HUG your spouse!

We learned yesterday that a dear friend lost her husband while he was sleeping. It wasn't some tragic accident. He went to sleep with her in their bed and never woke up.

This is a moment to reflect on your husband. They do things that annoy us whether they intend to or not. They leave the toilet seat up. They leave glass or plastic bottles in the kitchen when the walk to the recycling bin was closer. They don't buy us flowers. Or they don't fulfill the honey do list. But they are here and they love us. And we should love him. (sorry for the pronoun disagreement going on here!)

We are on the Dave Ramsey plan to debt freedom and this crossed my path:
http://www.heartland-cf.org/pdfs/Our_Family_Love_Drawer.pdf

Now this may just depress you. To prepare what folks will need to do in the event of your death. It may seem morbid, or icky--but it is just something that NEEDS to be done. What better inheritence to leave to your family than the peace of your instructions letting them know exactly where everything is and what to do with it.

A good friend of mine--the best friend of the one who lost her husband--had to walk her through this process. But her husband had everything set up so that my good friend only had to serve as the eyes and ears as the dear friend experienced her grief. It seems everything went smoothly as can be expected at such a heart wrenching time.

Consider doing this for your family.

I will admit we do not have this done, but I will be discussing with Celery about getting this in place as soon as possible.

Dear Mom, Love Rutabaga

Dear Mom,

Can I please have a ferret (sic).

Love, your responsable dahter (double sic) Rutabaga

P.S. How do you spell ferret. (sic)

*******

Dear Rutabaga,

I'm not sure how to spell ferret. We definitely cannot get a ferrit (sic--oops). They are stinky :(. Even if the pet store says they are not.

Love, mommy

*******
Dear Mommy,

I will clean the ferrit's (sic) cage evry (sic) morning when I wake up. p.s. I will wake up at 5 am and go to bed at 8 pm.

Love, your very reasponsible dahter (sic) Rutabaga <3 (she included a heart--this is how we type a heart on the internet)

*******

Dear Rutabaga,

I'm sure you would take excellent care of them just like your bunnies. But you never wake up on time.

love, mommy

p.s. Ferrets still smell.


Commentary: I am tickled pink by their letter campaign to increase our pet load in our modest home on all of .23 acres. It is the first time they did this. However, we are met with daily requests for pets of various kinds. Just on Monday (I think), they wanted to go see the homeless puppies at the pet store and the shelter. I guess the bunnies are just not cute enough.

Dear Mom, as written by Butternut via Rutabaga

Dear Mom,

Can you please get me a mouse (sic)

PS I know that you are afraid of mice, but (Rutabaga) will help me tack (sic) good care of it.

Love, Butternut


***********

Dear Butternut,

What a polite note. I am afraid the only mice you can have right now are the stuffed ones and the pancakes that are named Mickey.

It is not in our budget to have a live mouse as a pet.

We have 4 Kitties, 3 bunnies, & 2 fish. That is 8 pets!!! (oops--mom added wrong on the reply--should be 9 pets!) I think we need to remember to feed those animals first.

Love, Mommy



Commentary: Mommy is not really afraid of mice. But it is sweet that they considered that I might be and wouldn't require me to take care of the mouse.

Do not Judge lest ye be judged: Gas caps, Bananas and Chicken OH MY!

Okie dokey!

So yesterday, I go to the store and pick up one or two things to last us until the end of the month. A full grocery cart later, I am checking out and voluntarily agree to load my own vehicle with my stuff.

I get home and unload and discover: My bananas are in the same bag as my CHICKEN! My raw, whole free range chicken. My bunch of bananas--in the same bag.

Okay, well not exactly--Mr. Chicken was in his own wrapper and packaged into his own grocery bag and THEN put in my banana bag. Why on earth did they just not let it stay...ALONE, perhaps?

You see--I'm a former PROFESSIONAL grocery checkout girl. I used to work for a major grocery chain in high school and college and though I worked the cash register, I watched the video on bagging! Clearly in the bagging video you bag meats separately ALWAYS. You know--germs and stuff.

And since I do the 5 second rule--I knew the bananas were fine and no one has gotten a dose of salmonella. But really--the same bag! Did they miss the video? To separately bag. Did they not screw on their heads that morning.


And in the millisecond it takes me to go fast forward through these thoughts, I am LEVELED at my own..umm...failure to screw on my head.

You see--On my errands--oh my how soon we forget, I had filled up for gas at Murphy USA--aka the Walmart gas station.

I don't know what it is--but clearly a Saturday afternoon makes for long lines at the pumps.

How many people were wondering: Has this lady EVER gotten gas before? How long has she owned that van? Did she not drink her ovaltine this morning?

Yes, a while and no I didn't.

I pull up for gas and wait kindly for a car to leave the pump. Another vehicle had just backed up behind it to get their gas. When the one car was done and leaves, I pulled right in. I proceed to line up for gas as I always do. When I get ready to back up just so--the second car starts backing up.

Perplexed I thought--wow, all this time and they must have just realized they didn't line up correctly. So I pause--and they aren't moving. With those bright, white, square lights--they sit patiently. (I'm impressed they didn't use a horn after what I am about to tell you next.) So I begin to back up thinking--wow, they are so nice to wait for me after all this time they have been waiting. Then it--hits me. No, not the car. The realization--Murphy only has single pumps. DOH! I'm about to steal this poor person's pump.

No--this isn't the first time I have been to Murphy.

So I pull around to go to a pump with a motorcycle right next to the little hut. Score--motorcycles don't take much gas--short wait. I'll be pumping gas in no time.

Motorcycle dude finishes and I pull up--you know, like I always do.

I'm a little close to the pump, no worries. No problem.

I go around to swipe my card--and then I look at my passenger side rear panel.

Where in the world is my gas cap?

A millisecond of Carmen San Diego goes off in my head.

There is a car behind me. No worries, I'll just move the van up and bring the hose around to the driver's side--that area where the gas pump has been for 3 years and I have always pumped gas.

I get back to the driver's seat and nudge the van up a bit. Go back to the pump--the people behind me are getting a giggle as I problem solve.

The hose--is short but about a foot.

Taking pity on me--the other driver motions for me to fix it.

Great! So I get that van turned around--thinking I am so embarrassed. This is the dumbest thing I have ever done. I get the van in proper position--only...I again am just short. I didn't pull up far enough. I'm sure the folks would be roaring with laughter if they knew I couldn't see them.

DOH! Foiled again. I put the hose down (I card swiped already and didn't want to reset).

Pull up--FINALLY! The hose reaches and I begin pumping. Now the machine won't pump.

So I leave the hose in the van and try to re swipe the card...several times. It can't process it. HUH????

Then I realize my blond roots are showing and proceed to put the hose back so I can re swipe but pause and wonder why the screen is asking me to select a gas grade.

Light bulb!!!! I forgot to set a grade!

At this point, I Didn't bother filling up. I wasted these good people's time long enough. $20 bucks and I am on my way.


So the next time you wonder why the bagger failed to remember their training, remember that one day you might have a visual display of ineptitude that really levels your humility.

If they had videos on pumping gas--I promise that this would not have happened.

Veggies run amok!

Butternut is in the dryer and Alfalfa Sprout is on the stove...


Thought I'd never share something like that.

Just in case you thought your veggies were crazy, just thought I would share what happens when I don't have my eyes on them for 5 minutes.

No lie!

And to boot, Rutabaga has found her way into the washing machine.

Now, the last I checked in that parenting manual, kids should help with chores. It builds character.

So why is it that appliances are not made pint-sized so that when you need a little help in the laundrymat, the kids don't have to physically enter the appliance to help you?

As for Alfalfa Sprout, maybe we should re-think that parent and me tumbling class at the gymnastics facility.

Start the day with Recess and LATE to the schoolwork

Yep--the beauty of the homeschool schedule.

I have abandoned my resolve to get things moving early in the day and get them done quickly.

We don't fret if dinner isn't until 7. (When I relaxed this...it removed my anxiety of rushing to get dinner done quickly. We actually enjoy dinner prep right now!)

And we don't fret that school didn't start at 8 or 8:30. (Though Celery is quite suspect when it is 9:23 and he wonders why I am still on my computer and the kids are playing and not learning. Engineers!)

Our schedule looks something like this on paper:

6/6:30ish: Morning prep--which is our morning chores that take us through breakfast and looking like we can leave at a moments notice as our teeth are brushed, hair is combed, and we have legitimate clothes on.

Then Piano and Scripture memorization (no time since it just follows morning prep).

Then at 8:30 it is school or if it is running club we are at that.

At 11:30ish or so it is lunchtime followed by a half hour of reading zone/quiet time.

Then on Mondays and Wednesdays we continue our school work in our larger subjects (like science and social studies).

Tuesdays and Thursdays are our car time going to various lessons and activities. So the in car school work is music appreciation and Spanish during transit and wait times.

Friday afternoons are totally leisure time.


Today is the inauguration and despite my medications, I am highly distracted by the pomp and circumstance. A CNN reporter standing in a crowd at 5:45 this morning said it was like Obama-stock. I privately chuckled because I had thoughts that this was "woodstock-ish" in nature. Then my brother called with a snafu in their "ticketed" plans in the district for which I now have another distraction. That's for another post though.

We will do a little bit of school work and read a wonderful book on the Presidency about a Mouse president that we just love. It is called Woodrow, the White House Mouse written by Peter W. Barnes and Cheryl Shaw Barnes. (There is also an electoral version called Woodrow for President that we read a bit in the fall as well as in the voting line on election day.) We purchased these books at the Museum of American History when we were in Washington, DC a couple of years ago when we happened upon Woodrow himself with the authors as they did a book signing. We have never regretted this purchase and their non-partisan approach and rhyming have been a cute way to learn about our voting system and the events we will be watching today.



But the sum of this post, the girls are rewarded with recess prior to the school day provided they have completed their tasks.

We have mainstreamed our process so well for our family, that I do not get concerned when we are "off schedule".

Well--sometimes I have a bit of anxiety, but that is to be expected from a homeschooling parent.

Now that it is well after 10am, it is time for us to do some of our written work so that we will not miss the swearing in ceremony.

And hopefully--my mother doesn't miss it either. I'll have to post that later when I finally hear from them once again.

Inauguration, this year is History Making

Regardless of your political persuasion, this is a history making week.

Today is Martin Luther King day. I have tivo'd a biography on cable that I will show the kids later this afternoon.

Mr. King proclaimed at the Lincoln memorial, "I have a dream...that one day we not be judged by the color of our skin but by the content of our character."

I will say, I did not vote for our President-elect. I am sure he is a nice guy, but I opted to not give my vote for him. But, as of noon tomorrow, he WILL be our president. As a citizen of this wonderful country, I choose to not hide from it.

Today, we will be celebrating our country and the rights that we have while we pray for our leaders that they preserve the rights of those that cannot help themselves. We will color posters, we will TIVO the concert for children this evening and tomorrow we will watch the Inauguration of the next president of the United States.

After watching a little clip on CNN of a little pre-school class having their own inaugural ball--I could not resist the cuteness.

I think that is a wonderful tradition that we will do tomorrow. We thought about doing it tonight, but Bunko calls mommy away from the house and Celery doesn't want to get into the hub bub of fancy dresses.

Martin Luther King had a dream and tomorrow that dream will be realized.

What a long way our country has come from physical enslavement of our brothers and sisters in Christ to a free man living his dream to become president.

As I said, I did not vote for him. I don't agree with "all" that he plans on doing--but that is the extent I will discuss politics on this blog. I wish to treat others as I wish to be treated. I will treat President-Elect Obama with respect.

His choices in the next four years, I choose to address on the next ballot.

But for now--this is a celebration for the entire nation. A celebration of our liberty and our constitution that grants ALL of its citizens the right to have their voice heard.

Let us pray for our leaders that they will choose to LEAD us and not make strategic decisions based on folly. Let us pray that they make decisions based on what their constituents would want and not based on their belief that they know better than we do.

Let us pray that the next President is kept safe.

Let us pray that the next President continues to keep our country safe from attack.

Let us pray that the next President make the choices that our in our best interests and especially what God has called him to do.

Let us pray that Mrs. Obama be a strong Biblical woman standing by her husband.

Let us pray that Malia and Sasha are kept safe from harm, safe from ridicule, and get to see much of their dad as he works busily as a world leader.

Let us pray that Malia and Sasha have LOTS of fun in that White House and despite its historical status that it will indeed be a true home in the presidential quarters. May they enjoy a slide or two down a banister, sock skating in the hallways, sneaking cookies from the Chef.

Let us pray that Mrs. Obama is a mom of her word and will hold Malia and Sasha as close to "normal" as possible as they will have to do their chores like every other American kid.

Let us pray that the puppy they adopt is a puppy in need of a home from a shelter.

Let us pray that the Obama's will never know the heart break of the Kennedy's.

Take this time to teach your children proper values and remember that does include respect for the office of the President. Even if you did not vote for the next President, it is important to teach our children the difference between not liking a candidate to respecting the leader even if there is an inherent disagreement.

Our children will have a party tomorrow. It is the best way I know how to teach about our government. It is okay to celebrate in these tough times. Just like it will be okay to have fireworks on the Fourth of July.

While I am not an unschooler, I do enjoy taking time out of routine and learn just by participation.

We had tickets to the inauguration, but in our Total Money Makeover, it just was not possible to go. (I had 2--do you know how many 10's of thousands per senator and representative who requested the 300 or 400 tickets...I got TWO!!!!) Plus my aversion to large crowds and the fear of losing the kiddos...just isn't happening.

My mother and my brother are there. She picks up her tickets from Senator Nelson's office today. I hope to help her prepare a scrapbook. She has ALWAYS wanted to go to an Inauguration. She didn't care when or who, but she had to go to one. She did get 2 tickets successfully and will be attending with my brother.

She also wanted to go to a ball--and holy moses, by a fluke she got tickets (no lie--a misdialed phone call from the sponsor's organizer to my mom's house!). This is why I want to do a ball with my kids. Their grandma is going to one. She is beyond excited. She is disabled and so she is mentally preparing for the magnitude of physical pain she will experience tomorrow. We hope between her pain killers and endorphins that she will hold out.

I told her it was like doing a marathon and though I loved doing them--at about mile 18--you are hating life.

But she will have the time of her life b/c she is at something SOOO momentous.

Anyway--I love DC. I've been going often since 1986. I wish I was there as my extroverted brain is in overdrive.

Take time to watch the inauguration tomorrow. Let your children witness history.

Scripture of the Week

We are a Catholic family. Celery is cradle Catholic. I am not. I would call myself a convert, but it isn't quite the right way to call my journey to Catholicism as I celebrated all my Rites with the church as an adult and didn't consider myself much of anything growing up other than very God-fearing. But that's another post on another day. :)


One thing that Celery didn't do and I have never done is Scripture Memorization.

My girls have a love of the Lord and a love of memorization. So what a gift to have them begin memorizing scripture quotes. I know some families have begun much earlier than I. But that is okay.

We began last week with Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Who knew memorization of God's word could be so much fun, especially with Butternut sharing how she could do "most" things. It made me giggle each time she did that as she learned her verse.

Psalm 119:105 "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path."

What is your favorite verse?

Mine, of course, is at the top of my blog and the first scripture my girls have learned.

Titanic Part 3 and reflecting on the Miracle on the Hudson

I never finished my Titanic posting. Sometimes kids do cute things like brush their teeth with sand that you just have to rush and tell people about it.

In any case--as for the Goldsmith family, life was never the same after the sinking as for many of the people that did survive that disaster.

The presenter--made an interesting comment. Many people say that the ones who lived were the lucky ones. They weren't. They "survived", but their lives were never the same. Women and children got off the boat first--most without their husbands. Many were left destitute.

As for the Goldsmith family, they did move on. Little Frank was convinced that his father's final words would turn out to be true even after it was reasonable to assume enough time had passed that his father would have died by then anyway. In Detroit, I believe Mr. Goldsmith stated that his grandmother and father lived near a ball park. Everytime a homerun was scored--Frank would get really sad and be affected by the noise. The noise was cheering--but all he heard was that night on the life boat in the water beneath a moonless sky when he turned and saw Titanic go under and all the screams of the people when that happened.

Mr. Goldsmith thinks this is why he was never taken to baseball games as a kid or to any large scale event. It was too difficult for his father.

Every year in March and April, Frank would get really depressed and withdrawn. It happened every year since the sinking and continued on well into his adulthood.

Clearly the event effected him in an unimaginable way that he couldn't begin to understand but had to suffer through. Today--we'd say it is likely he had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.


The Titanic is such a fascinating story but such a sad one.

Then yesterday, just before I ran the girls to their dance class I popped onto a CNN and found a stunning headline. A US Airways plane in the Hudson. Say WHAT? I couldn't believe it. Started reading--popped on the news. (I'm a newshound by trade in my pre-kid life.) When I hear of a tragedy I have to find out--did anyone live, did anyone die, should we pray, are they being rescued? All those questions.

By the time I saw the pictures, the plane was swarmed but you really couldn't see much. So I Tivo'd and took the kids to class.

One of our local news stations has their audio frequency matched to radio, so we could listen to the news. When they said that they think everyone survived...I told my kids and told them right then and there we need to PRAISE GOD. This was a true MIRACLE!!!

Everything had to work just perfectly so all these people could live and it did. (I explained that birds don't go to church and pray--so they got in the way and God made this accident into a most happy ending.)

This morning there was a family on that had been on the plane. A young couple with a 4 year old and a 9 month old that were headed to Charlotte for her mother's surgery that was happening today. The overwhelming look of *we almost lost our entire family*--I can't describe their eyes. You knew they were grateful to be alive--but the realization that they could have been lost. I just cannot stand it. Their story of survival is amazing as for the first time they were separated on a flight-4 rows apart. The mom was sitting next to a gentleman who was so calming. He ended up holding her lap child for her for the brace for impact. The trust to do that. I can't fathom it.




I believe everything happens in Gods timing. Including my procrastination in completing writing about our Titanic presentation.

At the presentation they reminded us to Dance like know one is watching and to Sing like noone can here you and to live life to the fullest. We have no idea when we will be called home. We should not live in fear of it, but we should not postpone life with our loved ones as though we have all the time in the world.

155 people experienced yesterday a traumatic event. Some will rejoice and others might grow up like little Frankie. But all will remember that God was watching them and their time was not done on earth.

Love your veggies, hug them with all your might!

Praise God each morning that he gave you another opportunity to wake up and Praise him each evening for the blessings you experienced that day.

Many blessings to your Garden of Love.

“Look at My Teeth, Mommy…"

...Butternut commands me with her smile super WIDE just like she did after they were cleaned at the dentist last week and as she does each day she marks her teeth brushing chore complete. Only—she’s in the backyard showing me her dirty self as she and Rutabaga have engaged in an afternoon of playing Indian. Not sure why she is smiling I do my “that’s nice honey” reply and look to see what Rutabaga is doing.

I was told they were going to be building teepees in the yard with sticks and palm fronds. So far, dead palm fronds look like they have exploded in my yard and there is no teepee in site. Just then Rutabaga, who is digging by the modern-era power pole in our backyard let’s me know that they are living like Indians and that Butternut has just finished brushing her teeth.

I am perplexed and on cue Butternut replies, “I brushed my teeth with dirt, just like the Indians!”

Rutabaga corrects her, “It was SAND!!!”

We have a sandy yard. We live near the ocean. Our dirt is a top layer of dirt that holds in the St. Augustine grass with dirty sand underneath. And with that is what my precocious little 6 year old has practiced her dental hygiene just as she was told at the dentist. I clearly missed the mention of dirt or sand in those instructions.

I have no idea how they equated Indians with exploded palm frond teepees and teeth-sand-paste.

A Titanic guest Part 2

I apologize for the delay. I just got so tired by the end of the week...but I digress. My magnitude compares nothing to what those on the Titanic suffered as they were awakened from slumber and proceeded on what became a sad and traumatic event.

I left off with Mr. Goldsmith's father, Frank getting grease on his hands from a dare that landed him in lots of trouble. At this point, Mr. Goldsmith fast forwards to the night of the tragedy. The family: Mother (Mr. Goldsmith's grandmother), Father (Mr. Goldsmith's grandfather), and Frank (his dad) were readying for the night. They were in third class or steerage. Their cabin was situated close enough in proximity to the engines to feel the vibration. They fell asleep to this vibration every night. But on this night, the vibration suddenly stopped. That was their first indication that something was wrong. The Father most likely dressed if he was not already dressed and went to find out what happened.

While Father was gone and Mother and Frank waited, there came a knock at the door. I believe Mr. Goldsmith said this was the ship's doctor or someone. I can't remember--but he came around to tell folks to put on their life vests and get something warm and report to the 2nd class dining room. Father did not want this vest on at all.

As the historians at this talk spoke about and as Mr. Goldsmith mention--when Titanic first hit the iceberg, the ship remained level. It did take on water, but not initially as we know its final moments. So in most every passenger's mind, this ship that they had come to know as unsinkable was warm, and safe and they wouldn't be left to die on the ocean where there was no guarantee that someone would find them in the pitch black darkness.

It is for this reason that gentlemen such as Mr. Goldsmiths' grandfather didn't want to wear a vest or even cared to report to any station to abandon ship. He did eventually put on his vest. But he put his coat over it in a way to conceal it.

The family reported to the 2nd class dining room with fellow 3rd class passengers where they waited and waited. For a while, the floor remained level and there didn't seem to be anything wrong at all. Then the floor did begin a slight slope, but nothing to worry about.

At some point, came the time for them to report to their lifeboat and it was decided that women and children would go first. This was a common practice in Edwardian times and no gentleman would ever be caught taking the place of a lady or child's seat in a moment such as this. In any case, the room divided with men on one side and women and children on the other and they made the long journey through the ship to get to their lifeboat.

They wound through many portions of the ship--back and forth and even did get on the grand staircase that we have come to know through the movies. They did end up on deck eventually. Family legend is that a man did try to cut in front of Mother and Frank and Mother grabbed this man and shoved him out of the line saying "Oh no you don't" with people applauding her actions.

They got to their lifeboat--and Mother and Frank got in. Just before that, Frank's father looked at him and said, "I'll see you soon, Frankie." Those would be the last words he would hear his father speak. :(

When the lifeboat filled with its passengers, they began lowering it. It was hitting the side of Titanic and Mother and other female passengers used their ores to push away from Titanic. Their lifeboat set to sea to where they would wait and watch the ship. Mother clutched Frank so that he wouldn't see anything. At this point, Titanic was sinking in the way that we know it. The noise was quite loud. Very loud. Lots of creaking and screaming. People in the boat were not quiet. They heard a tremendous noise as the back portion of Titanic crashed back to the water.

At this point--it was completely dark. Power on Titanic was out. There was no moon. they could see nothing but the absence of light where Titanic blocked the stars. Someone on the lifeboat said "She's going to stay afloat". At that moment, Mother turned to look at the ship. She let Frank go and he watched her final descent into the water.

The noise was deafening. Then they waited for rescue.

From that moment, Frank had the without a shadow of a doubt expected to see his Father again.

An honorable guest at a Titanic presentation Part 1

Sorry for the one day delay. I want to post daily. I had a post prepared yesterday, but my thoughts were with what we experienced yesterday. And yesterday was just a plain exhausting day, so I waited until this morning to share our experience at a Titanic presentation at that library.

Rutabaga began having an interest in the Titanic when she read about it in the Magic Treehouse Series. She vaguely remembers it being called "A Night on the Titanic". Since reading that book, we have taken her to the Titanic exhibit in Branson, MO when on vacation. Then from our homeschooling connections, we found out about this free presentation at one of our county libraries.

Here is the description as was e-mailed from our county library:

The program is called "Sinking of the Titanic." The woman who is speaking is associated with a museum that deals with this subject exclusively, and she is VERY knowledgeable. She'll be dressed in period costume (1912) and bring a number of artifacts with her. She plans to talks about the people and the times when the incident occurred as well as the incident itself. Some of the most prominent people of the day were traveling in first–class including millionaire John Jacob Astor IV , industrialist Benjamin Guggenheim, Macy's owner Isidor Straus and many others. She'll also discuss the ship's builder, Thomas Andrews (who was on board), and the safety recommendations that were largely disregarded. Plus, she'll be accompanied by a gentleman whose mother and grandmother survived the accident (though his grandfather was lost) and will share his family memories.

SINKING OF THE TITANIC
The sinking of the Titanic on its 1912 maiden voyage has fascinated maritime historians for years. Famous for its luxurious appointments and unsinkable design, Titanic's passengers were a mixture of the wealthiest persons alive and the poorest of immigrants packed into steerage.

At this free program, researcher Denise Vanaria will share insights from survivors' firsthand accounts and the ship's designer Thomas Andrews Jr., as well as artifacts from the ship and its passengers.

Denise will appear in authentic dress from the Edwardian time and will display authentic period wardrobe that has appeared in Titanic-related films and on stage. Frank Goldsmith, whose grandmother and father survived the tragedy though his grandfather was lost, will share family memories when he appears as a special honored guest

This is our experience!

A woman dressed in authentic (vintage--the real deal!) Edwardian dress as the first class women would have worn to dinner on the Titanic. EVERYTHING she wore was authentic. Though admittedly, she didn't mention her underdressings nor did we ask. However, everything we could see was the real deal including the "rats" in her hair. I may have misunderstood the names for the things that helped women of the early twentieth century get those really poofy and formal pinned up hair. But whatever it was--the "poof" creators were the real deal. Her jewelry, her gloves, everything down to the black floor-length beaded gown with train. It was as if though we were with a Titanic passenger.

She introduced a gentleman from the Orlando Titanic Museum who gave us some basic information about the voyage and what happened of course.

The fascinating part those was when we met the gentleman who was the son and grandson of a passenger. This is a paraphrase of the story that he told. It gave me shivers to here a story from someone who KNEW someone on that boat. This was a first for me and the kids and as the decades pass, these opportunities become fewer and far between. The last survivor is 96 years old and lives in a nursing home in England. So we recognize this precious opportunity. (Okay, I recognize it--the kids several times stated they were bored, but maintained their manners. They are more "touchy feely" kind of kids--so listening to a story wasn't so much as interesting as looking at pictures and holding a piece of the deck from the Olympic.)

Forgive me as I don't recall with a photographic memory all the details that Mr. Goldsmith shared. But these are the highlights.

Mr. Goldsmith's father was 9 years old when he sailed on the Titanic. He sailed with his mother and father. The prior year, they lost a little brother (I think that is correct) to diphtheria. At some point they decided to relocate to the United States and the 9 year old's grandmother is to have ask the family (according to family legend) why in the world they would want to move to the US where everyone lives in mudhuts. Evidently she only heard stories of the Native Americans and the plains and did not know of the big city life in New York, Boston and Detroit where the Goldsmith family was headed. Apparently there was no convincing her.

It was known all through Mr. Goldsmith's life that his Father and grandparents were on the Titanic. His grandfather was lost in that disaster while his grandmother and father of course survived. But that is all that was known. It was part of family history but NEVER spoken about. Mr. Goldsmith's father would always get depressed every March/April as the anniversary passed each year. The last words of his father to him as he got in the lifeboat was "I'll see you soon, Frankie." Frank clung to those words even after it was no longer possible for his father to be alive even if he had survived. He died in 1982 (I believe) just a few years before they found Titanic.

I'm sorry that I don't remember the age of Mr. Goldsmith--it was either college or age 33 as he mentioned 2 ages and I had 3 kids I was minding. In any case--he was in the kitchen with his grandmother one day. Remember that this story was NEVER spoken about. She gave an interview when there was interest in speaking to here as the years passed around the anniversary. But that was it. Nothing. Until this one day that Mr. Goldsmith just happened to ask about it. She spent the next hour and a half telling him her story. She died 3 weeks later of a heart attack and Mr. Goldsmith's siblings never got to "hear" it. He didn't think to tape record it. And because of this last opportunity, he was able to share a first person perspective of his loved ones on that ship.


The 9 year old Frank (I think that was his name) was a playful child in his youth. They arrived with excitement to the Titanic. Once the family boarded and settled into their stateroom he was off to play with the other 3rd class boys. He apparently made lots of friends and he and those boys quickly went off to explore the ship. And as, I suppose, as many pre-teen boys of that time do--they found a little trouble as well.

The boys found the cables/hoists that lifted the heavy goods onto the Titanic and little Frank was dared to slide down one (or climb one, I don't recall how Mr. Goldsmith said he got onto it). When the dare was completed, little Frank reported back to his 3rd class cabin and his parents and...got into a little bit of trouble. For days after, his hands were SCRUBBED vigorously daily to remove that grease. Mr. Goldsmith is convinced that his Father still had grease on his hands when he was hoisted to sea in the lifeboat.

Suffice it to say, Frank had a bit of fun on that ship.

Not much today...

Busy day. Alfalfa Sprout is not feeling well. Waited over an hour at the doctor's office. Somehow they became extraordinarily delayed.

Enjoying some Dave Ramsey and then it is bedtime.

It's January 5th, time to ring the school bell!

Today's goals:



1. Kids will follow Accountable Kids and be Accountable for earning their tickets.

2. Butternut will have a successful phonics lesson today.

3. Rutabaga will complete ALL of her work.

4. I shall not pull my hair out.



Let us see how this day progressed, shall we?

Okay, I began this entry last night and here I return to edit it with the update.

1. So far so good. Butternut has completed her morning and afternoon chores and is on track for being 3 for 3 on tickets and getting a star. Rutabaga tried to lesson the number of cards by subbing in a time chore card (i.e. "morning chores") and had a bit of trouble following along. We will try it another day and see if we have to add in the more specific chores. The whole idea of this system is to get them accountable to do these things on their own.

2. Let's see. Phonics was a brief but good lesson today. I'm surprise she remembered the sounds of all the First Name Letters and the Vowels from Scaredy Cat Phonics. Next we will review her progress on the last name letters and continue on our path to reading. I'm a bit perplexed about her. She is smart as a whip, but seems to very easily get things mixed up. Not like dyslexia. But with her numbers.

She's making common mistakes based on just hearing what I say when identifying numbers (The "teens" being mistaken for the "ties" 13-30, 14-40, 15-50, et cetera.) Oddly when I had her read my lips at the same time, she was spot on in selecting the correct number. I can't tell if this is age appropriate, or a slight little hearing or processing issue beginning to crop up. She is always getting confused on age appropriate requests when it comes to chores and discipline. I will be trying some tricks up my sleeve to test this possible issue and maybe ask a quick question of Alfalfa Sprout's Speech Pathologist today. Odd to say the least, but not a blip on the worry scope just yet.

3. Okay--she completed all the work I actually said she had to. She read some science, recited poetry, read some Bible, did some math, did some spelling, did some Latin. Somewhere around 3:30, I decided we were well rounded enough to let her watch Fetch, Fetch Ruffman. I'm such a softy. I didn't even require a ticket for this privilege.

4. All hair is still in place. I suppose it has been quite a successful day. Though with a 30 minute late start to school, I was half-tempted to yank a hair or too. But not to bad. We began a new routine courtesy of Flylady. If they gave grades and had graduations, I have flunked out about three or four times now. So today we began with our regular schedule and added in the Weekly Home Blessing. By evening it no longer looks flylady blessed, but it is still blessed.

And on a latter note--the Alfalfa Sprout fell asleep on the way to Speech and was not quite up for a game of b-b-b-b-b-b or m-m-m-m-m. So I never got to ask about Butternut. Poor little Sprout. He's getting a cough, too. Looks like a belated Christmas gift is showing up with the Three Kings in our household.

And on a final note--I'm tired. I am not spell checking. This won't be submitted for the Nobel Prize. Any errors, are the fault of the computer. :)

Okay I take that back. The computer operator just noticed that the copy-pasting to MS Word to do spell check was a HUGE waste of time. There is a spell check button on the post page. Evidently my laptop was hiding it from me. Anyone out there believe me?

I hate computers!

I had this lovely post all ready. And this wonderful blog is so nice, to auto-save for you.

Well I was highlighting this lovely little article--when the darn thing...went to white. It deleted. Then the blog decided it was the perfect time to auto-save. EEEK!

No control-z to fix it. Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!

I know Hate is such a strong word...but I am convinced they design these things to break on purpose. It didn't work for the car industry, but the computer industry has consumers so convinced that they need the latest and greatest. Surely my screen blip isn't my laptop's fault or error. But I shall pretend that it is. As anything computer related--MUST be the comptuer's fault. Right?

So now we shall chat about my laptop. It is about 3 years old now. That is ancient in computer land. Little Alfalfa Sprout has popped off several keys. That isn't the computer's fault of course. That would be my fault for not closing the laptop. But the manufacturer designed it that way. Who in their right mine designs stuff that Alfalfa Sprout can break? Geesh. Is it too much to ask for the keys to not be so...pop-friendly?

It is slow--but that is attributed to all the junk I have on here. My desktop is full of icons. I have no proper organization of my directories, so I save stuff to my desktop that I don't think I will remember where I put them. My desktop is FULL of these icons. Occasionally Mr. Laptop asks me if I'd like to relocate some unused icons to the trash bin. I'm sure it is trying to be helpful. But I still say, "Thank you, computer, but leave my icons alone!"

Then my bookmarks, they are quite...numerous.

For example, tonight--I couldn't even find my blog in my favorites. It takes about 30 seconds to scroll through the list. Then I remembered, I stuck it in a folder at the top. Duh--so I wouldnt' have to scroll and could find it.

Last night, I spent a good 20 minutes making folders and sorting and deleting some links to make the list shorter and more organized. I think it will take me--24-48 hours. I have so many links. I bookmark ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. I've got stuff regarding ovulation, pregnancy progress, my temporary adventures into raw foods, I even found some Schoolhouse rocks stuff I forgot about. I have a link to Larabar, SampleLesson2 (no idea what they are teaching here..I could click, but I don't want to make this post turn white by mistake), and a website dedicated to 70's nostalgia that I resourced for a Bunko night once. Wow--quite the strange collection and totally in need of some...editing.

Okay--not what I had planned for this evening, but it shall have to do. And I didn't spell check. So I do apologize. My ADHD brain sometimes works faster than I can type and even though I know my uses for to, too, two, know, no and any other homonym--it doesn't always translate to the correct word.

So if you spot a mistake, it is the laptop's fault. That's my story and I am sticking to it!

Our Classroom

18 months ago, Celery quit his corporate job of 10 years to come home and work for a nice small company that permits all of its employees to work from home. Our home is 1500+ square feet. A mansion in 1950s standards I suppose. But with the goofiest layout I have ever seen. Large bedrooms, itty bitty living space and no "free" rooms like a family room, office, spare bedroom, loft, or Celery's dream of a home theatre. So Celery converted half the garage into his office.

We have a loft in our garage that is purposed as an attic. To this, Celery added a wall, we insulated everything. He purchased a portable air conditioning unit that looks a bit like R2-D2. But then we forgot one small important detail. The garage has a western facing window that is kind of like a skylight of sorts. And while R2 can keep the little room AC'd quite well, it cannot compete with the rest of the garage that bakes like an oven on a summer afternoon. Then there is the truckload of computer equipment. Well--it wasn't long before Celery took over the master bedroom and we got the luxury of our homeschool classroom. It suits our needs perfectly as long as our needs are not 3 pm on a hot July afternoon. :)

Rutabaga and Butternut have their school-issued desk we obtained one fine day when we e-mailed our homeschool group on where to find one. It just so happened that folks were GIVING these away. My kids LOVE these desks.

WE have an old-book shelf. My black "Disney" desk that Celery got from the Disney Company that short of the handles could have come at half-price from any other office supply company. Though it is sturdy and roomy.

The wall space isn't much. The fancy sticky stuff they sell that is supposed to adhere to ANYTHING--won't work on beadboard or concrete block. So our maps are rolled up in a poster box. Anything posted is either a sticky note or nailed to the wall and I get weirded out about having holes in my posters, so few things are actually up.

IF you plug too many things in at once, we blow a breaker. The lighting is adequate. And save the "minor" seepage of water from Tropical Storm Faye, we stay very dry. It almost sounds like I have the kids in savage conditions, but it is okay. There is no mold or hazardous conditions--breakers flip for a reason. Essentially I cannot vacuum and be plugged in the garage with R2. He just doesn't like it.

On Monday, we return to the classroom. All the filing and grading I said I would do over the holidays. HAH! I didn't even look at it.

But to the classroom we shall go for more reading, writing, and 'rithmetic. Hopefully Butternut is ready for that first one!

Until next time! Many blessings to you and yours!

(It looks like I posted twice on the same day. I did, but the Fruit salad post was written yesterday. )

Cool Whip Fruit Salad: Yummy, Yummy, Ooey, Gooey, Goodness!

Celery and I have been married for 10.5 years now. I met his family about 13.5 years ago. They introduced me to the one single dish that I just cannot resist in their home. That dish is: Fruit Salad (yummy yummy). Please forgive my Wiggles reference. Their song makes no mention of Cool Whip, but it should.
Celery's family is coming for our visit today and we are having a cookout and thus making Fruit Salad is just short of mandatory. Just short because it gives me a great excuse to eat it.

Now--I stink at conveying recipes. I do not have this one written down. If you must have a real recipe, you can Google one. But here is my version. As with all diet ads and get rich quick schemes, results may vary. The recipes I found on-line have different extra things added, so I cannot vouch for their yumminess. You're on your own. :)

*Two 8-ounce containers of cool whip. (1 extra might not be bad to have on hand just in case you want a more "cool whip" consistency)
*One large can of fruit cocktail or 2 small ones. (The very cherry version gets your more cherries or you can add sliced maraschino. Be forewarned that you will end up with red fingertips if you chose the latter.)
*One 16 ounce bag of marshmallows
*1-2 large bananas, quartered and sliced

INSTRUCTIONS:
Open and drain the fruit cocktail COMPLETELY. While it drains, in a large bowl dump in 2 containers of Cool Whip. Fold in the fruit cocktail. Add in the marshmallows. If the fruit and marshmallows aren't swimming in the Cool Whip add in more. You do not want to see a sculpture of whipped fruit. Add in the sliced banana. ENJOY!

You can make this recipe as large as you want, but I'd test it small first. This ensures you like it, and ensures you are familiar with the consistency. I lost track of how much Cool Whip I used, but I used all 6 cans of my fruit cocktail and came just shy of not having any marshmallows left for Celery's marshmallow gun.

This stuff IS addicting. It won't last long. I promise. Just make sure if you serve potato salad, that folks know that this isn't potato salad. It got ignored on a camping trip recently giving the 1 or 2 families who knew about it, front row seats to ooey, gooey goodness while everyone else missed out. Of course this left more for me, so it could have been a plot. Hmmmmm.

She's touching MEEEEEE!!!!

Oh my goodness!

Have you heard that phrase in your home as much as I have heard it in my. It is enough to drive me up a wall and inspire me to hang out on the ceiling or something. In other words, it is driving me batty!

Courtesy is one subject we have a bit of trouble with in our homeschool. Rutabaga (the 8yo) took a while to learn it. I had to teach her that when a fellow kid falls next to her and starts crying because they are injured; it is polite to stop playing to make sure they are okay. I never thought she would get it, but I am thrilled to say that I no longer have to remind her except maybe on rare occasion. And usually that is because she might have had something to do with the kid falling. Especially if that kid is Butternut (the 6yo).

Now, this Butternut kid? What am I going to do with her?

We have family coming tomorrow morning for our family Christmas gathering at the New Year. We are hosting everyone for the first time ever and their sleeping arrangements have been set up in clean rooms. To prevent the rooms from becoming war zones just in time for Grandma and Grandpa to show up, the kids are in my bed for the night. Keeping them out of their room will make for a nice welcome for the grandparents to their B & B for the weekend. My reward for this hospitality readiness?

"Mom--she won't MOOOOOOOVE,” screams Butternut.

"Butternut, it would work better if you said 'Excuse me, please. I would like to get under the covers.'" I calmly reply in a sweet as honey tone.

"But she's being RUDE," she logically replies.

"I know that Butternut, but..."

"Aaaaaaahhhh", she interrupts.

"Butternut, I know she is being rude, but you do not want to get in trouble for it do you?" I ask as I scramble to not count how many steps it would take to reach the perch on the ceiling.

"AAAAHHHHH!!!!"

Evidently she does. Okay, time for the big dogs! After a warning that she will be on the couch if she doesn't stop whining, she then attempts to comply with my instructions on to handle the situation. But it sounds a bit whiney, so I remind her that she has to be PO-LIIIIIITE when she requests. Eventually it works and Butternut successfully requests her sister to give her some room to get her comfy spot under the covers.

Rutabaga snuggles in the middle of the bed and all is calm until....

"She's touching MEEEEE!!!"

"BUTTERNUT!!!"

No more complaints now. Both the ladies are falling asleep on the bed.

And after all that fuss, Rutabaga is snuggled under the covers while Butternut is all stretched out on TOP.

Now to go get Alfalfa Sprout out of his high chair. Like a good boy, he fell asleep without so much as a whimper.

Happy New Year

It is 1:15 am on the first day of 2009.

After dealing with droopy eyes all evening to stay awake for the ball drop for my kids and their friends, I am now wide awake. Perfect time to begin a blog.

I am a mom of 3 pumpkins who I will call Rutabaga, Butternut, and Sprout.

Rutabaga is an 8 year old 3rd grader. She is a voracious reader. She just cannot read enough. Anything and everything she must READ! She claims that math is her weak subject. As much as I have tried to explain that she does not possess an academic weakness in this area, she still enjoys claiming she is just terrible at it.

Science is her favorite subject. It is not mine. Nope. Not even close. You can tell me all about the science experiments and discoveries in the world. My response: That's very nice. But math--I could spend everyday for the rest of my life with math problems of most any kind. Though, advanced math and calculus has left my brain completely since the last I dealt with a COS was in 1993.



Butternut is my 6 year old Kindergartner. She loves to : write, produce, direct, choreograph, costume, act, dance, sing, and otherwise perform in any performance she can imagine to any audience willing or unwilling. She is a diva in training. I have tried to cancel training. But yet it continues. She contends she will be a star someday.

All I want to do is teach her how to read. I did it with Rutabaga. After a shaky concept start, she took off--easy peasy compared to Butternut. Butternut is...well...how do I put it? I can't tell if she is having trouble or faking her abilities or lack thereof. She's a stinker sometimes. She picked up math like noone's business. Reading? Well, I suppose she will get there eventually. It is priority one this coming semester. Sound out a three letter word at random. I would be quite thrilled for this to click. In the meantime, butternut is happy being taught sight words and is enjoying her new Tag Reading system. Maybe the magic pen will help this phonics thing...click. Perhaps if I started her reading lessons with Macbeth or Death of a Salesman...

Alfalfa Sprout is my little boy. He's 1, but not for much longer. He spends his time playing and nursing. He loves his mama. He loves his dada. He loves to say maaaaaaaaaa maaaaaaaaa and dada and shhhhhhhh. And that is it. Little Sprout is in speech therapy. This is not my doing. This is the doing of a well meaning pediatrician. Okie dokey fine. He can do lots of things--talking is not one of them. But he began his therapy in December and after 3 sessions--he is babbling a bit more....we've got some lalalalalala's out of him. Too bad we are trying for p's and k's. Oh well. In his own time like his sisters.

His sisters were slower to speak. And no big surprise, once they started talking--they just don't...not talk. I predict the same for Alfalfa Sprout. He does some signing. Some ASL and some made up. I don't know which is which as the therapist does them both. His "please" and "more" are ASL. He now nods his head for "yes" and "no". Warning! He wanted something once and I asked him "Can you say please?" Instead of doing the sign--he shakes his head in the affirmative. A genius and possibly a developing smarty pants. So now we just tell him to say please, at which time he circles his open hand over his heart. "Open" is a knocking motion and I forget what else we are supposed to do.

My goal with Alfalfa Sprout in January--please babble in therapy. I'm beginning to think the Speech therapist thinks you’re mute.


We use the classical model to educate our kids. I can explain more of that later. I have to look it up. I am not great at quoting from memory. When I got it, I got it. When I have to get other people to get it, I freeze.

I use the Mother of Divine Grace syllabi as our "skeleton". I substitute Math-U-See for their suggested math. (I don't recall what they suggest, I just happen to adore M-U-S and choose no other). And we do some other things.

Our goals for this coming semester:

Rutabaga: More science and less of Mama avoiding the subject. Complete Gamma Math. Get diligent with our spelling.

Butternut: Read, read, read, and did I mention read?

Alfalfa Sprout: Talking would be good so that the pediatrician will quit wondering about you. All his other tests appear normal so at this point we don't believe we have to worry about a disability or disorder.

More in the New Year! Blessings to all and may your 2009 be better than 2008 in all ways possible.