Convention Inventions

My dear friends at Deeper Roots Publications overbooked themselves again. Many of you may remember what happened last year, when they asked me to do the convention (Florida Association of Christian Colleges and Schools) for them since they would be out of state. I was so amazed that they actually wanted me to do it again!

This year, our booth was half the size it was last year. I also noticed there were fewer vendors. In these economic times and with the gas prices being what they were just last month, I wasn't surprised that more vendors are being selective on the shows they attend. At this particular show, they don't allow the conventioners a lot of time to visit the vendors.

Here's my wee booth. The point of the show was not to sell books as much as it was to get curriculum samples in the hands of school principals and administrators. I handed out every sample Howard gave me! I was also able to sell some books, which was a good thing.

I love this curriculum, which is what makes it so easy to talk about it to browsers. I use it with Kelly and Glenna. It truly takes children beyond biblical knowledge and into spiritual application; there's no rote answers, either. They have to dig deeply into scripture and into themselves for the answers, with life-changing application!


Here's my ready and able convention assistant:

Who wouldn't want to stop and visit a booth with a smile like that, huh?



As I stated earlier, this particular convention doesn't allow the attendees a lot of time between sessions to visit the vendors, particularly when the sessions run later than scheduled. This gives us vendors plenty of down-time. Glenna and I did some exploring of the vendors closest to us.
This guy had all sorts of magic tricks, puppets, and this blue gorilla. He assured me it was a quite comfortable suit, with an actual fan in the headpiece! I'm not sure exactly what the purpose is, but he says the kids really get fired up with the blue gorilla. Maybe at pep rallies and stuff.

The owners of this both also did several magic tricks to people as they walked past, then they'd do them to their fellow vendors when we were bored which was 3/4 of the time.



The vendors right next to us had a very interesting display for child safety.
In the screen behind Glenna, you see pictures of several children. This company installs a security gate with a laser-reader. Each parent is given a bar-coded sticker (or card, if someone else needs to pick up the child) that they apply to their vehicle.

The vehicle passes the scanner, which allows the gate to open, and the child's photo is displayed to alert the school staff. They then send the child to the curb to be picked up by their parent. Clever! And yet, a little scary that this is what we've come to.

The guys had three miniature cars, a VW Bug, an SUV, and a Porsche (for the parents with a lotta moolah, whose children can afford to attend private schools evidently!). They had a Barbie doll posing as a soccer mom and stuck her in the VW. When I questioned this, they said Barbie is now eco-friendly and wouldn't think of driving the SUV or the Porsche. Right.

The vendor deftly demonstrated his remote skills by pulling the Porsche up to the sensor, which triggered the gate, and then driving around again. Then, he let Glenna try.


Glenna hit the fence. Not once, but repeatedly. She pushed it back about five inches.

I asked him if he wanted me to fix it - he said not until the insurance adjuster arrived.

Ha ha.

Funny Vendorman.


The booth directly across from me had a lot of scrap. I can't say the word I would normally use for such items, because in my family that word has been banned since my two-year old used it in a complete sentence.
I have never seen so much stuff in one place. Stuff without any function, except for maybe the ties and watches. It's a booth of teacher trinkets and there were two such booths at this convention, unrelated to each other, but with the same scraps.


Not surprisingly, this booth was constantly busy with customers. This picture is blurry because I was tryiing to take the picture inconspicuously.
They loved that stuff! They would pick something up, laugh at the cute "saying" on it, show it to five of their friends, then buy it for their principal or teacher friend, or whomever. I wonder how many "I'm not worried about my job, no one else wants it!" mugs a principal can use?


This is a choir from SomeSuch School. They looked so classy as they filed past.


This booth was the highlight of the convention. You make a certain number of baskets and win a free basketball! Those teachers stood in line to do this, cheering each other on. Then, of course, they had to see how many baskets in a row they could get. Then, of course, they had to break their previous records.

They actually install gym floors and basketball hoops. Everyone knows exactly what they offer since their booth was so effective!


The timing of this convention is such that there's one last general session before it ends, which should give the attendees one more chance to walk past the vendors. This is also the second day, and pretty much everyone has seen what everyone has. We're not allowed to break down during the general session, which is held in the same hall. Some vendors read the writing on the wall and scoot out of there before the last general session.

Emptiness to the right of me. Good-bye, remote control car guy!


Emptiness to the left of me: Good-bye, Mr. Auto Test Scanner guy!


The people who had the booth next to the Scrap Booth weren't even present during the convention. They set up their table and posters, put out a bunch of brochures, then headed for the pool I guess. They knew enough to shut down before the last general session, though!

That's when Mr. Scrap Booth Man made his move:
He started arranging the abandoned tables to his benefit, so their customers could have more room (his booth was as tiny as mine, so there was NO walking space). He didn't actually use the tables to dispay more scrap (that would have been illegal and the convention police would have shut him down), but he did have them ready to spread out for their break down.

Glenna and I weren't quick enough to get out before the last general session, plus we wanted to make sure we didn't sell Howard short by leaving early. We knew no one would come after general session (they're thinking lunch and cheese fries at this point!) so we ever so quietly started putting books away during the speaker and choir. The convention police never heard us.

I love doing these shows! As tiring as they are, I love talking to people about curriculum, home schooling, and books.

Thanks again for the opportunity, Howard!

My Surprise

The Friday after my birthday in September, I found this in my living room:




My children had bought me a tree!

There is a tree down the street that I have been admiring for four years. I don't have anyone here to tell me the name (and none of them are sure of the correct pronunciation) but in the spring is a blaze of brilliant yellow.

I see them throughout our city. Every time I spot one, an "Oooh!" escapes from my lips. I can't help it! It's so gorgeous.

My Kelly is the one who not only remembered this, but took action. She pooled funds with her siblings and conspired with Himself to bring me the tree. Right now, it's planted in the front yard outside the kitchen window.

As much as I want to enjoy the coolness of fall/winter (Hah!), I also can't wait for spring!

My kids are waiting somewhat apprehensively; what if it's not the right one? Regardless, I love them for thinking of me specifically, reading my heart, and blessing me.





Himself blessed me with the beauty of blooms:
The color of these roses was amazing and they lasted for weeks. Here, they're fully opened.



Of course, there's always some joker in the family, trying to give Mom a heart attack:
I won't tell you who did it, but her name rhymes with Glenna.

Service Project

Every other Tuesday, our youth volunteer at a Crisis Care Nursery. This is the place where children are brought when they are to be placed into foster care. They have been taken from a dangerous situation and are waiting for placement, either into a new home or back with their parent/s if the situation has been remedied.

Sometimes, a single mother in dire straights will sign over her children for 30 days while she tries to get on her feet and into a safe environment. I cannot begin to image the agony it must be to do this. I pray I will never know.

This last Tuesday, I went in the place of our youth pastor who was ill. I've gone quite a few times, but this time there were more helpers than children so I was able to sit and observe rather than participate.Upon arrival, one would think the children would be shy and hold back. The opposite is true. They often bang on the door separating us as we sign in, impatient for us to come and play.

And that's what we do; we come and we play.

Sadly, some of the children we already know. This means they are still there waiting for placement (or to be returned home), or even sadder, it means they have been placed in a foster home and returned because it didn't work out.

In my observations, I've noticed the hierarchy of the school playground compounded. Each have their roles. Some of them include:

The Sheriff: This is Miss F. She polices the play area for any infractions - these are reported immediately. If justice isn't served in her proper sense of timing, she will go off and sulk. She'll face outward, of course, to make sure she doesn't miss further infractions. If she's excluded from a game she's do whatever she can to ruin the fun of everyone else (grabbing the ball, throwing it at someone with the intention of wounding, etc).

Tom Sawyer: This is Mr. I. He can get the majority of the children to do whatever he asks, even Miss F! He had them pushing him all over the play area in a wagon the entire time we were there, and they were loving every minute of it! Not once did he offer to push anyone else, but they didn't seem to notice or care. (I overheard one of the socials workers ask another, "I need to go inside. Will you watch Mr. I for me?") None of the others seemed to have this careful scrutiny. He seemed so amiable, and yet it was obvious he wasn't trusted to enough to leave to his own devices.

Sister Beth: This is actually a boy, Mr. J. If you've read Little Women then you know the character I describe. Quick to laugh and well-liked, Mr. J was also a little weaker and a little sickly. He would laughingly join in on any game, but one try at the basketball hoop would have him clutching his chest in pain (asthma). All of the other children played with him readily, but they were just as likely to run off without him. Not minding one bit, Mr. J would make contented circles on the razor scooter until they returned.

From different homes and backgrounds, the one common denominator is anger.

These are angry children.

They're mad at their parents, they're mad at each other, and they're extremely mad at their circumstances.

I have never observed children so quick to strike out at teachers, counselors, and each other.

They never asked for this. They are powerless and try to gain power any way they can.

At the Crisis care nursery there are many, many rules to follow. When we're there they are able to have the freedom of play, but they don't have the freedom to be children. No picking up sticks. No jumping off the swings. No exploring behind the bushes. No going into that section of the play area. No. No. No. The workers have no choice in this lawsuit-happy country. Their safety is vital.

However, the children have found one area where just for a little while, for a moment in time, they can have control.

The entire play area is surrounded by a chain-link fence for (of course) their protection. This is where their power comes from.

You see, if one of the children continues to exclude them; if one of the children continues to call them names or exploit their weaknesses; if one of the children continually withholds a favorite toy, they find a way to take control.

As soon as their tormentor relaxes his guard, the child will grab the toy, football, base ball, Spiderman motorcycle, and throw it over the fence.

Gone.

Now no one gets to play with it.

Walking the fence line, one notices the testimony to this. I saw it happen myself on one of my visits. The tormentor, now the victim, wails in utter despair at his loss. The former victim walks away smug, triumphant, unapologetic.

We can't fix them. As two hour volunteers, we're not called to fix them. We've come to play.

We've come to love.

And we do.

Dinner

As many of you know, I'm not afraid to try new things. This is especially true when it comes to preparing meals for my family.

For a couple of years, I did the 30 Day Freezer Cooking with my friend CP. I loved it! I loved spending the day with my friend as we prepared the meals, then my freezer was stocked for the next 30 days with suppers. All I had to do was pull out a meal the night before and add a side dish. Nice!

Then as our family tastes began to change (read: become pickier), I heard about Menu Mailer. I've done this one probably the longest. Each week I had a menu, grocery list, and recipes emailed to me. I simply printed the grocery list, crossed off the things I already had, and went to the store. Once again I didn't have to guess what was for dinner. I loved it! I saved a ton of money because I didn't buy unnecessary items. I even got to the point where I did two week's worth at one time since Himself is paid twice monthly. Nice! I've probably done this for four years if not longer.

Tomorrow I set out on a new dinner adventure. I'm going to Dinner A'Fare. It's one of those places where you order your meals on line, then on the appointed day you go to their kitchen and assemble the meals. Once again, I'll have two weeks worth of meals in my freezer, ready to go! They do all the shopping (we save money because they buy in bulk), prep work, and clean up! Each station has a recipe, assembly instructions, and ingredients. You put everything together and store it in their refrigerator until you're finished, then you put everything in the freezer when you get home.

After I checked their pricing, I realized it's well within my budget for groceries. The whole assembly process should take only two hours. They invite you to make an appointment with your friends and have a party!

My friend BA is going with me on November 4th to a similar place called Super Suppers. While this one seemed a little more costly, I'm anxious to see which one I like the best. We're not going to assemble an entire two weeks of meals, we're just going to their tasting party. For $5.00 you can check them out and take an assembled meal home at the end of the evening. I'm looking forward to it!

Himself and I plan on trekking to the Farmer's Market on Saturdays to support the local farmers by buying their produce. I feel so . . . so . . . YUPPIE. Just like our Aunt Mary Ann! ;-) We did it last Saturday and enjoyed our morning together. Florida is finally getting some beautiful weather.

Speaking of Aunt Mary Ann, further installments of An Irish-Catholic Tale will be coming soon. Where are they now? What became of Chet and Rosie's children and grandchildren? Find out!

Ty and Jess

My son does not read my blog. I'm kind of counting on that right now! He's convinced that I write every single thing that ever happens for the sole purpose of embarrassing him. That's just not true!

I only write half of every single thing that happens. He should be glad for all the things I don't write. May I hear an amen?

Ty and Jess have been dating since June. (Do you see how long I waited before writing that on my blog? I should get an award!) Our family has a no-dating-while-in-high school policy, so he waited until he graduated from high school in '07, then he waited patiently another year for her to graduate before he even said anything to her. We couldn't be happier that they're dating!

Last night was a costume/birthday party. As if waiting and waiting weren't enough to show Jess how much he likes her, dressing up for a costume party should confirm it! I know I'm probably beating Jess to the punch by putting this picture on my blog before she can put it on hers, but here it is!


They went as a 1950's high society couple. Don't they look great? Jess wore this dress to her high school graduation, then she hit an estate sale this week and found the hat and gloves!

Ty and I went thrift store shopping. The vest he already had in his closet. We found this Pierre Cardin tuxedo, shoes, belt, and tuxedo shirt for a TOTAL of $36.00! It wasn't hard to pay that amount for something he could hopefully use again. Everything fit him perfectly! He was in such a happy mood that shopping was so easy. Little does he know how RARE it is to find what you want on the day you want it . . . I hope he doesn't think that's normal. I tried to do that little front flip thing my mom used to do to my brothers with his hair. I used a ton of gel, but it just wasn't going to cooperate. (He actually looked killer with the tux and his rock and roll hair, but we were going for the time period.)

I wonder how many 1950's high society couples have gauges in their ears?

Two

Two -- That's the number of my children who need braces.

Two sets of orthodontist appointments.

Two sets of down payments.

Two monthly payments.

Two daughters with beautiful teeth who won't have bite problems and potential tooth loss in the future.

That's what they say.

My mom paid for my braces (THANKS, MOM!) and I have avoided some periodontal pitfalls because of it (THANKS, MOM!).

One daughter is doing so begrudgingly . . . she sees the necessity and is willing to put all effort into having them on for as short a time as possible.

The other daughter thinks the whole thing is cool and can't wait to get them.

Yes, the other daughter is delusional. I remember my mouth being so sore after tightening that I couldn't even bite a piece of lettuce.

Oh Lolly Lolly

While Glenna and I were working at the Christian School convention a few weeks ago, Glenna was given a lollipop.

This may seem like no big deal, but lollipops are the last things I give my kids! I can't stand the thought of their teeth bathing in sugar for the hours it takes to eat it. I can't stand the thought of them breaking their tooth on one if they try to eat it quickly by crunching it. I'd much rather give them a piece of candy that dissolves quickly, like chocolate or something chewy, instead of a lollipop.

My own teeth are a sad testimony to the lollipops I've consumed. I have had a million cavities, and four of my teeth have crowns on them. Granted; most of the damage done to my mouth was by landing on my chin while trying to ride a moped in Jr. High. (Did I ever apologize for that, Mom?) I sat up, spit out chunks of my teeth, and got one of my friends to call my mother while I covered my split chin with my hand.

Note to all the kids out there: Learn the names of streets. Don't call your mom with a split chin and broken teeth and tell her something like, "I don't know! Just go two stop lights past the Alpha-Beta, turn left, then go two more stop signs and turn left again!"

Let's just say the dentists were always happy to see me coming. And let's also say that I was rarely without some kind of candy, especially hard candy, in my mouth.

Glenna reluctantly showed me the lollipop at the convention. She knew my arguments full well and knew she'd be hearing them again, along with the physical demonstration of the fillings in my mouth, blah blah blah. I looked into her eyes and realized, The poor kid -- all she wants is a lollipop!

We decided to make a compromise. She would eat the lollipop until I couldn't stand it anymore, then she would throw it away.

We had a great discussion on lollipops and sin, though! Even when we know something's bad for us, even when we know it will harm us and even do permanent damage, sometimes we just. Want. It. Strong wills and the help of God are all that keep us from self-destruction.

When I had her throw the remaining 3/4 of the lollipop away, I also sent her to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She came back with an amazed look on her face; the sugar from the lollipop had actually stained her toothbrush pink! And this with toothpaste! She couldn't imagine what it was doing to her teeth and declared she didn't care if she had another lollipop.

A few moments later, the amendment came:

Maybe I just need to stick to smaller lollipops, like the ones they give out at the bank.

Maybe so, Glenna. Maybe so.

Look it Up!

First of all, may I just say that I love my washer and dryer? We bought our old set used and they lasted for 8 years. I began to notice that our clothing didn't smell clean, that it took 3x as long to dry, and then finally, the dryer just quit altogether.

We made the investment in front loading machines. If you don't have one, get one.

What used to take all day now only takes all morning. What used to be 5 loads of laundry (for Himself and me) is now only two loads. What used to be 40 gallons of water per load is now, I believe, only 15! (Ok, I don't know the exact statistics on that last one, but I know it's amazing.)

Amazing is the word I use instead of awesome. It was hard for this Southern California gal to do, but I'm understanding how only God and His attributes are truly awesome, if you look up the definition of the word.

Speaking of looking up definitions:

Glenna, from the couch: Mom, what does "diadem" mean?

Mom: It's . . . wait a minute. Is this a word you're supposed to be looking up yourself?

Glenna: It says you may have to look it up.

Mom: There's no may about it. Look it up.

Smarty Farty Glenna: Ok, I am looking up at you and I'm asking. What's the definition of "diadem?"

I should have seen that one coming.

To All the W Grandmas Out There . . .

. . . and you know who you are!

Us W's went with our amazing friend, Matt, and had some pictures taken. Here's a little taste of what will be coming to your mailbox soon!





Note: Soon = as soon as I can figure out which ones to send, find an empty spot on my calendar, and get them to you! I'm predicting Christmas. Does that spoil the surprise?

Say What You Want

*Note: all images taken from the web. I wish they were mine!






As a little girl, one of my favorite family activities was attending ropings and rodeos every weekend. The horses, the cattle, the cowboys, the swishing ropes, even the scent of dirt and manure brought a wholesome feeling of safety, adventure, and community. This was where we belonged, and this is where we worked all week long to return.

The children had many jobs at these events. For one, it was our job to dress the part. Cowboy hats, jeans, boots, and long-sleeved shirts were standard fare. If you were my brother, Boyd, you also walked around with your tongue firmly planted in your cheek to make it look as if you were chewing tobacco (a habit which Dad cured him of permanently in another story).

Another job was to warm up the horses before the roping, and then cool them down afterward. It doesn't take much to figure out that this was our favorite job!

You can bet the little girls on this horse are in heaven. When we were very little, the cowboys would lead us around the arena to cool the horse down. Once we could handle the horse on our own, it was heady stuff to sit up there alone! (The worst part was waiting for the cowboys to quit jawin' and start leading!)



The most important job we had, however, was working the back chutes.


At a team roping, the header would rope the horns of the steer, dally the rope around his saddle horn, then turn the steer to make it easy for his partner, the heeler, to rope the back feet. The object was to catch the horns of the steer and both back feet as fast as possible, the fastest time winning the prize. The clock started when the front chute opened and the steer released, and it ended when both partners were facing eachother on their horses with the steer stretched out between them.



The cowboy holding the flag would then wave the flag downward and the timer (usually my mom and her friends) would stop the clock. They would look to the flagger to see if there were any penalties to add to the time such as breaking the barrier, only catching one foot, or missing altogether, and then record the time.



This team has just left the front chutes. The cowboy in the red shirt releases the steer when the header nods his head, then closes the chute doors and readies the next steer for the next team. The back chutes are waaaaay down at the other end of the arena.

Then, the cowboys would turn their horses and guide the steer to us, waiting in the back chutes. It was our job to remove the ropes from the horns and heels of the cattle. This was usually easy if it was a clean catch -- the rope went evenly around the horns (not in the dreaded Figure 8 pattern or around the neck!), and if both back feet were caught the steer would kick off the rope on the way to the back chute. If only one heel was caught, we had to use a long iron hook to pull the rope off the heel while the steer tried to kick the hook out of our hands.

All of this had to be done as quickly as possible to make room for the next team, so one kid would handle the head rope, another kid would handle the heel rope, and yet another would be ready to run the rope out to the cowboy if he had dropped it on the ground. The last thing you want is a cowboy forced to dismount! The kid working the head rope usually got to jump up and grab another rope to open the back chute and let the steer into the pen after everything was done. Almost every cowboy said thank you when their ropes were returned - each and every time, all day long.



This is what a stripping chute looks like, except ours never had a back gate or the step on the side. It would be located in the back of the arena as an opening in the fence and the steer would run for it. One of the team members would simply put his horse directly behind the steer and keep it from backing out until we were finished.


Lastly, when all the steers had run, it was our job to bring them back up to the front chutes. There was an alley made of fence rails on one side of the arena that connected the back chutes with the front chutes. I thought nothing of it at the time, but it was a pretty brave thing to walk behind a herd of steers and move them down the length of the arena. I learned early on how scared they were of someone waving their arms around, even if the arm waver was a little kid. Now, that's power! I respected them, but I wasn't afraid of them.

If you were lucky enough to work the back chutes at a particular arena, payment would follow. At some arenas, payment would be a Pepsi and a Snickers bar (see why I loved it so much?). At some arenas, we would be paid in cold, hard cash. Songer's arena in Escondido, California, paid us both. We'd get to head to the snack bar during a break, and we'd be paid in cash at the end of the day. If you were really lucky, a cowboy would let you hop on the back of his horse during the break or at the end of the day and give you a ride back up to the front of the arena!

How I loved those cowboys, with Dad being my favorite (but don't tell him that). Each of them had a different profession, most of them were veterans of some branch of military service. They let me ride their horses, they teased me unmercifully, but they never disrespected me. I had starry-eyed admiration for each and every one of them and I was determined to marry them all. In fact, it wasn't hard to picture marrying them since one, John M., told me each time he saw me that we would marry. He assured me that his wife was getting old and long in the tooth and wouldn't be around much longer; I just needed to wait for him. "Wait for me, Curly. Wait for me!"

One roping weekend is permanently imbedded in my memory.

We were at Songer's and I was working the back chute. Along one side of this arena was a huge stack of hay bales for Songer's cattle and horses. It was time for a break and John M. was (joy!) picking me up to give me a ride on the back of his horse, Barney, so I could get my Pepsi and Snickers bar.

A long-haired, shirtless hippie had climbed onto the top of the hay bales. Obvioulsy drunk, from that position he was yelling insults at the cowboys, particularly at John M. I couldn't hear everything he was saying, but the word redneck was definitely one of them. I was scared to death. I looked up at John on his horse and he was the picture of calm. He extended his hand to help me on, looked me in the eye and said, "Don't pay any attention to him, Curly. Don't give him any mind at all."

I was scared, all right, but I wasn't scared of the hippie. I was scared for him. He obviously had no idea who he was talking to. Any one of the cowboys could have beaten the living tar out of him, especially the one he was insulting directly, who spoke to me so calmly. John M. is a Marine, trained to kill. (I say is, because once a Marine, always a Marine.) My own step-Dad served in the army and spent his days afterward lifting an anvil and swinging a sledge hammer - his fists and biceps were rock hard. Let's face it - with the work they did around horses and cattle, these cowboys were not soft. I was afraid not of the fool, but of what was going to happen to the fool. How dare he, and now he was gonna get it and where can I hide so I don't have to watch?

I don't remember what happened to him. I think maybe the police were called and he was told to leave amidst his shouts of free country and I can say what I want, it's a free country, etc. (Free country, but private property. Get lost.) The irony is that most of those cowboys, John M. included, have served time in the military in order for him to have that freedom of speech. The very people he was insulting were the ones who fought and watched their buddies die, precisely so he could climb on top of a stack of hay bales and say whatever his drunken, hippie-heart wanted to say. This was the 1970's and Vietnam was fresh in all of our minds. I'd bet my bottom dollar that he didn't serve, though.

While this post started as a childhood memory, I can't help but take a moment to thank all my cowboys (even the ones now in heaven). Thank you for not beating up the hippie that day. Thank you for your kindness and encouragement to this little girl, and for letting me ride your horses. And thank you, especially in this political season, for fighting for our freedom in the military. I may not like what the extreme liberals or extreme right have to say, but I thank you for ensuring they have the right to say it.

Changes

Friday night was probably the last show of Evangelin as we know it (Beefy has exited the building). I'm excited to see what God is doing in the lives of these boys!

Tyler stepped off the stage with his face bleeding. He played so hard he broke a stick, and it bounced up and hit him in the face.

Rock and Roll.



I tried to upload a video clip, but it's not working. Sorry about that.

Tyler put together this video. It's a poor recording on my little camera of one of their live shows in Ocala. He took the video and combined it with their actual CD recording. There's only a few places that are off - one is where he added a fill that's not on the CD. Other than that, it's a great testimony of their precision. I love how Ty's playing and every part of him is moving, but he still can't sit still! He literally comes up off his seat. People who meet him and don't know the kind of drummer he is think he's quiet and reserved at first. :-D

Today was also a fun day . . . we went to Park Ave with our friend Snyder and took some family pictures. You hear that, Mom and Mom C??? Pictures coming soon! The last family portrait we did was when we lived in our second Florida home, almost 7 years ago. Snyder did an incredible job with the goofballs he had to work with. I highly recommend him!

Busy Season

I am doing a trade show this week, plus all other life's activities. Hope to get a blog out soon because MAN! A trade show is so rich in material! ;-)

Excellence

Here's to all the moms who give excellence every day!

I know, I know, it's not even Mother's Day. However, it would be so easy for you to tune out and "hope for the best." Instead, you show up, suit up, and serve.

People, who are around your kids regularly, notice.

People who will eventually hire your kids will notice.

I notice.

And, I thank you.

And I especially thank YOU, Mom. You're the best!

Falling into Florida

Heard around our house:

Tomorrow is the first day of fall.

Hooray! Only two more months of summer!

It's so hard not to be envious of other bloggers who are reporting frost warnings, a nip in the air, sweaters, and a harvest moon.

In 1995 I had written in my journal, I feel like we're going to be moving out of state. I hope it's anywhere but Florida. How God must have smiled at that! For I know the plans I have for you . . . He had so much to teach us and we had to leave our comfort zone in order for Him to do so. Florida, in this time and in this church body, was perfect.

Last night I was up late talking with the older two. They were expressing their appreciation of the way they have been raised. I felt so blessed.

I may have never wanted to live in Florida, but I am so, so glad to be here.

The Beast

Many years ago in a far-off place, a young lad stalked a Beast.

Ok, it wasn't a far-off place. It was at Sam Ash Music. But still, he stalked it and hunted it. He pursued it relentlessly until it had nowhere else to go.

The kindly salesman was used to seeing the young lad enter the store with stars in his eyes. Each time he did, the kindly salesman would answer his questions, bring in a cord, and let him turn it on.







Finally, the day arrived that would change the sound at the Sandbar for years to come. The young lad once again walked into Sam Ash, once again asked all the questions he already knew the answers to, and once again plugged in the cord.

"Shall I put it away now?" asked the kindly salesman when he was finished.

"Not today!" replied the young lad.

Finally, after two years of saving birthday money, Christmas money, and coin from the occasional odd job, the young lad had enough to purchase not only the 700 watt amp head, but the 800 watt cabinet.

"You gotta respect a man who buys his own equipment," the kindly salesman remarked. "Got nothing but respect for a kid who doesn't let Mommy or Daddy get it for him."

After receiving the sales slip from the kindly salesman, the young man walked up to the pay counter and made the purchase. Without really looking at the receipt, the clerk automatically asked, "Would you like a bag for that?"

Without blinking or hesitation, the young lad replied, "Yes, please."
The clerk finally realized the joke was on her and laughed. All were smiling at Sam Ash that day! Perhaps some of them wondered if the young lad would return, now that he'd accomplished his goal.

Proudly, the young man and his family hauled the Beast home. He plugged it in and turned it on. With his entire family sitting on the couch, he hit the E string of his bass guitar.

His family thrilled at the vibration and cheered! It was better than a ride at Disney!

For the next four years, the Beast was part of the family. It showed up at every event in the young man's home.
It attended his sister's eleventh birthday.


It listened attentively to Spanish II with profesora Sarita.

In fact, there are few home pictures without the Beast in them. There were even times when it held flowers, notebooks, bags, and the occasional sweater that was air drying.

Its most important job, however, was making the cups dance in the cupboard.
Some amazing sounds have come out of this Beast!

Now, however, since the Truth has arrived and the other bass player has his own beast, it's time for this Beast to go and rock other homes. There's a guy coming over tonight to check it out.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to handle an amp-free decor but I might, I just might, rearrange the cups in the hutch. Or, in tribute to the Beast, I may leave them as they are.

The Fate of the Apple

There's a scene in the sitcom, Family Ties, where Alex (Michael J. Fox) is watching his mother (Meredith Baxter) prepare a school lunch for his little brother. He watches as she places each item into the lunch box.

Alex: We don't eat that, you know.
Mom: What?
Alex: The apple. We don't eat the apple.
Mom: What do you mean?
Alex: We always go straight for the cookies, try to trade for the sandwich, save the chips for later, and the apple goes into the trash.
Mom: I know! I know! But it's my job as Mommy to put the apple in the lunch!


These past three weeks, I have been making lunches for Tyler to take to work. He worked at the track for three years, but the track was not an environment to encourage sack lunches or meals from home. At his new job, however, they're about making money and saving money towards better goals than fast food lunches. Tyler has been extremely grateful for the lunches I send him and always makes a point to tell me how much he enjoyed his sandwich/spaghetti/pork chops and other goods.

It's been kind of fun, actually. I've tried making lunches for Himself before, but he was fussy about what he liked and didn't like and I stopped trying. In all fairness, lunch in the desert in the 115 degree heat was literally no picnic. It felt good to step into a fast food joint to get out of the heat, plus the condition of whichever lunch I sent, no matter how I tried to keep it cool, was usually less than appetizing.

During Ty's stint in public school (until 3rd grade) I started out making lunches, but it became much easier (read lazier) to send some cash with him to school. Then he homeschooled for the next 9 years and there was no need to send anything.

Between Tyler's job, Kelly's job, and Glenna's crazy Wednesday where she needs to pack a lunch, I've been buying lunch supplies for the kids rather than expecting them to scavenge from leftovers or make PBJs. I try to keep to healthy items, but I've also broken down and purchased the chips, cookies, puddings, and ranch dip that make a lunch bag fun to open. Tyler comes down the stairs promptly at 7:30 a.m., oohs and aahs as he digs through his brown bag of goodies, gives me a hug and heads out the door. Like the Mom in Family Ties, I've made sure there's a sandwich, carrots with ranch dip, pudding, chips, and some kind of fruit. Usually, the fruit is a nice Granny Smith apple.

Today I was out of apples, so I stuck in a plum. At dinner he informed me that he doesn't care for plums and didn't eat it (I knew that but was hoping he'd be hungry enough to try it anyway). It was then I learned the fate of all the apples last week.

Evidently, the apples had been used for experiments at the shop. Experiments, that is, with explosives. Each experiment has been progressively dangerous and inventive, the last one involving at 1/2" drill bit, a fire cracker, and propane. He said they were unable to find any remains of the apple at all on that one.

Do I even want to know this?

Should I be thankful I was able to contribute, in some small way, to their pyrotechnical education?

Maybe I should send some canned peaches instead.

Class Time

In this, our 11th year of homeschooling, Glenna has reached a milestone. She is finally taking a class from someone other than her mother. That's her with her head turned, but I don't know if she actually knew I was taking a picture. The girl is not camera shy.


I am so thankful for the homeschool community here. We are able to help each other out in weak areas :cough: Algebra :cough: so we're never left feeling like we have to do this all alone. For years, my older two have taken English composition with Mrs. R. While I teach this class myself now, if Mrs. R is teaching it next year then Glenna will be taking it with her. Hear that, Mrs. R? Add Glenna to your list! She's simply excellent. Her clear, concise instruction allows students to tackle any writing assignment with confidence and skill. Plus, Glenna will have to work much harder than she does with moi and I'm ready to giggle with glee over that.

Tyler and Kelly have taken science classes with Mrs. S., and it's an honor and privilege for them to do so. Mrs. S. is a marine biologist who has chosen to stay home and school her own children. In fact, she wrote the Marine Biology textbook for Apologia Science, which is the curriculum we use! She has a passion for science and brings it to life for her students. We were fortunate to get in on General science and make her "list." She only offers a few classes per year because she basically invites other homeschoolers to join in on whichever science she's teaching her own children, and there's usually a waiting list of students trying to get into her classes. Emily is Glenna's age, so hopefully Glenna will be able to join them for Physical science, Biology and either Chemistry (hah!) or Marine Biology (preferred). If Mrs. S. doesn't teach Marine Biology to Emily, I'll have to bribe Mrs. RZoo with chocolate chip cookies to do it.


Here are the mostly 7th grade students for General Science. They are too cute, and they can't help it. I love middle school kids!


Wednesdays are our crazy days. If it's my turn to do the carpool to science, we both pack a lunch. We drive to two carpool stops, go to Mrs. S., then head back half-way to exchange one student for two more. Then we head to Mrs. RZoo's house for Marine Biology with Mrs. RZoo and Sewing with Mrs. G. Kelly has already been picked up by Mrs. G. and we meet her there (our first greeting of the day). Glenna has been working on various sewing projects while Kelly does Marine Biology. We then leave half the carpool with Mrs. G. for transport, head back to my house with Kelly, Kate, Chico, and Glenna, do some dance lessons or more craziness, then dinner and AWANA. Wednesdays are very long days!


Still, I am so thankful that I can be home with this face.
This face, and a couple of others.

Sweetheart, I'd even do algebra for you. Just please, don't ask me to! Allie B? Next year?

Off for the Weekend!

That's an older comic strip by Zits that I love. I wish I had a large print of it so I could frame it! Tyler and I crack up at the Zits stuff because so often it's spot-on to where we are between mother and son. These days, though, it's different. I don't have to chase him down for hugs anymore, and his "I love you" often comes before mine. I can honestly say I have loved each and every phase of being his mother, even the difficult tween years. He'd be perfect if it weren't for his sin nature. ;-)

I'm off to the Women's Retreat, so I probably won't post again until Sunday or Monday. I'll be at the beach with my toes in the sand! Hope you all have a great weekend!

Monday through Sunday: Remembering....

Monday through Sunday: Remembering.... Please click on this link for an amazing tribute.

Here at the Sandbar, I'm taking some time to remember . . .


. . . .and Never Forget.



I love you all, friends and family!

For Jaan!

You're five years old today! (Today for you, but I am probably still sleeping while you read this!)

You have had more adventures than most adults will have, and you are only 5 years old. I am so thankful that God has allowed us to have even a small part in your life. We're excited to see what God has planned for you! Your sisters are so blessed to have you as their big brother, to help Mama and Papa teach and guide them.


Here's a picture of Glenna and her new puppy, Missy. They made the sign for you:
They added suns because of our Florida sunshine. Glenna suggested that we eat brownies for your birthday. We may just have to do that.

So enjoy your first birthday in the Ukraine. I pray the Lord gives you many, many more, wherever your parents are serving Him! You are loved!

Russia, First Co-op

I know I placed the second co-op pictures up, but the babushki were so cute I couldn't resist. This was actually our first Russian co-op.

To understand how large Russia is, we first had to take a look at the entire globe. As a review for Glenna and Rachel, we had them turn their classmates into human globes.

On Elise's forehead is her North Pole sticker. The line of blue painter's tape is the prime meridian.
The post-its on her arms show the directions of east and west.




The belt around Jordan's waist is of course the equator. His North Pole seems to have slipped to his nose. You can see the South Pole on his shoe.


Josh's necklace is the Arctic Circle. I think the International Date Line going down his back may be causing him fits.

Here's all three globes! I'm not sure why they're holding their arms out like that, unless they were wanting to look round like a globe.

We discovered Russia has ten time zones! (Some sources say eleven.) We also took a look at the different types of land in Russia; tundra, taiga, and steppes.
To remember these, we placed tree leaves in one bowl for forests (taiga), and ice in another bowl for tundra (frozen). You can barely see the ice in front of Rachel.

A third bowl had grass for the steppe.
We then passed the bowls around in a circle rapidly. When I said, "Stop!" everyone had to say whether they had the tundra, taiga, or steppe. For the rest of the week, the children were to learn about different vegetation and animals for each area.

There's no co-op today because of a school meeting, which is disappointing! Next up: Vikings!

For the Hunsuckers

Dear Hunsuckers,

We have started our study of Russia. For me, it means I think of each of you every day! I know you are now in the Ukraine, but I also know we will learn so much about the land you love. I wanted to give you a peek into one of our first co-ops with the L family and the other W family.

We began this week by learning about the Slavic peoples. We drew pictures of what a Slav village may have looked like in the marsh land where they lived. We drew houses on stilts with lots of animal skins and carvings.

Then, we learned about babushkas! We decided to make our own miniature babushkas from eggs and other edible ingredients.

Here's Elise, hard at work:


She loves her babushka! Carrot hair, cloves for eyes, and a carrot mouth.


Here's Jordan's babushka. He didn't want to use any glue on his because he wanted to eat it afterwards. We took the picture quickly before everything slid off:
The green olives are supposed to be for her cheeks, but he kind of made them earrings instead.


This is Josh, and it's his first year of home schooling! I don't know what he may have been expecting, but I bet he wasn't expecting this!

Josh inherited his mother's craft gene. As in, please don't ask me to do crafts. I'm so proud of him for jumping in and doing it anyway.

Glenna and Rachel have already had a year of co-ops together (as well as Jordan and Elise, though we missed having them last year). They got right to work.

Here's Rachel's babushka! Her green olives are closer to the cheek area, which is good. Still, I wonder if we should have used something else there, like pimientos.


Lastly, I must think Glenna more closely captured the spirit of the babushka with this:
What do you say, Mrs. Hunsucker?

:-D