It's just a little past midnight and I'm in bed, typing in the dark with only the screen illuminating the keyboard of my laptop, however dimly. My fingers glide along the keys by memory, occasionally having to retrace a step to the right letter.
I suppose that I should be asleep but this is actually my best moment of clarity. With only the usual noise of a sleeping household and the distant hum of the dishwasher, my brain seems to be at its most productive moment. For better or worse.
My mind wanders to the day's events as it stumbles upon itself trying to reach into tomorrow. I suspect that this is probably how others see me and how I actually am even in the middle of the day. Do I seem scattered to others? If they do, they aren't wrong. I go through days in leaps and bounds–starting much but finishing little–with my thoughts, in haphazard order, never quite making it out of the mental gate.
I'm depressed by my seeming inability to get into a more focused routine. I can't blame anyone but myself. It's an internal battle that I haven't given time to really face, knowing that I should. I look to these late nights as my dysfunctional solace from the daily grind and a reprieve against all the decisions I have to make.
In these quiet moments, I want to cry, hide, and wish for something different. If I was honest, there isn't a day that I wish my responsibilities would fade away. I've begun to hate sleep because–even then–my worries seem to follow me in a vivid metaphor of my fears and failures.
In the morning, I wake up with the pure intent to set aside the day before and start fresh only to find meself like a trapped squirrel in a cage wheel.
Spinning.
Once again going nowhere.
15 November 2011
19 October 2011
American History
This past week, Annika and I have been studying 19th century US
history. Though from the looks of it, I am more interested than she is
about the subject. She wanted to know why we have to read about all
these dead people.
Heaven help us from cheeky 12 year olds!
I laughed and promptly turned to her. I told her that history is a way for us to understand how we deal with the present and our future. Unfortunately, I wasn't buying what I was selling but I smiled anyways and encouraged her to read about the suspiciously familiar politics and economy of the 1800's.
There's the usual cast of characters: malleable politicians, powerful banks and corporations juxtaposed with the unemployed and a struggling lower class. You really only had to change the names, dates and places and you have modern day America.
Annika has yet to realize the pragmatic reality of history.
It simply repeats itself.
Heaven help us from cheeky 12 year olds!I laughed and promptly turned to her. I told her that history is a way for us to understand how we deal with the present and our future. Unfortunately, I wasn't buying what I was selling but I smiled anyways and encouraged her to read about the suspiciously familiar politics and economy of the 1800's.
There's the usual cast of characters: malleable politicians, powerful banks and corporations juxtaposed with the unemployed and a struggling lower class. You really only had to change the names, dates and places and you have modern day America.
Annika has yet to realize the pragmatic reality of history.
It simply repeats itself.
16 October 2011
Dying in a Blaze of Glory
It's been two weeks and the world appears to still be in mourning. I am actually getting sick of it. Take this image for example. Every time I go into the Apple website, his face stares me down with an I know something that you don't look.
But enough already! His death had actually increased the hype over the iPhone 4S launch so I wondered if his passing wasn't strategically planned on his iCal.
I considered the possibility that maybe he knew Harold Camping was right this time and that Judgement Day will arrive on October 21...or 22...and he wanted to get ahead of the line.
On the other hand, it was more likely that he realized it would take a lot more than the Siri to boost the momentum on his new, but relatively unremarkable, iPhone to keep Apple's lofty perch in the technology meat market.
And maybe...just maybe...he did accomplish the epic coup de grâce and death became his ultimate marketing tool. He once said that "death is very likely the best invention of life. All pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure, these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important."
And what he left behind was the final effect he sought to achieve: his name etched into perpetuity.
But enough already! His death had actually increased the hype over the iPhone 4S launch so I wondered if his passing wasn't strategically planned on his iCal.I considered the possibility that maybe he knew Harold Camping was right this time and that Judgement Day will arrive on October 21...or 22...and he wanted to get ahead of the line.
On the other hand, it was more likely that he realized it would take a lot more than the Siri to boost the momentum on his new, but relatively unremarkable, iPhone to keep Apple's lofty perch in the technology meat market.
And maybe...just maybe...he did accomplish the epic coup de grâce and death became his ultimate marketing tool. He once said that "death is very likely the best invention of life. All pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure, these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important."
And what he left behind was the final effect he sought to achieve: his name etched into perpetuity.
30 September 2011
One Month Anniversary...Bring out the Bubbly!
We made it to our first full month of IDVA!I still occasionally feel clueless with what I'm doing but I don't feel nearly as inept as when I first started. That has to count for something. I am still in tact. There has been no bloodshed. We're actually on track–relatively speaking. I have even taken on the task of volunteering as a booster chairman for the Rexburg area. To top it off, our one month anniversary falls on a Friday preceding the local school district's week-long Fall Harvest Break so Anni and I are going to just take it easy these next seven days since I pushed her to catch up as much as possible in the last two weeks.
The stars are surely aligned. From our window, I see the grass waving with the breeze. It's a beautiful Fall day and I'm looking forward to a laid-back week to contemplate, catch up on my own personal projects, and enjoy a little more me-time.
28 September 2011
Canning Madness
I think it was less than a little for that matter. I still haven't figured out what possessed me to do it considering how long it's been since I've handled a canner. It started out with a batch of canned peaches and spiraled out of control to preserves, anaheim peppers, green chile sauce, the free batch of pinto beans that turned into several batches and I'm about to break new ground into canned sweet and sour sauce because a friend gave me a recipe that I couldn't resist. But my continued late nights and droopy eyelids have been due in part to the lack of helping hands other than my own.
Anni went to an activity tonight and I learned they were canning jam. Had I known that they were doing a hands-on demo, I would have volunteered my kitchen and the girls could have finished the rest of my canning chores. Needless to say, that didn't happen and I faced a pressure canner and a motherload of pinto beans. It was a good thing that I was down to my last batch.
On the plus side, Anni proudly told her friend recently that our pantry is well-stocked. The downside is obvious. The shelves didn't just happen to stock themselves. There sure was a heck of a lot of work put into it and–unfortunately–the work involved was all mine.
27 September 2011
Be Breast-Aware
As if the general population wasn't aware enough of it already.
But the reality is that, perhaps we, ladies, should be more conscious of it than ever before.
Take the brassiere, for example. It's a universal fact that a significant number of us wear the wrong size bra due, in part, to vanity. This wardrobe basic has been around long before Miz Scarlett tightened those stays on her corset but our voracious appetite for frilly delicate confections–on the cheap–has supplanted proper fit.
One manufacturer touts "18-hour comfort" with their products but that pales significantly in comparison when compared to those with affordable sex-appeal and the promise to "lift and separate." As women, we sometimes put more value on form over function and we allow ourselves to suffer as a result.
The realm of sports bras has not escaped this value judgement either and yet it's even more critical to have supportive comfort to make a workout a pleasant recurring experience. A $30 investment on a sports bra may seem high but the benefits outweigh the price. Proper fit with excellent support, moisture wicking properties and quality construction will sustain you through an active lifestyle and repeated washings.
Breast awareness–specifically–breast cancer awareness is no less important in our efforts to maintain a healthy lifestyle. With a sobering statistic that one out of eight women will develop breast cancer, it is something not to be taken lightly. Like the brassiere, fit-ness should not be compromised. Early detection is important whether it's a simple self-check or a yearly mammogram for those 40 and over. Though uncomfortable at best, examinations are an important part of awareness and critical to making proper assessment.
So in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month, let's take the time to think about the value of our choices. Consider a re-fit and invest in a great bra at your local retailer or have a thorough breast examination done this month through your health care provider.
We have a saying at my fitness club and I think it qualifies as a golden rule: you can't manage what you can't measure and there's no better time than today.
But the reality is that, perhaps we, ladies, should be more conscious of it than ever before.
Take the brassiere, for example. It's a universal fact that a significant number of us wear the wrong size bra due, in part, to vanity. This wardrobe basic has been around long before Miz Scarlett tightened those stays on her corset but our voracious appetite for frilly delicate confections–on the cheap–has supplanted proper fit.
One manufacturer touts "18-hour comfort" with their products but that pales significantly in comparison when compared to those with affordable sex-appeal and the promise to "lift and separate." As women, we sometimes put more value on form over function and we allow ourselves to suffer as a result.
The realm of sports bras has not escaped this value judgement either and yet it's even more critical to have supportive comfort to make a workout a pleasant recurring experience. A $30 investment on a sports bra may seem high but the benefits outweigh the price. Proper fit with excellent support, moisture wicking properties and quality construction will sustain you through an active lifestyle and repeated washings.
Breast awareness–specifically–breast cancer awareness is no less important in our efforts to maintain a healthy lifestyle. With a sobering statistic that one out of eight women will develop breast cancer, it is something not to be taken lightly. Like the brassiere, fit-ness should not be compromised. Early detection is important whether it's a simple self-check or a yearly mammogram for those 40 and over. Though uncomfortable at best, examinations are an important part of awareness and critical to making proper assessment. So in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month, let's take the time to think about the value of our choices. Consider a re-fit and invest in a great bra at your local retailer or have a thorough breast examination done this month through your health care provider.
We have a saying at my fitness club and I think it qualifies as a golden rule: you can't manage what you can't measure and there's no better time than today.
26 September 2011
Parenting 101: Wisdom is a Relative Term
Being a parent is much the same as being the president.
The buck stops with me.
The irony is that I don't even get the buck. If I did, I would have hired a surrogate and removed myself from the line of fire a while ago.
In theory, I ought to have the wisdom and the glory. Instead, I have the thankless job of housework. Cooking is apparently a divine calling with my name on it. As for the cause of all things bad? Strife? Hardship? Well, that would be me too.
It's no easy task and I am finding that fact magnified tenfold with a home-schooled hormonally challenged tweener. Between the daunting task of navigating our way through this curriculum and Annika's penchance to turn the spigot on, I have reached the thin edge of reason.
A few nights ago, I was tempted to sling a glass or two against the wall just so that I could relieve the stress but why add to the drama? She was inconsolable. Her history essay came face to face with my gentle, though constructive, criticism. Add to that my careful non-judgemental efforts to correct her problem-solving math errors from the day before–and once again, I had inadvertedly opened the tap of her ultra-sensitive feelings even further.
I am at risk of creating my own private lake at the rate she's going.
All sorts of options rolled into my head, the least if which was to scream. Depending on my mood, I would
have sternly admonished her about the futility of crying or
coddled her out of misplaced guilt. That day, I dredged enough patience to leave on a neutral position and told her that I was there for her when she was ready. I would like to think that frequent meditative exercises are helping because I need every ounce of calm I can muster for home-schooling and that day was no exception.
I tried to talk to her but that fell on deaf ears. I wanted to vent my own anxieties but that would have obviously been counter-productive although it was an interesting solution, don't you think? Shouting could have drowned out her crying.
So what was I to do? I was reminded this morning that it's all about the approach.
Be as wise as serpents–and as harmless as doves.
And sometimes, the wisdom is in just being able to walk away.
The buck stops with me.
The irony is that I don't even get the buck. If I did, I would have hired a surrogate and removed myself from the line of fire a while ago.
In theory, I ought to have the wisdom and the glory. Instead, I have the thankless job of housework. Cooking is apparently a divine calling with my name on it. As for the cause of all things bad? Strife? Hardship? Well, that would be me too.
It's no easy task and I am finding that fact magnified tenfold with a home-schooled hormonally challenged tweener. Between the daunting task of navigating our way through this curriculum and Annika's penchance to turn the spigot on, I have reached the thin edge of reason.
A few nights ago, I was tempted to sling a glass or two against the wall just so that I could relieve the stress but why add to the drama? She was inconsolable. Her history essay came face to face with my gentle, though constructive, criticism. Add to that my careful non-judgemental efforts to correct her problem-solving math errors from the day before–and once again, I had inadvertedly opened the tap of her ultra-sensitive feelings even further.
I am at risk of creating my own private lake at the rate she's going.
All sorts of options rolled into my head, the least if which was to scream. Depending on my mood, I would
have sternly admonished her about the futility of crying or
coddled her out of misplaced guilt. That day, I dredged enough patience to leave on a neutral position and told her that I was there for her when she was ready. I would like to think that frequent meditative exercises are helping because I need every ounce of calm I can muster for home-schooling and that day was no exception.I tried to talk to her but that fell on deaf ears. I wanted to vent my own anxieties but that would have obviously been counter-productive although it was an interesting solution, don't you think? Shouting could have drowned out her crying.
So what was I to do? I was reminded this morning that it's all about the approach.
Be as wise as serpents–and as harmless as doves.
And sometimes, the wisdom is in just being able to walk away.
19 September 2011
An Omen?
Growing up, my parents would tell stories of creatures in the forest and supernatural occurrences. My siblings and I would listen in rapt attention, wondering if some mythical beast would pounce on us from every dark corner or if a recently deceased relative would visit from the grave to bestow upon us a measure of comfort or vengeful wrath (either way, I didn't want them to visit me).
We were also raised in a swirl of superstitions. Apparently, everything you do–or don't do–has moral consequences and it doesn't have to be some major act of grace or greed. Heaven forbid that I slept with my hair wet, or I ironed clothes before washing dishes, or I broke a mirror, or I gave an empty purse for a gift, and on and on and on.
As much as I would like to think that I am beyond all that, so much of what they have taught us still lurks in my mind and defines my actions, either consciously or unconsciously. In many ways, these were lessons. I am still hesitant to throw away rice, in part because my mother believes that to waste rice is bad luck, but I also do believe it is wasteful. When I am alone in the house, I will occasionally feel a creepy tingle run down my back though I won't turn around because I will likely close my eyes and find myself someplace I'm not supposed to be when I open them.
(Okay, I haven't quite figured out what the lesson is on that one.)
And from stories, we learned too. My dad loved to tell us of his boyhood growing up at the family farm in Lucena. His scarier tales were the most memorable. He would describe encounters with a fearsome aswang (a vampire witch) who stole babes from the womb or a kapre (a tree demon) smoking his pipe tobacco in the woods while playing a prank on an unsuspecting passerby. I think it is no coincidence that I don't care for vampire shows (they're a waste of time anyways), hate the smell of cigarette smoke (bad for your health) or use garlic in virtually every dish I make (good for your heart).
Recently, Annika and I drove down to the local animal shelter to volunteer. On the way there, she noticed a grasshopper anchored to my side window, its antennae bending with the wind, as we traveled the distance from our house to the shelter. I had expected it to fly off or be taken away with the force of the moving air but it remained stuck unfazed on the glass through the ride.
It was an odd sight. My experience with grasshoppers on my car runs more along the lines of bug-splatter on the windshield. This particular hitch-hiker was not what I had expected. It stayed with us even after I had pulled into the parking lot, got out of the car and closed the door. I walked away in wonder. Are those littler buggers supposed to do that?
Maybe it's because of my upbringing but I believe in karma and that everything happens for a reason. So I looked into my Google crystal ball to see if there is some meaning behind this visit or if it really was just hitching a ride to to an unknown destination.
They have been know to be harbingers of doom and the all too realistic locust plagues. On the flip side, grasshoppers are also symbols of good luck and new beginnings. Should a grasshopper appear to us, "we are being asked to take a leap of faith and jump forward into a specific area of life without fear."
I'll take a leap of faith for $1000, Alex.
Homeschooling, canning, volunteering along with a few others come to mind and, quite frankly, a positive spin to this omen is far more palatable than dismal news from a six-legged bug. And should my departed kin see it fit to visit me, I still would prefer that they leave me a letter or a will instead. Please, no floral scent or tobacco smoke to tell me if my moral compass is working or not.
I am fearless but I will keep garlic handy...just in case.
We were also raised in a swirl of superstitions. Apparently, everything you do–or don't do–has moral consequences and it doesn't have to be some major act of grace or greed. Heaven forbid that I slept with my hair wet, or I ironed clothes before washing dishes, or I broke a mirror, or I gave an empty purse for a gift, and on and on and on.
As much as I would like to think that I am beyond all that, so much of what they have taught us still lurks in my mind and defines my actions, either consciously or unconsciously. In many ways, these were lessons. I am still hesitant to throw away rice, in part because my mother believes that to waste rice is bad luck, but I also do believe it is wasteful. When I am alone in the house, I will occasionally feel a creepy tingle run down my back though I won't turn around because I will likely close my eyes and find myself someplace I'm not supposed to be when I open them.
(Okay, I haven't quite figured out what the lesson is on that one.)
And from stories, we learned too. My dad loved to tell us of his boyhood growing up at the family farm in Lucena. His scarier tales were the most memorable. He would describe encounters with a fearsome aswang (a vampire witch) who stole babes from the womb or a kapre (a tree demon) smoking his pipe tobacco in the woods while playing a prank on an unsuspecting passerby. I think it is no coincidence that I don't care for vampire shows (they're a waste of time anyways), hate the smell of cigarette smoke (bad for your health) or use garlic in virtually every dish I make (good for your heart).
It was an odd sight. My experience with grasshoppers on my car runs more along the lines of bug-splatter on the windshield. This particular hitch-hiker was not what I had expected. It stayed with us even after I had pulled into the parking lot, got out of the car and closed the door. I walked away in wonder. Are those littler buggers supposed to do that?
Maybe it's because of my upbringing but I believe in karma and that everything happens for a reason. So I looked into my Google crystal ball to see if there is some meaning behind this visit or if it really was just hitching a ride to to an unknown destination.
They have been know to be harbingers of doom and the all too realistic locust plagues. On the flip side, grasshoppers are also symbols of good luck and new beginnings. Should a grasshopper appear to us, "we are being asked to take a leap of faith and jump forward into a specific area of life without fear."
I'll take a leap of faith for $1000, Alex.
Homeschooling, canning, volunteering along with a few others come to mind and, quite frankly, a positive spin to this omen is far more palatable than dismal news from a six-legged bug. And should my departed kin see it fit to visit me, I still would prefer that they leave me a letter or a will instead. Please, no floral scent or tobacco smoke to tell me if my moral compass is working or not.
I am fearless but I will keep garlic handy...just in case.
17 September 2011
The Cult of Homeschooling
Something has been bothering me since last week.
I consider myself a fairly liberal thinker. I gave up the notion of pursuing a career in the military after my second year stint in college ROTC when I finally reconciled with a senior cadet's assessment of me as a quibbler. My dad once said I was a maverick but please don't assume that my sentiments are in anyway similar to Senator John McCain. When my son, Colter, asked me today if I followed the recipe for the canned peach preserves that I slaved on for the past few days, I unrepentantly said no–and it was still damn good, wasn't it?
Looking back, I admit that I rarely followed the rank and file, never drew within the lines and always pushed the limits of my insanity. So to find myself encouraging online home schooling would appear out of character for me. Never mind that I have always been proud of my food pantry and that I once voted republican in support of Bush No1 along with numerous mistakes I've made along the way.
But homeschooling?
I think that I mentioned something along the lines of stark raving mad. If you had asked me what I knew of homeschooling ten years ago, an image of women in home-made long dresses would have come to mind. My knowledge has broadened since then but I still regard homeschooling as a realm for über-dedicated mothers who had more time in their hands than I barely had in one finger. Plus, I don't subscribe to conservative notions of cloistered education. So it was as much a surprise to me as it was to everyone else.
It was buyers remorse from the moment I filled out the paperwork to enroll the kids into Idaho Virtual Academy. Technically, it is a state-chartered online public school. Still, in my head it was home + kids = homeschool so I schlepped through the process, unwilling to believe that I really did what I had done. Despite my misgivings, I wanted to give it an honest try so I told my inner nag to shut the hell up. I joined online parent forums that seemed interesting and "followed" everyone like a virtual stalker. I bounced from one conversation to another–eavesdropping in search of other sites that could give me more insight into the school, the curriculum and the homeschoolers themselves.
What I learned re-adjusted my perceptions. On one hand, I don't doubt that there are those who fit the homeschool stereotype replete with their own dogmas, anti-establishment beliefs, and other even baser, if not criminal, motives. Yet on the other, this was as diverse a group as I have found anywhere with a striking variety of circumstances that brought them together.
Some parents sacrifice careers to homeschool, while others balance their kids' needs with work and even their own schooling. Add to that the admirable number of single parents along with families who walk this path to accommodate special needs. Heretofore, my knowledge of learning disabilities were limited to ADD, OCD and TAS because of my son. Suddenly, I had a wider vocabulary base consisting of acronyms–a veritable word salad of letters that makes texting look like child's play.
Differences aside, they hold that common goal to provide their children a more individualized, arguably better, education and it would appear that I have joined the ranks of these very determined people. Daily, in parent chat rooms and Facebook, I hear their calls for support and people respond. We come together and share ideas for success and commiserate through the melt-downs, the resistance, the enormous amount of time it takes to finish a school day. It comes with a great reward but it is hard work. As the cliché goes, this is not for the feint-hearted.
Recently, I found myself wearing the other shoe, the strange object of curiosity to another. A conversation with a Frenchwoman lead to the subject of homeschooling. In retrospect, I realize now that, like many in her country, she shared that view of homeschool as a social anomaly. Only a very small segment of the population opt out of the highly centralized education system in France. Though it holds legal status, homeschooling is heavily regulated and families often face greater restrictions in the government's attempts to guard against cults.
"Do you also teach Annika the same social values of your community?" the Frenchwoman asked.
That question threw me off guard and it made me wonder. Did she really think I was one of those crazy people? Was that how others saw me now? That I suddenly checked out from reality and went around the bend? In the back of my head, I could think of a number of people who may see this as a potential for intervention. It probably didn't help my image that I have been fast and furiously canning in the last week.
But I have to get over that. I did what I had done for the benefit of my kids. Homeschooling is increasingly becoming a little more mainstream in the US. Twice this month, two K12 virtual academies were featured in local and national news. Such positive exposure should help increase awareness and dispel the insidious effects of long-standing stereotypes and misinformation.
Lately, I have been careful to refrain against what Tom Brokaw, in a recent interview, spoke of as great sweeping judgements. There is a tendency to over-generalize and over-simplify. I am not a stupid democrat any more than a republican is an idiot. Mexicans are no more lazy as all Muslims are terrorists. And despite the occasional skeletons in our closets (and everybody has one), homeschoolers are no more "crazy" than the rest of us who share the same dreams and aspirations, faults and fears that make up the never-ending character of our human condition.
I consider myself a fairly liberal thinker. I gave up the notion of pursuing a career in the military after my second year stint in college ROTC when I finally reconciled with a senior cadet's assessment of me as a quibbler. My dad once said I was a maverick but please don't assume that my sentiments are in anyway similar to Senator John McCain. When my son, Colter, asked me today if I followed the recipe for the canned peach preserves that I slaved on for the past few days, I unrepentantly said no–and it was still damn good, wasn't it?
Looking back, I admit that I rarely followed the rank and file, never drew within the lines and always pushed the limits of my insanity. So to find myself encouraging online home schooling would appear out of character for me. Never mind that I have always been proud of my food pantry and that I once voted republican in support of Bush No1 along with numerous mistakes I've made along the way.
But homeschooling?
I think that I mentioned something along the lines of stark raving mad. If you had asked me what I knew of homeschooling ten years ago, an image of women in home-made long dresses would have come to mind. My knowledge has broadened since then but I still regard homeschooling as a realm for über-dedicated mothers who had more time in their hands than I barely had in one finger. Plus, I don't subscribe to conservative notions of cloistered education. So it was as much a surprise to me as it was to everyone else.
It was buyers remorse from the moment I filled out the paperwork to enroll the kids into Idaho Virtual Academy. Technically, it is a state-chartered online public school. Still, in my head it was home + kids = homeschool so I schlepped through the process, unwilling to believe that I really did what I had done. Despite my misgivings, I wanted to give it an honest try so I told my inner nag to shut the hell up. I joined online parent forums that seemed interesting and "followed" everyone like a virtual stalker. I bounced from one conversation to another–eavesdropping in search of other sites that could give me more insight into the school, the curriculum and the homeschoolers themselves.
What I learned re-adjusted my perceptions. On one hand, I don't doubt that there are those who fit the homeschool stereotype replete with their own dogmas, anti-establishment beliefs, and other even baser, if not criminal, motives. Yet on the other, this was as diverse a group as I have found anywhere with a striking variety of circumstances that brought them together.
Some parents sacrifice careers to homeschool, while others balance their kids' needs with work and even their own schooling. Add to that the admirable number of single parents along with families who walk this path to accommodate special needs. Heretofore, my knowledge of learning disabilities were limited to ADD, OCD and TAS because of my son. Suddenly, I had a wider vocabulary base consisting of acronyms–a veritable word salad of letters that makes texting look like child's play. Differences aside, they hold that common goal to provide their children a more individualized, arguably better, education and it would appear that I have joined the ranks of these very determined people. Daily, in parent chat rooms and Facebook, I hear their calls for support and people respond. We come together and share ideas for success and commiserate through the melt-downs, the resistance, the enormous amount of time it takes to finish a school day. It comes with a great reward but it is hard work. As the cliché goes, this is not for the feint-hearted.
Recently, I found myself wearing the other shoe, the strange object of curiosity to another. A conversation with a Frenchwoman lead to the subject of homeschooling. In retrospect, I realize now that, like many in her country, she shared that view of homeschool as a social anomaly. Only a very small segment of the population opt out of the highly centralized education system in France. Though it holds legal status, homeschooling is heavily regulated and families often face greater restrictions in the government's attempts to guard against cults.
"Do you also teach Annika the same social values of your community?" the Frenchwoman asked.
That question threw me off guard and it made me wonder. Did she really think I was one of those crazy people? Was that how others saw me now? That I suddenly checked out from reality and went around the bend? In the back of my head, I could think of a number of people who may see this as a potential for intervention. It probably didn't help my image that I have been fast and furiously canning in the last week.
But I have to get over that. I did what I had done for the benefit of my kids. Homeschooling is increasingly becoming a little more mainstream in the US. Twice this month, two K12 virtual academies were featured in local and national news. Such positive exposure should help increase awareness and dispel the insidious effects of long-standing stereotypes and misinformation.
Lately, I have been careful to refrain against what Tom Brokaw, in a recent interview, spoke of as great sweeping judgements. There is a tendency to over-generalize and over-simplify. I am not a stupid democrat any more than a republican is an idiot. Mexicans are no more lazy as all Muslims are terrorists. And despite the occasional skeletons in our closets (and everybody has one), homeschoolers are no more "crazy" than the rest of us who share the same dreams and aspirations, faults and fears that make up the never-ending character of our human condition.
Fresh as a Daisy
When you're living with two tweeners, a husband who drags his grease-covered work clothes home, and a chocolate lab who appears to be perpetual shedding, something eventually happens.
It starts to stink.
Of course, who am I to talk. I have some clothes in the closet that gets repeatedly hung back on the rack after each use and shoes that ought to be aired out. And that's just in the bedroom. Cooking odors never seem to go away no matter how many times I clean the house. Those invisible grease particles have taken up permanent residence on walls, cabinets, and every other surface they can latch on to–giving new meaning to "you are what you eat" and we apparently eat a lot of delectably artery-clogging stuff.
Hey, admit it. I bet you never came home to a salad dinner and told the cook it smelled heavenly.
But the combination of sweat, food, dog and my son's 14 year-old aroma gets to me after a while. It isn't that the house really smells like the local transfer station though it sure feels like it's coming in a close second. Maybe that was what caused my anxiety level to spike up this morning.
I love the smell of a new car and I am convinced there are special cleaners that give even used cars in the lot that new car smell. Walking into an empty new house is an olifactory delight with only the distinctly separate odors of freshly painted walls, stained wood and unspoiled carpet to invade my nose.
Of course, that's my OCD talking so I had to forcibly set that impulse aside and find a more constructive solution to my dilemma. I wanted to throw open all the doors and windows in the house and purge that well-used, lived-in smell. Unfortunately, it was damn windy outside and I really didn't feel like having to add dusting to my cleaning chores.
Forget Febreze. At about five bucks a bottle, I wanted a more economical way with ingredients I already had in the house. Google saved me. (for that matter, it always saves me). I found a recipe online and decided to create a homemade brew to deodorize the house. Once mixed, I sprayed what I considered the big offender of the moment.
No, it wasn't my son. He just needs to actually use the deodorant we bought him and, as we point out. it has to make contact with his skin to work.
I went to my bedroom. I sprayed the closet, the bedding, the rug, I stepped out and stepped back in a few minutes later. I sprayed again. I left. I came back. In the closet, I wasn't assaulted with the smell of sneakers and leather. That was promising. I lay on the bed and waited. I detected a faint smell of fabric softener and I my anxiety lessened. The solution seemed to be working.
Aaahh, that blessed clean smell and my world was alright again.
And at just a modest cost, this ought to get the Good Housekeeping Seal stamp of approval.
2T Snuggle • 2T Baking Soda • Water • 24oz spray bottle
It starts to stink.
Of course, who am I to talk. I have some clothes in the closet that gets repeatedly hung back on the rack after each use and shoes that ought to be aired out. And that's just in the bedroom. Cooking odors never seem to go away no matter how many times I clean the house. Those invisible grease particles have taken up permanent residence on walls, cabinets, and every other surface they can latch on to–giving new meaning to "you are what you eat" and we apparently eat a lot of delectably artery-clogging stuff.Hey, admit it. I bet you never came home to a salad dinner and told the cook it smelled heavenly.
But the combination of sweat, food, dog and my son's 14 year-old aroma gets to me after a while. It isn't that the house really smells like the local transfer station though it sure feels like it's coming in a close second. Maybe that was what caused my anxiety level to spike up this morning.
I love the smell of a new car and I am convinced there are special cleaners that give even used cars in the lot that new car smell. Walking into an empty new house is an olifactory delight with only the distinctly separate odors of freshly painted walls, stained wood and unspoiled carpet to invade my nose.
Of course, that's my OCD talking so I had to forcibly set that impulse aside and find a more constructive solution to my dilemma. I wanted to throw open all the doors and windows in the house and purge that well-used, lived-in smell. Unfortunately, it was damn windy outside and I really didn't feel like having to add dusting to my cleaning chores.
Forget Febreze. At about five bucks a bottle, I wanted a more economical way with ingredients I already had in the house. Google saved me. (for that matter, it always saves me). I found a recipe online and decided to create a homemade brew to deodorize the house. Once mixed, I sprayed what I considered the big offender of the moment.
No, it wasn't my son. He just needs to actually use the deodorant we bought him and, as we point out. it has to make contact with his skin to work.
I went to my bedroom. I sprayed the closet, the bedding, the rug, I stepped out and stepped back in a few minutes later. I sprayed again. I left. I came back. In the closet, I wasn't assaulted with the smell of sneakers and leather. That was promising. I lay on the bed and waited. I detected a faint smell of fabric softener and I my anxiety lessened. The solution seemed to be working.
Aaahh, that blessed clean smell and my world was alright again.
And at just a modest cost, this ought to get the Good Housekeeping Seal stamp of approval.
2T Snuggle • 2T Baking Soda • Water • 24oz spray bottle
06 September 2011
Lessons Learned Along the Trail
Nothing like a Monday holiday to start the week. For that matter, every Monday should be a national holiday. All in favor?
With the long weekend behind us, we went for a lovely hike this morning that jump-started our official week. We joined a group of ladies along the Aspen Trail at 7am for a mild upward climb along this singletrack bike trail. The group split–with others heading for the steeper route–while Annika and I joined my French companions along the less strenuous path. They chatted away, rapid-fire in their native tongue mixed with English, while I struggled to just keep my lungs open. Annika was the center of their curious questions about "homeschooling" as we walked, itermittently stopping (gratefully) along the way to enjoy the views of the valley below, the ripe serviceberries, and for Dominique to gather seeds to try and grow back in France.
The trail leveled out and the topic soon turned to other subjects–travel, plants, snippets of our histories. I enjoyed talking with them but I enjoyed listening to them even more as they spoke softly with those distinct glottal and nasal stops that make the language sound "romantic" to many.
It certainly had appeal and I hoped that Annika found their company equally enjoyable and reinforcing. They were enamored with her and eagerly praised her choice to learn a language–German nonetheless. I suspect that she was just as fascinated with them no matter her response when I asked of her thoughts about our French-speaking trail mates.
"After a while, it just started to sound the same!" she said nonchalantly. Maybe she won't be saying that as she gets further into her German lessons.
We parted ways after the hike. Anni promptly took a nap shortly after our return home. Later, I noticed that she was watching Andrew Zimmern in a Bizarre Foods episode featuring, of all places, Paris. So maybe she was paying attention, after all.
I planned on putting this two-hour hike under PE attendance. Maybe I could count this time well spent under her Language Arts class as well.
With the long weekend behind us, we went for a lovely hike this morning that jump-started our official week. We joined a group of ladies along the Aspen Trail at 7am for a mild upward climb along this singletrack bike trail. The group split–with others heading for the steeper route–while Annika and I joined my French companions along the less strenuous path. They chatted away, rapid-fire in their native tongue mixed with English, while I struggled to just keep my lungs open. Annika was the center of their curious questions about "homeschooling" as we walked, itermittently stopping (gratefully) along the way to enjoy the views of the valley below, the ripe serviceberries, and for Dominique to gather seeds to try and grow back in France.
 |
| Dominique, Annika, Simone and Janine |
It certainly had appeal and I hoped that Annika found their company equally enjoyable and reinforcing. They were enamored with her and eagerly praised her choice to learn a language–German nonetheless. I suspect that she was just as fascinated with them no matter her response when I asked of her thoughts about our French-speaking trail mates.
"After a while, it just started to sound the same!" she said nonchalantly. Maybe she won't be saying that as she gets further into her German lessons.
We parted ways after the hike. Anni promptly took a nap shortly after our return home. Later, I noticed that she was watching Andrew Zimmern in a Bizarre Foods episode featuring, of all places, Paris. So maybe she was paying attention, after all.
I planned on putting this two-hour hike under PE attendance. Maybe I could count this time well spent under her Language Arts class as well.
04 September 2011
My eBooks Soapbox
Don't get me wrong...
I have moved on with just about every avid reader I know who has switched to an e-reader device or app. Which does incite a twinge of guilt because I used to work for, and understood the inner workings of, an independent bookstore. But just as with dinosaurs, I suppose that Darwin's Theory will take hold in this arena too though I doubt that bookstores will completely disappear. The big stores have a foothold on e-books right now and I suspect that a few of the smaller independents will adapt and survive in some manner. Hey, the cockroaches did–for what that's worth.
We have a sentimental–if not speculative–attachment to our history. We nurture it. We hold on to it. We pass it on. In the case of books, I don't doubt that there will be, still, a continuing demand in the future. There's still nothing like the ability to touch, feel, and see centuries-old stitched and bound volumes. I love my collection of first edition and autographed books from favorite writers and artists. Photo books are increasing in popularity. I sure can't seem to part with my old English textbooks and I continue to add to my stick-built bookshelf despite my growing database of e-books.
At an average price of about 10 bucks a book, corporate predictability is getting me pretty pissed off. Add to that their systemic logic of locking my books with DRM is enough to send me over the edge. And, NO, I'm not talking about having an "entitlement" behavior. I respect authors rights to be paid for their work. I have little liking for the Walmart mentality. I am certainly more than willing to pay for my book, in digital or hardcopy format.
But when I am paying for an e-book that, though a decade old and still in print, is costing me almost as much as a new release and equal to that of its trade or paperback counterpart, it gives me pause. When I find that it is locked with DRM, my bitter behavior comes to the surface.. Illogical? Unreasonable? Unjustified?
Maybe.
DRM is a digital rights management software. It controls who reads a book and how it is read. I suppose that the theory behind DRM is to prevent commercial piracy. The reality, however, is far from accurate. Piracy can happen outside of DRM and it really just comes down to the pimp and the money–and publishers have multiple bed partners to please.
Now put that in your pipe and smoke it. I just spent the better part of the day trying to figure out the ins and outs of DRM removal. I don't have a nefarious plan to open up a black market shop. Over the last few years, I have paid for a number of e-books using Stanza with books from Fictionwise. I also used eReader, Amazon's Kindle and, finally, I have settled on the Nook. With so many places in which these e-books are scattered in, I merely want to consolidate my collection and I sure don't want to have to pay for them all again just because I used different readers at one point.
I do have a bone to pick with Barnes and Noble because both eReader.com and Fictionwise are Barnes and Noble companies. I had to remove the DRM off of these particular books so that I can read them on the Nook. You would think that cross-integration would be allowed.
But that would just be too logical. Too reasonable. Too justified.
I have moved on with just about every avid reader I know who has switched to an e-reader device or app. Which does incite a twinge of guilt because I used to work for, and understood the inner workings of, an independent bookstore. But just as with dinosaurs, I suppose that Darwin's Theory will take hold in this arena too though I doubt that bookstores will completely disappear. The big stores have a foothold on e-books right now and I suspect that a few of the smaller independents will adapt and survive in some manner. Hey, the cockroaches did–for what that's worth.We have a sentimental–if not speculative–attachment to our history. We nurture it. We hold on to it. We pass it on. In the case of books, I don't doubt that there will be, still, a continuing demand in the future. There's still nothing like the ability to touch, feel, and see centuries-old stitched and bound volumes. I love my collection of first edition and autographed books from favorite writers and artists. Photo books are increasing in popularity. I sure can't seem to part with my old English textbooks and I continue to add to my stick-built bookshelf despite my growing database of e-books.
At an average price of about 10 bucks a book, corporate predictability is getting me pretty pissed off. Add to that their systemic logic of locking my books with DRM is enough to send me over the edge. And, NO, I'm not talking about having an "entitlement" behavior. I respect authors rights to be paid for their work. I have little liking for the Walmart mentality. I am certainly more than willing to pay for my book, in digital or hardcopy format.
But when I am paying for an e-book that, though a decade old and still in print, is costing me almost as much as a new release and equal to that of its trade or paperback counterpart, it gives me pause. When I find that it is locked with DRM, my bitter behavior comes to the surface.. Illogical? Unreasonable? Unjustified?Maybe.
DRM is a digital rights management software. It controls who reads a book and how it is read. I suppose that the theory behind DRM is to prevent commercial piracy. The reality, however, is far from accurate. Piracy can happen outside of DRM and it really just comes down to the pimp and the money–and publishers have multiple bed partners to please.
Now put that in your pipe and smoke it. I just spent the better part of the day trying to figure out the ins and outs of DRM removal. I don't have a nefarious plan to open up a black market shop. Over the last few years, I have paid for a number of e-books using Stanza with books from Fictionwise. I also used eReader, Amazon's Kindle and, finally, I have settled on the Nook. With so many places in which these e-books are scattered in, I merely want to consolidate my collection and I sure don't want to have to pay for them all again just because I used different readers at one point.
I do have a bone to pick with Barnes and Noble because both eReader.com and Fictionwise are Barnes and Noble companies. I had to remove the DRM off of these particular books so that I can read them on the Nook. You would think that cross-integration would be allowed.
But that would just be too logical. Too reasonable. Too justified.
03 September 2011
Pedigree Isn't Everything.
I admit. I'm a CONSUMER with a capital "C" right along with the remaining 7 letters of the word. Does that make me a Joneser? Probably. But I crave a bargain just like everybody else.
I've been know to shop the high-brow stores. I am an Mac addict and with the exception of my cellphone, I've poured thousands of dollars into their products (let's face it, they don't call those other computers PC's for nothing) and only from the Apple Store. I strolled into a Coach Store on Chicago's Michigan Avenue and bought a $500 purse on a whim. I can't begin to number the boutique stores I've shopped in to fill my ever-expanding closet.
On the other hand, I don't hesitate to search the bargains. Next to TJ Maxx, the thrift store has been an occasional friend. I also shop online, cut coupons, and when I see something in a friend's closet, I trade. When it comes to household basics and food, I'm even more brutal.
As I sit here, half of what I am wearing is from the local See n' Save–terrific DKNY jeans and casual J-41 suede shoes that are still in awesome condition. God bless those meticulous, unknown, ladies for bestowing me with stylish, near-new clothes that would have set me back a good couple of hundred dollars, yet cost me a mere five bucks last week.
So I still put on a good show and you would have been none the wiser.
I've been know to shop the high-brow stores. I am an Mac addict and with the exception of my cellphone, I've poured thousands of dollars into their products (let's face it, they don't call those other computers PC's for nothing) and only from the Apple Store. I strolled into a Coach Store on Chicago's Michigan Avenue and bought a $500 purse on a whim. I can't begin to number the boutique stores I've shopped in to fill my ever-expanding closet.
On the other hand, I don't hesitate to search the bargains. Next to TJ Maxx, the thrift store has been an occasional friend. I also shop online, cut coupons, and when I see something in a friend's closet, I trade. When it comes to household basics and food, I'm even more brutal.
As I sit here, half of what I am wearing is from the local See n' Save–terrific DKNY jeans and casual J-41 suede shoes that are still in awesome condition. God bless those meticulous, unknown, ladies for bestowing me with stylish, near-new clothes that would have set me back a good couple of hundred dollars, yet cost me a mere five bucks last week.
So I still put on a good show and you would have been none the wiser.
02 September 2011
Oh, Shoot!
Okay, I am really getting tired of having to red-line articles in my local newspaper.
I am baffled by the persistent spelling and grammatical errors. Don't get me wrong. I occasionally misspell and I often worry about my sentence structures. But I also re-read my writing to check myself.
Unlike our local rag which–like other periodicals–I hold to a higher standard.
"...the people responsible for the damage gained entry through the boiler shoot located in the back of the building..."
Annoying still is that the writer spelled it this way on two occasions. If you want me to take you seriously, don't waste my time having to tell you that shoot is a verb and chute is a noun.
I am baffled by the persistent spelling and grammatical errors. Don't get me wrong. I occasionally misspell and I often worry about my sentence structures. But I also re-read my writing to check myself.
Unlike our local rag which–like other periodicals–I hold to a higher standard.
"...the people responsible for the damage gained entry through the boiler shoot located in the back of the building..."
Annoying still is that the writer spelled it this way on two occasions. If you want me to take you seriously, don't waste my time having to tell you that shoot is a verb and chute is a noun.
It's my Fault?!?
Well, that's hardly fair–what did I do?I was just blamed for Annika's poor math skills. Sure, blame it on Mom. It must have been me because who else could it be. I'm the only other person here.
This is the process of elimination at work. The chocolate lab doesn't count so, since I am the only one here, it is summarily my fault.
I can see a pattern here. I am going to be a moving target for my kids in the next year. Forget that I have only been a learning coach for a week. Or that she has only asked for my help twice in the last week. I can only hope that next week is going to be better.
01 September 2011
Please Excuse my Dear Aunt Sally
I don't recall an Aunt Sally on either side of my family. I don't think there's a Sally on DH's side either.
But today, I wish I knew dear Aunt Sally as I sat next to Anni while she worked on her math lesson. My headache was building at the same pace as Anni's frustration and tears. She wasn't getting the Order of Operations concept and I desperately needed for Sally to be there because I really never did like math–and quite frankly, I sucked at it.
In college, I changed my major from Accounting to English when I realized that my aptitude for numbers was less than stellar. Forget following my parents' footsteps. Today, I hire a bookkeeper to keep track of my business and the best trait I picked up from my Dad was his great mechanical engineer's penmanship that I use when called upon to design my clients' kitchens and bathrooms.
So in the end, we just plowed through it together. Unfortunately, I was apparently a bit of a hindrance as much as I was some help because I screwed up one of her assessment questions. She made a point to tell me that, I got it wrong. She wasn't about to lay claim to that mistake and I don't blame her.
On the other hand, you'd think that because I have managed to make mistakes on the order, she would have figured out that I am dear Aunt Sally.
But today, I wish I knew dear Aunt Sally as I sat next to Anni while she worked on her math lesson. My headache was building at the same pace as Anni's frustration and tears. She wasn't getting the Order of Operations concept and I desperately needed for Sally to be there because I really never did like math–and quite frankly, I sucked at it.
In college, I changed my major from Accounting to English when I realized that my aptitude for numbers was less than stellar. Forget following my parents' footsteps. Today, I hire a bookkeeper to keep track of my business and the best trait I picked up from my Dad was his great mechanical engineer's penmanship that I use when called upon to design my clients' kitchens and bathrooms.So in the end, we just plowed through it together. Unfortunately, I was apparently a bit of a hindrance as much as I was some help because I screwed up one of her assessment questions. She made a point to tell me that, I got it wrong. She wasn't about to lay claim to that mistake and I don't blame her.
On the other hand, you'd think that because I have managed to make mistakes on the order, she would have figured out that I am dear Aunt Sally.
If I was Stranded in an Island
... or if I found myself the only one left in this planet.
... or if I accidentally time-travelled back in time to the medieval ages.
... or if I found myself suddenly facing a permanent slow food movement along with loss of advanced medicine as we know it and surviving a socio-political breakdown à la Mad Max.
Sure, I've imagined these scenarios. I have even been forced to sit through one or two conversations about post-apocalyptic survival. One camp wants to create their own munitions depot in their backyard. The other wants to put more emphasis in food storage and preparing now with a regimen of iodide anti-radiation pills.
I prefer to find that third camp–the one that has managed to salvage the search engine servers and kept them going. Presumably, they're also the smartest. That said, I hope to be left in this planet with the internet still intact, and travel back in time with my laptop in the hopes that I can still get five-bar-signal from those satellites in space.
It should be obvious. Guns kill people and I don't care what the NRA says. My cooking methods run less by memory and more along the lines of semi-homemade. First aid to me means a trip to the local clinic or someone bleeds to death. So when the shit hits the fan, and I have to quickly decide if I am going to join those who duck and run for cover because they don't know what to do or join those who take away your cover because they don't know what to do, I'd just as soon make the choice knowing that I have Google on my side–better yet, accessible through my brain.
... or if I accidentally time-travelled back in time to the medieval ages.
... or if I found myself suddenly facing a permanent slow food movement along with loss of advanced medicine as we know it and surviving a socio-political breakdown à la Mad Max.
Sure, I've imagined these scenarios. I have even been forced to sit through one or two conversations about post-apocalyptic survival. One camp wants to create their own munitions depot in their backyard. The other wants to put more emphasis in food storage and preparing now with a regimen of iodide anti-radiation pills.
I prefer to find that third camp–the one that has managed to salvage the search engine servers and kept them going. Presumably, they're also the smartest. That said, I hope to be left in this planet with the internet still intact, and travel back in time with my laptop in the hopes that I can still get five-bar-signal from those satellites in space.31 August 2011
Work in Progress
Everything is pretty much that way.
I would love to announce that my kids' classroom area is put together and organized completely but it it's not. I'd like to say that my office is neat and tidy again but it's not. As for my brain, I'd like to say that it's razor sharp but as time flies past me, so do my brain cells.
I did learn that my brain cues into things that–in spite of my often oblivious tendencies–help me muddle through the decisions I need to make on a daily basis. It's like having Me watching over me. Thank goodness to that too because I sure as heck wouldn't know what to do without Me.
I could go on with the cliché's but it really is true, isn't it?
I had this medicine ball–bought this past winter and never opened. In one of the forums, I recently learned (or was it Me?) that parents were able to get their kids–especially their special needs kids–to focus better by sitting on a medicine ball while doing their online work. So I opened the box, inflated the ball and gave it to Anni for its maiden voyage. It did two wonderful things: Anni sat straighter which I was grateful for because she tended to contort herself when she sits in a chair. I envy that flexibility but I didn't think it was all that great for her back and her newly mended titanium reinforced spine. And she did seem to focus more comfortably if her calmer demeanor is any indication of the ball's effectiveness. I can't wait to try this on my ADD/Tourette child.
Then there was this gridwall rotating display that I picked up at a store that was going out of business this spring. My husband is convinced that I am a certifiable packrat. I'd like to think not. I bought this and others with the intent to use or organize myself. While I've utilized most, there are still a few in the garage waiting for my "vision" to come through. K12 was just that. I can't wait to see the final product when I'm done with it. Her materials occupy one side in a haphazard manner for now. The other side will be dedicated for my 14 year old's materials when they arrive in a week. I even found great (re)use for those K12 class kit boxes that arrived as a platform for their monitor.
In the meantime, my inner Me has more immediate plans.
I would love to announce that my kids' classroom area is put together and organized completely but it it's not. I'd like to say that my office is neat and tidy again but it's not. As for my brain, I'd like to say that it's razor sharp but as time flies past me, so do my brain cells.
I did learn that my brain cues into things that–in spite of my often oblivious tendencies–help me muddle through the decisions I need to make on a daily basis. It's like having Me watching over me. Thank goodness to that too because I sure as heck wouldn't know what to do without Me.
I could go on with the cliché's but it really is true, isn't it?
I had this medicine ball–bought this past winter and never opened. In one of the forums, I recently learned (or was it Me?) that parents were able to get their kids–especially their special needs kids–to focus better by sitting on a medicine ball while doing their online work. So I opened the box, inflated the ball and gave it to Anni for its maiden voyage. It did two wonderful things: Anni sat straighter which I was grateful for because she tended to contort herself when she sits in a chair. I envy that flexibility but I didn't think it was all that great for her back and her newly mended titanium reinforced spine. And she did seem to focus more comfortably if her calmer demeanor is any indication of the ball's effectiveness. I can't wait to try this on my ADD/Tourette child.
Then there was this gridwall rotating display that I picked up at a store that was going out of business this spring. My husband is convinced that I am a certifiable packrat. I'd like to think not. I bought this and others with the intent to use or organize myself. While I've utilized most, there are still a few in the garage waiting for my "vision" to come through. K12 was just that. I can't wait to see the final product when I'm done with it. Her materials occupy one side in a haphazard manner for now. The other side will be dedicated for my 14 year old's materials when they arrive in a week. I even found great (re)use for those K12 class kit boxes that arrived as a platform for their monitor.
In the meantime, my inner Me has more immediate plans.
30 August 2011
Where the Rubber Meets the Road
9:30 am
This is real school.
I haven't a clue what I'm doing. I'd like to interject a series of colorful words in between but I'll refrain. My anxiety level is going up and I've already taken my meds. In the meantime, I'm doing my best to just be as helpful as I can be to Annika.
Except that she's a teensie weensie upset with me.
She asked for some help but later said that I make my explanations even more difficult. I'm not sure exactly how else I'm supposed to explain it to her. I rather thought I explained myself well but I may as well speak Pig Latin. So I'm stepping back, minding my own business for the time being and letting her have some space to do her work. She's a smart kid. She'll figure it out.
I would really prefer to be just a cheerleader, a comforting shoulder, the mom who comes up to her when she's stumped and says, "There, there, it will work out."
I need another batch of coffee.
11:00 am
Anni is in better spirits. She made her favorite breakfast and has moved on to Literature. It's her favorite class and she's comfortably reading on her favorite chair. I move on to another Learning Coach session and another opportunity to hopefully gain a little more insight this time on parent networking because my efforts up to this point has crashed into a brick wall.
Making Connections: Getting Involved in the Virtual Education Community
Three minutes before the session starts and there are only four attendees so far. That just seems so par for the course for me. I feel like I'm talking to an empty room sometimes. I've invited others in my area for a meet and greet on the IDVA Facebook page and I've yet to get any responses. My discussions in the Parent Lounge have also gone unanswered so far. I can't figure it out. Do I have an odor that's projecting through the keyboard? There are few IDVA'rs i my valley so I'm branching out to the homeschooling group in the area. With any luck, maybe some of these folks will come out of the woodwork soon.
1:00 pm
I switched out my mom/learning coach hat to mom/lunch lady hat a half hour ago and Anni is ready to break for a little lunch of pigs in a blanket. I figure that my quick meals will not be too unfamiliar to the processed foods they seem to love at school. I am excited to see that she needs no prodding to get back into her classes as soon as she's eaten.
I have to admit that giving her 15 minute breaks in between classes to check on her Facebook has kept the momentum going, eliminating the need for me to drag her back to her work. I'm just hoping this system works all year.
2:00 pm
My little student is down to American History and I have to leave for a meeting. I am still, technically, a working mom. I have my own business and work as a gym coach at a local health club. I feel comfortable enough to leave her to her studies and let her get as far as she can without me. But today, I did learn that the idea of allowing them "independent study" is not really feasible since they need their LC's password to access their daily assessments.
I suppose that I could give her the password but that would be like allowing the inmates to run the asylum, right?
4:00 pm
I return home. The 9th grader is back and Anni is snacking on a can of corn. She isn't quite done so I help her finish out the last class. On the way to my meeting, I had called the middle school to fax me a daily school schedule so Anni and I can discuss the differences between what she's doing now and how her friends are doing their work in school. Honestly, I wasn't sure what to expect either at the end of this first real day but I was happy to see that she still accomplished a full seven-hour school-day of studies in just under four hours. Except for that fact that she misses her friends and hates math, she does say that she likes this way better.
That's a good start.
My First Day of School
It's almost bedtime.
I finally have a moment to reflect upon the day and to mentally prepare myself for the next. It was definitely easier than I had expected. On the other hand, it was spent mostly on introductions to the classes. Still, it was a momentary reprieve that I was happy to embrace.
I put together a quick run-down of Anni's schedule for tomorrow. As I suspected, this is going to be the real deal. We have 6 classes to punch through and the orientations and tutorials are gone. Altogether, we have 10 lesson units to cover and my saving grace is that Anni's German I has yet to be loaded so I'll incorporate that on Wednesday's schedule. Forget going to Study Island tomorrow. I feel like I am about to be stranded in a study island and if I'm not careful, we'll be marooned there for the next year waiting for rescue.
Sleep. For now, I'll dream of warm tropical breeze, ocean waves and white sand under my feet.
I finally have a moment to reflect upon the day and to mentally prepare myself for the next. It was definitely easier than I had expected. On the other hand, it was spent mostly on introductions to the classes. Still, it was a momentary reprieve that I was happy to embrace.
I put together a quick run-down of Anni's schedule for tomorrow. As I suspected, this is going to be the real deal. We have 6 classes to punch through and the orientations and tutorials are gone. Altogether, we have 10 lesson units to cover and my saving grace is that Anni's German I has yet to be loaded so I'll incorporate that on Wednesday's schedule. Forget going to Study Island tomorrow. I feel like I am about to be stranded in a study island and if I'm not careful, we'll be marooned there for the next year waiting for rescue.
Sleep. For now, I'll dream of warm tropical breeze, ocean waves and white sand under my feet.
29 August 2011
Annika's First Day of School
After much anticipation and anxiety, The 6th grader starts school at the Idaho Virtual Academy while the 9th grader hopped on his bike towards the high school this morning. On a normal school day, Anni would be dressed too and ready to go by now but at 7:30 in the morning, she is blessedly asleep. Last night, I told her to set her alarm for 8:30am for the time being until we know what we're doing. This is a journey for all of us and I am grateful for Colter's late start into IDVA next month–making my transition a little less nerve-wracking.
To my delight, I logged in this morning to find all of her courses in place. I can now enter her attendance and review her daily or weekly plan. I was disappointed to see that it only shows this week's agenda. Still, I realized that Anni will be able to cruise through the plan and is already ahead in some ways. She completed her ScanTron test over the weekend so we can knock that out of the way. The Introduction to Online Learning seems to be straightforward.
Thank goodness for karma. Everything happens for a reason.
To my delight, I logged in this morning to find all of her courses in place. I can now enter her attendance and review her daily or weekly plan. I was disappointed to see that it only shows this week's agenda. Still, I realized that Anni will be able to cruise through the plan and is already ahead in some ways. She completed her ScanTron test over the weekend so we can knock that out of the way. The Introduction to Online Learning seems to be straightforward.
Thank goodness for karma. Everything happens for a reason.
28 August 2011
Countdown: Am I ready?
Every day this week, I have been checking the kids' status online.
So far, both computers have arrived but I'm leaving Colter's equipment in the box until we get closer to his start date. Anni's computer is set up and ready to go. She's even completed the ScanTron test–with little persuasion, no less!
On my part, I just watched a recording of the Learning Coach Boot Camp and a couple of tutorials on plans and schedules. I am side-by-side with my children–going back to school again. By Monday, I'll be back on the LCI train and attending more Learning Coach sessions. I'm hoping to network with other homeschoolers in the valley in the hopes of absorbing as much insight and support as I can throughout this process.
While I feel confident that Annika will transition into this new program with ease, I have some reservations about Colter so I am spending my days gauging his behavior and encouraging him to discuss his thoughts about the upcoming change.
This weekend, we watched the progress of Hurricane Irene–a morning landfall through North Carolina as it punched its way into Virginia and scraped along New York this morning. From a category 3 off the Florida Coast to a tropical storm along the Northeast, it was an interesting development that seems to parallel my own circumstance.
I'm sure that my storm made landfall. The reality has set in for me today. But I can only guess at its strength. If I were to use my inner anxieties as a barometer, then perhaps I have reached the peak. I am a little unfocused while my heart beats a little too fast for comfort. The doubts have come to the surface and it feels like I've opened the floodgates.
I went from Am I sure I know what I'm doing? to the inevitable question that has been lingering in the back of my head, Can I do this?
My only hope is that the storm fizzles. I'll take on a tropical depression over the need to evacuate my presence of mind.
So far, both computers have arrived but I'm leaving Colter's equipment in the box until we get closer to his start date. Anni's computer is set up and ready to go. She's even completed the ScanTron test–with little persuasion, no less!
On my part, I just watched a recording of the Learning Coach Boot Camp and a couple of tutorials on plans and schedules. I am side-by-side with my children–going back to school again. By Monday, I'll be back on the LCI train and attending more Learning Coach sessions. I'm hoping to network with other homeschoolers in the valley in the hopes of absorbing as much insight and support as I can throughout this process.
While I feel confident that Annika will transition into this new program with ease, I have some reservations about Colter so I am spending my days gauging his behavior and encouraging him to discuss his thoughts about the upcoming change. This weekend, we watched the progress of Hurricane Irene–a morning landfall through North Carolina as it punched its way into Virginia and scraped along New York this morning. From a category 3 off the Florida Coast to a tropical storm along the Northeast, it was an interesting development that seems to parallel my own circumstance.
I'm sure that my storm made landfall. The reality has set in for me today. But I can only guess at its strength. If I were to use my inner anxieties as a barometer, then perhaps I have reached the peak. I am a little unfocused while my heart beats a little too fast for comfort. The doubts have come to the surface and it feels like I've opened the floodgates.
I went from Am I sure I know what I'm doing? to the inevitable question that has been lingering in the back of my head, Can I do this?
My only hope is that the storm fizzles. I'll take on a tropical depression over the need to evacuate my presence of mind.
26 August 2011
Do I Feel Overwhelmed?
I've been doing the chicken dance.
Our local schools started Wednesday and that was a whole lot of work. I had to withdraw Anni from the middle school, meet with the high school Resource team and call K12 about Colter's status. I decided to get in a good mid-day workout, made dinner for the family and finished the day at the golf course with my ladies for our last league play of the season. I was Tiger Woods playing in the dark.
What? Did you think it was all about the school?
But Thursday was and I asked another fitness coach to cover my shift at they gym so I could go to IDVA's Zoo Day in Idaho Falls with Colter and Anni. I wasn't about to miss that. I wanted the chance to meet the teachers, parents and their kids. I woke up early so that I could take part in a Mentor and Learning Coach session before we left, made more calls to K12 and IDVA, conferenced with Colter's high school placement coordinator, Emily, to select his classes, and sent off a few emails before heading out the door.
I was on fire and throughout the day, I felt good about the direction we were taking. Sure, there was a moment or two when I ran smack into Colter's all-or-nothing world but it's a common enough occurrence that I have to learn to face his intractability with a heavy dose of patience and an equal amount of medication–er, meditation.
My morning began with the 15 Minute High School Mentor. It was an interesting session and one that I will need to revisit again. Having to make accommodations for a special learner is a difficult task that I have a great deal of nervousness about. Listening to Tiffany Higgins as I made my way through my morning ritual in the kitchen made me realize that to be a mentor, I had to give up certain degree of control.
And I am a control freak.
Worse still, I am like my son.
Okay...I need to work on that.
The Learning Coach session at 11 a.m. would have been more interesting but scheduling seemed to me a premature lesson given that I had nothing concrete that I could look at on the OLS because Annika's courses and plans have still not been loaded. She starts on Monday and yet I have no teacher assigned either. Only half the materials are arriving and we had to chase down her hardware shipment at the UPS docks because we weren't home to sign for the packages only to find that the computer is not set up for wireless networking. It's a small setback to add to the series of small setbacks I already am facing as I try to get ready for next week.
So maybe overwhelmed is something of a work in progress for me–literally and figuratively.
Our local schools started Wednesday and that was a whole lot of work. I had to withdraw Anni from the middle school, meet with the high school Resource team and call K12 about Colter's status. I decided to get in a good mid-day workout, made dinner for the family and finished the day at the golf course with my ladies for our last league play of the season. I was Tiger Woods playing in the dark.
What? Did you think it was all about the school?
But Thursday was and I asked another fitness coach to cover my shift at they gym so I could go to IDVA's Zoo Day in Idaho Falls with Colter and Anni. I wasn't about to miss that. I wanted the chance to meet the teachers, parents and their kids. I woke up early so that I could take part in a Mentor and Learning Coach session before we left, made more calls to K12 and IDVA, conferenced with Colter's high school placement coordinator, Emily, to select his classes, and sent off a few emails before heading out the door.I was on fire and throughout the day, I felt good about the direction we were taking. Sure, there was a moment or two when I ran smack into Colter's all-or-nothing world but it's a common enough occurrence that I have to learn to face his intractability with a heavy dose of patience and an equal amount of medication–er, meditation.
My morning began with the 15 Minute High School Mentor. It was an interesting session and one that I will need to revisit again. Having to make accommodations for a special learner is a difficult task that I have a great deal of nervousness about. Listening to Tiffany Higgins as I made my way through my morning ritual in the kitchen made me realize that to be a mentor, I had to give up certain degree of control.
And I am a control freak.
Worse still, I am like my son.
Okay...I need to work on that.
The Learning Coach session at 11 a.m. would have been more interesting but scheduling seemed to me a premature lesson given that I had nothing concrete that I could look at on the OLS because Annika's courses and plans have still not been loaded. She starts on Monday and yet I have no teacher assigned either. Only half the materials are arriving and we had to chase down her hardware shipment at the UPS docks because we weren't home to sign for the packages only to find that the computer is not set up for wireless networking. It's a small setback to add to the series of small setbacks I already am facing as I try to get ready for next week.
So maybe overwhelmed is something of a work in progress for me–literally and figuratively.
25 August 2011
My Kids Want to be Part of this Online School
Well...okay...maybe.
More accurately, the one I hoped would agree, won't; the one I least expected to show interest, did. So with just a few days left to put together a workspace for both of my "students" that would be organized and creative, I did what every broke and frantic mother does: I went to the thrift store.
I am still trying to reconcile myself to the reality that I have allowed the 9th grader the option to try this program. He's on the fence about it and I am trying not to lead him in his decision. And why should I, after all? An unhappy kid makes for an unhappy mom!
Still, today's Learning Coach subject gave me comfort and even a little insight. One one hand, my sixth grade girl should transition into this program with ease (I keep saying that so I hope I'm right). She should be able to slide right into a virtual classroom with some good space preparation that helps with organization and comfortable seating. With a little over 30 days to prepare for the boy's arrival, I would hope that I'll have familiarized myself with my new role by using Annika as the proverbial guinea pig in our new classroom: Welcome to the re-invented Tolman home.
In the scientific method approach, she really makes an excellent test subject–the perfect control! I could evaluate her adaptability to her surroundings, monitor her progress, record my observations, and apply my findings on Colter.
"Seriously?" I found myself asking out loud.
"Why not?" Yeah, I even answer myself.
"Because you suck at process." Yep, I got me there.
So, there I was, staring at the living room and wondering what the heck I was going to do. I'm not a genie so snapping my fingers won't yield anything. It certainly never got me anywhere in the past either. I envied some of those examples we saw during the session–pictures of lovely, dedicated spaces that surely encouraged thinking and creativity. There were other types of spaces too but the girl sitting in front of a small folding TV tray did not look comfortable and we sold our trampoline years ago.
I checked online for other ideas and found a dizzying array of suggestions. I skipped the ones from those cutesy blogs. I don't do frou-frou. It's not my style and my kids would revolt.
At the end of the day, I went to bed with a simple idea. That six-foot folding table in the garage would have to be a good start.
If I build it, they will come.
24 August 2011
OMG! 25 to 30 Hours per Week?!?
I'm on my second day of attending learning coach sessions (three, to be exact) and my two children graciously sat in on the morning session with me.
Round One:
I am told that I have permission to do anything and construct a learning environment that is as flexible as it is mobile. I doubt that I can really do anything I want but I do like the whole notion that it could be anywhere. But wait...how much time do I have to commit? 25 to 30 hours per week, you say? Whatever happened to think smarter, not harder?
Here's a picture of my misguided delusion: I block out a certain number of hours in the morning for their schooling. I imagine being there to try and help but that they will be working through their lessons on their own. I'll let them have a break or two in between, feed them snacks and lunch, and offer incentives to encourage them to accomplish all or part of their workload goals. When the "school day" is done, I will be able to move on to my other commitments or my "me" time–at the very least, step outside of this box for a moment to take a deep breath and meditate.
Round Two:
The Learning Coach-Teacher Relationship
My son and I were at the high school to get his schedule squared away and to meet briefly with the special ed teacher so I missed the first 30 minutes of the session. Colter's virtual classes with IDVA start on September 26 and I would prefer that he gets right back on the bike and continue to learn while waiting for his enrollment process to be completed. As my son's "mentor" in his education, I'm supposed to be his support and cheerleader, right? I feel wholly inadequate for the role. We spend more time butting heads and accomplishing the most basic of tasks is a painfully slow experience. So maybe it's a good thing that his start date is delayed by a month. It would give me an opportunity to ease into these rather big shoes and see how well I adapt to becoming a "learning coach" to Annika. I just hope to be prepared for Colter's arrival into this home-bound system by the time he starts his online coursework.
On the top of the list of teacher expectations for parents is communication. Not too far behind is honesty. That means I have to sharpen my communication skills. I am neither good in seeking out help nor do I play well as a good listener. Well, that has to change, surely? I created a new group titled
K12 in my computer address book and have started to compile contact information on any K12 or IDVA individuals that I have spoken to. They're bound to come in handy one day. I may have to consider a huge sign that says COMMUNICATE–not so much for my kids but as a reminder to me. I'd like to think that I have developed a good parent-teacher relationship over the years of monitoring my son's IEP with his teachers but upon reflection, I know that I could have been better–and that, I have to be honest about.
Round Three:
The 15-Minute High School Mentor
My husband and I went out for drinks with some relatives. It was happy hour at the
Garage and I had hoped to be back by the time this session started. I have these silly unrealistic expectations. Well into DH's third beer and my steadily refilled non-alcoholic iced tea, 8pm came and went. My high school student is not starting until September 26th so I'm going to give myself some slack and attend another session later. It was great to be able to step outside of the house for the evening and relax in the company of good friends sans the children. This is my calm before the storm.
22 August 2011
I am Committed...Sorta
This morning, I attended my first Learning Coach session:
Anni even sat in for part of the session.
Colter has chosen to sleep.
Okay, so I made out with a 50% success rate but we move on and I did learn something.
1. I have ADD too. Granted, this is not news to me but the whole notion of sitting through an hour staring at a monitor made me realize (again) how much my son and I are alike. So I did what any self-respecting ADD person did: I turned the speakers as loud as it could go, I made coffee, walked around, and wiped down the sliding glass doors.
2. The traditional rigid "walls" of a brick and mortar school is more flexible with an online program. That was exciting to me and I'm sure that Anni found that appealing too as she walked around the house listening while she went about brushing her hair.
3. On the flipside, I need to be even more involved as a parent (and learning coach slash teacher) with their education. That terrified me.
4. I could use that very large sliding door I just diligently cleaned as a white board.
5. I didn't run screaming in the other direction.
Surely, line 5 has to count for something.
We ended the session, Anni made her scrambled egg breakfast, I made my oatmeal and resumed my research on the program.
I called K12 and spoke to John about Colter's enrollment status. With any luck, Lance Hopper, my PAL, will call me by today. School starts in two days here in town. I don't have to worry about Anni because she was approved over the weekend and will start on the 29th of August. But Colter, who has an IEP, has yet to be "approved" and a pending status for approval can also mean a possible rejection.
I am leaving that to the higher powers. But I may have to send him off to school in the meantime.
Thank God!
21 August 2011
My Foray Into Alternative Schooling
Next week, school starts.
Well...maybe for everyone else in the valley.
Colter and Annika are victims to my inherent tardiness and persistent procrastination when I decided to explore an alternative option for their education...last week. I wish I could say that the epiphany was mine. Instead, it was actually Jud who, after seeing a TV ad, mentioned that maybe Anni would be interested in it. One thought led to another and next thing I knew, I was on the internet enrolling both children for the Idaho Virtual Academy.
They were out of town visiting a cousin for a week in Montana so they didn't know about my grand scheme. I'm not sure that I knew what my grand scheme was either, for that matter.
The idea had merits though I have never considered home-school as an option mostly because I considered myself ill-equipped for the role of a teacher.
And to my own kids no less.
Surely, this could only lead to a certain degree of bloodshed.
I pressed forward in, more or less, state of denial. While I did attend an Ask-a-Grad webinar and and in-person information seminar in Idaho Falls, I ignored the calls from the K12 organization. I skimmed the follow up emails, and I completely disregarded the important email about the upcoming enrollment deadline for the August 24th start date.
The only redeeming aspect of my behavior was that I graciously offered this as an option to my children instead of telling them that it's my way or the highway.
Annika was, surprisingly, an easy sell. Though hesitant at first because she didn't want to miss out on her friends who will follow her into 6th grade, the information we received during the seminar swayed her. She's a great student, highly motivated and agreeable. I have no doubt that she would fit into this program seamlessly. I did ask her what it was that made her decide to choose the program.
"I liked that I'll be able to learn more stuff." she replied.
Colter is the polar opposite of his younger sibling. At 14 and entering high school, he struggled academically from an early age. Into his 5th grade year, we belatedly realized that he had ADD and Tourettes Syndrome, a tic disorder, that we had wrongly attributed to allergies and sinus issues for a very long time. Even then, we resisted the label and made only half-hearted attempts to put him on medication.
Fast forward to the present day.
While we know a little more about his condition, we have felt like unwittingly incompatible parents to a baby that was dropped at our doorstep. We tried all sorts of logical avenues that failed to bring any real improvement–not just to his academic achievements–but to our relationship with this very special but seemingly misunderstood child of ours. In short, we've failed to figure out what makes our son tick and at this point, I was willing to try one more thing that I have yet to (or dared to) try before: home school.
So....
I have one that's eager and the other–not so much. Today, I received the approval notification for Annika. She starts on August 29th and we are excited for her materials to arrive. Because she has no special needs, her coursework is pretty standard. Colter will start out at the local high school for the next few weeks. I hope that this will make the transition into virtual academia a little easier for him (and for me).
In the meantime, I continue to push forward and check on Colter's status which may take a little longer to process because of his IEP needs. I am navigating my way through the online school's website to familiarize myself with a dizzying amount of information. I compile a list of questions to address with our school liason.
I tell myself that I can do this, take a deep calming breath, and pray for the best.
Well...maybe for everyone else in the valley.
Colter and Annika are victims to my inherent tardiness and persistent procrastination when I decided to explore an alternative option for their education...last week. I wish I could say that the epiphany was mine. Instead, it was actually Jud who, after seeing a TV ad, mentioned that maybe Anni would be interested in it. One thought led to another and next thing I knew, I was on the internet enrolling both children for the Idaho Virtual Academy.
They were out of town visiting a cousin for a week in Montana so they didn't know about my grand scheme. I'm not sure that I knew what my grand scheme was either, for that matter.
The idea had merits though I have never considered home-school as an option mostly because I considered myself ill-equipped for the role of a teacher.
And to my own kids no less.
Surely, this could only lead to a certain degree of bloodshed.
I pressed forward in, more or less, state of denial. While I did attend an Ask-a-Grad webinar and and in-person information seminar in Idaho Falls, I ignored the calls from the K12 organization. I skimmed the follow up emails, and I completely disregarded the important email about the upcoming enrollment deadline for the August 24th start date.
The only redeeming aspect of my behavior was that I graciously offered this as an option to my children instead of telling them that it's my way or the highway.
Annika was, surprisingly, an easy sell. Though hesitant at first because she didn't want to miss out on her friends who will follow her into 6th grade, the information we received during the seminar swayed her. She's a great student, highly motivated and agreeable. I have no doubt that she would fit into this program seamlessly. I did ask her what it was that made her decide to choose the program.
"I liked that I'll be able to learn more stuff." she replied.
Colter is the polar opposite of his younger sibling. At 14 and entering high school, he struggled academically from an early age. Into his 5th grade year, we belatedly realized that he had ADD and Tourettes Syndrome, a tic disorder, that we had wrongly attributed to allergies and sinus issues for a very long time. Even then, we resisted the label and made only half-hearted attempts to put him on medication.
Fast forward to the present day.
While we know a little more about his condition, we have felt like unwittingly incompatible parents to a baby that was dropped at our doorstep. We tried all sorts of logical avenues that failed to bring any real improvement–not just to his academic achievements–but to our relationship with this very special but seemingly misunderstood child of ours. In short, we've failed to figure out what makes our son tick and at this point, I was willing to try one more thing that I have yet to (or dared to) try before: home school.
So....
I have one that's eager and the other–not so much. Today, I received the approval notification for Annika. She starts on August 29th and we are excited for her materials to arrive. Because she has no special needs, her coursework is pretty standard. Colter will start out at the local high school for the next few weeks. I hope that this will make the transition into virtual academia a little easier for him (and for me).
In the meantime, I continue to push forward and check on Colter's status which may take a little longer to process because of his IEP needs. I am navigating my way through the online school's website to familiarize myself with a dizzying amount of information. I compile a list of questions to address with our school liason.
I tell myself that I can do this, take a deep calming breath, and pray for the best.
14 July 2011
Dear Jud
I try to refrain from subjects that raise my ire, if not my eyebrows. Politics is one of them but it keeps finding me in-spite of my efforts. My liberal tendencies in a blood-red state apparently makes me a moving target. I wrote this to the DH in response to his recent email to me about what he had described as "missing trillions" that the Federal Reserve lost.
"Lost?" I repeated.
How does one lose 9 trillion dollars, exactly? I've lost my wallet numerous time–he can vouch for that. I mindlessly left behind a few hundred dollars on the passenger seat of my unlocked car once. I've even lost a few dollars here and there to slot machines. But I must admit, losing that much money is staggering to the imagination.
I checked my inbox but I never did get that email. Knowing Jud's recent foray into ultra-right-wing politics, I was, nevertheless, curious about what his buddies have managed to feed him now and so I looked into this 9 trillion dollar mystery and found only that someone has been brewing another batch of red-tea logic:
Okay, this is old news but here we go again...
I'm always curious about the stuff that you guys keep tossing my way so here's a little fact checking:
When did this happen? Pre-Obama Administration (in case you guys are holding the black man responsible) doled out approximately 9T in overnight loans to major banks starting in 2008 when the banks started to fall apart at a measly interest rate of 0.007%. Most have all been repaid but at such a low interest rate, I'd have to agree that those Wall Street banks sure got a sweet deal that they apparently weren't willing to share with the average consumer on Main Street.
As to where did all the money go? Well, I suppose you could say it went into a hole that the average population didn't get a chance to partake in but it certainly wasn't missing. The top three recipients of the golden eggs that the Federal Reserve Chickens literally pulled out from their collective behind was Merrill Lynch, Citigroup and Morgan Stanley at about 2T each. Goldman Sachs for anyone who thinks they were the primary instigator received 500 Billion. Not that I'm giving the bastards credit because that's no chump change.
The big question is why and that should be obvious. The Feds wanted to prevent a banking system collapse so it acted like the mother in denial by saying, "my babies are perfect" and tried to save them from their infantile behavior by over-compensating for their children's shortcomings. Of course, the alternative would be unthinkable because it would have put the whole global neighborhood in a tailspin because that collapse would have ruined everything that we once thought had value (like retirement funds that lost a lot of money).
Justification? To the average person, probably not much because the whole process didn't exactly "trickle" down to the rest of us. The banks don't apparently subscribe to the credit score system that we have to play by and they continue to get huge loans and mystifying interest rates still–inspite of their poor financial and moral judgement.
Do send this to Bill, Cody and anyone else who feel that the current administration has taken them down the road to perdition. I can fault Obama for having been spineless (but not anymore because he bull-dogged the debt ceiling raise amidst all the political posturing on both sides) but you can't blame all this on just one guy.
Oh, and I still love you!
"Lost?" I repeated.
How does one lose 9 trillion dollars, exactly? I've lost my wallet numerous time–he can vouch for that. I mindlessly left behind a few hundred dollars on the passenger seat of my unlocked car once. I've even lost a few dollars here and there to slot machines. But I must admit, losing that much money is staggering to the imagination. I checked my inbox but I never did get that email. Knowing Jud's recent foray into ultra-right-wing politics, I was, nevertheless, curious about what his buddies have managed to feed him now and so I looked into this 9 trillion dollar mystery and found only that someone has been brewing another batch of red-tea logic:
Okay, this is old news but here we go again...
I'm always curious about the stuff that you guys keep tossing my way so here's a little fact checking:
When did this happen? Pre-Obama Administration (in case you guys are holding the black man responsible) doled out approximately 9T in overnight loans to major banks starting in 2008 when the banks started to fall apart at a measly interest rate of 0.007%. Most have all been repaid but at such a low interest rate, I'd have to agree that those Wall Street banks sure got a sweet deal that they apparently weren't willing to share with the average consumer on Main Street.
As to where did all the money go? Well, I suppose you could say it went into a hole that the average population didn't get a chance to partake in but it certainly wasn't missing. The top three recipients of the golden eggs that the Federal Reserve Chickens literally pulled out from their collective behind was Merrill Lynch, Citigroup and Morgan Stanley at about 2T each. Goldman Sachs for anyone who thinks they were the primary instigator received 500 Billion. Not that I'm giving the bastards credit because that's no chump change.
The big question is why and that should be obvious. The Feds wanted to prevent a banking system collapse so it acted like the mother in denial by saying, "my babies are perfect" and tried to save them from their infantile behavior by over-compensating for their children's shortcomings. Of course, the alternative would be unthinkable because it would have put the whole global neighborhood in a tailspin because that collapse would have ruined everything that we once thought had value (like retirement funds that lost a lot of money).
Justification? To the average person, probably not much because the whole process didn't exactly "trickle" down to the rest of us. The banks don't apparently subscribe to the credit score system that we have to play by and they continue to get huge loans and mystifying interest rates still–inspite of their poor financial and moral judgement.
Do send this to Bill, Cody and anyone else who feel that the current administration has taken them down the road to perdition. I can fault Obama for having been spineless (but not anymore because he bull-dogged the debt ceiling raise amidst all the political posturing on both sides) but you can't blame all this on just one guy.
Oh, and I still love you!
28 May 2011
Shut Down.
I've ignored my blogs...along with a whole lot of other things. It's not like the world stood still for over five months. On the other hand, the mental back-burner is stacked with a lot of things I have pushed off to the side and I have to make a concerted effort to catch up.
It's another Memorial Weekend. The weather is sadly lacking in warmth and it seems my whining has escalated. I have lived in this sleepy (if not tired) mountain community for a decade. Today, I just want to be anywhere else but here and because I can't, I am sitting here defiant; staring down the day as it passes me by.
Of course, it does me no good. It really sucks.
It's another Memorial Weekend. The weather is sadly lacking in warmth and it seems my whining has escalated. I have lived in this sleepy (if not tired) mountain community for a decade. Today, I just want to be anywhere else but here and because I can't, I am sitting here defiant; staring down the day as it passes me by.
Of course, it does me no good. It really sucks.
