Never Wear Your Pets On Your Head

A Spring Poem

2009-04-08T18:27:00.003-04:00

Here's a spring poem I'm passing along. Read it aloud with someone you love.

The Mountains are Dancing!

e. e. cummings
when faces called flowers float out of the groundand breathing is wishing and wishing is having --but keeping is downward and doubting and never --it's april (yes, april; my darling) it's spring!yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can flyyes the little fish gambol as glad as can be(yes the mountains are dancing together)
when every leaf opens without any soundand wishing is having and having is giving --but keeping is doting and nothing and nonsense --alive; we're alive, dear: it's (kiss me now) spring!now the pretty bids hover so she and so henow the little fish quiver so you and so i(now the mountains are dancing, the mountains)
when more than was lost has been found has been foundand having is giving and giving is living --but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing --it's spring (all our night becomes day) o, it's spring!all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the skyall the little fish climb through the mind of the sea(all the mountains are dancing; are dancing)

Spring Cleaning

2009-03-27T17:51:00.004-04:00

Spring must be here, because I’m feeling up my chickens.

Let me be precise: two kids are already in the car, we HAVE TO GO, and I am feeling my chickens’ tits (which somehow seems the right word) because son #1 believes that one of the chickens has a growth on its chest. So, we can’t just feel up ONE chicken, no, but in the interest of proper scientific methodology we must do a chicken boob comparison. A rather hurried one at that, which makes the whole enterprise feel a little, well, dirty.

Can you tell people you were late for class because you were feeling up your chickens?

One of the hardest things I have found about home schooling is that nothing -- really, NOTHING goes as planned, ever. Some days things go better, like when everyone is vomiting and confined to bed and has no choice but to read all the historical novels you throw at them. Other days, we spend half an hour looking for everyone’s books and praying to the thoroughly secular god of lost pencils, St. Ticonderoga, for just one little stubby offering, or navigating the brain-sloshing timewarp of sequential toothbrushing and music practice. When you’ve got one doctor’s appointment, nobody gets any school work done, or when someone throws a nutty or sulks because they can’t do their math or walks around the table in circles making inexplicable chicken noises.

This is what it feels like in March. We’re tired, we’re cranky, we’re sick of being cooped up with each other over a long, hard winter and the course of at least four ass-tacular stomach bugs. We’re just managing to start the second “half” of our school year (did I mention it was March?) and it feels like I’m running on carbon dioxide, which never ends well. All of the gremlins are out, even the little bugger that says “what about the socialization?” Am I really doing right by the poor pre-pubescent who’s lonely half the time and physically disturbed by our presence the rest of the time? What about those efficient little schoolchildren who walk from one class to another in the time it takes for two bells to ring? They all start school on time and know where their stuff is, don’t they?

If you homeschool and are a control freak (raise your hand, I know you are) take a deep breath. Chickens do not have boobs as we know them, and you are not in control. I don’t like this either, though the part about the chickens really doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is the feeling of emptiness that comes from doing something really hard without the faith or inspiration to back it up. God hasn’t told me to home school, and neither has anyone else. Last I checked, it was my own idea. So who am I to complain? You know how that feels, unless you have people breaking down your door to tell you what a wonderful job you’re doing.

So what can you do? I’m wondering if faith isn’t about what you believe in as much as what you don’t. If I don’t look behind me, I don’t notice the looming piles of crap and mounds of laundry. No one else seems to. Maybe there’s a metaphor in there. I don’t need to believe in some sort of perfection I can’t achieve. I don’t need the feeling that I’m failing every time my kids can’t find one of their books or doesn’t remember how to do something I taught them just the other day. What if I just check all those expectations and misguided ideas of what home schooling should look like right out the door with all the bags of too-small clothes and old papers? What if it’s really about the journey and just being brave enough to put one foot in front of the other and not look back? What if there are really only a very few things that are important?

What remains to be seen this spring is whether it will be easier to clean out my mind, or my house. Those of you who know me, place your bets now and enjoy the entertainment.

Heck, maybe I'll just walk outside now, not look back, and go feel up my roosters.

Shameless Self-Promotion

2009-01-19T09:38:00.000-05:00

I’ve got a blogging job at a great new site about green living. It reminds me a lot of Mothering, though I never checked out that magazine’s online presence.

Check out http://www.greendivamom.com/

Oh my, what a mess

2009-01-14T14:22:00.001-05:00

I just realized that pictures from the camera on my imac will show what a horrendous mess my office is. I'll have to fix that.

Stop Fighting Over Mary and Jesus

2009-01-14T13:32:00.002-05:00

It’s a good thing we didn’t go to chorus today, because we had a duck sharing conflict-resolution session that rivaled the mid-east peace treaties. The kids were all fighting over who got to have the Mary & Jesus duck(s), shown above. We spent about an hour talking about sharing, how to listen to other people patiently, and how to come up with win-win scenarios (as opposed to the win-lose, lose-win, lose-lose, or opt out). Currently Mary and Jesus are in the opt-out scenario on my desk. There you go. Steven Covey applied to duck hostage management.

I've finally got a Mac

2009-01-10T16:28:00.000-05:00

This thing is so incredibly pleasant to use. It’s taken less than one minute to configure this program to send something to my blog.

Bad Dreams

2009-01-02T20:15:00.004-05:00

I got to spend some time in Kimballs today with a coffee and a day-old cinammon twist writing (I hear the goddess of day-old pastry is particularly sparing of one's thighs.) I'm very happy to say I've started two Very Disturbing stories. One of them is about a little boy who goes in to sleep with his parents because he's had a bad dream about Devil Monkeys. This one's going to go into the "Wiley must not ever read this" category or he'll never snuggle with me again. I can't wait to see what happens.

Poor little boy. It's so fun now that he's old enough that I can start really having fun with him.

I was walking through his room to go to bed one night, and of *course* he was awake, pretending to have been woken up by a nightmare. Ha. You screw with me, I screw with you:

Me: "Flesh-eating zombies again?"

W, aghast: "How did you know?"

Me: "You know those dreams are really about girls." (smile, and exit).

Sometimes, parenting is too much fun.

It's Like Some Sick Movie...

2008-12-31T15:57:00.003-05:00

It's going on a week now, and the kids DON'T WANT TO LEAVE THE HOUSE. Not even for food.

I guess they may as well enjoy it, because starting next week I'm kicking all our sorry asses out of the house to get some fresh air, and use them feet. But for now, it's endless games of Sorry.

Me, I'm hiding at my computer looking up "Devil Monkeys." Son #1 claims there's such a thing. They look like kangaroos with monkey faces, and they apparently jump in peoples' second-floor windows and do agressive, nasty, monkey-like things, which is why he wants to come in and sleep with me. Note to self: "fat lot of good that'll do" was perhaps not the thing to say. Oh well. Oddly, I had similar nightmares when I was around his age, except I think the creatures were levitating or using pogo sticks. Kangaroos? RIDICULOUS.

Here's some other fun: a site listing disturbing things sold on ebay, including emotionally scarring toys: http://www.disturbingauctions.com

What did Santa bring you this year?

Have a Very Bokky Holiday

2008-12-26T16:35:00.004-05:00

It’s the eve of the Winter Solstice (it was when I started this) and once again, despite my best intentions to bring the children in a merry line out to decorate a tree with popcorn garlands and birdseed ornaments, someone is yurking up their lunch in the bathroom. And again, this is a good reminder for the New Year: keep a willing heart but low-to-moderate expectations, and remember that anything that happens will eventually be much more funny, at least to someone else.

Right now the expanse outside the window is blanketed in snow, and if I sit in the right place the birdfeeder blocks the septic candy cane. Even in the wrong place, it’s beautiful and regardless, what’s true beauty without a little mephitic outgassing? (wondering now if I’ve scored any special favors with the writing gods for using “mephitic outgassing” in a Christmas letter). Sitting here I’m grateful for all the wonderful friends, adults and children alike, who’ve spent time here over the years, and I wonder how long it will take the kids to realize that the “spiral mountain” of their early days was really a septic field.

The past year has been a whirlwind, mostly of various types of fowl and prepubescent hormones. In April, we made the life-altering decision to get chickens, and after two months of waiting, finally received Shogun the rooster, Frida, Georgia, Artemisia, EmmyLou, Dolly, Ember, Semisweet, Bittersweet, Fluffball, and Nacho. In July, we added 16 guinea fowl, 6 of which were to go to some friends. Of course, all of these fowl needed to stay indoors for about 8 weeks, so for a good portion of the (shall we remind you, HOT) summer we had 27 fowl living in two wardrobe boxes in our small computer room. We explained to the kids that we weren’t going to name the guineas, since they would all look alike, so the kids decided to name them all “Bob.”

At long last, all fowl moved outdoors. The chickens are in the barn, and the Bobs have their own quarters. Due to some unexplained dumbness, we’ve recently realized that the once demure, little mop-topped EmmyLou is, well, actually a large rooster. We’re hoping we don’t need to find the newly-renamed “Louie M” a new home, though we might need to brainwash him into thinking he’s a guinea fowl. The guineas, despite being about as intelligent as dried paint, seem to realize that this is their home even though they’re ranging a ways down the street. Fortunately they’re fairly quiet, especially when you accidentally give “Loud Bob” to a friend.

The chickens will soon be starring in “Moses the Musical” as part of our home schooling endeavor. So far we’ve only completed casting and the scene breakdown, but the project received an unexpected boon in the arrival of the neighbors’ chickens in our barn for winter housing (“Yay Mom, more Jews!”). So, currently, our Jewish chickens are enjoying the remainder of our Solstice cake while the kids play with the Playmobil nativity set Kiran got for not wetting his bed for a month.

On the adult front, Sarath is busy at work trying to court various venture capitalists and has bought a big, orange tractor. He’s also lucky enough to be the first to witness chicken sex. I’m currently writing for a new secular homeschooling magazine, cleaning up vast amounts of fowl excrement, and reading lots of books (currently faves are Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book, David Almond’s Secret Heart, Joe Hill’s 20th Century Ghosts, and the new collection by Stephen King). I’m also proud to say I’m finally able to work in my art room, having finally cleaned it out and repainted after the third Dunstable Artisans' show. Auggie, the old doggie, passed away this fall so we are currently dogless, but we’ve adopted a stray cat named Epaulette, who likes to sit on your shoulder and eat your face.

Wiley, 10, is well on the way to cultivating the “migrant farm-worker” look. He has gotten many favorable comments on his long hair, though so far the girls have only noticed that he’s drooled toothpaste on himself and his pants are stained with chicken poop. His current hobbies are walking around aimlessly making chicken noises, complaining that the Northeast is too cold to grow tropical plants, and having wild mood swings. We’re hoping another bucket of hormones will improve things. He’s close to earning his black belt in karate and has managed to survive a writing class with his friends despite lots of tears and frustration. Even though he claims he doesn’t like to write, he has quite a way with words and a good sensitivity to the nuance of character. This, combined with his seeming inability to do any form of actual work and his basic desire to spend his days at home in his bathrobe and chicken slippers drinking mulled cider or sipping chocolate makes it entirely likely that writing from home may be his only viable form of gainful employment.

Mira, 8, is now finally old enough to take horse lessons. She rides a handsome Arabian named Shaddad, and has learned how to use a whip (apparently there are two kinds of kids—the ones who use the whip all the time, and the ones who don’t, because they know they can. She’s the latter). She’s also gotten her first knife—an 8” carbon-steel Mora, courtesy of a wilderness class she took with Wiley & Sue. Despite being a year young for the class, she carved her own bow-drill set all by herself and is working on making fire. Currently, she’s enjoying taking a writing class and learning cursive. Everything else pisses her off, especially math, because it’s either too easy and boring or too hard (or sometimes both at the same time, just to make things fun for Mom).

Kiran, 5 ½, is wearing Wiley’s clothes from last year and is about as big as his sister. His hobbies are eating, drawing butt-cracks, and collecting faux weaponry. He is extremely annoyed that everyone but him has a really cool knife. We declared him first grade this year so he could be a tiger scout (he’s already as big as the older kids, and mostly plays with kids a year older anyway). Good thing we did, because he’s really cooking with fire. He’s now reading Frog and Toad mostly by himself and not only is he doing ok in his sister’s science class, but is also apparently taking complete notes. He’s already part way through the 2nd grade math curriculum, and can only go faster now that he’s reading. Unfortunately, he’s likely to catch up to his sister fairly quick, which no doubt will go over as well as a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

All three children continue to home school because, as they all say, “if we were in school we’d have to work all day.” I’m so proud.

To all of you: may the New Year bring you peace and gainful employment, and may nothing cute or otherwise eat your face.

Please tell me this is just a stage

2008-12-08T20:30:00.002-05:00

So last week I get back from my altered art club meeting, and when I go into my bedroom, I discover son #1 has lit EIGHT scented candles all around the room. He explains to me that this is to counter the negative feng shui from the "arrow point" of my closet wall poking inward toward the bed.

He's also complaining about the position of our doors and location of rooms and how things just don't feel like home to him any more.

I was good, and didn't point out that there's a perfectly fine debris hut out in the woods by our yard.

Pharaoh better watch out...

2008-12-01T20:46:00.002-05:00

We accomplished not much of anything today.

On the plus side, we purchased mucho blue jello so we can create the stunt version of the red sea for Moses "The Cock" to lead his flock through. And son #1 is in the playroom happily reading about "Bedroom Feng Shui."

The Coolest Slippers

2008-11-15T09:24:00.004-05:00

We got these on Ebay. Amazingly, there were no other bidders. That's Shogun in the middle. That's my son wearing them, though they do fit me. They're "just bokky!"

Mama Bok

2008-11-15T09:21:00.002-05:00

Chickens have overtaken our lives, in such a good way.

If we didn't have chickens, my son wouldn't be calling me "Mama Bok" now.

Though, I've had to explain to him that "Mother Bokker" is not good.

How Do I Look?

2008-11-15T09:00:00.002-05:00

I don't watch TV a lot, but when I do I generally watch "Bones" or "How Do I Look." My oldest son has taken to watching "HDIL" with me because after watching "Bones" once he said he couldn't sleep for a week.

Anyways, HDIL is one of those makeover shows where some poor, deluded sap gets nominated by a loved one and then goes to LA so they and their clothes can get trashed by said loved one, another accomplice, and a professional stylist. The three of these then go shopping for three outfits, choose hair and makeup, and aforementioned sap gets to choose one outfit/hair/makeup package. This is a serious chick show, because there's a huge amount of screen time given to the individual stories and how the process affects the makeoveree. Inevitably, peoples' outsides aren't matching their insides, or their insides don't even match their insides, and it's amazing what a little kick can do.

Anyways, I've had very little relaxation time recently, so there was a vast amount of HDIL's stored on the TIVO. So time for some major mom-son-tea watching time.

Unfortunately, I've very little relaxation time and a cold, so during this fashionista marathon I'm wearing my EMS blue thermal hoody (which I've been wearing for days, because I'm COLD), with the hood ON which, frankly, makes me look like a big sperm.

And my barn coat.

Which makes me look like a big sperm in a barn coat.

I'm very sure this isn't fashionable, in any way.

So now my son has decided *I* need a makeover, which is probably true. Perhaps the "I'm about to go hiking, really, really, once I finish this entire bag of microwave popcorn" look may not be working.

Anyways, so now I'm getting fashion tips from an unwashed ten-year old boy with long scraggly hair. In response to my question of "why should I take advice from you?" I got this priceless remark: "Well, if my hair was combed and my clothes weren't dirty, and I hadn't been wearing them all week, I'd look great!"

Drumming Workshop

2008-09-16T14:54:00.001-04:00

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Our House is Poultry Free!

2008-08-19T17:36:00.002-04:00

This morning the Bobs (Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob, and Loud Bob) finally moved into a new home OUTSIDE! Ten pigeon-sized guinea fowl in a wardrobe box in a small computer room during the summer is ten too many. It's so pleasant to work in a room that doesn't smell like chicken poop and wet turkey protein crumble.

This is very exciting. I caught myself in the car today saying "Yay, I have external bobs!" Hopefully no one was listening, because that probably sounded pretty strange.

Mole Babies

2008-08-19T17:34:00.003-04:00

We found these guys when we were raking up some trash that was on the lawn. I think they're moles. It's pretty amazing that the lawnmower didn't take them out.

mild technical overwhelm

2008-08-09T12:02:00.002-04:00

I'm posting this from my new iPhone. So far I've figured out how to make it quack, and that's about it. I think there should be an official sniglet "comstipation," referring to the state of technical overload in between digestion and productivity.

Another Point on Talent

2008-07-31T21:14:00.002-04:00

One other interesting thing the Talented Teen brought up was that the authors discovered in their study that "average adolescents appeared to do chores around the house twice as often as the talented." The same spread also described how many had jobs outside the house.

So I'm torn. Part of me can see, yeah, if a kid is really talented, then maybe they should spend relatively more time pursuing their talent rather than doing menial labor. The other part thinks "Put down your #$&!ing accordion and bring out the @#$*!ing trash!" My big question is why should these things be mutually exclusive? Ideally, there should be time for pursuit of talent, and for the work that it takes to be self-supported or part of a family. I can't imagine that talented kids are better off for being let off the hook on these things.

A Lesson In Sticktuitiveness

2008-07-31T21:05:00.002-04:00

One flaw I have found in myself is that I often get part way through something and then feel compelled to move on to something else. Halfway done with the laundry, it's time to clean off the counters. Those almost done? Time to check email.

I even have trouble flossing all my teeth at once. I kid you not. Two more teeth to go, and some little gremlin says "oh, you can do those tomorrow...if you stop now you can get to bed 7.5 seconds quicker!"

So today, after a therapeutic bout of lopping off rampaging bittersweet, I decided to take out one of the trees that's been growing in our front flower bed...uh...obviously long enough to have grown into a 15 foot tree with a roughly 4 inch diameter trunk. I sawed half way through, and guess what? Started thinking "this is really tedious and I'm tired..."

Then it occurred to me that having a half-sawed down tree is a tremendously stupid thing, and a thorough waste of time. If only everything else were so obvious :-)

The Nature of "Flow" and its Teaching Implications

2008-07-30T21:48:00.005-04:00

I'm currently reading Talented Teenagers: The Roots of Success and Failure by Mihaly Csikszentimihalyi (thank you heartily to one of the previous BookMooch owners for the wonderful highlighting job). He writes:

"...flow in consciousness emerges when one perceives a well-calibrated balance between the challenges that an activity poses and the skills with which one can immediately respond. These conditions correspond to an experience of optimum balace in which just enough information is present to occupy attention fully without overloading it...over time as a young person learns to master this balanced tension, there will emerge an enduring personal project or life theme as well as a distinctive styleof engagement with the world.

Thus...(these) individuals should enjoy clear advantages in realizing the development of their talents to the fullest extent. On the day-to-day level, where others see only difficulty, their deep sense of interest aids them in recognizing new challenges, with new opportunities pitched just far enough ahead of current skills to mobilize butnot overwhelm psychic resources. In the long run, the emerging sense of a life theme ats as an organizing agent in consciousness, authorizing the devotion of extensive time to projects that reflect deep personal interests."

Now, it seems to me that it's a rare child that will have the natural balance to perch at that growing tip (to use a botanical analogy). Csikszentimihalyi (thank God for cut and paste) in fact describes this ability as a personality trait. So clearly the ideal role of the teacher is to guide a child to this point (ok, not my idea--I think some guy named Vygotsky came up with this) frequently enough that they can internalize the awareness and enjoyment of being there.

So my question is, how the heck do you do that? I imagine it takes quite an amount of sensitivity, a whole lot of mistakes, a few successes, and a good amount of self-knowledge.

What a job.

Thank God for box wine.

Artie

2008-07-12T21:40:00.001-04:00

This is Artemisia, one of our ameraucanas. She likes to sit down a lot.

Enlightenment at Home

2008-03-22T14:48:00.000-04:00

At a conference I went to a few years ago we were taught a form of meditation called tonglen to help us teach our children with more kindness and patience. In tonglen, you breathe in and imagine the most noxious place you can think of (a port-a-potty is a common choice) and then breath out and imagine the most wonderful, peaceful place you can think of.

I can’t remember what my noxious place was at the time, but right now this is it: trapped in a small room, no longer writing, with three whining children complaining about each other, cold rain keeping inside and cranky with pent-up energy, and an old dog whose farts smell disturbingly, exactly like last night’s meatloaf.

A deep breath.

Out.

But where to go? A beach? The mountains? The bathroom, all by myself thank you very much? But there’s these warm bodies here, good books, and suddenly lots of hugs and snuggling. Why move? In the blink of a moment, happiness.

But what kind of bizarre meditation is it when your bad place and your good place are one and the same? Does that work, or is this so messed up that it would make a zen monk’s head explode? Can anything other than family do this? Unless I start having really good experiences in port-a-potties, probably not for me.

One truth: home schoolers ask too many questions. Guess how many of us it takes to change a lightbulb? Again, I’ve failed to write, and failed to meditate, but at the moment, I’m entirely sure that that doesn’t matter. Maybe that’s enlightenment, or at least as close as I’ll get now that I’ve given up coffee.

One more truth: when dog farts, open window.

Mira Has Learned How to Sew

2007-12-19T20:44:00.000-05:00

The other day at karate, Mira saw a girl sewing, and decided she wanted to learn. Yesterday, she sewed a whole pillow by herself, and today she made two more, with very nice, even stitches!

This is very much like her. She shows no indication of wanting to learn things, then when she decides she wants to do something, she does it with fairly quick mastery. She seems to have a clear awareness that she has no need for things until, well, she does. She's very mature about these things, which makes her very good at pretending she's immature. No, it wasn't that she wasn't *ready* to read. She'd just decided that all those books with *words* must be incredibly boring and therefore reading was "stupid." Now she's reading hundred-page books, and I'm keeping my mouth shut.

Some Good Short Stories

2007-12-16T10:15:00.000-05:00

I am also reading Tabloid Dreams by Robert Olen Butler. Rarely am I blown away by short stories. In fact, I'd guess that my response to at least 80% of the short stories I read (which are already selected in some way or another to be "good") is "I'm not sure whether that's good or not." I suppose this is partly due to how stories are written these days, or what we value (inventive! unique! brilliant structual finesse!). It's rare to find a story that just hits you in the gut.

I've been reading Butler's From Where You Dream: The Process of Writing Fiction -- a transcription of his writing lectures, and I was curious to read some of his stories. I've read a lot of writing books: is he any good? Is there really value added here?

Each story in the book (yes, every single darned one) has so far made me say "Holy shit, I wish I'd written that." Especially Titanic Victim Speaks From Waterbed. How many people can pull of a story of an aqueously embodied ghost voicing its regrets from within a waterbed?

A Whole New Mind

2007-12-16T09:49:00.000-05:00

I have just finished reading A Whole New Mind by Daniel Pink. It is basically about how we are moving from the information age to the conceptual age, and how our previous and current focus on only left-brained skills is no longer useful to us.

The reviews of the book on Amazon are pretty dead-on, I think: "upbeat, but overly simplistic view of globalization." My thoughts were a little briefer and perhaps less eloquent: "Well, duh." It used to be that being a doctor, engineer, or having an MBA was the way to get ahead in life. Now that information-age jobs are being outsourced to Asia, and the knowledge stored in doctors' heads can be found almost everywhere, this isn't the case anymore. But isn't that all obvious?

What amazes me though, is how even though this seems so obvious, we're either unwilling or unable to look at our educational system and realize it's a dinosaur. We still compliment our kids on mostly left-brain things: how much can you memorize, do you know your times tables in third grade just like I did, how much do you know? Yes, it's important to have basic skills. But it's harder to quantify and "prove" (and therefore praise and encourage) right-brained skills. We weren't taught to value them, and we're lucky if we still have any left. If we adults are generally ignorant about the nature and capabilities of the mind, how on earth can we presume to prepare them for the future?(getting out of the way is one good option).

Zombies Ain’t So Bad

2007-11-21T09:13:00.000-05:00

It’s my personal opinion that games are a great way to teach, and if a game has zombies in it, well hey—that’s a bonus in my book. There’s nothing like a little undead to liven things up.

Zombie Fluxx is a riff on the original Fluxx, a card game put out by Looney Labs (www.LooneyLabs.com). The game starts out with only one rule—draw one, play one. There are four different kinds of cards: Keepers, Goals, Actions, and New Rules. Keepers are cards you place in front of you to help you win, such as “bread” and “the toaster.” Goal cards specify what keepers or conditions you need to have to win; for example, if you have the previously mentioned keepers in front of you and you can put down the “Toast (must have bread and toaster)” goal card, you win. Action cards let you do things like steal a keeper, or switch hands.

The real fun of the game comes with the New Rule cards. Each New rule either adds on to or supersedes the previous ones—so at any one time there are likely to be multiple rules (i.e. “Draw Three,” “Play Two,” “Hand Limit One,” “Dual Goals”) that you need to keep track of. The rules, and goals, change all the time. It’s great for encouraging reasoning, logical thought, and rule-processing skills.

Needless to say, this type of game appeals largely to boys and left-brained people. I’ve tried to play this game with a bunch of women on a girls’ cabin weekend, and nearly got chucked out on my head in the snow.

Zombie Fluxx is all this and more. In addition to Keepers, you have “Creepers,” or zombies—individuals, pairs, trios, and the occasional undead quartet. Part of the challenge is figuring out what to do with your zombies (isn’t that always the case?); do you keep them, try to kill them, or better yet, force some to flee to your neighbors? With some of the goals, you can only win if you have no zombies (for example: “Getaway Driver…You win if you have the Car and at least one Friend Keeper on the table in front of you…and no Zombies!”) For some, you must have Zombies (i.e. “Brain Baseball…You win if you have Brains and the Baseball Bat and at least one Zombie on the table” or my personal favorite, “Zombie Baseball Team…You win if you have at least 9 Zombies in front of you along with the Baseball Bat.”)

My nine-year old son and two of his friends (including one girl who, granted, is a rather left-brained fan of Norm from “This Old House”) had a great time with this game. At one point, they successfully juggled ten rules, full hands and multiple Zombies. “I’ve got Zombies and I’ve got Wood!” one of them cried excitedly.

In addition to Fluxx and Zombie Fluxx, one can get Eco Flux, Spanish Fluxx, and Jewish and Christian Booster packs. I’ve even seen a teacher-made version of “Music Fluxx.” If you’re up for a challenge, you can mix your games together. Can you just imagine—“Rosh Hashanah…You win if you have Friends and Challah…and no Zombies!”

My favorite part of Zombie Fluxx, however, is the New Rule “Zombies Ain’t So Bad.” With this card on the table, you can win with Zombies even if the current Goal says you can’t win if you have any Zombies. Sometimes, things just aren’t as bad as they seem—now isn’t that a great message to send our kids?

RIP Piggies

2007-11-12T11:57:00.001-05:00

It's never going to be a good morning when your child wakes you up with "Mommy, there's something wrong with...."

Wiley's guinea pig Mystery died on Thursday. We made a heroic effort to bring her into the vet, and arrived just in time for her to die in his arms while he was taking a minute to say goodbye before we were going to put her to sleep.

We discussed that while he was very sad, and he was doing a hard thing, it was good that she died knowing he loved her, and that he got to spend her last moments with her, as well as so much time in general. The kids spent most every morning cuddling with their piggies, and it struck me many times that one of the great things about home schooling is that the kids got to spend time bonding with and loving their pets.

Teddy died on Saturday.

It's not clear why, though I have recently learned that green beans are poisonous to guinea pigs. Who knew? Rhubarb, yes--of course. But green beans? They did have green beans about a week ago, and I suspect this may be the cause of their demise. This was not in any of the books I'd read, nor have I ever heard it. I just found out from a "Guinea Pig Secrets" ebook.

You Learn Something New Every Day

2007-11-06T13:46:00.001-05:00

Apparently if you try and roast an eggplant intact (without poking any holes in it), this is what happens. I'll add this to the list of completely random things that can interrupt home schooling.

Brain Day

2007-11-06T13:38:00.000-05:00

Today was my third class in teaching anatomy to the younger group of children. I picked up a brain at Blood Farm on the way to the library, so we could poke at it. Here is a picture of me parked right next to the library dumpster for easy brain disposal. Maybe I should be wondering about people who park next to dumpsters.

Unfortunately my car has that nice, freshly-butchered smell to it now. You won't see Johnson & Johnson promoting a "Fresh Brains" air freshener anytime soon.

Resistance

2007-10-12T21:43:00.000-04:00

Today someone said to me, in reference to home schooling (after the usual "I couldn't do that") "How do you deal with the resistance?" To being taught, specifically.

Of course, at the end of the day, I didn't have much of a brain to answer. But now that I have swept up some brains, I have what might be a few cogent thoughts. Really, I dont' think we have much "resistance" per se. I think a lot of kids resistance to learning is because they're either overscheduled and zonked, aren't interested in learning what someone thinks they should be taught, or aren't meeting the material in a meaningful or developmentally well-timed way.

I've seen the magic myself--I try to teach or explain something in the "basic skills" department. Big wall of resistance. I stop. A few months later, the kid does it on his/her own almost instantly. Or suddenly is interested after a snack. Or a half an hour later. I feel really lucky that we have the freedom to learn....I was going to finish that with something, but that's really it. The freedom to learn.

If The Universe Is So Abundant, Why Don't We Have Any Underwear?

2007-10-02T20:54:00.000-04:00

These days one of the books I'm reading is the "Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life: Living the Wisdom of the Tao" by Wayne Dyer.

The idea as introduced by Lao Tzu, I believe, is that the universe is by nature endless and abundant, and much of our shortcomings and feelings of failure are due to ourselves getting in our own way. Thank you, Mr. fix-it fancy-ass old chinese guy.

I suppose a wise old chinese man is more likely to be right about anything than I am. But screw him. I'm having a moment.

I find myself questioning the "abundance" part, and I suspect many home schoolers (admit it, or I'll yell at you in pretend chinese) feel the same way. Everyone wants something from me, there's not enough time for anything, I've done six loads of laundry today and there's still more, and I've just stepped on something and it feels like meat. The house is a mess, and the moment I sit down to write in the morning, before all the air has even squished out of the chair, someone comes in and says "can you find me some underwear?" It all seems like a zero-sum game.

Then a moment of enlightenment. I've got good friends, kids who I don't mind claiming as mine, and some amount of inspiration. Lots of people would kill for that. All my son's asking for is underwear.

I'm guessing it's a lot easier to ask the universe for underwear than it is to ask for friends, family, and inspiration.

Morning Pages, and Teaching Writing

2007-09-28T09:01:00.000-04:00

Wiley and I have been doing "Morning Pages." I believe it was Julia Cameron who popularized this idea: first thing in the morning, you sit and write for a few minutes. It doesn't have to be good, or coherent, or anything. No rules, other than keep writing. Just butt on seat, pen/pencil on paper. It's a great way to clear out the cobwebs in your head and get your mind in gear to be creative.

So much of what we write in our lives is filtered through expectation and self-consciousness. Is it good? Can I say this? Is it interesting? Then there's the voice of the critic: "you're no good," "why are you wasting time doing this," "who are you to think you're a writer." No wonder the biggest challenge in writing is to have "a voice."

We spend most of our adult lives trying to find out who we are. Many, perhaps most of us, fail. Maybe even a greater number just don't try.

I think morning pages are a great tool for kids, and a great beginning to more "formal" writing. Hopefully they haven't learned yet that "writing" is just jumping through another hoop to please someone else. Frankly, mechanics, grammar, structure, this can all be learned fairly easily, *if* you have something to say. If you are merely doing an exercise, an assignment--why does it matter then, where the period is, whether a sentence is too long? If you have a voice, something pure and special that is truly yours, then nothing will stop you, and your words, and your life, will resonate, like a strike on a clear bell.

And, I suppose, this is why I home school.

In any case, this is what a morning page might look like (and I am typing in one of Wiley's, because it's riotously entertaining and much better than mine):

"I like potatoes. they taste good baked and in hash. baked Potatoes need butter, sour cream, herbs, cheese, and bacon bits. thereis a tick on my dog. I bet he can't feel anything. I hate having to sit here writing my morning page. Iwish I was in Florida sliding down a water slide at typhoon Lagoon in disney land my mom says I have to make spaces between words. Small intestines look like snakes when protrayed in a book. Our barn hypnotizes me when I look at it. I must remember not to overuse exclamation points!!!!!! We have a huge pop-up 3D human body on our wall. he comes with liver, intestines, bones,nerves, heart, etc, etc, etc. isn't it weird I have used the word "intestines" three times? I made breakfast this morning. darn. my yolk was too thick. I have an air condishiner and it works. Yay! I snuck six (maybe five) cookbooks into our library bag. this includes the norwegiean, mexican, hungarian, east african, and italian cookbooks."

Questions of the Day

2007-09-25T14:47:00.000-04:00

From Wiley (9): "What's a tongue fetishist?" (Thank you, Bloom County).

From Kiran (4): "Mommy, can we hunt a deer and cut its skin off and then stretch it sometime?"

From Mira (6): "Can't anyone ever wipe the seat?"

Creation, and Following Your Instincts

2007-09-21T06:54:00.000-04:00

We've been reading Pearl Buck's "The Story Bible" as part of our studies. I'd never read the Adam and Eve story before, and it's bugging me. I think it's the whole "the world was just perfect until Eve had to go screw it up" thing.

I've been working on a short story called "Geeta and the Horrible Sausage Factory." Or had been working on it, about two years ago. It never went anywhere. Last night--ZAP. I think I'm going to make it into a creation story.

Now, the part about following your instincts. I'm finding it hard to figure out where in this story there will be even a little link of sausage, never mind a sausage factory. Or a *horrible* sausage factory. This should be a a huge signal flag. But I really, really want to call it that. Which way to go?

Two Different Ways to Write About Bananas

2007-09-19T10:16:00.000-04:00

I've been having my son do a "morning page" in his writing book each day. The idea is that you put the pencil to the paper, and keep writing until the end of the page. No rules, no standards, just write. The idea, I explain to him, is it's kind of like taking a morning dump, literally. You've just gotta get the *stuff* out of your head, and once you do that, some of the better stuff has more of a chance to get out. Besides, it's good practice to do a little bit of writing every day, not to mention without any pressure for it to be "good."

Amusingly, I've discovered this is a *great* way to "teach" poetry. Wiley has written several "poems," with excessive, but very creative, use of white space in order to take up the whole page with the minimum amount of effort.

On another page, he's listed the ten avatars of Vishnu. That took up half a page.

Today, I got off my duff and told him I'd do my own while he did his. Turns out we both wrote about how there were seven bananas on the counter, at about the same moment--a wonderful moment of communion. It was interesting to note that we both said the same thing, but the slightly different words made it sound different:

"We have seven bananas on the counter. I like bananas!"

"There are a lot of bananas on the counter. Seven bananas."

Hands-on-Math

2007-09-17T08:05:00.000-04:00

We've been doing math with the "four friends"--from right to left Max Multiply, Minnie Minus, Patty Plus (she's had a sex-change since we did these with my oldest, and she's having a very bad hair day), and King Dominic Divide.

Mira and I worked with Miquon workbooks last year, and it was pretty obvious that none of it was having any resonance. I think all the operations were so abstract, and she couldn't really keep track of what all those signs were. And, frankly, when I tried to get into the mindset of a child (which isn't too hard first thing in the morning), it was hard for me to get it either. What *is* subraction. If you "take away," don't you have more?

So we brought these guys back out. The shiny glass stars were a hit. Suddenly the nature of the processes and their interrelationships were obvious. Even my four-year old gets multiplication and division now, after say, an hour of playing with these guys!

More writing

2007-09-09T14:22:00.001-04:00

Managed to get done two columns and a short story, "The Places She Missed," done this weekend, hiding in my little room.

You'd think I was in here buggering the dog or something, with the looks I get whenever anyone comes in. And the door isn't even shut.

I sent the story into Writers' Digest. We'll see. Maybe I should be buggering the dog instead.

Rhyming skills:a great way to start the morning

2007-09-07T19:53:00.000-04:00

We were at our chore board this morning, and I was rather brainlessly singing "Friday, Friday, time to..." and stopped because I really had no plan for the rest of the phrase. Kiran immediately chimed in , in perfect tune, with "...die day."

Hard to know where to go from that.

They must serve great beverages on planet Wiley

2007-09-06T20:59:00.000-04:00

So I'm in here working on my next column for the paper, and Wiley comes in with a "special Rosh Hashanah beverage." We're studying the Torah for the next few months, and I'd gotten a book out on Jewish cooking (apparently that isn't an oxymoron, and I've eaten enough dessicated chicken in my life to have earned the right to make that remark). This is along with "Cooking the Hungarian Way," "Cooking the East African Way," "Cooking the Mexican Way," Cooking the Italian Way," and "Cooking the Norwegian Way," which were all smuggled into my library bag and checked out without my knowing.

The beverage is "Cinnamon Almond Milk," and damn, it's good. He apparently modified the recipe, wrote it out with an illustration, and rated it 5 stars upon my approval.

If anything, he'll have a successful future as a barrista.

Organizationally Challenged

2007-08-31T16:01:00.001-04:00

At the moment, I have a sticky note stuck on my PDA. I'm sure the information will make it into the PDA, but unfortunately not by osmosis. I'm thinking there's a flaw somewhere in my data input chain here.

I've read that one of the most effective strategies for accomplishing your goals is to spend ten minutes a night reviewing the next day and making a to-do list. Something in me just rebels at this, though. Or maybe I'm just lazy. Ten minutes seems like such a *long* time. I could do ten minutes of art, watch a segment of "Dirty Jobs," do a Sudoku, feed the guinea pigs...there's so much I could do in ten minutes. Frankly, by the time I'm done with the day and ready for the next, I'm too tired to plan anything, and I've usually forgotten to charge the darn thing anyway.

The Muse in the Sterno

2007-08-30T08:49:00.000-04:00

The first sentences of a story for the Writer's Digest prompt came to me on the way home last night after a Pu-Pu Platter at the Hong & Kong: "He’d been with Hector the one-testicled elephant for years, but not in that way. She was his one and only. But when she shaved her beard to fit in with the other soccer moms, he cried."

We'll see how this goes.

The last time I had any inspiration was when I saw the ad about Werewolf stories and I was in the mood to procrastinate regarding my novel.

But this reminds me--the muse only comes if you let her in, I guess. I rarely save any brain space for "I think I'll write a short story," or walk around with any "I'm a writer" receptors up. This is one of the biggest challenges I have. I've got so much on my plate--how do I remind myself that I'm (allegedly) a writer, when, for instance, my youngest has just peed on my foot or I can't even find a pencil?

This Month's Writer's Digest Contest Prompt

2007-08-29T08:39:00.000-04:00

From Writer's Digest--write a short story of 750 words or fewer based on this prompt. Winner receives $100 in WD books and publication.

"After years with a traveling carnival, the strong man and bearded lady try to adjust to normal life as a married couple."

In the (Wrong Kind of) Flow

2007-08-28T10:26:00.000-04:00

What I really love about writing is that wonderful state where all the neurons have had the time to connect and the right words jiggle together into something miraculous. Actually, anything can be like this--when you're somehow in the right state of mind, and conditions are favorable (no one yelling "wipe me!" for instance)-- suddenly you find yourself fully present and happy.

I get distracted easily, though.

There's lots of flies here. Darn them. They're landing on my legs while I try to write, or rubbing their little legs together on my pile of envelopes. Some of them are stripy and have big red eyes.

So I have discovered that killing flies is as much fun as writing, unfortunately perhaps more so. Last week I killed about twenty of them (the large, stripy uber-flies) with an old, paperback copy of "Statistics in Everyday Life." Once you kill a few, it's hard to stop. There's a strategy to it, almost a martial art. If you move too slow, they feel the movement of the air and escape. If they see your shadow, they're on to you. One good whack, and the luckier flies dance in the air until something in their little brains tells them to land again, and the process repeats. It's a dance.

Downstairs I have a standard-issue swatter, which I initially bought to use in an art project (along with the corn-holder nipples-to-be, but let's not discuss those) but is now my weapon of choice. I'm racking up the points. Land, spot, swat. Land, spot, swat.

I'm just about out of flies now, so I guess it's on to something else. If I'm really clever about it, maybe I can be distracted by chapter 1 of my novel.

There's a Chipmunk In My Toilet and My Hair is Turning Gray

2007-08-19T15:16:00.000-04:00

I've decided that that's going to be the title of the next book I pitch. Barring that, maybe a country-western song. Barring that, that's what I'll be singing to myself holed up at my writing desk with a good beer, perhaps one too many.

Really, though, there was a chipmunk in my toilet.

Usually when you hear the words "and it's trying to swim" coming out of your child (in reference to anything living or previously living in some kind of perilous situation involving liquid), really what it means is "it's dead as a fucking doornail." But no! In this case, the chipmunk was very wet and exhausted, but definitely among our living chipmunky friends.

I did not get a picture of him in the bowl, as I was busy rescuing him. I will cite this to prove that I am a compassionate person.

The Day of the Cock

2007-08-10T21:23:00.000-04:00

Yesterday we sat down after getting a lot of work done for some nice family time watching "Dirty Jobs" on the Discovery Channel (TIVO, actually). If you haven't seen it, you should--it's this great show where the (coincidentally really hot) host sees what it's like to do the kind of menial, awful jobs that some people do so we don't have to.

Someone picked the "Dirtiest Animal" show, which sounds pretty tame, right? Of course, one of the segments was on electro-ejaculating a bull with a huge rubber dildo-like thing about a foot and a half long. This is, I suppose, kind of tame next to someone shoving their entire arm up the bull's ass. No questions here, fortunately.

Then we head out to lunch and some errands. Right now I need to preface the rest of the story by saying we go out to chinese food too much, and my kids are intimately familiar (and I realize that after that last paragraph, the phrase "intimately familiar" sounds unclean) with the Chinese Zodiac menus they always have. The male chicken-mate is always called a "cock," which is just fine, until you realize that your nine-year old is still calling a rooster a cock.

So Wiley spikes up his hair and says "Mom, I look like a cock!"

And then we repeat the occasional "perhaps you should start using the work "rooster" like everybody else" conversation, which leads to me explaining what the colloquial meaning of "cock" is, and how one usually does not use it in polite conversation. Which, of course, leads to Wiley asking "so when *would* you use the word 'cock?'"

All I could think of was "In no conversation you'll ever be having soon."

Sigh. At least I got out of explaining what electroejaculation was :-)

Economics 101

2007-08-03T07:28:00.000-04:00

The kids have been playing store lately with a tray full of play money. Kiran was excited to show me his hanging squash money-holder (which has now been expanded to three squash).

It's been fun listening to the kids haggle over prices, negotiate deals, and set up specials and discount tables. They're taking it extremely seriously, which is mildly unfortunate because when Kiran runs out of money he has a fit.

But even he understands now that if you charge $100 for a block of wood, no one will buy it.

Playing Bass May Make You Blind

2007-08-03T07:12:00.000-04:00

The kids have been spending most of their time up in the boys' room listening to CD's and playing their various instruments along with the music: Wiley on rock ukelele, Kiran on strumstick, and Mira on the chanter.

Spidey here, who's meant to hang upside down, got to help out in his usual disturbing position.

As soon as I walked in the room, Kiran jerked Spidey's hands up and down and said "He's playing Bass!"

Our New Baby

2007-07-20T11:19:00.000-04:00

We Interrrupt This Novel...

2007-07-19T20:57:00.000-04:00

...to write two werewolf stories.

I just came across a post on Deborah Ng's freelance writing blog avertising for werewolf stories for a book...$750-$1000 each. Now that's tempting! Combine temptation with a fine dose of procrastination, and you get creativity. My goal is to have the drafts of both stories done by tomorrow. This ought to be fun. I've been in Revision Land forever. It's fun, and a little strange, to actually *write* something.

Those darned revisions

2007-07-16T21:43:00.000-04:00

So I've finally gotten back to working on my novel. Now I know why people say it takes them years to finish one. While the kids were at camp this past week, I got to sit down with some very nice caffeine and figure out all of the plot kinks that I inherited from revision number 2 (lesson for all of you budding mystery novelists--never think "wouldn't it be fun if the body was missing it's head?" It's not.)

My big problem with this revision? After having the novel sit for a while, I realized I couldn't remember the name of one of the main characters. I'm no pro, but I can take a hint. That's a bad sign.

I reworked the first seven chapters this morning, and there aren't any drastic changes I need to make, short of adding a chapter. I'm hoping I can have the darn thing done by September.

2007-07-16T21:27:00.001-04:00

Isn't this the coolest Jello mold? Rachel Ray, eat your heart out.

All those aliens do is sit around and watch TV

2007-07-16T21:18:00.000-04:00

It took a whole day to inflate these guys, and are they grateful, NOT! All they want to do is sit around and watch "Die Hard." They should go back to their own darn planet and let us drink our own darn American beer.

(All apologies to the brown one. He is a citizen of this planet.)

Rock On

2007-07-16T20:54:00.000-04:00

Wiley had a great time at the Groton Center for the Arts Music Mayhem camp last week. This is the first time he's really gotten to play music with anybody else, and fortunately they could accomodate his accordion, ukelele, banjo and cello. The ukelele was a big hit--it's a great instrument, and the one we have is lime green.

They had two music sessions a day, and at the end of the week they had a performance and came home with a CD of their recorded music.

It was his birthday, so he got to name the band: Sedna.

So here's "Rock On" by Sedna:

http://squidhenge.googlepages.com/10RockOn.mp3