"
"What?"
"I can sit around all day and read."
"That makes sense. I like those days too."
"Yes, well with me it's especially nice because there's so much less of a chance of getting hurt."
Hard to argue with that.
"You know what I like about Sundays when we have nothing scheduled?"
"What?"
"I can sit around all day and read."
"That makes sense. I like those days too."
"Yes, well with me it's especially nice because there's so much less of a chance of getting hurt."
Hard to argue with that.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Update on Disney on Ice
David said it best:
The content level: Imagine taking notes on the Cliff's Notes version of a Disney Movie.
Speaking of which: Does anyone know why Mulan joined the Chinese Army to save her family honor?
Anyway, the girls liked it. So it was worthwhile on that dimension. And, we do Stuff. As a matter of principle. (Especially when they're free tickets that I get for being a member of The Media.)
"Just exactly as pointless as you thought it might be."
The content level: Imagine taking notes on the Cliff's Notes version of a Disney Movie.
Speaking of which: Does anyone know why Mulan joined the Chinese Army to save her family honor?
Anyway, the girls liked it. So it was worthwhile on that dimension. And, we do Stuff. As a matter of principle. (Especially when they're free tickets that I get for being a member of The Media.)
It's six degrees! SIX!
It's dreadfully cold, and will actually get colder as the day progresses. It's snowing outside (of course), little hard icy flakes. That's why it's time for...
SNUGGLE SCHOOL!
Wherein the three of us get into my bed, turn on the electric mattress pad, and do school there.
Now I'm almost regretting that I accepted the media tickets for the first night of Disney on Ice tonight. Disney on Ice? Hell, Rochester on Ice!
Disney on Ice is not exactly my thing, but isn't it a law that you have to bring your kids to at least one Disney-type event during their childhood?
SNUGGLE SCHOOL!
Wherein the three of us get into my bed, turn on the electric mattress pad, and do school there.
Now I'm almost regretting that I accepted the media tickets for the first night of Disney on Ice tonight. Disney on Ice? Hell, Rochester on Ice!
Disney on Ice is not exactly my thing, but isn't it a law that you have to bring your kids to at least one Disney-type event during their childhood?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Gross? Funny? I'm not sure
I have a new dentist.
He seemed fine, he seemed competent, he seemed personable.
He filled three cavities for me this morning, so my whole mouth is still numb. The girls are at a homeschool activity from 9:30-2:00. I'm talking awfully funny, so the fact that they are doing their thing now instead of talking to me is bad from their perspective, good from mine.
The problem: I'm back at home, and I just found a wadded-up roll of gauze in my upper left quadrant, between my gum and my lip.
I do not know whether to hold it against the dentist.
(No, I don't mean literally.)
Do I?
He seemed fine, he seemed competent, he seemed personable.
He filled three cavities for me this morning, so my whole mouth is still numb. The girls are at a homeschool activity from 9:30-2:00. I'm talking awfully funny, so the fact that they are doing their thing now instead of talking to me is bad from their perspective, good from mine.
The problem: I'm back at home, and I just found a wadded-up roll of gauze in my upper left quadrant, between my gum and my lip.
I do not know whether to hold it against the dentist.
(No, I don't mean literally.)
Do I?
Monday, January 12, 2009
Young Novelist's Workbook
Madison is relishing, positively reveling in, a workbook that helps kids write novels, called the Young Novelist's Workbook, from the "National Novel Writing Month" folks who encourage us all to write a novel during the month of November.
There are a lot of fill-in-the-blank exercises about characters and plot, as well as theory about what makes for a good novel. The e-book (PDF file) is free, a little over 100 pages. I printed out the first dozen pages for Madison to use during the "15 Minutes of Writing" we now do every day, and she loved it so much she did it for half an hour and asked me to print out another dozen pages. The PDF file is here.
My belly hurts...
Sometime back in December, all four of us went through a bad stomach virus, bam, bam, bam, bam, all in a row.
It seems that neither David nor Ella has gotten back up to par since then.
Almost every day, several times each day, I get a mournful "My belly hurts..." from Ella. We usually give her some yogurt or bread and it goes away. And, she just simply finds that she can't eat as much at one sitting. Then, the belly hurts, but in a different way.
And the thing is, it's worse, much worse, if she doesn't want to do something. That's the stickler for me.
She purports to be very nervous that she is going to throw up, at these times. When this first started, a few days after the illness had subsided, I took it totally seriously. But then, we started to realize that there was little danger of her actually vomiting, and that she feels worse if she's hungry or very full.
I would think that it's just Ella being over-proprioceptive.
But then, David reports that he's still not totally up to snuff, digestive-system-wise, ever since that bug hit us all.
So, I can't tell if there is physiological basis for this all. And, I wouldn't really know what to do about it if there WAS some physiological basis. So, I'm not QUITE brushing all of this off, but for now it seems there is nothing to do about it. Except keep a lot of yogurt and applesauce on hand.
It seems that neither David nor Ella has gotten back up to par since then.
Almost every day, several times each day, I get a mournful "My belly hurts..." from Ella. We usually give her some yogurt or bread and it goes away. And, she just simply finds that she can't eat as much at one sitting. Then, the belly hurts, but in a different way.
And the thing is, it's worse, much worse, if she doesn't want to do something. That's the stickler for me.
She purports to be very nervous that she is going to throw up, at these times. When this first started, a few days after the illness had subsided, I took it totally seriously. But then, we started to realize that there was little danger of her actually vomiting, and that she feels worse if she's hungry or very full.
I would think that it's just Ella being over-proprioceptive.
But then, David reports that he's still not totally up to snuff, digestive-system-wise, ever since that bug hit us all.
So, I can't tell if there is physiological basis for this all. And, I wouldn't really know what to do about it if there WAS some physiological basis. So, I'm not QUITE brushing all of this off, but for now it seems there is nothing to do about it. Except keep a lot of yogurt and applesauce on hand.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Memorize the Greek alphabet in less than 10 minutes
Thanks to Melissa Wiley, I discovered this link from Steve Demme, the Math-U-See guy, teaching how to memorize the Greek alphabet in less than 10 minutes:
It works! Well, that is to say, it worked for me in one sitting, and it will probably take five or six times with the girls all told for them to have it down pat. Really, you grownups out there, check it out.
I don't know why it actually means something for me now to know the Greek alphabet, but it does. It's a nice little gap that was filled in, and rather pleasurably, too.
It works! Well, that is to say, it worked for me in one sitting, and it will probably take five or six times with the girls all told for them to have it down pat. Really, you grownups out there, check it out.
I don't know why it actually means something for me now to know the Greek alphabet, but it does. It's a nice little gap that was filled in, and rather pleasurably, too.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Working together on poetry
New notebooks with great photos on the front were all it took to spur a poetry morning here.
They are working together, helping each other.
As Madison said, "Ella is my Poetry A-sister."
They are working together, helping each other.
As Madison said, "Ella is my Poetry A-sister."
A first -- but maybe I should check the laws in my state
Today, for the first time, Ella stayed home alone.
It was only 10 minutes; I just needed to pick up Madison from Science Club about a mile and a half away. Ella wanted to do it, so we did.
We got her a list of relevant phone numbers, including 911 and my cell phone. We made sure she knew that she shouldn't open the door to anyone. She has a level head on her shoulders, and was confident about it being no problem.
While I was gone, Ella actually finished her reading and did her karate practice.
I came back to a smiling nearly-8-year-old.
Madison was impressed and amazed by turns, all the way home. She said that she's too nervous to try it, still. But I'm betting that this changes soon now that she has the proof that Ella did it and was fine.
I don't even know what the state law is about when you can leave children home alone, and for how long. Or even if there is a state law.
It was only 10 minutes; I just needed to pick up Madison from Science Club about a mile and a half away. Ella wanted to do it, so we did.
We got her a list of relevant phone numbers, including 911 and my cell phone. We made sure she knew that she shouldn't open the door to anyone. She has a level head on her shoulders, and was confident about it being no problem.
While I was gone, Ella actually finished her reading and did her karate practice.
I came back to a smiling nearly-8-year-old.
Madison was impressed and amazed by turns, all the way home. She said that she's too nervous to try it, still. But I'm betting that this changes soon now that she has the proof that Ella did it and was fine.
I don't even know what the state law is about when you can leave children home alone, and for how long. Or even if there is a state law.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Ten years ago exactly
Back up, first, to ten years ago YESTERDAY, December 31, 1998. I was at a client's site in Endicott, NY, training them to use Mail Order Manager. I was scheduled to fly home that evening.
And, I thought I might be pregnant.
I was with sympathetic ladies, so when I told them so, late that afternoon, they offered to drive me to the airport a little early so I could pick up a pregnancy test at CVS. Well, we needed to work right up to the last minute, but I decided I could just get one at Wegmans when I get home. Ironically, my flight out of Endicott was late; I could have gotten the test.
The Philadelphia airport didn't sell pregnancy tests, although of course I looked. And when I landed in Rochester at 10:15, I discovered that:
Wegmans had closed early for New Year's Eve.
Oh, Wegmans, the one and only time you've let me down.
So I had to spend the rest of the evening, at friends', keeping my secret. I found out that Wegmans re-opened at 7am on New Year's Day. So I crept out of bed at 6:45 without disturbing David, and was at the door of the Perinton Wegmans when it opened. I marched right over to the pregnancy tests, grabbed one, and went over to the one cashier who was just opening her station. I was the only person in the store.
The cashier looked at my item. Then looked at me. Then said, "So, do you want it to be yes, or no?"
(Can you imagine what I would have felt like if I wanted it to be no?)
Anyhow, I went home, took the test, and there she was, the cutest little Plus Sign you ever saw.
I went down to my office, wrote a letter to the baby, and then went and woke up David to give him a little New Year's surprise.
10 years ago today.
Madison loves this story.
Interestingly enough, I was at this same client's for the day on Tuesday, on our way down to visit our friends' in Pennsylvania, helping a new employee. Ten years ago minus one day exactly.
The folks at the Wedding Gown Preservation Company love this story, too. And it was a nice bonus that they got to meet the person who had been just a little clump of cells the last time I was there.
And, I thought I might be pregnant.
I was with sympathetic ladies, so when I told them so, late that afternoon, they offered to drive me to the airport a little early so I could pick up a pregnancy test at CVS. Well, we needed to work right up to the last minute, but I decided I could just get one at Wegmans when I get home. Ironically, my flight out of Endicott was late; I could have gotten the test.
The Philadelphia airport didn't sell pregnancy tests, although of course I looked. And when I landed in Rochester at 10:15, I discovered that:
Wegmans had closed early for New Year's Eve.
Oh, Wegmans, the one and only time you've let me down.
So I had to spend the rest of the evening, at friends', keeping my secret. I found out that Wegmans re-opened at 7am on New Year's Day. So I crept out of bed at 6:45 without disturbing David, and was at the door of the Perinton Wegmans when it opened. I marched right over to the pregnancy tests, grabbed one, and went over to the one cashier who was just opening her station. I was the only person in the store.
The cashier looked at my item. Then looked at me. Then said, "So, do you want it to be yes, or no?"
(Can you imagine what I would have felt like if I wanted it to be no?)
Anyhow, I went home, took the test, and there she was, the cutest little Plus Sign you ever saw.
I went down to my office, wrote a letter to the baby, and then went and woke up David to give him a little New Year's surprise.
10 years ago today.
Madison loves this story.
Interestingly enough, I was at this same client's for the day on Tuesday, on our way down to visit our friends' in Pennsylvania, helping a new employee. Ten years ago minus one day exactly.
The folks at the Wedding Gown Preservation Company love this story, too. And it was a nice bonus that they got to meet the person who had been just a little clump of cells the last time I was there.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
This is why I hate the fearmongers
The other night, Madison came downstairs after we'd thought she'd been asleep for an hour. She was sobbing.
She said, "I know it’s just not true about an angry God out to get us. And about global warming. But sometimes I just get so scared. I worry so much that you’re not right, and that everyone else is. That I’m going to spend forever in Hell because I'm not following the rules of a religion. And they said in Engineering Camp that humans are destroying the planet, that the polar ice caps are going to melt and drown everything and we're all going to DIE. Or that the hole in the ozone layer is going to...well, do whatever harm that awful hole in the ozone layer is going to do. Everyone says humans are so bad, everyone except YOU. But how do you know you’re right? You can’t prove that there is no God. You can't prove that there isn't going to be some environmental disaster."
Snuggling her, we explained again, about needing evidence to think something IS true, about the motivations of people who would try to scare little kids and not-so-young people into panicking, about how sober thought is necessary before acting in a frenzy about something for which we have little evidence.
Poor kid. This is precisely why I loathe the fearmongers. (And some say that homeschooled kids are too insulated. Imagine how freaked out this 9-year-old would be if she were busy being bombarded by this every day.)
I found this Walter Williams article from this week, which may help her understand that many, many sober scientists are backing away from the global warming hysterical folks. I'll show her later today.
She said, "I know it’s just not true about an angry God out to get us. And about global warming. But sometimes I just get so scared. I worry so much that you’re not right, and that everyone else is. That I’m going to spend forever in Hell because I'm not following the rules of a religion. And they said in Engineering Camp that humans are destroying the planet, that the polar ice caps are going to melt and drown everything and we're all going to DIE. Or that the hole in the ozone layer is going to...well, do whatever harm that awful hole in the ozone layer is going to do. Everyone says humans are so bad, everyone except YOU. But how do you know you’re right? You can’t prove that there is no God. You can't prove that there isn't going to be some environmental disaster."
Snuggling her, we explained again, about needing evidence to think something IS true, about the motivations of people who would try to scare little kids and not-so-young people into panicking, about how sober thought is necessary before acting in a frenzy about something for which we have little evidence.
Poor kid. This is precisely why I loathe the fearmongers. (And some say that homeschooled kids are too insulated. Imagine how freaked out this 9-year-old would be if she were busy being bombarded by this every day.)
I found this Walter Williams article from this week, which may help her understand that many, many sober scientists are backing away from the global warming hysterical folks. I'll show her later today.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Birds of the Twelve Days of Christmas
10,000 Birds has their lovely, and apparently annual, post on the
Birds of the Twelve Days of Christmas
We will read it all together this evening by the fire. It looks lovely. (We will ignore the fact that they use the phrase "begs the question" improperly.)
Birds of the Twelve Days of Christmas
We will read it all together this evening by the fire. It looks lovely. (We will ignore the fact that they use the phrase "begs the question" improperly.)
In our circles, this is actually controversial
We, unlike lots of Objectivists, take the kids to a Christmas Eve service, though it's always been a Protestant service; I grew up Catholic, and so I haven't felt up to bringing them to a Catholic service yet. But we always find a new historic church that has some interesting architecture, and take the kids to their early Christmas Eve service, to sing the songs and expose the kids to the culture and to the tradition. Last year was the Presbyterians, this year the Episcopalians. Last night, David hit the nail on the head with his choice of church, and it turned out that my favorite baritone here in Rochester happened to be in the choir. I have been working with him a bit this year on various projects, so it was a nice surprise to see him and be able to hear him sing a solo.
We were 10 minutes early, which meant we were late, the church was already jammed. The usher found us some seats in the very front row. So there we were, four atheists with two little girls dressed to the nines in their Christmas dresses, standing and sitting politely at the right times, under the beaming eye of the nice lady minister and the beautiful choir only 20 feet in front of us, who know all the carols by heart but don't say any of the prayers and don't take communion. Madison didn't know exactly what to make of the situation. She listened carefully to the service and the sermon, raising and furrowing her eyebrows at the logic in the Book of John: "In the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the word was God." She wasn't sure whether it was okay to shake hands for "Peace," even though David and I were heartily shaking peoples' hands and saying Merry Christmas. (Derrick, who had spied me from up in the choir at the front of the church, beamingly gave me the "V" sign for Peace. It was nice.)
We looked so normal. The typical all-American family out for Christmas Eve services, when under the surface, we're these freethinking radical types who are busy analyzing everything that's going on. It makes me wonder what else is not as it seems.
The minister was brainier than most; she was not up to our standard of argument, of course, but in these cases you're starting from a very low standard, so, relatively speaking, she was quite articulate and thoughtful. She talked about some of the discoveries scientists have made about space with the Hubble telescope, and spoke with excitement about the upcoming launch of the Kepler telescope this year. She then did her best to connect it with God and eternity, although that was a little tough. But the point is, she tried. And, later in the car, when we asked Madison what she thought of the sermon, she said it was a little unsettling that something in which she believed so deeply -- science and space research -- was coupled with something she thought was untrue. Ella said that this was the first year that she didn't mind going to church, that she paid attention and understood what was going on.
Then we went out for Chinese food at P.F. Chang's, had a fantastic meal, and went to bed. At least, the girls did. As is also tradition on Christmas Eve, it took David and me a while to finish preparing.
We were 10 minutes early, which meant we were late, the church was already jammed. The usher found us some seats in the very front row. So there we were, four atheists with two little girls dressed to the nines in their Christmas dresses, standing and sitting politely at the right times, under the beaming eye of the nice lady minister and the beautiful choir only 20 feet in front of us, who know all the carols by heart but don't say any of the prayers and don't take communion. Madison didn't know exactly what to make of the situation. She listened carefully to the service and the sermon, raising and furrowing her eyebrows at the logic in the Book of John: "In the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the word was God." She wasn't sure whether it was okay to shake hands for "Peace," even though David and I were heartily shaking peoples' hands and saying Merry Christmas. (Derrick, who had spied me from up in the choir at the front of the church, beamingly gave me the "V" sign for Peace. It was nice.)
We looked so normal. The typical all-American family out for Christmas Eve services, when under the surface, we're these freethinking radical types who are busy analyzing everything that's going on. It makes me wonder what else is not as it seems.
The minister was brainier than most; she was not up to our standard of argument, of course, but in these cases you're starting from a very low standard, so, relatively speaking, she was quite articulate and thoughtful. She talked about some of the discoveries scientists have made about space with the Hubble telescope, and spoke with excitement about the upcoming launch of the Kepler telescope this year. She then did her best to connect it with God and eternity, although that was a little tough. But the point is, she tried. And, later in the car, when we asked Madison what she thought of the sermon, she said it was a little unsettling that something in which she believed so deeply -- science and space research -- was coupled with something she thought was untrue. Ella said that this was the first year that she didn't mind going to church, that she paid attention and understood what was going on.
Then we went out for Chinese food at P.F. Chang's, had a fantastic meal, and went to bed. At least, the girls did. As is also tradition on Christmas Eve, it took David and me a while to finish preparing.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Ella lost the top tooth, finally
For WEEKS upon weeks, Ella has been wiggling her left top front tooth. Delightful to watch. (Not.) It has bothered her a lot in the last week or so; she's been finding it hard to eat. I have been sympathetic.
This morning, after a little pain-upon-contact incident, she stamped her foot and frustratedly said, "This tooth isn't coming out until JUNE!" But two hours later, there it was.
Interestingly, Madison lost her RIGHT front tooth first, at about the same age.
_____
David here with an addendum to today's posting. Ella ran out of gas at dinner. She said she didn't feel well, but it was just a matter of her suddenly being tired, tired, tired. So she went upstairs to sit on the bed and read. After about 10 minutes--we were still working on our spaghetti and meatballs--a paper airplane flew in from the second floor:
Deb's upstairs with her now, I just left them. Ella's happily asleep...maybe Deb too.
This morning, after a little pain-upon-contact incident, she stamped her foot and frustratedly said, "This tooth isn't coming out until JUNE!" But two hours later, there it was.
Interestingly, Madison lost her RIGHT front tooth first, at about the same age.
_____
David here with an addendum to today's posting. Ella ran out of gas at dinner. She said she didn't feel well, but it was just a matter of her suddenly being tired, tired, tired. So she went upstairs to sit on the bed and read. After about 10 minutes--we were still working on our spaghetti and meatballs--a paper airplane flew in from the second floor:
I WOOD Likk mom to com u9
Deb's upstairs with her now, I just left them. Ella's happily asleep...maybe Deb too.
Lightbulb Day was Sunday
The girls spent a delightful Lightbulb Day on Sunday with their friends Max and Henry and their parents, like-minded folks who came in to spend the weekend with us.
I would have wonderful photos up in this post of four little blond kids, two 9-year-olds and two 7-year-olds, celebrating reason and creativity and productivity and development, listening to a lovely little speech about it in both English and Spanish. I would with their new technologically-correct presents: A Spy Science kit for each set of siblings, so they can continue to email each other in code; a Webkinz each for the boys (although the danger is that we have started a new trend for them); and a terrific little Sound Science kit for the girls. I WOULD have photos, if I hadn't used Madison's camera to record the occasion, and if she hadn't misplaced the cable. This seems to be the story of our lives, camera-wise, this season. Ah, well, some other time you'll see photos. We spent the afternoon at the Rochester Museum & Science Center, and the kids and the men had a quick sledding trip before the celebration began.
I would have wonderful photos up in this post of four little blond kids, two 9-year-olds and two 7-year-olds, celebrating reason and creativity and productivity and development, listening to a lovely little speech about it in both English and Spanish. I would with their new technologically-correct presents: A Spy Science kit for each set of siblings, so they can continue to email each other in code; a Webkinz each for the boys (although the danger is that we have started a new trend for them); and a terrific little Sound Science kit for the girls. I WOULD have photos, if I hadn't used Madison's camera to record the occasion, and if she hadn't misplaced the cable. This seems to be the story of our lives, camera-wise, this season. Ah, well, some other time you'll see photos. We spent the afternoon at the Rochester Museum & Science Center, and the kids and the men had a quick sledding trip before the celebration began.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Today's Paper Airplane of Doom
The latest admonishment from Ella to the rest of us via the Paper Airplane of Doom:
Anyone need a translation?
Update: This just in from the second floor:
This Masig
will saLLF DasRaCD in
5 4 3 2 1
I Hate yoU
Anyone need a translation?
Update: This just in from the second floor:
StoP youR
LaFiG Rite
Naw
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Paper Airplanes of Doom
I had written recently about it being almost impossible not to laugh at Ella when she gets into one of her little fits. We have really been trying not to, because it makes her pretty upset, even as it lets her see that whatever is going on is not too serious.
Enter Ella's new M. O.: the Airplanes of Doom.
Nowadays, when Ella gets into a snit, usually -- she admits this later -- for no good reason, she writes what she intends to be a nasty note on a piece of paper, makes it into a paper airplane, and sails it down the stairs into the kitchen.
Today's note read:
Yesterday's was:
You can imagine how difficult it has been around here, what with the humor barometer almost exploding, but with us trying like heck not to show her how funny it all is.
Enter Ella's new M. O.: the Airplanes of Doom.
Nowadays, when Ella gets into a snit, usually -- she admits this later -- for no good reason, she writes what she intends to be a nasty note on a piece of paper, makes it into a paper airplane, and sails it down the stairs into the kitchen.
Today's note read:
I DO NOT WONT
to Have
BRaKFast
Yesterday's was:
I HAT YOU
MADISON
You can imagine how difficult it has been around here, what with the humor barometer almost exploding, but with us trying like heck not to show her how funny it all is.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Lightbulb Day is Sunday!
On the winter solstice, and for the purpose of having just one more thing to celebrate because why not, we Rosses have a little Lightbulb Day party: We celebrate how reason has led to innovation, achievement, and well-being. We give technologically-laiden gifts. We whack a Lightbulb Day piñata. We talk about how life used to be before the Industrial Revolution. We talk about how, someday, the girls' children's children will marvel that their ancestors lived in an age before they had eradicated common stomach viruses.
Here is an article I wrote for KidsOutAndAbout.com about how to have a Lightbulb Day celebration:
http://rochester.kidsoutandabout.com/main-articles/lightbulbday.html
This year, Max and Henry and their parents are joining us for Lightbulb Day. The girls are counting the days until they arrive.
And, today, they're making the piñata (the easiest piñata ever--blow up a balloon, cover it with gunk and newspaper, let dry, pop balloon, paint yellow). Hope it doesn't implode like the one for Madison's birthday (a Golden Snitch, looking suspiciously EXACTLY like a light bulb) did.
Monday, December 15, 2008
A corner turned for Ella, a mistake for me
Saturday morning, we had a breakthrough.
Ella, at 7 1/2, has never been an enthusiastic reader, or in any way an independent reader. It has not been something she does for pleasure. For her Half Hour With The Book for school, she usually chooses Calvin and Hobbes. Not that there is anything wrong with Calvin and Hobbes. But she has never chosen to read on her own.
And then, on Saturday morning, she chose to remain in bed and snuggle and read one of her new Nate the Great books. By herself.
There were two other events this week that may have contributed to her doing this on Saturday. Or, it just may have been time. No way really to tell.
The first event was a real mistake that I made. A Bad Mommy moment. Earlier in the week, Wednesday I think, Ella was saying something about how she wasn't really interested in reading, because she doesn't necessarily know all of the words, and she doesn't want to keep running to me to ask what they are.
"Oh," I replied. "Well, when Madison was 6, she just decided that she wanted to read the Boxcar Children, and then when she didn't know a word, she just skipped over it, because she really, really wanted to be able to read. It's not that she was better at it than you, but she was really, really driven."
I can't remember what Ella replied to that, something kind of disparaging I think, because it is overshadowed by the Bad Thing I said next:
It's not that I didn't mean to say that, it's that I have always positively meant NOT to say it. I do know what motivated me to say it at that moment, that a little competitive spirit might kick Ella in the pants, but still, what a bad idea to have actually said it. It is one of a very few moments in my parenting life that I have positively gone against a Deep Parenting Principle that I hold. I still feel bad about it. Even though...
It might have done some good.
On Thursday night, the girls had their concert at Barnes & Noble. Afterward, I pretty much bought everything they wanted. As Ella saw Madison piling up books in the basket, she was a bit sour. "I don't know what I want," she said. "I don't know if I want anything."
I was pretty sure that this was a consequence of what I'd said, and spent a fair amount of mental energy kicking myself. But then, she piled several Nate the Great books in the basket.
And then, there she was, reading, on Saturday morning. And just now, for her reading for school, she read an entire Nate the Great book to me without pause, and only missed the word "honor" (which she read as "horror").
So, I think we've turned that corner. But I certainly won't take credit. Yay, Ella!
Ella, at 7 1/2, has never been an enthusiastic reader, or in any way an independent reader. It has not been something she does for pleasure. For her Half Hour With The Book for school, she usually chooses Calvin and Hobbes. Not that there is anything wrong with Calvin and Hobbes. But she has never chosen to read on her own.
And then, on Saturday morning, she chose to remain in bed and snuggle and read one of her new Nate the Great books. By herself.
There were two other events this week that may have contributed to her doing this on Saturday. Or, it just may have been time. No way really to tell.
The first event was a real mistake that I made. A Bad Mommy moment. Earlier in the week, Wednesday I think, Ella was saying something about how she wasn't really interested in reading, because she doesn't necessarily know all of the words, and she doesn't want to keep running to me to ask what they are.
"Oh," I replied. "Well, when Madison was 6, she just decided that she wanted to read the Boxcar Children, and then when she didn't know a word, she just skipped over it, because she really, really wanted to be able to read. It's not that she was better at it than you, but she was really, really driven."
I can't remember what Ella replied to that, something kind of disparaging I think, because it is overshadowed by the Bad Thing I said next:
"By the time Madison was your age, she had read the first six Harry Potters."
It's not that I didn't mean to say that, it's that I have always positively meant NOT to say it. I do know what motivated me to say it at that moment, that a little competitive spirit might kick Ella in the pants, but still, what a bad idea to have actually said it. It is one of a very few moments in my parenting life that I have positively gone against a Deep Parenting Principle that I hold. I still feel bad about it. Even though...
It might have done some good.
On Thursday night, the girls had their concert at Barnes & Noble. Afterward, I pretty much bought everything they wanted. As Ella saw Madison piling up books in the basket, she was a bit sour. "I don't know what I want," she said. "I don't know if I want anything."
I was pretty sure that this was a consequence of what I'd said, and spent a fair amount of mental energy kicking myself. But then, she piled several Nate the Great books in the basket.
And then, there she was, reading, on Saturday morning. And just now, for her reading for school, she read an entire Nate the Great book to me without pause, and only missed the word "honor" (which she read as "horror").
So, I think we've turned that corner. But I certainly won't take credit. Yay, Ella!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Barnes & Noble coupon today only
My kids sing in the Bach Children's Chorus here in Rochester. I'm on the board of directors, and I have been doing a huge amount of work this fall getting stuff going for them, trying to move them to places they deserve to be but haven't yet pursued. One of the things I am working on is getting the kids to sing at the rededication of the Lincoln Monument on May 30 as part of the Lincoln Bicentennial next year. I also just a week ago got them a gig to sing New Year's Eve at the kick-off to Rochester's 175th Anniversary celebration. They were looking for 175 kids to sing "When You Wish Upon A Star" just before the fireworks go off (at 9:30pm, not midnight -- yes, we are a family-friendly town) which just happens to be in the BCC's repertoire. The goal then was to get another 125-135 kids to sing with us, because we only have about 40-50 who might be able to sing. I sent out a note on my e-newsletter to parents on Wednesday (goes out to about 8000 parents) and got 90 kids so far signed up. So, I'm glad about that, because despite all of this work for it, we Rosses will miss the event--we won't actually be in town New Year's Eve.
They have already sung at six shows of the Nutcracker, and Handel's Messiah (which Madison missed because she was too busy with a stomach bug), and a taping at the local CBS TV affiliate. They'll sing next Friday night, too. And last night, the kids sang at Barnes & Noble, which has a wonderful donation division for nonprofits. We set it up so that 10% of all purchases at B&N anywhere in the country, yesterday and today only, will go to the Bach Children's Chorus of Rochester, NY. You have to give them a coupon at the register.
So, on the total off-chance that you happen to be heading to Barnes & Noble today, can you use the coupon? Thanks. Here is the link to the PDF file for you to print out:
http://bachkidsusa.org/PDF/BNFundraiser.pdf
Sunday, December 07, 2008
"It's a Wonderful Life"
As some of you know, David and I have been writing a "Book of Madison" and a "Book of Ella" since we first knew of the girls' existence.
Tonight, we watched Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life, which we do every year during the Christmas season.
David always talks so beautifully about why he loves this movie, and I asked him to write it out this evening for the Books of Madison and Ella. I thought these two passages were particularly worth sharing here:
Doesn't he put things well? :-)
I have known Objectivists who have, well, objected strongly to this movie on the basis of altruism. So I think what David wrote here is well worth considering.
Tonight, we watched Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life, which we do every year during the Christmas season.
David always talks so beautifully about why he loves this movie, and I asked him to write it out this evening for the Books of Madison and Ella. I thought these two passages were particularly worth sharing here:
It’s a film about real people with real values, values that matter, values that make life worth living; that is, values. The particular values, and the ways in which the characters in the movie pursue them, are not precisely ours. But the word precisely is important there, because we do share many of the film’s values, and we do live much as the Baileys do. The film is about a man who is dedicated to doing what’s right. George doesn’t just pursue his values with zeal, he pursues them because they’re right, because he refuses to let evil win. It’s true that George’s frustration with his life lends the film a melancholy air, the fact that he is stifled in the pursuit of his youthful desires is sad. But what the film is about is not that, it’s George’s success, his brilliant success, in an ultimately benevolent world that recognizes his integrity.
George holds his integrity, he lives by the principles he thinks are right, even as injustices, big and small, bombard him because of his integrity. The stress becomes intense, and George is ready to give up his life, but not his principles. On the bridge, George no longer needs to live—he thinks he needs to die—but he still does the right thing when Clarence seems to be drowning. By George’s principles, when a drowning man needs help, you dive in and save him. And he does, and—and this is what I love most about the film—this act of integrity saves George’s life. And we see, in the end, that the world—in the film, the people of the town—recognize the value of a man like George. George, in the end, is rewarded for his integrity, he is rewarded for being a good man. This sort of life, a life in which a person is rewarded for virtue, is indeed a wonderful life.
Doesn't he put things well? :-)
I have known Objectivists who have, well, objected strongly to this movie on the basis of altruism. So I think what David wrote here is well worth considering.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
The Christmas Rush
For me, the Christmas rush started even before Thanksgiving: My clients have really ramped-up their need for reports, for some reason. I would have thought that with the economic climate, the first thing to go for mail-order businesses would have been The Consultant, but it seems not, at least for an appreciable number of them. I've been busy writing reports that analyze trends from past years and incorporate 2008 numbers so that my clients can try to predict what is going to happen this year. I've also been writing reports that extract exactly which customers are likely to purchase certain types of products in the November-December time frame, so my clients can suck them out of their systems and email the heck out of them with promotions. Sorry if you're on the receiving end of that.
Anyway, between Thanksgiving guests, six Nutcracker performances to which Madison had to be ferried on the three days after Thanksgiving (the Bach Children's Chorus sings the Waltz of the Snowflakes at the end of the first act...this is the performance with the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra and the Rochester City Ballet), cooking down the turkey bones into stock, and writing client reports, it has been a busy week.
I suppose that to a small extent my clients' anxiety has infected me. I started being anxious even before Thanksgiving that I hadn't really started my Christmas shopping yet, even though I actually had ordered some beautiful books from First Folio Society. Madison has also talking about a remote-control spy plane that she saw in a Discovery Channel Store catalog in October. The plane had a little camera that allowed you to take photos from 500 feet in the air. Now, you and I can imagine how crappy these photos are likely to be, but you can't exactly say that to a nine-year-old with stars in her eyes and an imagination on fire.
I kind of hoped she'd forget about the plane, given that it is pretty expensive. Nope. She's talked about it for the past month. So I sighed on Sunday and went to buy it. Small snag: out of stock. I then looked at some reviews of the particular plane and was not encouraged by what I saw. But I did some more online work and found a comparably-priced plane with a camera (I only found 2 or 3 on the market that had cameras) that got better reviews. I found it for a reasonable price on eBay from a Toronto seller. So, fingers crossed.
The Folio Society is in Great Britain, and the books I'd ordered only last week came yesterday. I thought sure they'd have a U.S. distribution center, but they arrived yesterday all marked Air Mail. The cardboard box came in a nice fastened burlap sack so that no one could tell what they are. Unfortunately, I didn't think, and I opened the burlap sack practically in the girls' presence, and there, stamped in big letters on the side of the shipping box, was Harry Potter Boxed Set. Sigh. One surprise down the drain. That's okay, she's excited. And she doesn't know about the treasure chest.
But the best present so far is the dollhouse. My girls have wanted an elegant dollhouse for a while, I think mostly due to my telling them about the house I had when I was a kid, so I thought it was time to do it before they got too old. (Is this house as much for me as for them? Yes. Hush.) I was investigating prices this weekend. Geez Louise! Sellers want over $1000 even for a KIT! It made me think I'm in the wrong industry, that I should go out and get me some boards and a jig saw and start my own business. So, off to Craigslist I went. Saturday night, I found an amazing one. I emailed the folks immediately; turns out they are an elderly couple who live near where the girls have gymnastics. I snuck over to their house last night when the girls had their class. The husband made it for the wife in the 1970s some time after they married, and they spent 10 years building and decorating and wiring it with actual lights. It's a lot sturdier than the flimsy dollhouses that you can buy as a kit to build, and they sold it to me for less than 1/10 the cost of a new dollhouse. I felt a little guilty, like I should tell these nice people that they were selling it for too little (especially since the wife just had a liver transplant), but instead I showed them photos of the girls and talked about how long they would use it, and how the girls' children will use it too. They liked that. David is going to pick it up tonight while I have the girls at choir rehearsal. It is going to be great under the tree. Or, rather, overshadowing the tree. It's that big.
Anyway, between Thanksgiving guests, six Nutcracker performances to which Madison had to be ferried on the three days after Thanksgiving (the Bach Children's Chorus sings the Waltz of the Snowflakes at the end of the first act...this is the performance with the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra and the Rochester City Ballet), cooking down the turkey bones into stock, and writing client reports, it has been a busy week.
I suppose that to a small extent my clients' anxiety has infected me. I started being anxious even before Thanksgiving that I hadn't really started my Christmas shopping yet, even though I actually had ordered some beautiful books from First Folio Society. Madison has also talking about a remote-control spy plane that she saw in a Discovery Channel Store catalog in October. The plane had a little camera that allowed you to take photos from 500 feet in the air. Now, you and I can imagine how crappy these photos are likely to be, but you can't exactly say that to a nine-year-old with stars in her eyes and an imagination on fire.
I kind of hoped she'd forget about the plane, given that it is pretty expensive. Nope. She's talked about it for the past month. So I sighed on Sunday and went to buy it. Small snag: out of stock. I then looked at some reviews of the particular plane and was not encouraged by what I saw. But I did some more online work and found a comparably-priced plane with a camera (I only found 2 or 3 on the market that had cameras) that got better reviews. I found it for a reasonable price on eBay from a Toronto seller. So, fingers crossed.
The Folio Society is in Great Britain, and the books I'd ordered only last week came yesterday. I thought sure they'd have a U.S. distribution center, but they arrived yesterday all marked Air Mail. The cardboard box came in a nice fastened burlap sack so that no one could tell what they are. Unfortunately, I didn't think, and I opened the burlap sack practically in the girls' presence, and there, stamped in big letters on the side of the shipping box, was Harry Potter Boxed Set. Sigh. One surprise down the drain. That's okay, she's excited. And she doesn't know about the treasure chest.
But the best present so far is the dollhouse. My girls have wanted an elegant dollhouse for a while, I think mostly due to my telling them about the house I had when I was a kid, so I thought it was time to do it before they got too old. (Is this house as much for me as for them? Yes. Hush.) I was investigating prices this weekend. Geez Louise! Sellers want over $1000 even for a KIT! It made me think I'm in the wrong industry, that I should go out and get me some boards and a jig saw and start my own business. So, off to Craigslist I went. Saturday night, I found an amazing one. I emailed the folks immediately; turns out they are an elderly couple who live near where the girls have gymnastics. I snuck over to their house last night when the girls had their class. The husband made it for the wife in the 1970s some time after they married, and they spent 10 years building and decorating and wiring it with actual lights. It's a lot sturdier than the flimsy dollhouses that you can buy as a kit to build, and they sold it to me for less than 1/10 the cost of a new dollhouse. I felt a little guilty, like I should tell these nice people that they were selling it for too little (especially since the wife just had a liver transplant), but instead I showed them photos of the girls and talked about how long they would use it, and how the girls' children will use it too. They liked that. David is going to pick it up tonight while I have the girls at choir rehearsal. It is going to be great under the tree. Or, rather, overshadowing the tree. It's that big.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The mathematician makes a treehouse
This is the project that David was working on all fall, which was finished just before Halloween. It has a trap door, and everything.
You can see that I finally found the cable that connects the camera to the computer. Just in time for the holidays, too.
You can see that I finally found the cable that connects the camera to the computer. Just in time for the holidays, too.
Blowing off school today
We're going to blow off school today so that I can teach the girls the ancient art of beating all of the crowds who will be at BJ's and Wegmans this afternoon and all day tomorrow. And how to clean out all of the old food out of the refrigerator so that we can fit in all the new food.
While I'm at it, I have to try to straighten out the Webster Library on where exactly their Planets video is... I dropped it off at the Fairport Library last week. I swear.
While I'm at it, I have to try to straighten out the Webster Library on where exactly their Planets video is... I dropped it off at the Fairport Library last week. I swear.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Write or Die!
For all of you who need to write, who should be writing *right now* as a matter of fact instead of reading my blog, there is a terrific web site that I just found as the result of a link at Writer's Digest:
Write or Die!
It gives you a text box. You enter your goal (time or number of words). You start typing. It punishes you if you stop before your goal.
It's just what I need. Seriously. I think this will work.
Write or Die!
It gives you a text box. You enter your goal (time or number of words). You start typing. It punishes you if you stop before your goal.
It's just what I need. Seriously. I think this will work.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Tagged but not tagging
I kind of don't get all this tagging business. Maybe I'm behind the times.
Lynne from 3-Ring Binder tagged me for a random six things about myself. So, I'll do it, because it's kind of fun, but I'm not going to tag other people in case they'd prefer not to be tagged. (If you'd like to be tagged, go ahead and tag yourself.)
Remember, people, these are random things, not the important things. So I think I'll do a rock-and-roll-through-my-ages theme.
1. My first rock-and-roll love was Shaun Cassidy. Someone gave me his debut album Shaun Cassidy for my 8th birthday in 1977, when the album had just been released. His hair looked greenish on the cover, but I didn't care. He made my little heart just "da do ron ron."
2. When I was 15, I spoke with Bruce Springsteen's drummer, Max Weinberg, on the phone. He had called our house, because my mother had taught him Algebra in the 8th grade in Maplewood, NJ. I was the only one home at the time, so I got to speak to him. ("This is Max Weinberg," he said, when I answered the phone. "It IS?" My voice rose several octaves in disbelief, and, okay, excitement. He laughed.)
3. In 1993, I spent an evening drinking with friends, badly singing all of the lyrics to Simon & Garfunkel's Greatest Hits. I finally understood the line in "The Boxer" about Seventh Avenue.
4. I have seen Rush seven times, the last two on my own in Madison Square Garden in 1994 and 1995.
5. Neil Diamond's voice reaches a place deep inside me. No one knows this at all, not even the chair. (Well, now you do.)
6. Whenever I hear Five For Fighting's song 100 Years, I reach for the tissues. It's that 39-and-a-half age getting to me.
Lynne from 3-Ring Binder tagged me for a random six things about myself. So, I'll do it, because it's kind of fun, but I'm not going to tag other people in case they'd prefer not to be tagged. (If you'd like to be tagged, go ahead and tag yourself.)
Remember, people, these are random things, not the important things. So I think I'll do a rock-and-roll-through-my-ages theme.
1. My first rock-and-roll love was Shaun Cassidy. Someone gave me his debut album Shaun Cassidy for my 8th birthday in 1977, when the album had just been released. His hair looked greenish on the cover, but I didn't care. He made my little heart just "da do ron ron."
2. When I was 15, I spoke with Bruce Springsteen's drummer, Max Weinberg, on the phone. He had called our house, because my mother had taught him Algebra in the 8th grade in Maplewood, NJ. I was the only one home at the time, so I got to speak to him. ("This is Max Weinberg," he said, when I answered the phone. "It IS?" My voice rose several octaves in disbelief, and, okay, excitement. He laughed.)
3. In 1993, I spent an evening drinking with friends, badly singing all of the lyrics to Simon & Garfunkel's Greatest Hits. I finally understood the line in "The Boxer" about Seventh Avenue.
4. I have seen Rush seven times, the last two on my own in Madison Square Garden in 1994 and 1995.
5. Neil Diamond's voice reaches a place deep inside me. No one knows this at all, not even the chair. (Well, now you do.)
6. Whenever I hear Five For Fighting's song 100 Years, I reach for the tissues. It's that 39-and-a-half age getting to me.
Flip-flop
On the subject of "no child's character being set in stone -- REALLY":
Lately, I am noting -- to my shock -- that my girls seem to have flip-flopped on their approach to reacting and over-reacting.
Madison and Ella were born 20 months apart. About 20 months ago, when Madison was 7, if there was anyone who was going to over-react to a situation, it was Madison. No question. Once the child got going, she found it difficult to stop. Things would spiral downward, she would make the situation worse and worse (almost, it seemed, on purpose), and draw increasingly hysterical conclusions until either she ran out of steam or one of us adults somehow broke through to her.
Ella would look on at Madison's scenes in wonderment, and quietly ask me why Madison would do such things. She never would, she said. She could see clearly how Madison was making it worse.
I thought it was that Madison was passionate and Ella not so much. Really, I did. I thought it was a character trait, and that this was the way it was going to be.
Ha.
So now, it's Ella's turn. Wow.
Now it's Madison who sits watching, calmly, while Ella throws herself into a fit. Her passion and fire in these are absolutely equal to what Madison was doing 20 months ago. One small difference: Ella is much, much funnier...though not on purpose.
When Madison used to do this, her mode of expression was screaming hysterical accusations and conclusions at us. You could almost see the wheels of imperfect logic spinning wildly out of control in that little brain. Ella doesn't do this: What Ella does, when she's being teased or criticized, is she decides to take umbrage--and threatens that she is going to do something outrageous in response. She then proceeds to do it, to the hilarity of all watching. For example, about a month ago she threatened to take off all of her clothes, she was that mad, and then proceeded to do it. I wasn't there, but David just about split a gut laughing. So this incident gave rise to a new expression in our house: "Clothes-removing mad."
Unfortunately for poor Ella, subsequent outbursts have resulted in more such phrases: "Table-body-surfing mad" and "Chair-moving mad" are just a couple. Last night, she generated a new one, I'm afraid: "Running-away-to-Mexico mad." She actually made it out the door, though only to the back yard. I refrained from pointing out that the back yard was north of the house, not southwest. (Later, at her request, we did a bunch of calculations about how long it would take her to run away to Mexico using various modes of transportation. After remembering that they speak Spanish in Mexico and that her Spanish wouldn't be up to snuff, she modified that to New Mexico--almost as far, and easier to get by.)
The fact is, our laughing fit to bust at these outbursts makes her feel worse. Madder, of course. More upset. But we just can't help it.
My point is that what we thought was a character trait in Madison was actually a phase. The fact that Ella--our little go-with-the-flow distributor-of-sunshine Ella--is going through this now will be extremely useful in helping me keep an open mind as they go through other phases in the future. It reminds me of how labeling a kid--who is, by definition, in constant development--is probably a bad idea.
Lately, I am noting -- to my shock -- that my girls seem to have flip-flopped on their approach to reacting and over-reacting.
Madison and Ella were born 20 months apart. About 20 months ago, when Madison was 7, if there was anyone who was going to over-react to a situation, it was Madison. No question. Once the child got going, she found it difficult to stop. Things would spiral downward, she would make the situation worse and worse (almost, it seemed, on purpose), and draw increasingly hysterical conclusions until either she ran out of steam or one of us adults somehow broke through to her.
Ella would look on at Madison's scenes in wonderment, and quietly ask me why Madison would do such things. She never would, she said. She could see clearly how Madison was making it worse.
I thought it was that Madison was passionate and Ella not so much. Really, I did. I thought it was a character trait, and that this was the way it was going to be.
Ha.
So now, it's Ella's turn. Wow.
Now it's Madison who sits watching, calmly, while Ella throws herself into a fit. Her passion and fire in these are absolutely equal to what Madison was doing 20 months ago. One small difference: Ella is much, much funnier...though not on purpose.
When Madison used to do this, her mode of expression was screaming hysterical accusations and conclusions at us. You could almost see the wheels of imperfect logic spinning wildly out of control in that little brain. Ella doesn't do this: What Ella does, when she's being teased or criticized, is she decides to take umbrage--and threatens that she is going to do something outrageous in response. She then proceeds to do it, to the hilarity of all watching. For example, about a month ago she threatened to take off all of her clothes, she was that mad, and then proceeded to do it. I wasn't there, but David just about split a gut laughing. So this incident gave rise to a new expression in our house: "Clothes-removing mad."
Unfortunately for poor Ella, subsequent outbursts have resulted in more such phrases: "Table-body-surfing mad" and "Chair-moving mad" are just a couple. Last night, she generated a new one, I'm afraid: "Running-away-to-Mexico mad." She actually made it out the door, though only to the back yard. I refrained from pointing out that the back yard was north of the house, not southwest. (Later, at her request, we did a bunch of calculations about how long it would take her to run away to Mexico using various modes of transportation. After remembering that they speak Spanish in Mexico and that her Spanish wouldn't be up to snuff, she modified that to New Mexico--almost as far, and easier to get by.)
The fact is, our laughing fit to bust at these outbursts makes her feel worse. Madder, of course. More upset. But we just can't help it.
My point is that what we thought was a character trait in Madison was actually a phase. The fact that Ella--our little go-with-the-flow distributor-of-sunshine Ella--is going through this now will be extremely useful in helping me keep an open mind as they go through other phases in the future. It reminds me of how labeling a kid--who is, by definition, in constant development--is probably a bad idea.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
An accurate observation
The girls usually start their wander-downstairs early mornings on school days with a little television.
(Go ahead, scowl, you purists. :-) It works for us.)
Madison was down first today, unusual for her. She was still pretty dazed. As she passed me, yawning, she said,
"I'm going to watch TV for a little while now. It's the only thing I can really do with my eyes closed."
(Go ahead, scowl, you purists. :-) It works for us.)
Madison was down first today, unusual for her. She was still pretty dazed. As she passed me, yawning, she said,
"I'm going to watch TV for a little while now. It's the only thing I can really do with my eyes closed."
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
A new poem from John Enright
John's posting of his new poem, called "Perspective" was so perfectly timed for us today that I almost can't believe it.
Perspective
We who were children once, recall
the childish power
to squeal in joy, and then to bawl
sorrowful sobs in the space of an hour
over things that now seem small
but loomed much larger then,
when we were little women and men.
You CAN try this at home
Finally, a child of mine is getting into the Laura Ingalls Wilder books that I loved so much when I was young. It's Ella! She reads some out of them, but would prefer to hear me read, because she gets so much more from them when she's not sounding out words herself.
Madison is getting into the act somewhat, too, but usually prefers her own Maximum Ride books by James Patterson lately.
So it's been Laura, Laura, Laura around here lately. And, yesterday, I had a stroke of brilliance:
By thinking through the five books we've read so far (Farmer Boy a definite favorite), we identified all kinds of things that the Ingalls family had to do to get ready for winter. And then, we tried to find parallel things that we can do in our time to get ready for winter.
So, for example: Ma and the girls had to mend all of the mittens. Well, we didn't have actual mending for the mittens, but the pile in the front hall bin sure needed pairing up and organizing. For that matter, so did the entire coat closet!!! They went at it with vigor. It is now beautiful. Ecce closet.
Heh heh heh. Am I pleased with myself? Yes, I am.
Today, we'll put seed in the bird feeders and stack firewood! Tomorrow, we'll finish going through all of the clothes they've grown out of and do some mending. Thursday, we'll search through the old toys that they've outgrown to make way for new holiday presents.
Oh, I can go on and on, and I think I will...
Well, as long as I can milk this, anyway.
Madison is getting into the act somewhat, too, but usually prefers her own Maximum Ride books by James Patterson lately.
So it's been Laura, Laura, Laura around here lately. And, yesterday, I had a stroke of brilliance:
By thinking through the five books we've read so far (Farmer Boy a definite favorite), we identified all kinds of things that the Ingalls family had to do to get ready for winter. And then, we tried to find parallel things that we can do in our time to get ready for winter.
So, for example: Ma and the girls had to mend all of the mittens. Well, we didn't have actual mending for the mittens, but the pile in the front hall bin sure needed pairing up and organizing. For that matter, so did the entire coat closet!!! They went at it with vigor. It is now beautiful. Ecce closet.
Heh heh heh. Am I pleased with myself? Yes, I am.
Today, we'll put seed in the bird feeders and stack firewood! Tomorrow, we'll finish going through all of the clothes they've grown out of and do some mending. Thursday, we'll search through the old toys that they've outgrown to make way for new holiday presents.
Oh, I can go on and on, and I think I will...
Well, as long as I can milk this, anyway.
A little early, but not really unexpected
I think what woke me was the ghostly quality of the light coming in from the window. After a few minutes of wondering, I swung up and peeked out at the street light. Yep. Snow. Sticking snow. Falling thickly, with no wind.
Beautiful, you know.
Not that I'm exactly looking forward to not seeing the ground for the next four months. And, now that I'm going down this path, I am reminded that I haven't yet gotten the leaf heap (joyfully blown together) out to the curb, and that Ella needs more sturdy winter boots.
All right, that's too prosaic for 4am. So I'll abandon this line of reasoning and remind myself of Ella's contemplation of a little snow shower yesterday afternoon:
"Maybe fairies are cold-blooded, but in a good way. Maybe each snowflake is a fairy baby."
There, that's better, isn't it?
Beautiful, you know.
Not that I'm exactly looking forward to not seeing the ground for the next four months. And, now that I'm going down this path, I am reminded that I haven't yet gotten the leaf heap (joyfully blown together) out to the curb, and that Ella needs more sturdy winter boots.
All right, that's too prosaic for 4am. So I'll abandon this line of reasoning and remind myself of Ella's contemplation of a little snow shower yesterday afternoon:
"Maybe fairies are cold-blooded, but in a good way. Maybe each snowflake is a fairy baby."
There, that's better, isn't it?
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Clickstery solved
The Clicker has been missing from our house for the past 10 days.
I didn't lose it.
David certainly didn't lose it.
So it must have been one of those little critters, the ones who actually use the TV, who misplaced it after a David Attenborough viewing.
They were kind of distraught. They were reduced to watching the episodes of Fetch with Ruff Ruffman, Kim Possible, and What Not To Wear that we had already recorded, because there IS a "list" button on right there on the DVR box from Time Warner.
The TV room is very small. The critters insisted that they had searched every square inch of it. I took a desultory look in places that it might be in other parts of the house, but didn't see it. I let it go. Who needs TV, anyway? I've been too busy to watch it for years.
This morning, I decided to put some effort into looking for The Clicker, myself, because I had heard that there is a series about the science of the Universe on the History Channel which is playing on Tuesday, and as Madison has been lately discussing the scientific and philosophical aspects of the finite universe theory with us, I thought that this would be good to record. So I needed said Clicker.
I decided to check in the obvious first place to look, the place they had insisted they had scoured inch by inch: The cushions of the couch. You know, the one we always sit on while we're watching TV. There, under the cushions, was The Clicker. Along with two Other Clickers, the battery covering to the DVD player, the missing library book, about a dozen scrunchies, and countless pens. One can only wonder at the psychology of kids: They look in the couch, don't see The Clicker among all the other stuff in there, shrug, and then carefully replace the cushions without, say, transferring the DVD remote to its proper place next to the TV.
I got to make fun of the critters. They didn't like it. But they're glad to have The Clicker back.
I didn't lose it.
David certainly didn't lose it.
So it must have been one of those little critters, the ones who actually use the TV, who misplaced it after a David Attenborough viewing.
They were kind of distraught. They were reduced to watching the episodes of Fetch with Ruff Ruffman, Kim Possible, and What Not To Wear that we had already recorded, because there IS a "list" button on right there on the DVR box from Time Warner.
The TV room is very small. The critters insisted that they had searched every square inch of it. I took a desultory look in places that it might be in other parts of the house, but didn't see it. I let it go. Who needs TV, anyway? I've been too busy to watch it for years.
This morning, I decided to put some effort into looking for The Clicker, myself, because I had heard that there is a series about the science of the Universe on the History Channel which is playing on Tuesday, and as Madison has been lately discussing the scientific and philosophical aspects of the finite universe theory with us, I thought that this would be good to record. So I needed said Clicker.
I decided to check in the obvious first place to look, the place they had insisted they had scoured inch by inch: The cushions of the couch. You know, the one we always sit on while we're watching TV. There, under the cushions, was The Clicker. Along with two Other Clickers, the battery covering to the DVD player, the missing library book, about a dozen scrunchies, and countless pens. One can only wonder at the psychology of kids: They look in the couch, don't see The Clicker among all the other stuff in there, shrug, and then carefully replace the cushions without, say, transferring the DVD remote to its proper place next to the TV.
I got to make fun of the critters. They didn't like it. But they're glad to have The Clicker back.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Happy to be average
Madison is one of those kids who is constantly evaluating herself. (Sometimes, she tries to insist that I give her grades. I resist.) She has fortunately come to grips with the fact that she is not perfect at everything, and handwriting has been one of those things that has helped her realize this.
Her handwriting, though, has gotten MUCH better this year. Much. And it has helped her with her work and her thinking; as she's able to write things down more quickly and legibly.
Here is how she described her handwriting today, proudly...
"My handwriting is extremely...average."
Her handwriting, though, has gotten MUCH better this year. Much. And it has helped her with her work and her thinking; as she's able to write things down more quickly and legibly.
Here is how she described her handwriting today, proudly...
"My handwriting is extremely...average."
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Another "out of the mouths of babes"...
Today is St. Augustine's birthday. Not that he's necessarily a guy to celebrate per se, and not that anyone can be sure that his birthday was actually November 13 (don't know how Wikipedia got that), but certainly a cultural figure to know. David was discussing theology with the girls, and Ella came out with this one:
What the HELL is heaven like?
and then she cracked up.
(Gosh, it sounded funnier when she said it than it looks on the page.)
The group of them is currently having a great free will vs. determinism discussion around the kitchen table. Madison has been trying to maintain the determinism position for months, and is having a good time doing it.
Update and clarification: Madison wants it known that she doesn't *want* determinism to be true, she LOVES the idea of making choices. And she doesn't like the idea that all of her mistakes are pre-determined, that she's fated to make mistakes.
I love this, because it means that she so thoroughly understands that ideas are true or false, without any regard to whether you want them to be true or false.
What the HELL is heaven like?
and then she cracked up.
(Gosh, it sounded funnier when she said it than it looks on the page.)
The group of them is currently having a great free will vs. determinism discussion around the kitchen table. Madison has been trying to maintain the determinism position for months, and is having a good time doing it.
Update and clarification: Madison wants it known that she doesn't *want* determinism to be true, she LOVES the idea of making choices. And she doesn't like the idea that all of her mistakes are pre-determined, that she's fated to make mistakes.
I love this, because it means that she so thoroughly understands that ideas are true or false, without any regard to whether you want them to be true or false.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Happy Birthday, John Philip Sousa
John Philip Sousa was born on November 6, 1854, in Washington, DC. It's easy to say he was the most famous composer of marches of all time. His music is the exact opposite of depressing; even Monty Python used Sousa for their opening music.
David had this nice thing to say: You can put John Philip Sousa's music right up there with Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring and the fourth movement of Beethoven's 9th Symphony: It seems to belong to the universe.
And, it's not religious!
--------------------------------
Ella has been blossoming lately into much more of a penetrating thinker than she used to be. Last night at the dinner table, she was full of serious questions, and listened carefully to the answers. Why did more people vote for Barack Obama than for John McCain? What does Obama want to do as President? What is the war in Iraq all about? What will happen to the good people in Iraq if our soldiers leave? What is individual liberty all about? Will there be more or less liberty under Obama? Was McCain or Obama more in favor of freedom?
When Tony and Tatiana come for Thanksgiving, she wants to ask them a lot of questions about what it was like to grow up in Cuba, a country where the government places a low value indeed on individual freedom. I'm sure they'll fall over themselves telling her all she wants to know.
Last night after Ella was in bed, David turned to me and said, "I just want nakedly to admit how proud I am of our baby." I knew just what he meant.
David had this nice thing to say: You can put John Philip Sousa's music right up there with Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring and the fourth movement of Beethoven's 9th Symphony: It seems to belong to the universe.
And, it's not religious!
--------------------------------
Ella has been blossoming lately into much more of a penetrating thinker than she used to be. Last night at the dinner table, she was full of serious questions, and listened carefully to the answers. Why did more people vote for Barack Obama than for John McCain? What does Obama want to do as President? What is the war in Iraq all about? What will happen to the good people in Iraq if our soldiers leave? What is individual liberty all about? Will there be more or less liberty under Obama? Was McCain or Obama more in favor of freedom?
When Tony and Tatiana come for Thanksgiving, she wants to ask them a lot of questions about what it was like to grow up in Cuba, a country where the government places a low value indeed on individual freedom. I'm sure they'll fall over themselves telling her all she wants to know.
Last night after Ella was in bed, David turned to me and said, "I just want nakedly to admit how proud I am of our baby." I knew just what he meant.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
I am not depressed
I am not depressed
I am not depressed
I am not depressed
Oh, there you are. I was not referring to the election, but something more important: I am now officially in the last six months of not being 40.
More, though, I am not depressed because Ella did NOT get at all injured this morning. I took the girls out for a beautiful hike in 60-degree November weather at the southern tip of Ellison Park. There is a huge tree has fallen down across a gully. The tree is absolutely magnetic--it provides the perfect opportunity for scampering across to the opposite hill. Ella had been back and forth a couple of times, when on the last trip back, she slipped. I saw her go down. My stomach lurched. But somehow, she was able to catch herself against the trunk with her hands on the way down, retarding her fall and allowing her to make the eight-foot drop on her feet, which, given that she is four feet or so tall, made it only a four-foot drop. "I'm FINE!" I heard her peep out as soon as she landed. Thank goodness. Four feet in space landing on one's feet is a lot different than eight feet in space landing on one's head.
I am also the opposite of depressed in that Madison has taken to the Pythagorean Theorem like...like...like a child of a mathematician to the Pythagorean Theorem. She is particularly entranced by 1-1-square-root-of-two triangles.
I am not depressed
I am not depressed
Oh, there you are. I was not referring to the election, but something more important: I am now officially in the last six months of not being 40.
More, though, I am not depressed because Ella did NOT get at all injured this morning. I took the girls out for a beautiful hike in 60-degree November weather at the southern tip of Ellison Park. There is a huge tree has fallen down across a gully. The tree is absolutely magnetic--it provides the perfect opportunity for scampering across to the opposite hill. Ella had been back and forth a couple of times, when on the last trip back, she slipped. I saw her go down. My stomach lurched. But somehow, she was able to catch herself against the trunk with her hands on the way down, retarding her fall and allowing her to make the eight-foot drop on her feet, which, given that she is four feet or so tall, made it only a four-foot drop. "I'm FINE!" I heard her peep out as soon as she landed. Thank goodness. Four feet in space landing on one's feet is a lot different than eight feet in space landing on one's head.
I am also the opposite of depressed in that Madison has taken to the Pythagorean Theorem like...like...like a child of a mathematician to the Pythagorean Theorem. She is particularly entranced by 1-1-square-root-of-two triangles.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Our election-themed morning
Bowing slightly to the home-schooling tradition of talking about elections and the political proces on Election Day, the girls and I spent this morning talking about Dave Barry's customary campaign for President. We talked about:And we watched a couple of YouTube videos.
You can even buy a Dave Barry for President set of greeting cards. (We didn't. But it might have made me feel better today.)
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Imagine opening your door on Halloween to this:
This video is only a few seconds but it says it all.
Dress Like a Piano Day
My friend John made me get in the photo, and somehow he performed this miracle of making me look 10 years younger, so I shall be indebted to him always.
Amazing what a donated flat-screen TV box, a box cutter, an exacto knife, a hot glue gun, some paint, and a little applied physics can do! All I had to buy was the strip of fabric, and I found a cheap battery-powered Christmas candle up in the attic. I downloaded the sheet music from the internet, and voilà .
Amazing what a donated flat-screen TV box, a box cutter, an exacto knife, a hot glue gun, some paint, and a little applied physics can do! All I had to buy was the strip of fabric, and I found a cheap battery-powered Christmas candle up in the attic. I downloaded the sheet music from the internet, and voilà .
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Dress Like a Penguin Day
We here at Mariposario have designated October 30, 2008 as Dress Like a Penguin Day. We are wearing black and gray and white and have orange-colored things near our throats. We waddle. We squawk sporadically. Ella sat on my feet.
This is in honor of the fact that Madison has somehow come to grips with the fact that the stuffed emperor penguin whom she thought was her beloved penguin Sheila was in fact Ella's beloved penguin Jeffrey. This has been a many-week saga, believe me.
October 30 is also John Adams' birthday. He was born in 1735 and so would have been 274 today if he hadn't, you know, died 50 years to the day after the signing of the Declaration (the same day as Thomas Jefferson).
Despite the fact that John Adams also seems to be celebrating Dress Like A Penguin Day, these two facts are unrelated.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Half-birthday and birthday of the day
Today is Ella's half-birthday, and ever since last week when I told her that this Wednesday she'd be 7-and-a-half, she has been excited about it and counting the days. The reason she's excited is that I told her that we could celebrate a little. She immediately knew what she wanted to do: She wanted to go to Burger King and get an i-Dog. What is this thing? I don't know. But it proves one thing: Madison and Ella have been watching commercial television, and they seem confidently well-informed about the whole deal. Madison has been politely skeptical of the fact that Ella is more excited about going to Burger King for lunch today than about the far, far more significant event coming up at the end of the week. (It will be 65 degrees on Friday! Yay!)
Today is also Bob Ross's birthday, or it would be if he were still alive. I can no longer find listings for his Joy of Painting in our cable guide, to my regret, so I couldn't tape any episodes in advance of today. Bob Ross (sans the famous afro, I assume) was born in 1942 in Pennsylvania, spent 10 years in the Air Force and a considerable amount of time in Alaska before moving to Florida. He is most famous for his position that everyone can learn to paint, and he set about setting up a method to teach people to do so. His painting method is wet-on-wet oil. I have two of his Joy of Painting instruction manuals, and this afternoon (after the bliss of Burger King) they'll each attempt to copy one of his paintings. We'll use acrylics, though; I don't have my own oils, and acrylics are easier to clean up and because they dry so much more quickly than oils, the colors don't blend and muddy each other with kids' uncertain strokes, so I think kids find them ultimately more satisfying.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Music to a homeschooling mom's ears
"I get this now, Mom, I totally get this so much better than when you showed me last year!"
This from Madison about computing the area of triangles.
We've been doing a fair amount of geometry, both of them, this week and last week. A trip to Office Max for printer ink had resulted in a stupendous purchase: Two protractors at 30 cents apiece, and since then, we've been having a great time with angle measuring and calculating.
Ella really GETS the idea of the angles in a triangle (and bisecting a line) adding up to 180 degrees. We draw a triangle, she measures two angles, she predicts the third angle by adding them up and subtracting from 180, and then sees how close the actual measurement comes. She can't get enough of this. Go figure.
If anyone knows of a neat web site that deals with beginning geometry at this level, or something cool using area of triangles, please let me know.
This from Madison about computing the area of triangles.
We've been doing a fair amount of geometry, both of them, this week and last week. A trip to Office Max for printer ink had resulted in a stupendous purchase: Two protractors at 30 cents apiece, and since then, we've been having a great time with angle measuring and calculating.
Ella really GETS the idea of the angles in a triangle (and bisecting a line) adding up to 180 degrees. We draw a triangle, she measures two angles, she predicts the third angle by adding them up and subtracting from 180, and then sees how close the actual measurement comes. She can't get enough of this. Go figure.
If anyone knows of a neat web site that deals with beginning geometry at this level, or something cool using area of triangles, please let me know.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Quick dip
David took the girls up for a hike in Webster Park, on Lake Ontario, early yesterday afternoon.
It was beautiful up there this last weekend before all of the leaves are down. They had a goal of collecting beautiful leaves; we're going to laminate them, and see whether the diminished oxygen in any way preserves the colors.
They didn't get to collect the leaves. Shortly after they got there, Madison fell into Lake Ontario, and David had to fish her out and scoot for home. Don't worry, it was shallow; they were only at the edge.
She's pretty pleased about it, actually. Well, what normal 9-year-old wouldn't be? It's not the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last.
It was beautiful up there this last weekend before all of the leaves are down. They had a goal of collecting beautiful leaves; we're going to laminate them, and see whether the diminished oxygen in any way preserves the colors.
They didn't get to collect the leaves. Shortly after they got there, Madison fell into Lake Ontario, and David had to fish her out and scoot for home. Don't worry, it was shallow; they were only at the edge.
She's pretty pleased about it, actually. Well, what normal 9-year-old wouldn't be? It's not the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Calling all Objectivists and other rational, caring people
I had a crummy experience with a parent yesterday, the woman who had a little Spanish club thing for the kids last year, the lady whose son HIT Ella in May. We have had limited contact with them since that incident even though Ella and her daughter are friends. But she asked if we could get together without her kids around so she could talk with me. Sure, I said, and so we met at the science center during the school day yesterday. My kids played and explored, and we talked. Well, I talked. She spewed. Ten or fifteen years ago, I would have been really intimidated and upset by the whole thing. But 12 years of marriage to David Ross plus other experiences with unthinking people has taught me a thing or two. And, I kind of suspected where she might be going, so I wasn't caught off guard. It wasn't pleasant, though. I could see how much she hated that I wasn't getting upset, that I could still be, at times, smiling and warm.
It is rare when issues come down so clearly to bare-bones discussions of philosophical differences--usually that stuff is hidden, under the surface, not the things that are actually talked about. In this case, though, I had decided to make sure that the fundamental differences were elucidated as far as I could.
Relativism, and rejection of the need to identify and integrate objective facts, is a crummy thing; when someone is forced to say it out loud, those who maintain this position can become really hotly defensive. My holding so confidently to the idea that there is such a thing as right and wrong, of good and bad...my passionate committment to doing the right thing in all situations...my emphatic maintenance that I am teaching my kids to turn their back on crappy people (and, let's face it, to become people who are just like me and David)...all of this was so offensive to her that in the course of the conversation, she said that she was feeling "uncomfortable at the idea of our kids interacting, given the stark difference in our philosophical orientations." (That's a direct quote.) Perfect, I thought to myself, good excuse not to have anything to do with you ever again, but I didn't say it out loud. You're so intolerent, she said. Open your mind, she said. Other people have opinions too, she said.
I found myself thinking over and over of one of Jerry Seinfeld's routines, the one where he describes the attitude of his friends who become parents. "We don't need YOU, they say. "We can make our OWN people."
It wasn't the first time that people have been intimidated by my confidence in my own evaluations, my assertion that what matters is coming to grasp the facts of objective reality, and my energy and productivity...but it WAS the first time that someone has suggested that hanging around with me might be somehow detrimental. (I had thought that someday this might happen with a homeschooling fundamentalist Christian, but this lady is an atheist.) Yeah, I thought to myself. Don't let your kids be around THAT lady, she might teach them not to lie, she might teach them not to be aggressive, she might show them that she's absolutely intolerant of anyone hitting anyone else, she might teach them that facts are important, she might somehow question their unthinking emotional responses to issues they should get in better perspective. She might teach them to judge. She might teach them how not to take crap from others.
David has said that people find this particularly startling because I have a warm and friendly exterior...people are not expecting the steel backbone and scorn for stupidity that underlies it.
Anyway...can someone please say something sensible, about ANYTHING, I don't care what. I need some long rational digital arms around me today. I'm feeling a little heartsick. Show me that there are some reasonable people out there who care that their assessments and emotions correspond to objective reality. People who, like Rand's characters, want nothing better than to be around people who are smart and productive.
You know, all five of you who read this blog. You know who you are.
It is rare when issues come down so clearly to bare-bones discussions of philosophical differences--usually that stuff is hidden, under the surface, not the things that are actually talked about. In this case, though, I had decided to make sure that the fundamental differences were elucidated as far as I could.
Relativism, and rejection of the need to identify and integrate objective facts, is a crummy thing; when someone is forced to say it out loud, those who maintain this position can become really hotly defensive. My holding so confidently to the idea that there is such a thing as right and wrong, of good and bad...my passionate committment to doing the right thing in all situations...my emphatic maintenance that I am teaching my kids to turn their back on crappy people (and, let's face it, to become people who are just like me and David)...all of this was so offensive to her that in the course of the conversation, she said that she was feeling "uncomfortable at the idea of our kids interacting, given the stark difference in our philosophical orientations." (That's a direct quote.) Perfect, I thought to myself, good excuse not to have anything to do with you ever again, but I didn't say it out loud. You're so intolerent, she said. Open your mind, she said. Other people have opinions too, she said.
I found myself thinking over and over of one of Jerry Seinfeld's routines, the one where he describes the attitude of his friends who become parents. "We don't need YOU, they say. "We can make our OWN people."
It wasn't the first time that people have been intimidated by my confidence in my own evaluations, my assertion that what matters is coming to grasp the facts of objective reality, and my energy and productivity...but it WAS the first time that someone has suggested that hanging around with me might be somehow detrimental. (I had thought that someday this might happen with a homeschooling fundamentalist Christian, but this lady is an atheist.) Yeah, I thought to myself. Don't let your kids be around THAT lady, she might teach them not to lie, she might teach them not to be aggressive, she might show them that she's absolutely intolerant of anyone hitting anyone else, she might teach them that facts are important, she might somehow question their unthinking emotional responses to issues they should get in better perspective. She might teach them to judge. She might teach them how not to take crap from others.
David has said that people find this particularly startling because I have a warm and friendly exterior...people are not expecting the steel backbone and scorn for stupidity that underlies it.
Anyway...can someone please say something sensible, about ANYTHING, I don't care what. I need some long rational digital arms around me today. I'm feeling a little heartsick. Show me that there are some reasonable people out there who care that their assessments and emotions correspond to objective reality. People who, like Rand's characters, want nothing better than to be around people who are smart and productive.
You know, all five of you who read this blog. You know who you are.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Happy Birthday, Weird Al
Today is Weird Al Yankovic's 49th birthday. We did him as the Birthday of the Day, admittedly partly because there really isn't anyone else today that was someone of real historic note, but also because the kids know who he is, and thereby have a connection to him. We had a good discussion of how rock-and-rollers tend to take themselves SO seriously, as opposed to country or jazz musicians. Who are the rockers who actually have enough perspective to incorporate humor? We were hard-pressed to come up with many. We found the Bare Naked Ladies, maybe a little Queen. Any other suggestions?
Thanks to YouTube, we watched some great comparison videos, discussing what parody is. The one the kids like best is Weird Al's "Eat It," which is of course a parody of Michael Jackson's Beat It.
Ella said to me: "Mom, the thing is, I UNDERSTAND "Eat It." But I just don't get "Beat It" and what Michael Jackson is trying to do.
You and me and everyone else, kid.
And here is my personal favorite, Bob:
The kids don't get the Bob Dillon parody, but they enjoy the palindromes. Does anyone know the name of the video that Weird Al is parodying there? I can't find it, and I'd love to show the original to the kids.
See all the education you can get from Weird Al Yankovic?
Thanks to YouTube, we watched some great comparison videos, discussing what parody is. The one the kids like best is Weird Al's "Eat It," which is of course a parody of Michael Jackson's Beat It.
Ella said to me: "Mom, the thing is, I UNDERSTAND "Eat It." But I just don't get "Beat It" and what Michael Jackson is trying to do.
You and me and everyone else, kid.
And here is my personal favorite, Bob:
The kids don't get the Bob Dillon parody, but they enjoy the palindromes. Does anyone know the name of the video that Weird Al is parodying there? I can't find it, and I'd love to show the original to the kids.
See all the education you can get from Weird Al Yankovic?
Monday, October 20, 2008
The secret to getting them to do their work
I've found a great method for getting the kids to do their school work happily and busily: Make their Halloween costume in their presence. Let it be known that when they stop or balk, you stop and shrug.
Too bad Halloween only comes once per year.
Wait until you see the photos. Madison is a piano. I almost didn't think I could pull it off.
Too bad Halloween only comes once per year.
Wait until you see the photos. Madison is a piano. I almost didn't think I could pull it off.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Music and history research
I'm sorry I've been so quiet lately. October has been just non-stop busy, busy, busy. I have been making revisions to my first book at the recommendation of another author who wants to introduce me to her agent (who sold her book to Random House), and that needs to be done by tomorrow. We've been hopping around trying to Do Everything with all of these free tickets that have been given to me so that I can Report On Everything on KidsOutAndAbout.com. I actually decided NOT to take the kids to The Legend of Sleepy Hollow outdoor play yesterday because we've just about reached our limit.
However, a lot of the work I've been doing has been--believe it or not--some research for my own pure pleasure. Actually, that's not entirely true, it started as some work to get the Bach Children's Chorus some historically interesting music, and that's still the main reason I'm working on it. Plus, I'm sure I'll use it in a book someday. But the sheer amount of effort I've put in has been motivated by the pleasure I'm taking in it moment to moment.
I have gone to some effort to interest the National Lincoln Bicentennial Commission in having the Bach Children's Chorus sing at the main celebration in D.C. in February, which has led to my working closely with the directors of the BCC to help them decide on a good repertoire that can be arranged for the kids in short order. Because you always need a "hook" -- a reason to have it be our kids be the ones singing--we've decided that a great one is to have our kids be "ambassadors from the city of Frederick Douglass" (and, it's true, saying that phrase has definitely made the organizers sit up and take notice). See, after Douglass left slavery, he made Rochester his home base. Rochester, as you can imagine, loves Frederick Douglass. And, it seems, no other performing group has a specific "Frederick Douglass repertoire." If the BCC develops one, it will pay off well into the future, as it's actually marketable.
But in what, exactly, should this Lincoln and Douglass (one should NOT make the mistake of saying Lincoln-Douglass, as that conjures up images of the Lincoln-Douglas debates in which the Douglas in question is Stephen Douglas, the anti-abolitionist) repertoire consist? Someone needed to find a good body of work for the director to review with the intent of arranging for a 4-part children's chorus. Because this project has been my baby, fundamentally, I'm the one who has been doing the historic research into the music enjoyed by Lincoln and Douglass, and into some of the music actually sung and played by Douglass, who, it turns out, was a gifted singer and violinist.
I've been at this for a couple of weeks, bringing the kids from library to library, calling and emailing historians and librarians all over the country, and charming the sellers of rare books into making photocopies of index pages of an 1827 version of the hymn book The Seraph (the 1836 edition of which Douglass carried up from Baltimore as he escaped slavery). It has been absolutely fascinating. I'm making connections that people have never made before, and informing people who have helped me and who care about this issue about those connections, making them excited. I even found a slight mistake that one Douglass historian made; I have his email address (in fact, he's one of the people who has helped me), and I'll be able to let him know the mistake once I've compiled this data a bit more formally.
Last week, I saw in one research book that the hymn that inspired Frederick Douglass to leave slavery was called "Run to Jesus." Douglass quotes from this hymn in his second autobiography:
I didn't know where the historian had gotten the specific information that it was this song that first inspired Douglass to leave slavery, but in a way, it was good enough for me--it sounded like a perfect song for the kids to learn, with this story behind it. So I went looking for the sheet music in the Sibley Music Library here in Rochester. I had the librarians hunting through various index books, and they pointed me to a collection in their general stacks, a songbook published in 1887 for the Jubilee Singers of Fisk University. To my shock, right there at the top of "Run to Jesus," it said:
We had our primary source!! I was able to tell this to the curator of the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site in D.C.. She was extremely pleased to hear this; she hadn't known of that songbook, and I think she's going to try to acquire one for their collection. Then, in the same email, she told me something great: The Frederick Douglass NHS has Douglass's original copy of The Seraph (the book, various editions of which I have been chasing all over the country). Tomorrow, the curator is going to open the case and write out for me the list of hymns in it, so I can compare it with the index of the 1827 edition (emailed to me from Wilmington) and the index of the 1860 edition (sent to me from Harvard), AND so that we can choose some of the songs for the kids in the chorus to sing as part of the repertoire.
I had started the research on The Seraph based on the information in a history collection at the Rochester Museum & Science Center, so I've kept the historian there apprised of my progress. She's been so pleased that she asked me to give a talk on this adventure to a gathering there next month of people who support their archives. That should be fun.
In short, this has been an intensely pleasurable three weeks or so of gathering and integrating information, and lighting little fires of excitement in librarians and historians, and even a Presbyterian minister, in places as diverse as Harvard and D.C. and Hartford, CT, in Bridgeton, NJ and Atlanta and San Francisco and Wilmington, DE. Everyone, almost without exception, has been happy to help, photocopying things and sending them to me for free.
On Friday afternoon, I hosted a meeting here at my house with the BCC directors and a famous baritone who lives here in Rochester, and they worked out right there on my piano a beautiful rendition of "Run to Jesus," and talked about how they would arrange the parts for the BCC kids to weave in between what the baritone would sing. I felt moved by the private concert, and privileged to have been the person who had made it happen. The baritone is going to perform it at that November event at the RMSC that I mentioned above, at which I'll be talking. Well, that's not definite yet, but I'm pretty sure I can just tell the RMSC folks that he'll be doing it and he'll be welcomed with open arms. Important, too, because all of the people who are involved with Frederick Douglass's legacy here in Rochester will be at this event, and we'll be able to rub elbows with them.
One thing to mention here: Frederick Douglass was a really great guy. Brilliant, articulate, one of us. His autobiography, especially the second one, My Bondage and My Freedom, is a terrific read. Worthwhile. I have many thoughts on this, particularly concerning the extent to which it is important to make abstract arguments for individual liberty, and whether that is more or less valuable than making a specific case for the concrete ways in which slavery is cruel. But that's for another post, someday, if I feel like it.
You know, sometimes you do a lot of unpaid work for a project, and then feel terribly discouraged when it all slides down into a black hole. But here, yes, I've spent hours and hours on this, ostensibly to help the Bach Children's Chorus. But it's been so fulfilling, even if we don't end up getting asked to go to D.C. in February. There are still a few rare people out there who care about these things, who care about getting them right, and who get as jazzed as I do to think that they're adding to a body of knowledge, filling in holes in history. These small discoveries give me an immense amount of energy. Being in contact with people who care like I do gives me hope.
And the kids are getting an education, too--in music, and in history, and in watching me care about this so passionately. History matters, getting it right matters...and also, getting it right is possible and pleasurable with a little effort. Great lessons, I think.
However, a lot of the work I've been doing has been--believe it or not--some research for my own pure pleasure. Actually, that's not entirely true, it started as some work to get the Bach Children's Chorus some historically interesting music, and that's still the main reason I'm working on it. Plus, I'm sure I'll use it in a book someday. But the sheer amount of effort I've put in has been motivated by the pleasure I'm taking in it moment to moment.
I have gone to some effort to interest the National Lincoln Bicentennial Commission in having the Bach Children's Chorus sing at the main celebration in D.C. in February, which has led to my working closely with the directors of the BCC to help them decide on a good repertoire that can be arranged for the kids in short order. Because you always need a "hook" -- a reason to have it be our kids be the ones singing--we've decided that a great one is to have our kids be "ambassadors from the city of Frederick Douglass" (and, it's true, saying that phrase has definitely made the organizers sit up and take notice). See, after Douglass left slavery, he made Rochester his home base. Rochester, as you can imagine, loves Frederick Douglass. And, it seems, no other performing group has a specific "Frederick Douglass repertoire." If the BCC develops one, it will pay off well into the future, as it's actually marketable.
But in what, exactly, should this Lincoln and Douglass (one should NOT make the mistake of saying Lincoln-Douglass, as that conjures up images of the Lincoln-Douglas debates in which the Douglas in question is Stephen Douglas, the anti-abolitionist) repertoire consist? Someone needed to find a good body of work for the director to review with the intent of arranging for a 4-part children's chorus. Because this project has been my baby, fundamentally, I'm the one who has been doing the historic research into the music enjoyed by Lincoln and Douglass, and into some of the music actually sung and played by Douglass, who, it turns out, was a gifted singer and violinist.
I've been at this for a couple of weeks, bringing the kids from library to library, calling and emailing historians and librarians all over the country, and charming the sellers of rare books into making photocopies of index pages of an 1827 version of the hymn book The Seraph (the 1836 edition of which Douglass carried up from Baltimore as he escaped slavery). It has been absolutely fascinating. I'm making connections that people have never made before, and informing people who have helped me and who care about this issue about those connections, making them excited. I even found a slight mistake that one Douglass historian made; I have his email address (in fact, he's one of the people who has helped me), and I'll be able to let him know the mistake once I've compiled this data a bit more formally.
Last week, I saw in one research book that the hymn that inspired Frederick Douglass to leave slavery was called "Run to Jesus." Douglass quotes from this hymn in his second autobiography:
Run to Jesus--shun the danger--He points out that this was a thinly-veiled song about escaping to the North:
I don't expect to stay
Much longer here.
In the lips of some, it meant the expectation of a speedy summons to a world of spirits; but, in the lips of our company, it simply meant, a speedy pilgrimage toward a free state, and deliverance from all the evils and dangers of slavery.
I didn't know where the historian had gotten the specific information that it was this song that first inspired Douglass to leave slavery, but in a way, it was good enough for me--it sounded like a perfect song for the kids to learn, with this story behind it. So I went looking for the sheet music in the Sibley Music Library here in Rochester. I had the librarians hunting through various index books, and they pointed me to a collection in their general stacks, a songbook published in 1887 for the Jubilee Singers of Fisk University. To my shock, right there at the top of "Run to Jesus," it said:
RUN TO JESUS.
[This song was given to the Jubilee Singers by Hon. FREDERICK DOUGLASS, at Washington, D.C., with the interesting statement, that it first suggested to him the thought of escaping from slavery.]
We had our primary source!! I was able to tell this to the curator of the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site in D.C.. She was extremely pleased to hear this; she hadn't known of that songbook, and I think she's going to try to acquire one for their collection. Then, in the same email, she told me something great: The Frederick Douglass NHS has Douglass's original copy of The Seraph (the book, various editions of which I have been chasing all over the country). Tomorrow, the curator is going to open the case and write out for me the list of hymns in it, so I can compare it with the index of the 1827 edition (emailed to me from Wilmington) and the index of the 1860 edition (sent to me from Harvard), AND so that we can choose some of the songs for the kids in the chorus to sing as part of the repertoire.
I had started the research on The Seraph based on the information in a history collection at the Rochester Museum & Science Center, so I've kept the historian there apprised of my progress. She's been so pleased that she asked me to give a talk on this adventure to a gathering there next month of people who support their archives. That should be fun.
In short, this has been an intensely pleasurable three weeks or so of gathering and integrating information, and lighting little fires of excitement in librarians and historians, and even a Presbyterian minister, in places as diverse as Harvard and D.C. and Hartford, CT, in Bridgeton, NJ and Atlanta and San Francisco and Wilmington, DE. Everyone, almost without exception, has been happy to help, photocopying things and sending them to me for free.
On Friday afternoon, I hosted a meeting here at my house with the BCC directors and a famous baritone who lives here in Rochester, and they worked out right there on my piano a beautiful rendition of "Run to Jesus," and talked about how they would arrange the parts for the BCC kids to weave in between what the baritone would sing. I felt moved by the private concert, and privileged to have been the person who had made it happen. The baritone is going to perform it at that November event at the RMSC that I mentioned above, at which I'll be talking. Well, that's not definite yet, but I'm pretty sure I can just tell the RMSC folks that he'll be doing it and he'll be welcomed with open arms. Important, too, because all of the people who are involved with Frederick Douglass's legacy here in Rochester will be at this event, and we'll be able to rub elbows with them.
One thing to mention here: Frederick Douglass was a really great guy. Brilliant, articulate, one of us. His autobiography, especially the second one, My Bondage and My Freedom, is a terrific read. Worthwhile. I have many thoughts on this, particularly concerning the extent to which it is important to make abstract arguments for individual liberty, and whether that is more or less valuable than making a specific case for the concrete ways in which slavery is cruel. But that's for another post, someday, if I feel like it.
You know, sometimes you do a lot of unpaid work for a project, and then feel terribly discouraged when it all slides down into a black hole. But here, yes, I've spent hours and hours on this, ostensibly to help the Bach Children's Chorus. But it's been so fulfilling, even if we don't end up getting asked to go to D.C. in February. There are still a few rare people out there who care about these things, who care about getting them right, and who get as jazzed as I do to think that they're adding to a body of knowledge, filling in holes in history. These small discoveries give me an immense amount of energy. Being in contact with people who care like I do gives me hope.
And the kids are getting an education, too--in music, and in history, and in watching me care about this so passionately. History matters, getting it right matters...and also, getting it right is possible and pleasurable with a little effort. Great lessons, I think.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Non-stop fall fun
Too much is going on to miss it, around here. Plus, I feel that I have this responsibility to report on as much as I can for my readers.
Saturday, after choir, we went apple picking. The empires were awesome.
Yesterday, we went to Holiday Hollow, the most awesome Halloween venue in the world. Someday soon I'm sure I will find the connector chord for my camera to the PC and then there will be good photos.
Today, we're going to Brown's Berry Patch -- they have a special day for Columbus Day -- that is, as long as the kids get their work done.
Tomorrow there is the kids' beloved nature class out at Genesee Country Nature Center. And Wednesday is a field trip to Ganondagan, an Iroquois longhouse in Victor, NY. Wednesday night we're seeing a dress rehearsal of Fiddler on the Roof being performed in Rochester.
Oh, and by the way, I'm getting busy making Halloween costumes. Madison is going to be a piano. An upright, in case you're wondering. We'll see if I can pull it off. We had gone for dinner at some friends' on Friday night, and they had just gotten a large flat-screen TV--with the perfect box to use for making a piano, at least the way I envision it.
Ella is going to be the piano player: She's going to wear David's tuxedo coat, a top hat if I can find one at the Dollar Store, Madison's tie and cummerbund from her choir uniform, a carnation, and white gloves.
It's David's job to rig the iPod and speakers inside the piano so they can blast Rachmaninoff or something.
Saturday, after choir, we went apple picking. The empires were awesome.
Yesterday, we went to Holiday Hollow, the most awesome Halloween venue in the world. Someday soon I'm sure I will find the connector chord for my camera to the PC and then there will be good photos.
Today, we're going to Brown's Berry Patch -- they have a special day for Columbus Day -- that is, as long as the kids get their work done.
Tomorrow there is the kids' beloved nature class out at Genesee Country Nature Center. And Wednesday is a field trip to Ganondagan, an Iroquois longhouse in Victor, NY. Wednesday night we're seeing a dress rehearsal of Fiddler on the Roof being performed in Rochester.
Oh, and by the way, I'm getting busy making Halloween costumes. Madison is going to be a piano. An upright, in case you're wondering. We'll see if I can pull it off. We had gone for dinner at some friends' on Friday night, and they had just gotten a large flat-screen TV--with the perfect box to use for making a piano, at least the way I envision it.
Ella is going to be the piano player: She's going to wear David's tuxedo coat, a top hat if I can find one at the Dollar Store, Madison's tie and cummerbund from her choir uniform, a carnation, and white gloves.
It's David's job to rig the iPod and speakers inside the piano so they can blast Rachmaninoff or something.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Where does it end?
I'm going to get my weekly supply of vegetables this afternoon from the pick-up point of the CSA.
AND THEN I'M GOING TO RUTHLESSLY CHOP THEM ALL UP AND ROAST AND BOIL THEM!!! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!
Good thing I don't live in Switzerland.
(Thanks, Tony.)
AND THEN I'M GOING TO RUTHLESSLY CHOP THEM ALL UP AND ROAST AND BOIL THEM!!! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!
Good thing I don't live in Switzerland.
(Thanks, Tony.)
Monday, October 06, 2008
Leaf blower
I was not surprised to discover today that there are few household tools that are more fun than a leaf blower. I was not surprised because I have been plotting to buy a leaf blower for more than two years.
David always made his skeptical face when I informed him that a leaf blower was in our future.
(Trust me, love, you'll be blown away.)
David always made his skeptical face when I informed him that a leaf blower was in our future.
(Trust me, love, you'll be blown away.)
Frantically fall. Also, "Ella!"
It's the annual Frantic Fall here in Rochester. October. The time when everyone suddenly realizes that the snow is going to fall soon, so it's time to get the kids Out And About. I have the numbers to prove it; my KidsOutAndAbout.com readership spikes 30% as soon as October 1 hits. Mother Nature responds with harvest season, and all of the farms around here open their arms wide and welcome families with:
corn mazes
and strange activities
and crazy swings
and hayrides with friends to the pumpkin patch.
Of course, I'm the person with the master list of great things to do in fall around here, so we have to participate to the max. I have to report on them, after all! Friday we sat down and planned what we have to fit in, as there are only four weekends in October this year. Those photos above are from Stokoe Farms, a place out west of Rochester, where we spent several hours Saturday afternoon.
For me, three hours were taken yesterday morning on the telephone with my friend Amy Asch, a musical theater historian who has just published a book with Alfred A. Knopf (pronounced "K-nopf"--really) called The Complete Lyrics of Oscar Hammerstein II. If you are a person who likes to know everything about musical theater, buy this book.
After we talked last month about the book, Amy got an unsolicited earful from me about the need for authors to help market their work, and how a web site is a must. She bore up cheerfully, especially when I offered to hold her hand to get it done. (You know how sometimes things are just so hard to figure out when you have to do it alone, but all you need to get over the hump and push through is a friend taking the first steps with you? I figured that was the case, and I was right.) Amy is fairly non-techie but a quick study, and we set up a GoToMyPC.com connection and made her a free web site on Google Sites. She has to finish up the content this week, but soon you'll be able to go to AmyAsch.com and it will forward to a real web page that lists her book info, bio, selected talks, links to resources for other historians and students, and upcoming appearances. I was happy with our work. It's not often that you get to make such a difference in someone's life by taking three hours out of yours doing something you love anyway, and it felt to me like we got a lot done in that time. I felt, you know, productive.
Yesterday, Sunday afternoon, we had Homeschool Mother-Daughter Book Club (Willie the Squowse). And then, last evening, we took the girls to see a production called "Ella!" at Geva Theatre. It is a kind of combination play and Ella Fitzgerald retrospective. David and I were skeptical -- I mean, Ella Fitzgerald is incomparable, so much so that we named our Ella after her -- but the reviews from people we trust who had seen it were so positive that we figured we should see it as a matter of principle. I wanted to bring the girls, too -- Ella in particular, of course -- and so because I didn't think that we should spend $150 on a night out, I scouted out how to go for less. (I will also admit to having become spoiled by many theaters giving me free tickets to dress rehearsals or first night performances so I can report on the show.) My newsletter (which goes out to 7500 Rochesterians on Thursdays) proved handy here: I asked, and found out that the Pittsford Crew was selling coupon books as a fundraiser that have two-for-one coupons. So we went.
The show was actually really good. The girls were, as usual, the youngest people there. I am so pleased to say that we are now at the point where it's not just that they behave themselves when we push the envelope and bring them places not designed particularly for kids, but they actually enjoyed the show. I'm gradually finding myself relaxing at these things and becoming absorbed in the production rather than hyper-monitoring them to make sure they're behaving appropriately and seeing how they're experiencing the show. I'm not sure that other kids who were not familiar with Ella Fitzgerald's music would have been other than bored, but ours already understood enough about Ella and her music to have a place to put the new information.
It was also really cute a couple of times in the lobby, when there was an occasion for me to say Ella's name. People in the crowds saw me calling over to the little blonde girl in the sparkly dress, put two and two together, and smiled.
corn mazes
and strange activities
and crazy swings
and hayrides with friends to the pumpkin patch.
Of course, I'm the person with the master list of great things to do in fall around here, so we have to participate to the max. I have to report on them, after all! Friday we sat down and planned what we have to fit in, as there are only four weekends in October this year. Those photos above are from Stokoe Farms, a place out west of Rochester, where we spent several hours Saturday afternoon.
For me, three hours were taken yesterday morning on the telephone with my friend Amy Asch, a musical theater historian who has just published a book with Alfred A. Knopf (pronounced "K-nopf"--really) called The Complete Lyrics of Oscar Hammerstein II. If you are a person who likes to know everything about musical theater, buy this book.
After we talked last month about the book, Amy got an unsolicited earful from me about the need for authors to help market their work, and how a web site is a must. She bore up cheerfully, especially when I offered to hold her hand to get it done. (You know how sometimes things are just so hard to figure out when you have to do it alone, but all you need to get over the hump and push through is a friend taking the first steps with you? I figured that was the case, and I was right.) Amy is fairly non-techie but a quick study, and we set up a GoToMyPC.com connection and made her a free web site on Google Sites. She has to finish up the content this week, but soon you'll be able to go to AmyAsch.com and it will forward to a real web page that lists her book info, bio, selected talks, links to resources for other historians and students, and upcoming appearances. I was happy with our work. It's not often that you get to make such a difference in someone's life by taking three hours out of yours doing something you love anyway, and it felt to me like we got a lot done in that time. I felt, you know, productive.
Yesterday, Sunday afternoon, we had Homeschool Mother-Daughter Book Club (Willie the Squowse). And then, last evening, we took the girls to see a production called "Ella!" at Geva Theatre. It is a kind of combination play and Ella Fitzgerald retrospective. David and I were skeptical -- I mean, Ella Fitzgerald is incomparable, so much so that we named our Ella after her -- but the reviews from people we trust who had seen it were so positive that we figured we should see it as a matter of principle. I wanted to bring the girls, too -- Ella in particular, of course -- and so because I didn't think that we should spend $150 on a night out, I scouted out how to go for less. (I will also admit to having become spoiled by many theaters giving me free tickets to dress rehearsals or first night performances so I can report on the show.) My newsletter (which goes out to 7500 Rochesterians on Thursdays) proved handy here: I asked, and found out that the Pittsford Crew was selling coupon books as a fundraiser that have two-for-one coupons. So we went.
The show was actually really good. The girls were, as usual, the youngest people there. I am so pleased to say that we are now at the point where it's not just that they behave themselves when we push the envelope and bring them places not designed particularly for kids, but they actually enjoyed the show. I'm gradually finding myself relaxing at these things and becoming absorbed in the production rather than hyper-monitoring them to make sure they're behaving appropriately and seeing how they're experiencing the show. I'm not sure that other kids who were not familiar with Ella Fitzgerald's music would have been other than bored, but ours already understood enough about Ella and her music to have a place to put the new information.
It was also really cute a couple of times in the lobby, when there was an occasion for me to say Ella's name. People in the crowds saw me calling over to the little blonde girl in the sparkly dress, put two and two together, and smiled.
Monday, September 29, 2008
We're up one more good one, folks!
Hey! In an era of political gloom and doom, here is some news that will brighten the day for at least a few of you:
Donald Heath is now a U.S. citizen!
Sorry, Canada. Your loss is our gain.
And sorry, Donald, that I can offer you such a miserable landscape for your first vote. But now that you're officially one of us, I feel a mite bit more hopeful.
Donald Heath is now a U.S. citizen!
Sorry, Canada. Your loss is our gain.
And sorry, Donald, that I can offer you such a miserable landscape for your first vote. But now that you're officially one of us, I feel a mite bit more hopeful.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Mahna Mahna
Jim Hensen's birthday was the other day, or it would have been if he hadn't died suddenly in 1990. We watched a bunch of Muppets YouTubes, and the girls kind of became obsessed with the Mahna Mahna sketch. They've probably watched it a dozen times since Thursday. I think it's a wonderful celebration of jazz. But I may be the only person who thinks that. See it and judge for yourself:
All of us are finding ourselves bursting out into it at odd moments. It's impossible to hear someone say "mahna mahna" and not promptly respond with "Doo doo, doo doo doo."
Okay, so now that I'm on the Muppets kick I must post our very favorite Muppets sketch: Beaker doing Ode to Joy:
I shall torment you no more tonight.
All of us are finding ourselves bursting out into it at odd moments. It's impossible to hear someone say "mahna mahna" and not promptly respond with "Doo doo, doo doo doo."
Okay, so now that I'm on the Muppets kick I must post our very favorite Muppets sketch: Beaker doing Ode to Joy:
I shall torment you no more tonight.
Our girls' 12th anniversary present to us
David and I were married 12 years ago today. To celebrate, we thought we might go see the Ying Quartet, our favorite local orchestral group (which says a lot, considering how music-oriented Rochester is). The Ying Quartet is a young (late-20s-early-30s) group of three brothers and one sister who are awesome. We couldn't get a babysitter, so we decided to bring along the kids.
This was the girls' first real classical music concert, at least the first one that didn't have one of them performing somewhere in the show. They did very well; I was very proud of them for being so grown up. I sat us in the back row just in case they got squirmy, and I also very quietly whispered things for them to notice about the music and the way it was being played to keep them engaged. Ella was actually more interested than Madison in my suggestions, but that may be just because Madison is more entertained by her own thoughts than Ella.
So this new milestone means we can bring them to events like this that David and I so enjoy, and we can all do it together instead of necessarily getting a babysitter. At least, we'll do it for daytime shows. I don't think they would have stayed awake if it was an 8pm-10pm show. Beethoven is exciting as far as classical music goes, but it's not exactly a thrill a minute. Even David dozed during the second piece.
This was the girls' first real classical music concert, at least the first one that didn't have one of them performing somewhere in the show. They did very well; I was very proud of them for being so grown up. I sat us in the back row just in case they got squirmy, and I also very quietly whispered things for them to notice about the music and the way it was being played to keep them engaged. Ella was actually more interested than Madison in my suggestions, but that may be just because Madison is more entertained by her own thoughts than Ella.
So this new milestone means we can bring them to events like this that David and I so enjoy, and we can all do it together instead of necessarily getting a babysitter. At least, we'll do it for daytime shows. I don't think they would have stayed awake if it was an 8pm-10pm show. Beethoven is exciting as far as classical music goes, but it's not exactly a thrill a minute. Even David dozed during the second piece.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Typing and spelling
Ella is proving herself to be very good at spelling this semester. I am attributing it partly to my method of using the Writing Road to Reading.
Here's what we do: We go through that day's five words (although I'm upping it to 10, as I'm pretty sure they can manage 10 just fine). They go to their computers and open their Spelling document I've created. In the first part, they type that day's words in lower case. In the second section, they type that day's words in upper case. And then they print out the document and hand write that day's words in the lines that are already on the document.
They have really been remembering the spellings.
But more interesting than that, Ella spontaneously gave us some insight into her method using that spelling document:
Of course, I was even more impressed with the fact that she has identified her mental machinations here than with the fact that she has created this interesting method. But you can see where her method, of going to look at the end of the word first and making a little unit that both mentally represents the sound AND physically represents that in a pattern on the keyboard, can really help her remember the word.
Now, I know that in the case of "mother" (which was her example to us), having "h-e-r" as the end part isn't technically right because the sound of "th" is one sound, the second, voiced, sound that "th" makes, and she breaks apart the t and the h in her method.
But, I don't really care. It's not as though she pronounces the word "mot-her." She is noticing that the "th" makes the one sound, and is making the decision to force them apart for her method. Fine by me.
Here's what we do: We go through that day's five words (although I'm upping it to 10, as I'm pretty sure they can manage 10 just fine). They go to their computers and open their Spelling document I've created. In the first part, they type that day's words in lower case. In the second section, they type that day's words in upper case. And then they print out the document and hand write that day's words in the lines that are already on the document.
They have really been remembering the spellings.
But more interesting than that, Ella spontaneously gave us some insight into her method using that spelling document:
First, I look at the end syllable of the word. Say it's "mother." I look through the word, and notice the "h-e-r" part. I put my fingers on the keyboard and see how I would type out the "h-e-r." Then I go back to the beginning of the word, and see the "m-o-t." Then, out loud as I type each letter, I say the letter as I'm typing it: "m-o-t-h-e-r."
Of course, I was even more impressed with the fact that she has identified her mental machinations here than with the fact that she has created this interesting method. But you can see where her method, of going to look at the end of the word first and making a little unit that both mentally represents the sound AND physically represents that in a pattern on the keyboard, can really help her remember the word.
Now, I know that in the case of "mother" (which was her example to us), having "h-e-r" as the end part isn't technically right because the sound of "th" is one sound, the second, voiced, sound that "th" makes, and she breaks apart the t and the h in her method.
But, I don't really care. It's not as though she pronounces the word "mot-her." She is noticing that the "th" makes the one sound, and is making the decision to force them apart for her method. Fine by me.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Talk Like a Pirate Day in Jamaica
What better way to reward a satisfying week of work than with a rousing game of JAMAICA on Talk Like a Pirate Day!
Thanks, Laura, for pointing me in the direction of Jamaica as a gift for Madison's birthday. By the way, ThoughtHammer, where I bought the game, is having a bunch of Talk Like A Pirate Day specials.
By the way, the whole "stickers-on-a-chart" idea that I had at the beginning of this week -- a nickel for each subject tackled with a good attitude -- has worked like a charm. It got off to a little rocky start, but I haven't had any problems in *days* -- and each girl has earned about fifty cents each day.
We're having a game day this afternoon to celebrate. Only an hour left, though, before we must go to karate. I kind of hate to yank them.
Thanks, Laura, for pointing me in the direction of Jamaica as a gift for Madison's birthday. By the way, ThoughtHammer, where I bought the game, is having a bunch of Talk Like A Pirate Day specials.
By the way, the whole "stickers-on-a-chart" idea that I had at the beginning of this week -- a nickel for each subject tackled with a good attitude -- has worked like a charm. It got off to a little rocky start, but I haven't had any problems in *days* -- and each girl has earned about fifty cents each day.
We're having a game day this afternoon to celebrate. Only an hour left, though, before we must go to karate. I kind of hate to yank them.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Harmony - literally
Today marks the first day that the girls have spontaneously sung in harmony together. It was to "Little Red Caboose" from the "Wee Sing Fun & Folk" album that was going in the car. Ella sang soprano and Madison sang alto. I had them try it a capella, too. It worked pretty well. They were tickled at having done it.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Laura would so not approve
So okay, the attitude at Mariposario has left a little to be desired lately. A lot of whining about getting things done. Stuff that can be done easily with a little focus.
Math is the worst. (Sorry, David.) It's just that we're not doing "fun math" right now, we're in a "make sure you can do the basics" phase. They don't like it. Oh, well.
So as of today their allowance is tied to their attitude. For each subject on each day that they approach with a good attitude, they don't just get a check on their chart, they get a sticker. And then, at the end of the week, we count up the stickers and for each one on the chart they get a nickel.
Because you know, I'm just tired of the attitude.
Today, Ella was delighted by my announcement and promptly earned 45 cents. Madison was less than pleased at the pressure of having to earn her allowance by her attitude, and she allowed herself to get overwrought during mathematics. (Still addition of fractions with larger non-common denominators.) But the other subjects went fine. Piano and choir practice were positively delightful to listen to.
We'll see. For the foreseeable future, the Long Arm of the Ma--and her pocketbook--rules.
I anticipate that Laura will come down on me politely like a lovely southern Ton of Bricks.
Math is the worst. (Sorry, David.) It's just that we're not doing "fun math" right now, we're in a "make sure you can do the basics" phase. They don't like it. Oh, well.
So as of today their allowance is tied to their attitude. For each subject on each day that they approach with a good attitude, they don't just get a check on their chart, they get a sticker. And then, at the end of the week, we count up the stickers and for each one on the chart they get a nickel.
Because you know, I'm just tired of the attitude.
Today, Ella was delighted by my announcement and promptly earned 45 cents. Madison was less than pleased at the pressure of having to earn her allowance by her attitude, and she allowed herself to get overwrought during mathematics. (Still addition of fractions with larger non-common denominators.) But the other subjects went fine. Piano and choir practice were positively delightful to listen to.
We'll see. For the foreseeable future, the Long Arm of the Ma--and her pocketbook--rules.
I anticipate that Laura will come down on me politely like a lovely southern Ton of Bricks.
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