Back Off, Airbag!

I’m thankful that I am still here to write a blog for your reading pleasure.  The airbags did their duty, probably a bit more intensely than required at 35 mph, yet I am trying to keep a sense of humor in the midst of it all.  Please excuse any humor that may seem off color in our circumstances.  Remember also I am currently using narcotics.

My cute husband and I were enjoying a moment of peace and tranquility on the back patio yesterday morning, holding hands and loving the balmy Phoenix weather in March.  He squeezed my hand and conveyed a heartfelt, “I’m so glad the accident was not that bad.  I could have been going to two funerals this week!”  BAH!  I told him that his sentiments were kind but I knew he was WAY too cheap to pay for two funerals…. there would have been just one.

This morning I visited the spinal surgeon.  He had good news and bad news for me… but the good news outweighed the bad by 98%.  I am not free to discuss my injuries to the world at large, but spinal surgery was negated.  Thank God!  Then he proceeded to tell me that my spinal condition is appropriately degenerated FOR MY AGE.  What the heck was that supposed to mean?  I’m in my 40s!!  If he were a car salesman, this was the equivalent of kicking the tires and saying, “She’s got a few more miles in her despite the apparent neglect.” Good grief!

It has been 11 days since the accident and today was the first day I had a surge of energy and applied makeup!  Small steps.  It was my fourth or fifth visit to the chiropractor since the accident.  As I graced the waiting room the receptionist hollers, “OH MY GOSH!  You look so much better today!”  Yeah, thanks.  It’s just makeup.  I feel the same… still sore, achy and drugged.  My Dad always said, “If the barn needs painting, paint it!”  I gathered from her exuberance that my natural beauty was more in my mind than in reality.

I arrived home exhausted from more outings than my typical one-per-day.  While sitting at the table eating another wonderfully fabulous dinner that was delivered to us by our rockin’ homeschool peeps, my 9-year-old says to me, “I like your hair.”  Okay, seriously?  It is a day #2 hairdo with the back completely oily from a massage, and one flat side from my nap.  She kept going with her sincere flattery, “It makes you look like a teenager, Mom.  It’s pretty the way it’s not all puffy like usual.”  Wow.  What do you say to that?

By day of recovery #5 I finally felt like reading.  I read four whole pages of the 1850′s historical fiction of which I was in the midst…. during days 6, 7 and 8.  Yes, only four pages.  Then day #9 my reading juices were regenerated and I finished the book.  It was the last 1850′s historical novel I had in my possession and I was still on the couch for the better part of the day.  CRISIS!  I perused my bookshelves and discovered several stories that we were supposed to read for American History last year.  Yesterday and today I read Farewell to Manzanar a biography/history lesson about an internment camp during WW2 for 10,000 Japanese Americans on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevadas in California.  Every summer when we drive to Lake Tahoe, we pass right by the historical marker sign that reads   <—– MANZANAR.  Being the history loving nerd that I am, the desire to stop has surfaced every single time we pass the sign, but we have yet to stop.  Now that I’ve read the story…. we are stopping, baby.  10,000 American citizens who were considered dangerous simply by race… put in a “camp” like prisoners for THREE YEARS!  Unbelievable.  I’ve added this story here because I was hoping to see barracks, a mess haul, latrines, a pear orchard, etc.  The end of the book describes Manzanar today as a dusty, deserted piece of land with a few cement slabs if you know where to look for them.  Maybe I don’t need to stop as badly as I thought I had for the last 12 years.  We’ll see this summer.

Dr. Doolittle, I Think Not

Never have I been accused of being an animal lover.  We had a few pets during my childhood in suburbia Northern California, but never a dog and only once for a short time, a cat.  The kitty caused my brother’s eyes to swell shut, so she didn’t stay long at all.  But I did have the joy of picking out Meow Mix back in the day when the Meow Mix song was popular, hence making me popular. I was nine, it didn’t take much.

Fast forward to  my ten-year-old daughter praying every night that God would change her mother’s heart (ME!) so that she could get a dog.  I about coughed up a lung the first time I witnessed her heartfelt petition to the God of the universe.  Anyway, the two-year vigil ended with God changing my heart… and for the past 9.5 years we have had Trixie, the Rat Terrier burrowing into our hearts and lives.

Foolishly I read Dr. Doolittle to my children years ago.  Unmistakably, that was a cockamamie move on my part. Yes, we did do a stint with younger boys who NEEDED tadpoles, then frogs of course, lizards, mice, a hamster named Teddy, chickens, fish, turtles, and a hermit crab named Elvis.  Truly I felt that I did my time.  Of course there were requests for a horse.  Thankfully we live in an HOA that doesn’t allow for horses.

Then Christmas 2011 did me in.  It was December 23rd at 10:15 p.m. and my husband and I were sitting on the blue couch when my cell phone notified me of the arrival of a message.  Who would be texting me that late?  Of course it was a friend who had a friend who had a baby wiener dog FREE for Christmas.  Good grief.  We were sitting ducks.  The next day I called another friend who got a baby wiener dog for Christmas the previous year and DIDN’T keep it!  I gave her all my reasons for not taking the free dog, and she solved each dilemma as it arose…. we would need a crate.  She had one.  We would need a doggy door.  She had one.  And her reason for returning the puppy was because she was never home to train it….. she pointed out that we are ALWAYS home.  We homeschool.  We don’t leave the premises unless it is for church or a library trip.  So we got sucked into Ringo the wiener dog who has been snuggling with us for over a year now.

I still cannot believe I have two dogs.  Linda Ann Crosby… NOT a dog person, has two dogs, and probably will have two dogs for another five to seven years.  Unbelievable!  I can hardly believe I am writing a blog about dogs.  I am not a dog person.  Didn’t I already say that?

So the moral of the story is DON’T READ DR. DOOLITTLE to your kids if you truly want to do little.  BAM!

Potato Peel Sakes Alive!

When I found myself in the Edmonton, Alberta airport last month, surrounded by snow and folks wearing parkas, I decided on a book purchase instead of a trip out of doors.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love Edmonton.  Three of my favorite people were born there.  But there was snow.  My flimsy nylon traveling sweat suit kept me behind the thick windows.  Never have I purchased a book in an airport…. I didn’t have high hopes.  But my brain needed stimulation and there were four blank hours staring me in the face.  At the overpriced shop, I came upon this gem:

On first perusal of the contents, I realized that the entire book was written in letters.  I reminisced with heartwarming thoughts of one of my favorite children’s books The Jolly Postman and Other People’s Letters.

Oh was I in for a treat.  The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society ended up being historical (my FAV!) set in France and England just after WWII.  The story involves a writer and all of the unique and utterly unbelievable people with whom she corresponds.  I cuddled with every jot and tittle.  Now I yearn to travel to Guernsey to see the steep shores and the stone houses and the green countryside.  The creativity dreamed up for these folks in horrible times was amusing and very well written.  My interest was held until the last page was turned.

Then tonight, my heart skipped a beat or two when I discovered this:

2013… NEXT YEAR the movie will appear on the big screen for me to love all over again.  Mom, we’ll have to go on opening day just like we did for The Help!

Looky Here….

Two blogs in a row.  Remarkable, I know.

Wee morning hour reading is brought on by…

My lack of tiredness and inability to get shut eye.

The snoring giant yonder lies…

I climb out of bed with heartfelt sighs.

Not because of the noise am I still awake.

Too many thoughts in this brain to take.

There’s a sleeping bag zipper to be repaired,

Highlights needed to not be gray haired.

Pounds to be lost, and scriptures studied.

Meals to be thought up from a mind too muddied.

Stories in my soul crying out to be written.

Waiting hands, orphans and hearts to be smitten.

The darkness prevents watercolor escape.

Gresham ended tonight closing the drape.

Not often is my night’s journey cut short.

Even lesser is poetry used for sport.

Prayers for all my readers near and afar.

May God bless you and free you from this memoir.

I am Strong and Healthy (repeat)

I am strong and healthy.  I am strong and healthy.  This is what I quote to myself out loud when the first signs of sickness raise their feeble heads in my body.  Be gone plugged sinuses.  Get thee behind me, nasal drip.  My offspring stand clear when they hear their mother muttering, “I’m strong and healthy!”

The S&H phrase has been my mantra all day.  Many a cure have been applied, sniffed, soaked up and swallowed to no avail. So as the red numbers read 12:34 a.m…. the green tea in the kitchen cupboard called to me.  You know I’m not healthy when I drink tea.  Tea reminds me of wet cardboard.  Hot wet cardboard. Yes, I have tried chai and it simply tastes like sweet hot wet cardboard.  But I digress.

So I have been reading adoption blogs while waiting for my cardboard-flavored tea to get down to “children’s temperature”, as a kind Starbucks employee once described MY temperature of choice. Whatev!  Lately I have been messed up by a book called 7.  Yes, it’s a single digit number title.  Kind of like 1984, but with only one digit. At a later date when I am truly strong and healthy, I will expound on this tome and impress you with my knowledge of things I have only read about.

Anyway, the author, Jen Hatmaker, adopted two older kids.  I can relate.  She had three bio kids at home… a girl and two man-children.  Same same.  And aside from her story and her tales of woe leading up to the referrals, etc., I have been experiencing AMG… adoptive mama guilt.  Tonight I came to the trusty home computer (in the family room for ALL eyes to see what anyone may be viewing online….. side note: once I sat on the couch that is 10 feet behind the screen… and behind the viewer’s back, I used binoculars to READ THEIR MAIL!  Yes I did.) and after reading a few adoption blogs I realized I NEED to confess and repent of some AMG.

But as I leaned forward to see the keyboard in the dark of the night, my nose dripped in my green already-gross-tasting tea…. and I decided to lament the whole scene and blog about AMG tomorrow…. when the sun is shining and I am strong and healthy.

Goodnight.

Current Reads

Frequently I am asked what book I’m currently reading.  The question always makes me chuckle because I am NEVER reading only one book.  There’s simply too many good books out there to get hung up on one!  So, for those with inquiring minds, here’s the current book stack on my bedside nightstand:

Top to bottom, here are my current reviews by of the following books that I have partially read.

1.  The Busy Homeschool Mom’s Guide to Romance by Heidi St. John.  I’m on page 82 of 172.  This greatly captured my interest as I met Heidi at the Arizona homeschool convention and was impressed by her down-to-earthedness, if that’s a word.  Heidi talks about the importance of keeping your marriage strong in the midst of homeschooling.  So far my favorite line is, “There is no time for romance inside the vortex because in the vortex, Latin is more important than lingerie.” Which should not be true if you are keeping your marriage in the right spot of priorities, but homeschool moms blur the lines of priorities sometimes.  An informative and necessary topic for homeschool moms.

2.  The Sweetest Thing by Elizabeth Musser.  Yes, it’s a historical romance.  I simply can’t keep my hands off them.  My sister read it first then told my mother to read it and so on and so on.  I’m on page 105 of 397.  I love love love the quirky girl from Chicago who is transplanted to Atlanta.  It’s set in the heart of the depression and is beautifully written.

3.  Under God by Toby Mac and Michael Tait.  Yes, it’s true, Toby Mac wrote a book.  I suspect this is more of a token idea of Toby and Michael’s, with a handful of researchers who gathered the historical stories.  Anyway, this is the “story of men and women of faith who forged our nation.”  I’m not really on a certain page because I have skipped all over to read the stories of the signers of the Declaration of Independence since that is where we are in American History class right now.  Remember the story of bulletproof George?  It’s in there, plus many more.  I believe this is a must read for those who are under the illusion that our great country was founded on anything other than God.

4.  Mixed Signals by Liz Curtis Higgs.  Page 73 of 370.  This one should probably be moved to the pile of books on my bookshelf that didn’t hold my interest long enough to finish.  But I did start it and it’s a cute story about some people mixed up in radio life… but, not my fav by far.

5.  The Right Choice – Homeschooling by Chris Klicka.  Page 128 of 453.  I’m in a homeschool mentoring class right now, yes, after 10 years of homeschooling, I thought I would see how this is supposed to be done.  The first chapter of our manual listed MUST READS for homeschoolers.  Shamefully, I had only read one or two… and I’m a self-professed homeschool die-hard.  So, on our trip to Missouri, I wandered through a used book store (which I might add was COMPLETELY different in selection from our Arizona used book stores) and picked up this gem.  It’s hardcore, baby.  And I agree with almost all of it.  Funny thing was, I showed it to my flying companions, who are also on the AZ homeschool board, and none of them had read it either.  I’m in good (unschooled) company.  Anyway, it lays out the Biblical basis, and frankly the logical basis for homeschooling.  Don’t read it if you plan to keep your kids in public school.

6.  The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.  Page 31 of 302.  This was a freebie at the Treasures for Teachers store in Tempe, so I took it.  I never saw the movie and didn’t know what it was about.  But I’m always up for a good read.  Sadly, I started reading it right before school started and now it is way down low on the pile. 

Ta-da.

That was a RECORD!

Two weeks without blogging.  Sorry, faithful readers.  Summer has hit us hard and our schedule has been happily full.  Today marked the end of my first six days of having six children in my care.  Yes, we acquired two extra little girls, ages 9 and 7.  Nora loved having “sisters” to play with and argue with.  :o)  The extras went home today and although they were VERY easy and enjoyable, I’m breathing easier tonight.

Remember my bull-riding entertainment from last year???  Well, the three of us cowgirls got our spurs on last night and hit the Buffalo Chip Saloon again.  THIS time it was for country line dancing lessons…. which turned out to be couples only non-line dancing.  So we sat and chatted and solved most of the world’s problems over diet Cokes.  We also decided to show up again with our partners, so we could participate.  Never a dull moment in the Old West.

Just when I think things are slowing down, another unexpected blip on the radar surfaces.  This weekend starts General Council for the Assemblies of God and it’s right here in our backyard. (That’s because Phoenix hotels and convention centers are CHEAP in the blazing summertime!)  So we have dear friends from aeons ago coming to see us.  Fun with a capital F.

My only “creative” goal this summer was to paint the living room.  It’s been the same ugly brown color for six long years, and I didn’t like the color the day we painted it on the walls.  So BAM!  Time for some renovating!  BUT…. my illustrious plans have been delayed by a sequence of household items breaking…. like the ice maker (not a totally big deal), the vacuum (kind of a big deal), the printer (BIG deal if I’m wanting to print coupons), two toilets (BIG FAT HAIRY DEAL!) and last but not least at all… the washing machine (Biggest deal of all… well, only because we still have one working toilet.)  So, my paint is still sitting in the store waiting impatiently for me to swoop it up.  Some day.  Soon. (I hope.)

Also read The Help this summer.  A great story with laughs and tears abounding.  I can’t wait for the movie in August!!!!!  This is my first time reading the book before the movie comes out.  I’m stoked.

Over and out.  I promise it won’t be another two weeks!  Sheesh!  How flakey.

SCORE! (No, not the Superbowl!)

Just now, I discovered www.BooksShouldBeFree.com.  What a plethora of great literature all recorded for our listening pleasure. So many of my favorites: Anne of Green Gables, Swiss Family Robinson, Emma, Pride and Prejudice, Black Beauty and North and South.  YES!  I feel like I just won the lottery!

Just today I finished reading The Girl in the Gatehouse by Julie Klassen.  Loved loved loved it!  I never suspected a few of the twists and turns, which keeps my interest and my pages turning rapidly.  Julie Klassen has written several of my favorite novels: The Silent Governess, The Lady of Milkweed Manor, and The Apothecary’s Daughter.  I’m usually not drawn to European stories set in the 1900s, but I must say, Klassen has a talent for intrigue and suspense, along with tales that wind their way surprisingly along an unworn path.

Happy Reading!

Ironic… I think not

This has been a week of ups and downs, trials and tears, blessings and a birthday.  When my life gets busy I don’t spend much time reading the 1850′s prairie fiction stories that I love.  I should, they help me escape and relax.  As the tension in my shoulders/neck was building before our adoption referral, I made a decidedly wise decision to make time for pleasure reading.  After perusing the NEW section at the library, I came home victorious with two brand new books from authors I haven’t read before.  It does my heart good to find new authors who write well and can keep my pages turning with interest.  

One such book was The Promise of Morning by Ann Shorey.  The cover sucked me in.  Pretty blonde girl with tendrils floating in the prairie breeze… olive calico dress… front porch laden home behind a field of cadmium blooms.  The plot had many twists that I didn’t see coming, which I prefer.  Nothing worse than predicting the entire story right from the get go.  Last night I was within reach of the final chapter…. anticipating what happened to Aunt Ruby… wondering about the mysterious Mrs. Bolden… and hoping Ellie would find her self with-child.

Then BAM!  The story took another unexpected turn that hit a little too close to home for me this week.  The circuit riding preacher finds a little brown-eyed, black-haired, 7-year-old orphan on a dock in Ohio.  Yes, I thought of Nora…. our daughter of 72 hours.  He brought her home to his family and she stayed close by his side, for fear of abandonment.  {sigh}  She brought with her a bundle of clothes with a lavender sachet and a well-traveled doll…. get this… named Nora.  Yes, I couldn’t believe it either!  The same name as the brown-eyed, black-haired, 7-year-old referral we received a week ago.  Through a sequence of events the reader also learns at this point in the story that Ellie, the main character, is a nickname for Eleanor.  We had passed around the idea of naming Nora Eleanora after my mother’s middle name, Eleanor. 

Ironic, I think not.  Yes, Lord, I will continue to pray for Nora and her forever family!

That Magic Moment

When my son started homeschooling at five-years-old, with me as his highly qualified and trained teacher, I came to the realization that all kids are not created equal.  Some are special.  Some are wild.  Some are funny.  Some are charming.  Some aren’t ready for school even if they are five-years-old.  I’m quite the determined individual and figured that I would do just fine teaching the children God gave me.  After several months of working on the letter F…. without any retention or even slight recognition… I realized my son was not ready to read (or name letters.)  Just for curiosity’s sake, I counted in my daily planner the number of days I had shown him the letter F.  It was 62.  It was like the letter F was new every morning…. just like God’s mercy.  Not good if your goal is reading before grade eight. 

We took a year off from trying to name the letter F.  It was a fun year of frivolity and favorite games.  We played football and frisbee and had foot races.  Then when my son was seven, I showed him this funny squiggly mark with two lines and told him that it was the letter F.  He said, “F”.  It made my heart glad.  The next day…. without me telling him… he pointed and said “F”.  :o)  See!  My teaching certificate was working its wonders.  That year he slowly learned the sounds the letters make…. uncompromisingly slowly.  But reading the letters when they were all lined up was foreign to him.  I diligently pressed on.  We sounded out every Bob book written.  I even made sight word flashcards with neatly formed letters….. but retention was out of our grasp.

When my son was nine, my husband was injured and had four months off work while his Achille’s Tendon healed inside a large black boot.  We took advantage of the time off and travelled the Western USA and visited 18 National Parks.  Since it was January through April, we did take our math books along with us in the van and worked our numbers on cookie sheets while we travelled.  Carschool!  I read aloud to the children and we listened to many books on tape: Rascal, Misty of Chincoteague, and The Twits.  Great pieces of literature that held our interest and kept us spellbound for hours.  But we did not do reading, or phonics or sight-word flashcards.  I needed a break too for goodness sake. 

We arrived home from that trip and to my surprise, delight and utter joy, my nine-year-old son could read.  Maybe he hit his head on a stalactite in New Mexico…. frankly, I don’t know what happened, nor do I care.  But something clicked, he could read… and it had nothing to do with me or my outstanding teaching ability.  I wondered how many hours I wasted on the letter F.

So my advice to homeschooling mothers with non-readers is this: hike into some caves, drive through some trees, fish in streams, count cacti arms, watch sage brush blow through fort ruins and climb a few ladders to cave dwellings.  It worked for me and my son.