Pastel Painting

I told my hairstylist when he asked me to do a color portrait for him, that I don't do color, I only draw with pencils in black and white. I've always had a problem working with colors. The image either gets too muddy or facial features get blurred out and undefined. But when he handed me the photo of his wife and daughter on the beach, I couldn't imagine how it could be done in graphite. So I bought some pastelboard and pulled out my colors and this is what happened. This is the first painting I've ever completed without it ending up in the trash. I think I'll send off for it to be printed on some art paper.

I had my friends Beth and Tony come over, and I pretended that I was having a little reception for my new painting, but it was more of a grill out. Tony took photos of my painting with a very nice digital camera, and I am very thankful, because all of the images seemed like keepers.

Here's the same piece of art through a tungsten filter. It seems like cheating having it printed after it's been digitally altered. But anyway, whatever. I think it's prettier through the filter. What do you think?

Windows

Ever had something glaringly obvious hit you in the face and wonder how you ever could have missed it? I had that experience two days ago. The kids and I were sitting around the table and Jake (a.k.a Captain Obvious Life Sportscaster) said, "I can feel the wind coming through the window."

BING!

Josie and I, in unison, said "Huh. Wind! Window!"

Is the word "window" a simplified version of "wind door"?

I've been around windows my whole life. I've opened them mainly to let the wind in, but strangely I've always thought of them as light sources, and air sources, but never "wind" sources, otherwise I would have made the connection.

Sorry to My Loyal Fan(s?)

I haven't posted anything worth much, but you should see the other creative endeavors in which I am endeavoring to be creative.

I'll post the art when I'm done.

Big Numbers and A Seal.

The kids were arguing about the population of the United States, New York, Tennessee, and the world this morning, so we consulted to oracle for the numbers.

The population of New York City alone outstrips the population of all of Tennessee by approx 2.2 million people.

I said to them, "Take all of Tennessee, cram it into one city and add another 2 million people to that." Josie, in all of her linguistic glory, exclaimed "Wow! New York is so overpopulated! It's like the locusts infesting the savanna!"

I really had no idea how large New York City really was. I did have a clue that the state of Tennessee still has many wide open spaces when I flew over it last week. Which reminds me, I'm supposed to blog my Florida trip.

Here's a cute photo of a seal I got.

"Yes, I know, everybody tells me how cute I am."

(He needs a better caption if anyone has any ideas.)

In 1980 I Had a Turntable.

I was going through all the vinyl in the basement closet. Hubby's Souxsie and the Banshees, Cure, Shriekback, etc...my Air Supply (or my sister's I guess), Duran Duran, Cyndi Lauper etc.... I found my Chipmunk Punk! I loved this album when I was little. When I was 7, I was hearing some of these songs for the first time, like "Good Girls Don't", sung by animated chipmunks. I still hear Alvin when I hear that song and I giggle a bit.

It's not actually punk, but that rhymes with "chipmunk". Here are the tracks:

Let's Go- R. Ocasek
Good Girls Don't- D. Fieger
How Do I Make You- B. Steinberg
Refugee-T. Petty
Frustrated- that D. Feiger dude again
Call Me- D. Harry
You May Be Right- B. Joel
Crazy Little Thing Called Love- F. Mercury
My Sherona- once again, Feiger.

I'm going to go on an audio tour of the net and see if I can't dredge one of these up.

Here's a commercial for it.

More on That Study. Or That Study for Morons. Whichever.

Scott Adams picked up on the "Conservatives are Stupid" study on his Dilbertblog. Yes I did get a kick out of it. I love some of the comments. One person remarked on the study where subjects were supposed to type an "M" or "W" quickly and concluded that the reason that libs did so well on the challenge was that liberals must play more video games than conservatives. Whether true or not, his conclusion seems more logical than the psychologists'. But that's my problem, I'm too logical. I am a conservative, and therefore I have no mental gauge for nuance.

Hat Tip: Dad

Great Autism Video

I love this song too. Watch it all the way to the end.





My kid may have to conduct all of her mega corporate business meetings from beneath the conference table in a cardboard box, but with 1 in 160 dealing with this stuff I expect to see inflatable under desk "conference boxes" equipped with noise canceling headphones in our future.

I Should Get a Special Parking Place

Conservatism is a psychological disability. It's true, cause I read it on Yahoo news.

So an assistant professor of psychology at NYU who has spent the last few years dedicated to the study of prejudice and the neurology of guilt and racism has hooked a whole 43 people up to electrodes in order to study their brains during a simulated driving test. From this small study the conclusion has been reached that while liberals are adaptable and flexible towards different ways of thinking, conservatives are neurologically stunted and have only habitual reactions to new situations. The article closes with the suggestion that with "experience", "rigid" conservatives' neurology can change and they can overcome their disability and grow into good "nimble-minded" liberal progressives. I mean, you'd be crazy to want it the other way around. Who would want to move from being an enlightened liberal to become a stunted and ignorant conservative.

Nature Neuroscience published the study, and the MSM ate it up. In this study of 43 people, half the American population is painted as intolerant to differences and unable to adapt to change, while hanging on desperately to old ideals. The irony is the left-wing political myopia of the MSM and Nature Neuroscience that without question buy this sort of liberal supremacist swill and call it science. Do I detect the very kind of prejudice here that the "tolerant" and "freedom-loving" left claims to abhor?

Based upon my own scientific study, my hypothesis is that liberal elite will soon declare conservatism as political insanity and send us off to a soviet style Gulag for shock treatments and insulin therapy. Maybe this hypothesis is born of a fear of people who think differently. Perhaps I need to find a few subjects and hook them up to EEG's and put them through a driving test just to be sure.

See my post on conservatives and dreams for more psychological enlightenment.

Update: Another study of conservative retardation from yesterday. Via Ace o' Spades.

Update 2: It's a different part of the study I'm referencing.

Yeah Yeah!

I ask any of my literary friends to tell me of the significance of the tomato in this video.

My husband,who detests tomatoes, contends that the first tomato grew on the Tree of Knowledge. Eve ate a bite then handed it to Adam. Subsequently they were banished from the Garden of Eden. Because of human sin, God gave tomatoes poison leaves and made them to grow low to the ground like a serpent. He also made them taste really bad. He likes marinara, but asserts that the sin-e-cine has been removed in processing, so they're kosher. Anybody who knows hubby knows the story of the "Devil's Dingleberry", he preaches it like he's on a street corner.

Anyway, at the beginning of the song "Love Stinks" (on vinyl), J. Geils tells the story of the Garden of Eden. Then there's this absurd mystery tomato in the video.

Is hubby's theory widely held?

Shoop Shoop Diddle-Liddle-Lit!

From the days when people danced to happy stuff.

More Color

Drawing from a photo, then scanned, then printed on art paper, colorized with pastel pencils, scanned again, run through a filter. I guess you would say it's mixed media.

I'm seriously considering sending it to this online printer I like to use. They will stretch it on canvas and I can paint it a bit.

I have a tendency to overdo things, but this way I don't run through the paper.

Stay tuned. I'll be messing with the Jake hair picture next.

Highly Creative Day

I keep recycling this image, but I really like it. So call me vain, I don't care.

I can't believe how many steps I've gone through with this thing. My portraits lately have been a real marriage of good old fashioned drawing, and high tech gadgetry.

First I took a photo, then I drew a portrait using that photo as a guide, then I took a photo of the portrait. I downloaded the image from my Nikon Coolpix and used Paint Shop Pro and put a hot wax coating on the image. That was a few months ago. Today I decided to print that image on some art paper and colorize it with some pastels and pencils. Then I scanned that image in and pumped up the colors. Here's what you get.

What's really funny is that the camera I used is in the photo. So is a rearview mirror. I keep using this portrait which is a photo of myself taking a picture of myself to make a portrait of myself. I've even photographed the portait of myself taking a photo. Scanned it too.

I'm not sure if I'm a good advertisement for caffeine.

Color Pet Portrait

My Nellie

Holy Meltdown Batman!

To all of my dear friends who witnessed the disturbing events that transpired today...

I would like to let you know that, after my kid called your kids terrible names, called you terrible names, and called me everything in the book besides patient, loving, beffudled mother, and after a harrowing road trip home with me trying to keep my chin up while this verbal abuse went on, and laughing through my tears as (God! You won't even believe this!) Beat on the Brat by the Ramones was playing on the radio....

We called the chiropractor and the child's vertebrae have been adjusted so that her head turns in a normal fashion, instead of fully rotating.

We called the gastroenterologist and the green pea soup has been pumped from her stomach.

We called the surgeon and the blue bucket has finally been removed from her grasp.

We called a bible camp teacher by the name of Linda, who is the finest exorcist Concord Christian School could find and she informed us that although the devil is still working hard on our child, a few rounds of "May the Circle Be Unbroken" and some minor child abuse should nip it in the bud.

We called the podiatrist and he recommended she wear size 13 men's shoes from now on, which will serve to prevent her from running too fast and having to be corralled by two heat exhausted mothers again.

We called the zoo, told them our story, and asked for some small primate tranquilizer darts. They are sending them Federal Express.

We called on the doctor and told him Focalin probably wasn't the most calming of medicines for this particular child.

Well, we really just called a family meeting on the kitchen floor for a deadly serious lecture to the child, that ended up with her remorseful and tearful little head on Daddy's shoulder. She managed to hiccup out, "I do all of the things a bad friend does. Sometimes I feel guilty about me."

And well, a sad as that sounds, I think that can be called a good thing today.

It's the End of Me

Remember that movie Like Water For Chocolate? If they made a movie for me, it would be Like Homer For Doughnuts. Well, Dunkin Donuts is removing all trans fats from their doughnuts. All I need is one more excuse to eat a Dunkin Donut. As you recall, I had an earlier post about a year back. I'll let you scroll through my archives and find it. You should get to know me better anyway. I'm really a lot of fun.

Some of My Favorite Things

I thought my friends would like to these. They are old, in web years that is, but I think James Lileks is very funny. I have his book Mommy Knows Worst: Highlights from the Golden Age of Bad Parenting Advice.

Here is his Gallery of Regrettable Food.

Here is The Grooviest Motel In Wisconsin. I can smell cigarette smoke with a hint of bourbon and seven when I see these. For reasons I can't fathom, these sights and smells take me back to my early childhood. There must have been a time in my formative years when I was surrounded by a lot of partying and purple shag carpet. Do I need a hypnotist?

Here's the whole Institute of Official Cheer, just in case that beer you were trying to drink when you started perusing these sites hasn't burned out the lining of your nose.

Enjoy.

Bo-Ring!

Aside from posting on my other creative endeavors, my life hasn't been very blogworthy lately. Stay tuned though, we'll try to run into something interesting to experience and write about. Just kind of waiting around for my kids to be funny or something for now.

A Different Kind of Drawing

It's all about the hair.

More Drawings

A Memorial Portrait.
In the original photo he had a beer in his hand and his arm around his wife. She was holding a rubber chicken. He found it all terribly funny. The rest of the story isn't terribly funny, and I find myself thinking about these sad things as I draw.

This is the Mata Hari. Her story is a fascinating one. It's a bit sad too. I've drawn her in several poses. The old photos of her are splendid. If you have a chance to read a biography of her, I would highly recommend it. Then tell me the title so I can read it too.

Now I will proceed to mess with my drawing with my software. Enjoy.

This is Mata Hari in toxic chrome.

negative

sepia (my favorite)

maroon chrome

hot wax

high intensity chrome

I Like Big Dogs

Your Ideal Pet is a Big Dog

You're both energetic, affectionate, and a bit goofy. And neither of you seem to mind very slobbery kisses!

What's Your Ideal Pet?

I Have An Assault Weapon On My Chest

Your Celebrity Boob Twin:

Angelina Jolie

Who's Your Celebrity Boob Twin?

Lizard and Bad Guy

Lizard

Bad Guy


The kids and I made them out of felt.

Short Conversation

Last night we went to the party of some friends, and took the kids along since it was that kind of get together. Our hostess' parents were there, and sat pretty quietly at the dinner table while the children ran around squealing, howling etc. Our little girl plopped down right next to my friend's mother, looked over at her with her big blue eyes and said, "I love to sit with the elderly." To which my friend's mom motioned to her husband and said "Go sit with him then."

My Wish

It is a testament to my priveledged (some may say spoiled) existence, that one of my greatest wishes is for a tiny little person to take up residence in my laundry room, whose only joy is sorting, washing, drying and folding, and who doesn't mind sleeping next to a cat box. Oh! and who pretty much stays out of my sight, because the idea of tiny people creeping around my house gives me the heebie jeebies.

It's Now 2007, I'm Going Out to Buy My Silver Suit

A real live flying saucer. Apparently one of the models can dock with a skyscraper. I don't know how that works, but these guys know the alien technology, so ask them.



It appears that it's hooked loosely to a crane, but it doesn't look like the crane is assisting its flight. Oh and the crop-circle like imprint on the grass was a nice touch.

The Hike

Yesterday at 10 am we set out for Grotto Falls. It's been a little more than a year since we went last. My very first official post on this blog was some pics my kids had taken at the falls.

To get there, you go to traffic light 8 in Gatlinburg and make a left. You will go down a beautiful meandering drive. The first major attraction to those who prefer scenery without the long hike is Rainbow Falls. It's on your right a little ways up and you can park there and hear the falls from the lot. I was worried that maybe I was wrong and our hike last year had actually been Rainbow Falls and not Grotto Falls, and the drive had been so long from Knoxville, I was concerned that if I passed up this parking lot I was actually missing the hike. It was a one way road and in order to turn around I would have to take it to the end. It's my brain. It doubts me all the time.

So we parked in the second lot and went back to the Rainbow Falls lot. Upon entering the trail, we saw a sign that said "Grotto Falls 3.5". I did a little thinking, and decided we would do it. I needed the exercise badly, because lately I feel like jumping out of my skin all the time and I wanted to wear myself out. I also thought that the kids could do it. And they did impress me. We hadn't had lunch, and we still hiked 7 miles in all, and they whined less than they do at Lowe's.
I loved this tree stump. It made me think of that book Watcher in the Woods. I don't really remember the book, but I know it was eerie and there was a tree in it like this.
This was a doe we followed for a little while. This path was almost deserted. She didn't seem to be too concerned that we were following her. I was a bit concerned that we would run into a bear though.
What a cute little mushroom. I think it looks like a fairy place. About five minutes after this we saw some poop right in the middle of the trail. It looked like pie filling it was so full of berries, and it seemed mighty fresh. It wasn't deer poop, because deer poop is kind of pretty. I know that sounds weird, but it looks like big coffee beans and its shiny. I worried this was bear poop, and hoped this bear didn't have a hankerin' for kid meat. I looked it up on the internet when I got home, and it was actually bear poop. It was much fresher looking than any of the pictures I found online.

We hit the Grotto Falls trail after a 2.5 mile hike on the primitive trail. We hiked another mile to get to the falls. They were gorgeous of course. There were lots of people there.


Josie found lots of salamanders. Every time we go out to the rivers in the Smokies we look for them, but have had no success. We found a larvae once in Norris, but that was it. She found plenty at the falls, and managed to snap a picture of this one. He was about four inches long with a head the size of a hershey's kiss, so he was pretty big.

Walking back along the populated trail, another hiker pointed out bear tracks to us. They didn't really show up in this picture.


We got back to the end of the Grotto trail and decided we would try to get back to our car by traveling on the road. It was smooth. We were very thirsty by this point, and the kids were complaining about the bugs. Josie remarked that they were midges and they had red eyes. I asked her how she could tell on such a tiny bug. She said "When I squoosh them between my eyelids, I take them out and look at them." This was a deer by the road. It was the last picture before my camera ran out of memory, and about that point I wasn't giving a shit about my camera's memory. I was just ready to get home. We'd been hiking for about 5 hours, and we were done.

The deserted trail we had been on originally was just up a small hill from the road, so we climbed up to it to finish our endless hike. About .7 miles from the end of the trail, Jake looks up into the woods and calls to me breathlessly. "The bear! The bear!" It was a small bear about 20 feet away. I felt like it was a bit too close for comfort, but I was also excited to see it. I didn't take a picture, I just wanted to look at him and then get to the car.

It took us about an hour and a half to get home from Gatlinburg due to traffic, and stopping at McDonalds to replenish our calories. I was very proud of my kids. They whined less than me, and if you know how whiny they can get, you have to wonder about how much I was whining. Honestly, not much. And I thought I was going to wheeze at one point, but that was only because a hiker on the Grotto Falls trail passed me and she was wearing some Estee Lauder fragrance that really gets to my respiratory system.

After all of that you would think I would have calmed a bit, but I'm still jumpy today. I don't think I'll go on a hike though.

Mrs. McFriendly

I got this at no school, just learning from someone who is so sweet. He loves bunnies, unicorns, kittens and puppies.....in a blender.

You Are a Good Friend Because You're Supportive

You are almost like a life coach for your best friends. You give them help when they need it... but you also know when to give them a push. People tend to rely on you for moral support and advice. You've probably always been mature for your age, so this is a role that's you're comfortable with. A friend like you is one of the rarest kinds. You are both a good mentor and companion. Your friends need you most when: They are confused or worried You really can't be friends with: Someone who only wants to complain Your friendship quote: "The only way to have a friend is to be one."

What Makes You a Good Friend?

A Long Time Ago, In a Galaxy one Zip Code Away

There lived a spoiled little boy. Now the boy has grown up and is selling his old toys on ebay. The kids didn't even touch these Star Wars figures- weren't even curious. What the heck is up with my kids?!

She..... (ahem)...... Sings.

This may look like a roller derby post, and this afternoon, I thought that this evening would end with one. As you know, I love to attend the roller derby when it's in town, since I have some homeschool homies that participate, and they deserve loud praise. I also have some friends from the "way back days" who now I find in the roller realm.

One of those wayback friends knows me as a singer. And I am. But today I am an extremely talented shower singer. Every water droplet sends me waves of applause as I belt out vocals to the glass doors at least once a day.

It used to be that I was a singer for people. That was many years ago. Without fear, I could get up in front of a crowd, put on a big smile, and sing just about anything. I always had the anxiety that comes with excitement, that optimistic feeling that I would do well and they would like me. Then somewhere along the line I dropped the delusions of grandeur, had a couple of kids (one that was particularly troubled by my singing voice for a time), and took up grumbling, barking, declaring, lecturing and praising. I also have an obsession with seeking that elusive animal called silence.

Tonight one of my wayback friends came up to tell me that the person that was supposed to sing "The Star Spangled Banner" was a no show and would I please sing it? I said yes, naturally I would sing, it had only been more than a decade of course, and it was only a notoriously difficult song, and those weren't water droplets out there. I asked her if vomiting was allowed on the rink, to which she replied "no". She showed me to a room where I could warm up for 3 minutes (or vomit, I'm not sure). So I had a hair's breath of time to get adjusted to the fact that I was singing, then adjust to the fact that it was the freaking "Star Spangled Banner", then to find myself a starting note so I would be able to hit freeeeeeeeeeeeeee in a more or less respectable manner.

3 minutes later, I was holding myself up by grasping the edge of the counter in the "soundbox", holding the mic like it was some kind of limb to keep me from falling to my death, and I quiveringly squeaked out our nation's anthem. My voice broke once. It failed a bit in the middle. But I did hit freeeeeeeeeeeeeee. It was all done in the same breathy way I sang "Over the Rainbow" when I was eleven.

Thing is, I sang the "Star Spangled Banner" in the shower recently, and I really impressed myself. It helped that I was prepared for the audience, I knew them well. My sweet little droplets.

After the show there was a knot in my stomach like I hadn't felt since the night I downed two Guinness and a shepherd's pie then took a flight from Boston that experienced engine failure after hitting a flock of birds.

After sitting with a dear friend who attempted to calm me down, I ran into another wayback friend, who is a musician, and the hubby of the other wayback friend that got me tonight's "gig". He fortunately missed my stellar performance. He asked me if I was still singing, I told him I sang tonight and sadly he missed it. Other than that I hadn't sung in public for about 12 years. Then I did something really surprising in light of the fainting episode I had just narrowly avoided. I told him I would love to sing again. (?????) He knew a few people who could help out in that department and we started talking about doing some music.

I came home a bit wired, and sat down to check my email. Another old friend had written me, telling me to learn some Blondie, which would somehow earn me a fine brew at a future show. Yeah, I'll Gitcha if I don't have an anxiety attack first, baby.

(By the way, I would love to sing the national anthem again. I mean that without the sarcasm that the previous paragraphs may lead you to believe is there. Just give me a few weeks prep time with my droplets though. Then I'll tear the house down.)

On the derby end of things:

I would say the ladies played hard, it was a good game, et cetera, but I spent most of my time socializing, so that would be insincere. Next time I'll watch the bout. I do want to say that the Icearium is a great venue, although the crowd seemed a bit more tame than the other roller rink. There seems to be a lot less cheering and involvement from the people. Maybe it's the bright lights that inhibit the rowdiness. I missed that. The bar area was classy looking with a good beer or two on tap. The bathrooms were clean. The floor of the rink was strange. It was made of a rubber mat-type material that was designed in a repeating pattern of tiny octagonal holes. I think it would be a very bad place to lose your lunch. There would have to be special equipment to clean it.

Catch the Rainbird

Do you remember your basic geometry? We're learning about triangles right now- eqilateral, isosceles, scalene, and right. We are also learning to make rainbirds. There are some indians in New Mexico that put the image of the rainbird on many of their items of daily use. A rainbird who is "happy" and full of water is made with a right triangle for a body. One who is drinking water is made from an isosceles traingle, and it looks like it's tilted in a downward angle. A "dancing" rainbird is made from a scalene triangle. A full rainbird is equilateral.

The kids made cards from their drawings of rainbirds. Originally, I was thinking we were going to make a mobile from our drawings. The kids held on to theirs while I went back to the computer to make a triangle quiz. I was a bit worried that the test would be too hard because they hadn't had enough study time.

When I went back to the living room they were playing a game like "Go Fish" with their pictures. I heard Josie call it "Catch the Rainbird". Josie was asking Jake for a happy rainbird. He said "which?" She said "the one with the right triangle." And he would pass it too her. Then he'd ask for a dancing one, and she would say "scalene?" and he would say yes.

They didn't even know they were studying. This is homeschooling at its finest.

She Can Afford the Coke and the Rehab

Why can't she afford to get a driver?

You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth

Jake to Furbie:

"Hey Furbie!"

"Hey Furbie!"

"Hey Furbie!"

"Eh...Looo...."

"Hey Furbie! Tell me a story!"

"Hey Furbie!"

"Eh....Looo..."

"Tell me a story!"

(tick tock....)

"Eh....Looo..."

"HEY FURBIE!"

"Eh....Looo..."

"Hey Furbie!"

"Hey Furbie!"

"Hey Furbie!"

"KILL YOURSELF!"

(I hope that thing doesn't go all Chucky on us in the middle of the night.)

Thought You Might Like to Know....

For clarity, if such a thing exists in my universe, I advise you press "play" and then read.




I've been looking to try out a little parlor guitar with nylon strings. My guitar is very nice and I like it, but I find that I want to capo it at the third fret for everything. I think it's because at that fret my fingers are closer together, and the strings have more tension and they don't get all buzzy.

I went down to Pick n' Grin last Tuesday and found that it was closed. I like Pik n' Grin because it just seems to be staffed with friendly people who like to play instruments. How simple. Suddenly there was a little knot in my stomach. My other choices in my area were Rik's (ugh, as lame as it sounds), and the Guitar Center. You see, I'm a girl. There's not a lot to swing around down there, and that's what you get into at these places. A bunch of guys playing How Big's Your Johnson, and not a lot actually playing music. Humility is a rare thing among those who call themselves musicians, almost as rare as talent. Just 5 minutes in one of those places and you'll hear some punk blasting out the sounds of a cat passing slowly through an undustrial shredder amplified to 11. He's usually got a little entourage of slack jawed mouthbreathers, dreaming of parties and groupies, who think he's Jesus H. Clapton, and want to be sure to stick around for when he hits it big.

A funny thought...there's a lot of young fellers out there who seek to meet chicks by hanging out in places that are full of dudes, doing things for the approval of other dudes, playing songs that, in general, are mainly loved by dudes. What they don't know is that while they are all congregated doing their dude-stuff, all the girls are congregated somewhere else, usually in the company of some guy who's figured it out.

But I digress.

(Don't you think that would be good engraved on my tombstone? I'll live forever though, cause I'll be dying, then I'll forget what I was doing, and get up from the hospital bed and walk out in the hall and go "I know I went in there for something," and if there's no nurse to remind me that I'm supposed to be dying, I'll just go on forever. Kind of like this post.)

Anyway, I hope in 400 hundred years when I'm a blind old bald man who forgot to die, I will be able to play for my friends at least one joyful little arpeggio as beautifully as Andres Segovia did.

....and now you know.

Some Pictures From My Travels

Had to sneak on private property to get this picture.

Big fat cornfed New Harmony squirrel. I didn't zoom in either. He was ready to take me on.

Cute little outhouse on my folks' property.

Their magnificent koi pond.

This is What I Look Like When My Cable's Done Broke

I suffered like a fish out of water for 15 days. Bumming computer time from friends and family for only about five minutes cumulatively. I'm happy to say it's fixed now and that I did live.

More YouTube

Just haven't been very inspired lately, so nothing much to write about. But some Belgians were pretty inspired, and came up with this great commercial. So few words. So much meaning.

Dramatic Chipmunk

Being overly dramatic over and over.




Saw it on Ace O'Spades, put it here. (I have this thing about not saying hat tip. I just don't wear hats, and if I did I would look really stupid tipping one.)

There's an Emu In My Car!

Today we went to Briarwood Ranch Safari Park. It was a blast, but let me say it's not for the faint of heart.


When we first drove in the deer came running up to us. We were delighted that they were so friendly. The baby deer were so cute. Then we got into the woods and more deer ran up to us. The thing is, they wouldn't get their heads out of the door, so you just had to drive until you sort of disattached.


At the next stop the emus poked their heads in, they freaked out Dharma's kids a bit. Then the buffalo came galloping, that's when the children started screaming, pushing emus, and closing doors. I wonder if the safety mechanism on my sliding side door takes into account the necks of captive emus? Good thing I didn't have to find out.

The floor of my car is covered in animal feed. I made the kids promise not to make a mess with it. Well, it really isn't their fault it's messy. If you fall on your butt in a minivan because a zebra is trying to pull a feed bucket out of your hand what can you do?

I was leaning back to take this picture.

Jake was whining after the trip that one of the zebras nipped him on the arm when it was pulling on his shirtsleeves. The man who works the ranch asked him "Do you know any other boys who can say they were nipped by a zebra?" That made my kid pretty proud.

Oh, and the three little pigs were there too. (Awww.)

These Things Happen In Threes

The other day I walked down to my basement to find the floor of the bar area covered in water, and a fast drip coming from the light fixture over the sink. I called hubby home to fix it. It wasn't a problem with the pipes. It was ADD on the part of our youngest who thought it would be okay to fill his bathtub up to the rim, sending water over that little round thing, down through the floor to the ceiling of the basement. Now there is a big new chunk of drywall to patch, sand and paint.

The next evening I was reading a book to the kids in bed when I was overcome with how hot the room was getting. The kids were glistening a bit too. So I leaned down by the register and put my face over it. No air. So I called hubby to come look at it. He went downstairs and checked. AC was broken. So we're very hot right now while we wait for the pros to come and replace the motor and the other doohicky. On the plus side, my eyeliner has been going on very smoothly for the past two days. On the minus side, I sweat it off in the first few minutes of wear. I know, I'm such a girl.

Last night our boy got locked outside. He was pushing and pushing on the front door. He called to me through his open window to let him in. I wondered who could have locked it behind him. When I opened it, I saw that the door handle had finally broken. Which is really a good thing, since it was sticking, and corroded, and I'm not too fond of brass.

So it's all over right?

( One more house problem and I'm calling Dharma to come and Feng Shui it again.)

Some Domestic Advice

Make sure you regularly inspect your canister vacs. Especially if they are very expensive.This here is my excellent Miele vacuum cleaner. I got my vacuum before I got my dog. My vacuum used to suck in a good way. The way vacuums are supposed to suck. Since I got my dog, my vacuum has been sucking in a bad way. I would go over the floor thoroughly, then walk a little down the basement stairs where my eyes would be on floor level. I would still see a fine carpet of white hair. I would go over the whole house and still find pet hair in the corners a couple of hours after vacuuming. I thought my dog was just a never ending shed machine. And she is really. But she would have to be going into corners and intentionally dropping hair for it to accumulate that fast. I could see my cat doing that, but not my dog.

Anyway, today I was in the laundry room with my trusty Miele turned all the way up to 1200, and it was kicking kitty litter at me, and pushing hair into the rug. If you know how expensive these canister vacs are, you would know how hopeless this made me feel. So I took her apart. I cleaned the brushes of strings and such, and made sure nothing was stuck in the handle end. Then I looked down the long metal tube.

There was no light coming through.

So I stuck my finger in, and it felt all soft, and kind of fuzzy. So I turned it around and looked in the other end. I went to the closet and got out a long dowel rod and pushed it through the tube slowly. Oh! A little clump of hair! So I blew in it. With some force, about three meters of compact dog hair in the shape of a long cylinder came out the other end.

Now my vacuum sucks in a good way again.

All Touching is Bad Bad Bad

I've got a long haul ahead of me teaching my children to know what is appropriate. Lot's of parents with aspie kids have this problem to deal with, and spend a lot of time telling them when it is appropriate to touch. We want them not to be over affectionate, or severely withdrawn. I contend that neurotypical kids know right from wrong when it comes to getting physical in public. I'm talking about fighting too.

Well, some school teachers in Fairfax County Virginia don't think kids have the ability to function within society's boundaries, they've solved the whole problem for us. No touching at all!

One administrator complained of the gang handshakes and the kids who rapped each other's knuckles until they were bloody. Well I don't think if you eliminate gang sign handshakes, you'll eliminate the gang problem. And the bloody knuckles belong to the kids who played the game. Why is that the school's problem? Let them play the game, just make sure they get to class on time.

You can't raise any child well, much less one who has social difficulties if the rules don't make sense in greater society. I don't want to raise mine in a bubble, or a prison, or a factory. I wonder what kind of rebellion we will see coming out of these repressively coddling arbitrary rules.

I think I'll go downstairs and watch Equilibrium.

Whoops. I want to touch Christian Bale a bit. Now that's bad bad bad.

MONCHICHI!

Oh this is getting crazy. This one's for Anna.

Monchichi Monchichi
Oh so soft an cuddly
Put her thumb in her mouth she's really neat
Love to cuddle those little feet
Mow Mow Mow
Mow Mow Mow
Happy Happy Monchichi!

Well You Know My Name is Simon

I used to watch this one on Pinwheel too. I told my hubby that I remember thinking that I recognized Simon from a much earlier pre-Pinwheel time in my life. He's older than me, and he remembers Simon from Captain Kangaroo.

I still sing this song whenever I see a guy with big shorts and chicken legs.

I Found Chapi and Chapo!

There was this little song. I sing it to myself not knowing what it means. I connected it to two colorful claymation characters from my tween years. Years spent watching Pinwheel in the morning, it seemed to last for hours and hours, and MTV in the afternoon. A part of me thought that there was a schizo part of my brain that invented these characters. Well, it wasn't a dream. It was a real weird little show from a long time ago, when kids had long attention spans for really weird stuff. Here they be.

Teacher Terrorism? Part 2

Well, it's not exactly teacher terrorism, but it's right in line with this earlier post.


Tell me, are these kinds of awards going to help the children? I had a friend in middle school who was a very nice girl. She had a lot of problems in school even though she was in gifted and talented programs. Looking back today, I can see that she probably had some attentional issues that caused these academic problems. I really wasn't a very supportive friend to her, but it was always the teachers who seemed to understand her the least. She confided in me once, that her second grade teacher picked her up in front of the class and held her over the garbage can, and asked the other students if she could throw her in the trash. That story kind of stuck with me all these years, and I still hurt for this friend. I can't imagine how it would have felt to actually be her right then. I don't know what is worse: the thought that these teachers who did this to this boy have so little common sense, and still get paid to teach our kids "how to think", or that they have common sense and choose to be sadistic.

BTW, there are plenty of teachers out there that I positively adore. I just don't think these kinds of stories should be ignored.

Thought You Might Like to Know....

That I can be really morbid sometimes.

Here's some good reasons that Knoxville is a great place to live.

There are no Hitlers in Knoxville, but there are two in Nashville.

There's only one Dahmer in Knoxville. Probably a college girl.

Of course there are about 19 Mansons. So the Manson family does live here.

But there are no Gacys.

Are there any serial killers named Johnson? Or Smith? Probably.

I wonder if people with really recognizable serial killer, or bloodthirsty dictator names, consider getting their name changed, and if so, how many have actually done it.

No, I don't have too much time on my hands. I'm just a really quick searcher. Took me 5 minutes to reasearch and write this post. Came up with the questions while I was cleaning the house. This is what happens to me when you give me a mind numbing job like ironing. I desperately look for something else to do, and it's usually not quite as productive.

Just a Flesh Wound

I was just reading this post on no school, just learning, and instead of blogging in his comments section, which I tend to do after a couple of cups of coffee, I thought I'd post my story on my blog.

Last week, me and Josie were at the doctor's office, and he was checking her reflexes. Now this wasn't a pediatrician, but a psychiatrist, and they ask a lot of personal probing questions. I felt fairly confident that I had presented us as the relatively healthy family we are. By no means are we perfect ( who is?), but we're not dysfunctional or anything. You know, I get 45 minutes to stammer that fact out in a myriad of ways to someone I hardly know, when I really should be finding out whether this psychiatrist is familiar with Asperger's and fit to treat my kid, but I digress. Back to the reflexes. He got his little hammer out and straightened out her left arm, palms up, and there on the inside of her forearm was an oval bruise. He asked her where she got it. She replied "My daddy bit me."

Oh sheesh.

You should have seen the look on his face when he turned around.

I know my husband didn't bite her, not in the werewolf sense of the word. There's a lot of roughhousing that goes on around here. Kids get thrown all over the place. After daddy gets home, I go immediately into the kitchen and look for my headphones, because the Screaming and Squealing hour has arrived. There's no safe way to walk through the living room after 5:30 pm, without risk of being knocked on your rear by some blond child being catapulted across the room. I imagine that her arm must have been pretending to be a turkey leg or something, and Daddy must have been chewing on it. I can also imagine that there was a lot of maniacal laughter involved in this, and quite possibly an "Ow!" and a "Sorry sweetie." Who knows.

But I could just see the gears in his head. "No wonder I'm treating this kid for anxiety. Her dad bites her."

Oh sheesh.

Weird Moon

I stayed up late watching a movie tonight, then stumbled up to bed ready to sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow, bing!. Mental gears turning, rewinding, pausing, replaying. Occasionally, I like to stay up really late and do one of those "flashback episodes" on myself, which isn't really healthy, but my mind gets a sick thrill from playing reruns when my body is trying to sleep.

The dog seemed to be a bit fidgety too. Her toenails were endlessly clicking on the hardwood. She must have had something on her mind as well. So I asked her if she would like to go outside, and I offered to accompany her.

As we passed through the living room on our way to the back door, I grabbed my guitar. This should be novel, I thought. I'll see if I can play this tune without the sheet music, at midnight on the back patio with my dog . The moon was exceedingly bright, I thought it was a full moon, and it seemed friendly enough to sit beneath. The guitar sounded very loud at first there in the dark stillness, so I played very softly. The thing is, playing this particular tune, softly, at midnight, made me think of soundtracks to cheap horror flicks. It was simply too cheerful in a morbid and eerie way, and then the night seemed a bit threatening. Couple that with the dog getting on her hind legs against the chain link fence and growling at the rustling bushes, and suddlenly the hair on the back of my neck was telling me that my dog, my geetar, and my butt needed to get themselves inside.

Now here I am in the basement and the dog's sniffing around as if she'd never seen the place before. We're back where we started, only now my brain is writing scary movie screenplays.

Bohemian Rhapsody On Classical Guitar

There's a really excellent guitarist named Edgar Cruz who plays and teaches a lot of these great classic rock opera songs on guitar. There are two videos by Cruz, but one of them has a lot of infuriating crowd noise in the background (why come to a concert if you're going to talk the whole time?) This is a cut up version, where Cruz includes some instruction.



If I start learning it today, and you stick around until I'm about 70, maybe I'll play it for you, no?

What We Did This Year

I figure I need to post something about what we did this year since much of the point of this blog is to keep a journal of what we've done school-wise.

I advanced the kids up a grade last week, so now Josie is in the fourth grade and Jake is in the third. They are still doing the same schoolwork. Jake is young for his grade, but he has moved up to fourth grade math. He is an "A" student in math as well and that makes me very proud. We haven't used a math curriculum this year, we have just bought a few math workbooks and when they finish one for their grade, they move up to the next.

They both started gymnastics last month, which was a big milestone for Josie, since I haven't had her in any type of class situation since taking her out of school last year. She has a very patient coach, and is learning little by little some of the social rules that go along with taking a gymnastics class. Jake is practicing his handstands every day trying to see how many seconds he can stay upside down. I like that he's set himself these goals. That's a real little-boy thing after all.

They have two notebooks each that are full of schoolwork that we started in on around January. We signed up with Oak Meadow School and that got us jump started. Every day we read a story or a fable or something from history and they draw a picture and practice their cursive writing with a brief summary of what they have drawn.

We also have learned about the Babylonians, the Phoenecians, the Romans and Greeks, the Assyrians, the Spartans, ancient Egyptians, and the Jews and their nomadic travels. We have a large timeline made of foam core board that we label with major events and people after reading a chapter from our favorite little history book.

We've read so many books this year. Together we read Alice in Wonderland, Despreaux, The Higher Power of Lucky, and we're currently reading The Wind in the Willows. We have also read about 25 fables since January, and the Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling. Josie has read everything I could get her by Roald Dahl, and Jake has read most of those too. Once I'm unbanned from the library (darn those hidden pockets in backpacks!), I'll begin to get some audio books for the car.

This year we went to the Human Body Exhibit in Atlanta, missed the shuttle launch in December, but it still counts, visited the nursing home at Christmas time to pass out cards and sing songs, went to Safari Adventure in Pigeon Forge, recently we visited Liles Acres, a really neat little farm in Maryville with llamas and chickens and organic gardens. We've done countless other little trips too.

The major thing we did this year was join a homeschool co-op. The kids have made some great friends and so have I. If I hadn't met all of these great folks, I might not be the confident homeschooler I am right now. I have gotten so much support and so many ideas from them. Most of all, I've gotten the comfort of knowing I'm doing the right thing, by hearing about their trials and triumphs, by seeing how well their children are doing, and laughing together about the things our kids do, when at one time many of us were consumed by worry.

Keeping this blog has helped me as well. Whenever I feel like we've slumped out, I can look back and see how busy we have been, and how much has been accomplished this year. I can safely say I'm proud of myself and truly proud of my kids, and blessed to be able to take this responsibility to help them grow and learn.

Spelling Bee

We watched the spelling bee last night with the kids. We enjoyed it. The best part for me was listening to Josie come up with all kinds of hypotheses on how these kids managed to spell these words.

"I figured it out! They can see the bottom of the screen!"

When I explained that the word printed on the bottom of the screen was broadcast only to the TV audience, she thought about it a bit.

"Well, they have special powers!"

I asked her if she really believed that it was more likely that these kids had psychic abilities, than that they were simply brilliant spellers.

She preferred the "psychic powers" scenario.