Three Beautiful Things: Sleep, Brothers, Long Weekend

1. A good night's sleep. I slept so well last night. For nearly 20 years I have slept poorly when Dr. H. is away. (Actually it's only been in the past 10 years that I would even stay by myself if he was out of town. You can read my struggles with this here at my post Opening the Windows.) Last night, I slept great. I did wake up a couple of times, but I didn't have even one single twinge of fear, wondering if they doors really were locked. In fact, I just realized that I didn't even put chairs up against all the doors last night.

2. The day ahead. Today my brothers and I will be cleaning my parents' new home, just a few blocks down the road from me, in anticipation of their arrival in less than 2 weeks. It's not that cleaning is especially a beautiful thing, although this isn't major cleaning, but I am looking forward to catching up with my brothers and their families. We all live within 45 minutes of each other, but our visits are rare.

3. Long weekend. Our co-op classes are off on Monday for Columbus Day, so I have a long, luxurious, lesson plan-free weekend.

What beautiful things are in your life today?

I Survived the Fall Festival

I promised them that we'd go this year. Last year I publicly confessed that I do not like to go to the Foothills Fall Festival. Yes, it's won national awards: "The Best Festival in the Southeast!" and "One of the Top Ten Fall Festivals in the Country!" Foreigner is playing there right this minute, and my teenager is somehow hanging outside the festival area listening. There are 13 more acts this weekend, including Billy Ray Cyrus and my personal favorite from my childhood, Kenny Rogers. I'll never forget the joy my 8th grade year when my friends Ros and Lisa gave me a Kenny Rogers Greatest Hits album for my birthday, along with a green Izod golf shirt! That was a great birthday.

But I digress. Besides the very reasonable $35 weekend pass for the concert area, there is also a gigantic FREE children's adventureland and a craft show. And like I said, this year I promised I'd take them.

Here are the back of their heads as they watch the dog show along with 62,000 other people. (Yes, I made that number up.)

I'm sorry, but I don't understand why we get so excited about animals doing tricks. I try to be enthusiastic, and I do clap as if I'm truly enthralled with these talented beasts, but I'd rather be raking leaves than watching dogs catch frisbees. I am quite sure I am lacking some fundamental character trait, and I probably shouldn't have admitted that.

There's Duncan, fourth in line in the brown shirt. He went on this particular inflatable many, many times while Laurel and I sweated profusely.

Obviously, she deserved a sno-cone when he was done. But didn't sno-cones used to be, well, flavorful? I'm just saying.

We did run into some friends midway through our outing. Friends do make everything so much more enjoyable.

Duncan could spend every waking moment with his friend Noah, so it was an extra treat to run into Noah at the festival. Next year maybe I could get Noah and his mom and sister to skip the fall festival and just hang out here for a few hours. I would even blow up balloons and make deep-fried Twinkies.

We spent less than three hours there, and I was utterly exhausted. Crowds, noise, heat, long lines, bodies: that kind of stuff wears me out. I would have loved the fall festival when I was a teenager—the people watching, the thrill of independence, the throngs of people. Now, not so much. I just want water and a bench in the shade.

But the good news is, I've done my duty! I've fulfilled my promise, with a smile on my face, and I'm home in my quiet kitchen. The house is very quiet tonight. Dr. H. went on a solo backpacking trip; Jesse is hanging out at the festival with a friend; and Laurel is at a sleepover. Duncan and I enjoyed a rare evening together, just the two of us, with a movie and Zaxby's chicken wings. And 5 hours after returning from the festival, I'm beginning to recover. A good dose of quiet goes a long way.

Heart of the Matter Meme: Educational Freebie Sites

Today's Heart of the Matter Online meme asks: What great educational freebie sites do you frequently visit?

Here are some of my favorites:

* Daily Grammar Archive: This is a whole grammar curriculum, well laid out, easily accessible, and free.

* Glencoe Literature Library: Fantastic free study guides on dozens of novels, from Across Five Aprils to The Yearling, on both middle reader and high school levels.

* Purdue's Online Writing Lab (OWL): Another fantastic grammar and writing resource, with printable quizzes and handouts.

* Lapbooking at Squidoo: This has been by far the most helpful site for me in learning the art of lapbooks. I can always go here for ideas and a lot of free downloads.

* CurrClick: I love the free download every Monday. I have a big file of future lapbooks and notebooking pages I've downloaded. Someday maybe I'll get to them…

* Enchanted Learning: I can't possibly say how many times I've used this site over the past 9 years. I did pay the $20/annual fee for a couple of years, but I haven't for awhile. It seems like we are using my favorite site less and less as the kids get older.

* Scott Foresman Grammar and Writing Handbooks: I couldn't resist one more grammar resource. You can download entire workbooks for K-6th grade. Fabulous!

(See more educational freebie sites here at Heart of the Matter Online.)

Study Spots in SmallWorld

First of all, this is our house. (Actually, this is our house in April, not October, but it's dark and rainy outside right now so this photo will have to suffice.) The door in the photo goes into our sunroom, which is our craft room. This room holds all the playdough, paint, construction paper, glue, inventing supplies, and other essentials like cast-off calendars and wallpaper sample books. We don't use this room in the winter because it isn't heated, and it gets positively filled with junk each winter. One of my early summer projects was to clean this room, which I did quite thoroughly. I love having a room where all the messy projects can be done, out of sight.

We've always done school in a variety of places around the house, mostly the dining room table and the living room couch. This year, however, we've changed things around. Another of my summer projects was to figure out how to use our attached apartment, which was, until this year, my parents' winter home. I made the bold move to turn it into our schoolroom, and I cannot express how much I love have a separate space for schooling! I've taken the majority of our kids' books, games, puzzles and other materials out of various places in our house and put them in our new room. Finally I have the space to put up my book rack, so that our daily books are easily accessible.

I also moved our old dining room table in there. We do the majority of our work either at the table or on the couch in our new room. I can't believe what a difference it makes in my personal sanity to have all our materials, for the most part, in one place. I love being able to stick maps up on the walls with abandon and not have to pick up stacks of books and papers for meals. Laurel especially thrives on organization, and she's really enjoyed making our new space more "official," with cubbies and nametags. (This is the girl who likes to play school.)

Of course we do school other places in and around our home, too: outside and in the kitchen, especially. And Jesse, our high schooler, does the vast majority of his work sitting right here, at the computer.

See Memoir #7 here: Snacks
See Memoir #6 here: Summer Photo Essay
See Memoir #5 here: My Favorite Things
See Memoir #4 here: Something New
See Memoir #3 here: Routines
See Memoir #2 here: Agendas
See Memoir #1 here: All About Me

Monday Memory: in memory of randy landry

He was a liar, a cheater, a poseur. He was a drunk and a thief. He was offensive, amoral, and conniving. And he was my friend. He was brilliant and funny and sweet. He was a good listener and smelled of Paco Rabanne. He was witty and bold, artistic and promising. I met Randy Landry during freshmen weekend at college. He had followed a girl to college, a girl he'd met at church camp. He wore an argyle sweater and shiny penny loafers. (He would deny, later, ever having worn such things, but I have pictures and a very good memory.) The girl lived across the hall from me, and we became friends. It soon became clear that she was not interested in him. Still he followed her around, courteous and devoted. He was going to be a youth minister and marry her. (He would deny this, too, later. Both parts.) She brushed him off like a shoulder full of dandruff.

  And then he was my friend, not hers, and a better friend than the girl he followed. Soon we were a group of six or so, spending all our time together. Late nights studying, roaming around campus, wildly enthusiastic, we all were, about discovering everything new, on our own. He was, more than anything, sharp-witted and funny. He was always in the middle of all the action, always ready to have fun. Clearly, he drank too much; we learned that within the first few months of college. But he was my friend, and he would have done anything for me. Mostly, he listened. I can hear his voice, still. A bit of a munchkin sound to it. He couldn't carry a tune, and like most people who can't hear a note, he didn't know it.

  Girls liked him. Some girls. I never knew why: he was short and barrel-chested with skinny legs. But he had a nice smile and beautiful eyes, and he could be charming and very, very funny. And sometimes, before he started drinking too too much, he smelled good. Sophomore year I fell in love with his roommate (who would ultimately become my husband). The next years become fuzzy, but randy is always there. In nearly every scene in my memory, he is there, somewhere. Whatever the state of my heart: broken or ecstatic, he was there to cheer me on or let me cry. He was always reassuring me in some way, although he had demons knocking his own door down. He had fallen hopelessly, helplessly in love with one of our entourage, the beautiful Debby. He followed her around everywhere, helped her write papers, and soon became known as "Quiet Desperation" by some of the snickering upperclassmen.

  I liked him less and less each year, although I loved him. He seemed to shrink each year, eyes red-rimmed and face scruffy. His black trenchcoat and shabby shoes. He was the black sheep of the family, walking right along the edge of the cliff, barely hanging on. A photograph comes to mind: on vacation one summer, we visit Niagara Falls. He decides, suddenly to climb over the iron fence. I snapped a picture of him hanging by one hand above Niagara Falls, cigarette dangling from his mouth. I could have stomped on his hand and set him free to slide down the falls. He had a penchant for badly masked plagiarism. Once he gave me a pile of poems to read. I scanned each one; all sounded familiar. Then this one jumped out at me: "Not even the snow has such fragile wrists," the last line read. "Randy," I said. "This is e.e. cummings! This is "Somewhere I have travelled, gladly beyond!" I cried in disbelief at his blatant copy. Totally seriously he looked at me and said, "I've never read e.e. cummings." It was at this same time that he began signing his name as "randy landry."

  He drove us all crazy, but we loved him and cared for him, even as our disgust mounted at times. He was often rude and mocking, then penitent and kind. Clearly he was brilliant. He didn't need to copy Vonnegut or cummings; he was a graceful writer on his own. Ultimately he found his calling in the theatre department. Our college hired a new theatre professor, and randy adored him. Under Dick's tutelage, randy started focusing. He was a gifted director. Could have been Something. Could have been Someone. But.

  Although we came in as freshmen together, somehow randy didn't graduate with me. I'm not sure what happened; perhaps he simply stopped going to classes. He became sloppy. But he was devoted now to theatre, and he spend that summer after my graduation working at the Barter Theatre. One weekend we went to see a play and visit him. At his tiny room we opened his refrigerator for a snack—nothing but beer. Still, you can justify that when you're just a summer intern. 

 We moved on. Randy was one of the groomsmen in our wedding; he showed up with the stale smell of alcohol seeping from his pores. I cringed to watch him walk my mother up the aisle, with his eyes red-rimmed and his arm shaky. 

We moved on again, into a life of graduate school and babies. We lost touch for the most part, talking on the phone once or twice each year. A decade later, we visit him in Marion, Illinois. He has gone back to his home state, always on the cusp of getting something going: a new theatre company, a directing position, anything but what he really was: a waiter in a sleazy restaurant in a sad little town in the midwest. His apartment was filthy and decrepit. I fought the urge to run, find a hotel room to sleep. He gave us his bed. All night long he passed through the bedroom on his way to the kitchen, one beer can popping open after another. I was tormented by my disgust. This mumbling, stumbling drunk had once been my confidante, and all I wanted to do was get far, far away from him. 

 Every Christmas Day for 15 years he called me, no matter where I was living, no matter where he was living. One year the calls stopped, and I didn't think about it. I didn't think about him much at all anymore. 

And then one day Robert sent an email with a link to his obituary. 

 Randy Landry, age 40. Died at home after a short illness. And that is all we know. 

Three years ago he died, and somehow it is this year—the year of my 20th class reunion— that it all comes back to me. 

I remember the soft feathering of his hair and his scuffed Docksiders. I remember his thin army jacket and the way his smile curled up slowly on one side. The way he'd burst out laughing. How he always had faith that my Randy and I would end up together, in spite of all the drama. The scrawl of his poems on notebook paper. 

 And so, for randy:

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond 

by e. e. cummings

Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience, your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if you wish be to close me, i and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world

equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the colour of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands. 

Rest in peace, my friend.

September at SmallWorld Reads

If you are looking for something to read, I highly recommend Semicolon's Saturday Review of Books. Somewhere around 100 bloggers post their most recent reviews there each week, and I nearly always find something to add to my already abundant reading list.

Here's what's been going on at my reading blog this month. And I highly recommend this month's pick for my favorite.

What I Read:

• gods in Alabama (Joshilyn Jackson)
• Half of a Yellow Sun (Adichie)
• Songs in Ordinary Time (Mary McGarry Morris)
• Cellist of Sarajevo, The (Steven Galloway)
• Beneath the Pines by Janet Beard
  

Favorite Book of the Month:
Half of a Yellow Sun

Least Favorite Book:
Songs in Ordinary Times


Where I Played:

Weekly Geeks
• Favorites Published in 2008* (post your own list of top books of 2008 on your blog and comment at Weekly Geeks for a chance to win a box of books!)
• Week of Quotes (Quote #5 here, Quote #4 here, Quote #3 here, Quote #2 here, Quote #1 here.)

Sunday Scribblings
• Weddings
• Coffee

Sunday Salon
• Plugging Away and On the List
• Challenge Challenged
• Book Overload
• War-Torn and Carnival

Booking Through Thursday
• Autumn Reading

Just Check Out From the Library:
• House at Riverton by K. Morton (reviewed by CaribousMom)
• Shattered Dreams: My Life as a Polygamist's Wife by Irene Spencer (Reviewed at Maw Books)
• Tallgrass by Sandra Dallas
• Hope's Boy by Andrew Bridge
• Run by Ann Patchett


Currently Reading:
Girl in Hyacinth Blue by Susan Vreeland


Chapter Books Read to the Kids:
American Adventure series: Adventure in the Wilderness
Journeys of Jessie Land series: Long Way Home

Young Archeologists

I've had the pleasure of keeping Donna's Caleb this weekend, and these two have been non-stop adventure for the past 24+ hours (except for the 11 hours that they slept).Yesterday's adventures included crawling in a drainage pipe at a park. This morning they could hardly wait to get out and go for an archeological dig.

They have a special spot a few blocks away by the airport where they'd found shards of pottery several months ago. Their goal was to find more pottery to add to their collection.


Their first stop was this woods, where they were instructed not to pick up anything metal, glass, or suspicious looking. I'm not sure how little boys determine what is suspicious vs. what is a treasure, but they didn't come out of the woods with anything scary.


Wistfully the boys scan the airport grounds. They see tremendous potential for adventure behind this fence. They do contemplate scaling the fence, as all boys would like to do. That's why boys have mothers.


They hit the jackpot along this old "creek bed" (in reality, an old culvert from a neighborhood that used to be here).


The young archeologists confer: is this a matching piece of pottery?


Sometimes the treasure lies right beneath your feet.


Caleb thinks he's found a piece of volcanic rock.


Duncan concurs.


The boys uncovered so many shards of this ancient pot that we had to go home, get the van, and drive back to pick it all up.


Back at home, they devised a pulley system to haul their goods up to their tree-house laboratory. (And also their lunch.)


Success! The rest of the afternoon they are spending sorting and labeling their finds.


An October day, well spent.

Heart of the Matter Meme: What Have I Learned?

Today's Heart of the Matter meme asks: What is the one thing you learned that you didn't expect from homeschooling?

Two huge things jump out at me, one practical and one rather intangible. From a practical standpoint, I have learned so much, particularly in history and geography. I have only sketchy memories of history in K-12. I remember making Iroquois longhouses and bushmen villages. I remember memorizing the states and capitals, presidents and vice presidents, and the Preamble to the Constitution. History began coming alive in college, with our required Humanities program that wove together history, literature, art, music, religion, and philosophy; and, well, I also minored in history. But in the nine years we've been homeschooling, my knowledge of history and geography has increased exponentially, due largely to Sonlight's fabulous program. I continue to be amazed at the new things I learn practically every day.

And the other thing that I knew intuitively before we began homeschooling but which becomes more and more apparent to me each year: this is what life is about. I absolutely cherish these years I have with my children. I remember going through the whole, "But what about my life? What am I going to have to sacrifice?" baloney before we began homeschooling. And the answer is right here, every day. Even on the bad mom and/or bad kid days, I celebrate the freedom we have in our family. This is the very essence of life.

Three Beautiful Things: Windows, Soup, Survivor

1. Windows: They've all been open for a couple of weeks now, and I am loving October pouring into our home. (Also, I love the dramatically reduced electric bill without the a/c!)

2. Soup: We don't eat soup in the summer, so it's always exciting when the weather is cool enough for soups. Tonight, per Laurel's request, we're having baked potato soup. It's luscious.

3. Survivor: It just makes me happy. I love Thursday night TV.

What beautiful things are in your life today?

Homeschool Memoirs #7: Snacks

Today's theme at Homeschool Memoirs is snacks: "There are so many different kinds of snack foods, store-bought and homemade, and I would like to invite you to share what snack foods your family usually snacks on throughout the week."

Um, I'm a boring snack mom. I have pretty much no snack policies, except no candy for breakfast. We all snack lightly every couple of hours. I think we are those people called "grazers." My kids fix their own snacks for the most part. Laurel loves to prepare snacks, so she'll often try various seasonings on popcorn or arrange a plate filled with an assortment of snack items: pretzels, some sort of cracker, fruit. I usually have yogurt, an apple, or a half of a peanut-butter sandwich as a snack.

Of course all snacking depends on what we have in the house to eat. A common cry in our home is, "We don't have any snack food!" But of course what this means is, "We don't have anything that I want to eat at this exact moment."

Probably my kids' favorite snack would be a plate of strawberries with Cool Whip. (Actually, they'd love to have just a giant bowl of Cool Whip, but I can't quite justify that.) But most of the time we just have boring snack food: cereal, pretzels, graham crackers, grapes, celery, carrots, popcorn. I lack the creative snack-mom gene.