OK
So. You folks who have been following me for the whole wacky ride are entitled to an update. I've been reluctant to post, but here goes....
Things did not go well for me--at all--with the financial aspect of the divorce. Oklahoma is an "equitable division of property" state, rather than a community property state....which gives the judge a great deal of leeway. He could actually have awarded me more than half of the assets, based on comparing my prospects for the future to my former husband's. Somehow the judge considered it an "equitable division" for him to keep the 4000 sq ft house on 4500 acres (with no mortgage) and the children and me to live in 1300 sq ft with my mother, who is 72 years old and continues to work for $12/hr because she can't afford to retire. I was awarded about 1/5 the value of the house itself (not the property it sits on) out of which I have to pay all of my attorney fees and court costs, some of the marital debt, my massage school costs, and the back rent and other debts brought on by his refusal to pay the full amount of the court-ordered support during my massage schooling. He does not even have to pay the unpaid child support. I'm not entitled to any alimony, either, except to pay for psychological care. And I get to pay my own health insurance. He has to continue paying the kids' but--get this-- he called me and offered to send me the cash instead, if I'll go on welfare and sign the kids up for state health insurance.
Do I sound angry? I hope I do.
On the flip side, my arm is finally doing better. I self-medicated with some freaky-new-age home remedies (DMSO anyone?), and got some good relief. And I continue to do the physical therapy exercises. AND I do some light exercises with my client who has Parkinsonism, which seem to help me even further. I still have pain when I work it, but the pain does not linger long at all. I have not done a full massage since I hurt myself in June, but I am going to try it out on a family member, soon. (I have done some brief, light hara (tummy) work and foot/hand massage on my client with Parkinsonism.) Still no word on the licensing moratorium, but as I've said before, there will be ways around that.
I have an appointment with a guidance counselor at the college next week. I will have residency in a few months, and may be eligible to start classes this summer. In the fall, for sure. I am going to pursue a Certified Alcohol and Drug Counselor accreditation with an A.A. or A.S. through the community college, then continue working toward my Master's. I can work in treatment centers, and with organizations such as W.E.A.V.E (to which I have become devoted) and a little private practice--without calling myself a therapist--with the CADC. I am excited about embarking on this leg of my journey.
I am settling in to life in CA. I can be happy here for the forseeable future. My opportunities for schooling--and training in various bodywork/psych techniques--are so abundant and accessible here. I love being near my sisters and their children. And I love being so close to the ocean/mountains/lake/river and wonderful good fresh produce. We've been given tons of kiwi, oranges and grapefruit from neighbors yards the past couple of months. I neglected my sister's fig and pomegranate trees this fall, but the kids scarffed up her cherries this summer. I'd started coveting a Victorio Strainer in recent weeks, plotting to make up for lost opportunity....then realized she's in a rent house and will be moving before I can take advantage of this year's bounty. >sigh<
So all in all, life is good. Different from what I'd hoped, but good. I'm hoping to get out to TN again this summer (and back for good eventually.....)
Peace to your souls!
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Man it pours
So
It never stopped drizzling since I wrote that last blog. It never actually RAINED, mind you. But it has not stopped drizzling. And it is cold, and so UN-California-like. And I don't like it. So I'm crying UNCLE to the cosmos, and asking for mercy.
It never stopped drizzling since I wrote that last blog. It never actually RAINED, mind you. But it has not stopped drizzling. And it is cold, and so UN-California-like. And I don't like it. So I'm crying UNCLE to the cosmos, and asking for mercy.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Rain, rain
It never rains in California.
Actually, I remember two rains in my childhood. Once, when I was in first grade, it rained and the gutters backed up and the streets flooded. My mom remembers a neighbor coming down the street in a skiff, but I think that must be a memory from her childhhood, not mine. And then once when I was a teenager, it rained. And actually thundered and lighteninged. Wow. THAT was something to behold. We sat out on the porch and watched it. And someone dragged one of my sisters through the mud in the front yard.
What it does do in California is what you or I might call a steady drizzle. The drops hit the windshield and spread to all of a quarter of an inch, or so. And its hard to decide whether to set the wipers at the fastest intermittent and put up with a few seconds of blur between wipes, or set them at the slowest steady and put up with the squeaking as they drag across an almost-too-dry windshield.
It has been drizzling all day. When I picked up the children at homeschool co-op, Carlson's teacher said he had "gotten soaked" at lunch. Wouldn't come in out of the rain. I expected him to be wrapped in a blanket or somebody's coat, with his clothes in a plastic bag. But he was fully dressed in the garments I had put him in this morning, and when I hugged him hello, I could not detect that he had been wet at all, let alone soaked two hours earlier. "Soaked" must be a relative term, as "rain" is a relative term.
It has been doing what passes for raining here, as I said, all day. When I left the house to pick up the kids, the spot under the car was dry. This on a sloped driveway after four hours of steady rain. I laughed out loud.
The first time I ever saw it really rain was in Texas. I called it a storm and the locals laughed out loud. Right in front of me. That spring I experienced a storm, and spent part of it under the bed. (The radio had said, "Tornado Watch" which I later came to realize means "It's raining pretty hard and there's some thunder and lightening, but go about your business and if tornado conditions develop, we'll let you know.")
But where it REALLY rains is Oklahoma. I kid you not. I know you grew up with stories of the dust bowl, and you think of Oklahoma as that forsaken stretch of I-40 that connects Texas to Arkansas. But I tell you what, it rains in Oklahoma. If we had a day like today in Eastern Oklahoma, people would be saying, "I wish it would go ahead and rain if its gonna, and quit threatenin' about it." We'd be trying to decide whether or not to go cut firewood in this drizzle. And we certainly would not be worried about the kids getting soaked.
On a visit to Oklahoma, before we moved there, I saw it rain. My then-husband and I were out in the woods, looking for a likely place to build a house. I felt something hit my head and thought I had been shat upon by a rather large bird. The whole top of my head was wet. Turns out it was a raindrop. One raindrop. I heard it hit my head. PLOP. Then I saw some hit the ground. The footprint from one of those buggers was a good two inches in diameter. By the time we made it the fifty feet or so to the car, we were soaked. Honest to goodness soaked to the skin. No standing in front of the fireplace to warm up; we had to change our clothes. I was taking a poetry class at the time and we were doing a unit on Haiku. I got back to Texas and wrote:
liquid crystal balls
dive-bombing forest, field, stone
Oklahoma rain
Right now, I can hear the rain hitting the ground outside my window. People here would say, "It's raining hard." They would have their wipers on low steady. They would be unable to fathom having them on high, and still not being able to see to drive. Pulling over on the interstate and waiting it out for an hour, because its impossible to procceed in almost-zero visibility would be unheard of. For fog, sure, but rain? That's a hurricane. (The distinction between a hurricane and a tornado is lost in the translation. Don't try.)
Years ago, in Oklahoma, we spent a night in and out of the hall closet when a tornado actually did touch down about 30 miles from our home and was headed our way. We had a closet, about four by four, which was the only "room" in the house that didn't have an outside wall. There were seven of us in there because we were keeping a friend whose mother had gone on her honeymoon. The radio was blaring at us to "Take cover! If you are in the coverage area of this radio station you must take cover immediately. This is not a drill. This is not a warning! You are in danger. You must take cover." We listened as they named town after town as having been hit. We were right in its trajectory. Eventually, we HAD to open the closet door, or suffocate. My little three year-old (now eighteen) crawled out as soon as she had the chance. I told her she had to come back in to the closet. It wasn't safe out there. She said, "I have to get my Binken." I said, "Oh. OK. We can get your blanket if that will help you feel better." She said, "No... we have to get my Binken because the rain monsters are coming and the man said we have to take covers." The tornado passed about half a mile from us. It picked up a trailer house and set back down. On its roof. Killing the occupant.
It never rains in California.
Actually, I remember two rains in my childhood. Once, when I was in first grade, it rained and the gutters backed up and the streets flooded. My mom remembers a neighbor coming down the street in a skiff, but I think that must be a memory from her childhhood, not mine. And then once when I was a teenager, it rained. And actually thundered and lighteninged. Wow. THAT was something to behold. We sat out on the porch and watched it. And someone dragged one of my sisters through the mud in the front yard.
What it does do in California is what you or I might call a steady drizzle. The drops hit the windshield and spread to all of a quarter of an inch, or so. And its hard to decide whether to set the wipers at the fastest intermittent and put up with a few seconds of blur between wipes, or set them at the slowest steady and put up with the squeaking as they drag across an almost-too-dry windshield.
It has been drizzling all day. When I picked up the children at homeschool co-op, Carlson's teacher said he had "gotten soaked" at lunch. Wouldn't come in out of the rain. I expected him to be wrapped in a blanket or somebody's coat, with his clothes in a plastic bag. But he was fully dressed in the garments I had put him in this morning, and when I hugged him hello, I could not detect that he had been wet at all, let alone soaked two hours earlier. "Soaked" must be a relative term, as "rain" is a relative term.
It has been doing what passes for raining here, as I said, all day. When I left the house to pick up the kids, the spot under the car was dry. This on a sloped driveway after four hours of steady rain. I laughed out loud.
The first time I ever saw it really rain was in Texas. I called it a storm and the locals laughed out loud. Right in front of me. That spring I experienced a storm, and spent part of it under the bed. (The radio had said, "Tornado Watch" which I later came to realize means "It's raining pretty hard and there's some thunder and lightening, but go about your business and if tornado conditions develop, we'll let you know.")
But where it REALLY rains is Oklahoma. I kid you not. I know you grew up with stories of the dust bowl, and you think of Oklahoma as that forsaken stretch of I-40 that connects Texas to Arkansas. But I tell you what, it rains in Oklahoma. If we had a day like today in Eastern Oklahoma, people would be saying, "I wish it would go ahead and rain if its gonna, and quit threatenin' about it." We'd be trying to decide whether or not to go cut firewood in this drizzle. And we certainly would not be worried about the kids getting soaked.
On a visit to Oklahoma, before we moved there, I saw it rain. My then-husband and I were out in the woods, looking for a likely place to build a house. I felt something hit my head and thought I had been shat upon by a rather large bird. The whole top of my head was wet. Turns out it was a raindrop. One raindrop. I heard it hit my head. PLOP. Then I saw some hit the ground. The footprint from one of those buggers was a good two inches in diameter. By the time we made it the fifty feet or so to the car, we were soaked. Honest to goodness soaked to the skin. No standing in front of the fireplace to warm up; we had to change our clothes. I was taking a poetry class at the time and we were doing a unit on Haiku. I got back to Texas and wrote:
liquid crystal balls
dive-bombing forest, field, stone
Oklahoma rain
Right now, I can hear the rain hitting the ground outside my window. People here would say, "It's raining hard." They would have their wipers on low steady. They would be unable to fathom having them on high, and still not being able to see to drive. Pulling over on the interstate and waiting it out for an hour, because its impossible to procceed in almost-zero visibility would be unheard of. For fog, sure, but rain? That's a hurricane. (The distinction between a hurricane and a tornado is lost in the translation. Don't try.)
Years ago, in Oklahoma, we spent a night in and out of the hall closet when a tornado actually did touch down about 30 miles from our home and was headed our way. We had a closet, about four by four, which was the only "room" in the house that didn't have an outside wall. There were seven of us in there because we were keeping a friend whose mother had gone on her honeymoon. The radio was blaring at us to "Take cover! If you are in the coverage area of this radio station you must take cover immediately. This is not a drill. This is not a warning! You are in danger. You must take cover." We listened as they named town after town as having been hit. We were right in its trajectory. Eventually, we HAD to open the closet door, or suffocate. My little three year-old (now eighteen) crawled out as soon as she had the chance. I told her she had to come back in to the closet. It wasn't safe out there. She said, "I have to get my Binken." I said, "Oh. OK. We can get your blanket if that will help you feel better." She said, "No... we have to get my Binken because the rain monsters are coming and the man said we have to take covers." The tornado passed about half a mile from us. It picked up a trailer house and set back down. On its roof. Killing the occupant.
It never rains in California.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
she sang
Seems the fat lady sang way back in late Sept/Early Oct. My attorney told me this week that I was officially divorced by the judge's summary of findings, even though the final decree has STILL not been filed by "his" attorney. (And we still have all the financial wrangling to do.)
So, as my sister said, "You mean you coulda been hitting the bars all this time?!"
LOL! I think I may just go contra dancing tonight, though.
So, as my sister said, "You mean you coulda been hitting the bars all this time?!"
LOL! I think I may just go contra dancing tonight, though.
Monday, November 19, 2007
River Walk
One of the blessings of living in California is the natural setting. The weather was lovely today, so we took a walk near the river. We dropped by to pick up cousin Leah and meandered all over the river parkway (which backs up to Leah's house).
The grass is very green, after being scorched brown all summer, and many of the trees stay green, too. A few, like a big poplar along the bike trail, turn yellow and drop most of their leaves. This big poplar had a few dozen leaves still clinging to its branches, and the wind was blowing so that they swayed like multiple pendulums on some artsy representation of a grandfather clock.
First stop was to check out "the hobo's place" to make sure it was still uninhabited. This summer there was quite a nice little refuge set up in the shelter of a huge oak whose branches touch the ground. We never saw anyone there, but it was obviously currently in use. One day there was a 'Notice to Vacate" tacked up, and the next time we checked it out it had been obeyed. We wandered through "the forbidden forest" (forbidden because they kids are not allowed to go there without an adult), and the children decided that we must picnic there on Thanksgiving Day. It really was a beautiful setting, with large carpets of green grass under a canopy of big twisted oakish trees (but with green leaves...). Leah changed the name from "the forbidden forest" to "fablehaven."
We also visited a big rock pit. Its probably about the size of the lot my mother's house sits on. The sides are steeply sloped banks of rounded river rocks. They all clambored around on it while I watched from under a tree.
Back out on the path Carlson asked if I would carry him. I told him no because I was probably going to have to carry him all the way back. Unless he wanted to turn back now, he'd have to walk. He said that, no, he did not want to turn back, but one of his feet was getting tired. I asked, "One of your feet?" and he extended his right leg and pointed down at his foot saying, "Yep. This one," then ran to catch up with his siblings and cousin.
The kids found another bunch of old bones, this time obviously a deer. (Still haven't found anyone to identify the human-looking-enough-to-raise-eyebrows vertebra and humerus & ulna they found during the summer. Leah's mother is going to take them to an anatomy professor at the college she attends (he said he could tell her if they were human, but not identify them if they were not), but we keep forgetting to leave them with her.) And we saw a flock of turkeys with a PEACOCK tagging along. I tried to get pictures but only had my phone camera, and couldn't get close enough. Leah says there is a hen peacock as well, but I could not discern one. Amusing sight...this big tom turkey strutting along with a bunch of hens following behind, and a green male peacock craning his neck and struggling to keep up. Funny, as I am typing this I am getting of flashes of Leah leading the big kids around on our walk, and Carlson following after as best he could.
There were a couple of pair of deer meandering casually around in one meadow. They did not seem very concerned about us, but we kept a respectable distance.
When we finally made it to the river there was a white bird--maybe an egret, but kinda smallish--skimming along the river just six inches or so from the water. Beautiful. The kids threw rocks in the river, and I picked up a big partial-dome chunk of white quartz. (I just finished reading "The Day Kennedy was Shot" and could not help thinking,"This is about the size and shape of the piece of his head that was shot off." Sorry. Maybe that's TMI, but its my blog.)
The moon had risen early, and the sun was just dipping behind the trees along the river when we set out for home. Carlson said, "Look! There's half the moon and (turning around) there is half the sun!" I carried him on my shoulders part of the way...the stones he'd put in his jacket pockets making an odd sound as they rubbed together so close to my ears. The big cousins stayed just far enough ahead of us that I could see them most of the time. I grieved--am still grieving a little--that our world is too dangerous a place for them to be free to run around this kids' paradise unattended. What a great childhood memory it would have been for them to spend this time (and many, many times like it) with their cousin, making up games and planning where to build their "houses" without mom/aunt tagging along at a safe distance.
The grass is very green, after being scorched brown all summer, and many of the trees stay green, too. A few, like a big poplar along the bike trail, turn yellow and drop most of their leaves. This big poplar had a few dozen leaves still clinging to its branches, and the wind was blowing so that they swayed like multiple pendulums on some artsy representation of a grandfather clock.
First stop was to check out "the hobo's place" to make sure it was still uninhabited. This summer there was quite a nice little refuge set up in the shelter of a huge oak whose branches touch the ground. We never saw anyone there, but it was obviously currently in use. One day there was a 'Notice to Vacate" tacked up, and the next time we checked it out it had been obeyed. We wandered through "the forbidden forest" (forbidden because they kids are not allowed to go there without an adult), and the children decided that we must picnic there on Thanksgiving Day. It really was a beautiful setting, with large carpets of green grass under a canopy of big twisted oakish trees (but with green leaves...). Leah changed the name from "the forbidden forest" to "fablehaven."
We also visited a big rock pit. Its probably about the size of the lot my mother's house sits on. The sides are steeply sloped banks of rounded river rocks. They all clambored around on it while I watched from under a tree.
Back out on the path Carlson asked if I would carry him. I told him no because I was probably going to have to carry him all the way back. Unless he wanted to turn back now, he'd have to walk. He said that, no, he did not want to turn back, but one of his feet was getting tired. I asked, "One of your feet?" and he extended his right leg and pointed down at his foot saying, "Yep. This one," then ran to catch up with his siblings and cousin.
The kids found another bunch of old bones, this time obviously a deer. (Still haven't found anyone to identify the human-looking-enough-to-raise-eyebrows vertebra and humerus & ulna they found during the summer. Leah's mother is going to take them to an anatomy professor at the college she attends (he said he could tell her if they were human, but not identify them if they were not), but we keep forgetting to leave them with her.) And we saw a flock of turkeys with a PEACOCK tagging along. I tried to get pictures but only had my phone camera, and couldn't get close enough. Leah says there is a hen peacock as well, but I could not discern one. Amusing sight...this big tom turkey strutting along with a bunch of hens following behind, and a green male peacock craning his neck and struggling to keep up. Funny, as I am typing this I am getting of flashes of Leah leading the big kids around on our walk, and Carlson following after as best he could.
There were a couple of pair of deer meandering casually around in one meadow. They did not seem very concerned about us, but we kept a respectable distance.
When we finally made it to the river there was a white bird--maybe an egret, but kinda smallish--skimming along the river just six inches or so from the water. Beautiful. The kids threw rocks in the river, and I picked up a big partial-dome chunk of white quartz. (I just finished reading "The Day Kennedy was Shot" and could not help thinking,"This is about the size and shape of the piece of his head that was shot off." Sorry. Maybe that's TMI, but its my blog.)
The moon had risen early, and the sun was just dipping behind the trees along the river when we set out for home. Carlson said, "Look! There's half the moon and (turning around) there is half the sun!" I carried him on my shoulders part of the way...the stones he'd put in his jacket pockets making an odd sound as they rubbed together so close to my ears. The big cousins stayed just far enough ahead of us that I could see them most of the time. I grieved--am still grieving a little--that our world is too dangerous a place for them to be free to run around this kids' paradise unattended. What a great childhood memory it would have been for them to spend this time (and many, many times like it) with their cousin, making up games and planning where to build their "houses" without mom/aunt tagging along at a safe distance.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
more of the same
so....
Things are about the same...
I have an MRI scheduled for tomorrow to have my arm checked out and find out why it isn't healing. The tendonitis is much better--not totally okay, but much better. The upper-arm stuff is just not getting better, so they are going to see if they can figure out what it is and what to do about it.
I drove to TN again--fourth time in eight months; this time in a Toyota Corolla with the four younger kids. Wow. Not something I hope to do again any time soon. The kids were really good, considering. (Helpful hint: In the ABC Game, you can find all the letters through "O" on just two signs. "A" through "I" can be found on "WATCH FOR ICE ON BRIDGE" and "J" through "O" can be found on "Kingdom Hall of the Jehovah's Witnesses." Also, the easiest state for the ABC Game is Arizona, eastbound. Lots of navajos and signs for Albuquerque, plus a "Z" on every highway sign.)
I took the kids back to visit their Dad, at his request according to the court's order (by which we seem to be abiding for reduced maintenance and visitation, but not for division of property payment--go figure). We have to make the trip halfway every other month. Kinda crazy. I chose to take them all the way this time, instead of back and forth halfway twice (to drop them off and pick them up. Halfway is the Petrified Forest in Arizona, almost to NM.
"He" brought the kids to TN after their week together, and we visited with some of the friends they had not been able to say goodbye to when we left in March (because we did not know we would have to move when we left). We also drove past the house we left. Carlson is still angry and grieving. He says I lied to him. "You said we were just going to spend a lot of nights in CA and now we live there." It makes me sad. And, truthfully, its hard for me to not want to turn his anger where it belongs--to his Dad who left us no choice but to move--but I just affirm his feelings and try to explain that I thought it was true when I said it, so it wasn't a lie.... Wilbur is also having a hard time with the move. When I woke him in the morning on Thursday, so he could get ready to leave, he started crying and shook his head "no" vigorously. he said, "I don't want to leave here again. I wish we could just stay."(Dallas, on the other hand, never intends to leave CA, and would actually rather live in OK than TN....isn't that wierd? Ruby doesn't say much about it, but she seems content to be in CA.)
I, it seems, moved to CA without my inner child. (As illustrated in a sculpt at the therapy weekend by my therapist: Kent the Wondershrink.) My challenge is to bring my whole Self to CA for the experience God has for me here. It is amazing how different I feel already. This experiential therapy stuff is wierd...but it works for me. I chose to drive the whole way this trip so I could attend the Reconstruction of my "Father of Choice." I'm so glad I did. I got a LOT out of the weekend, and the kids got some closure around the move.
I am not sure YET if I am divorced. I expected a decree in the mail when I returned home, but there was nothing here. And my attorney is on vacation until next Monday. Still no date for the Reconsideration hearing, as far as I know...
I'm looking into night jobs, so the kids can have an adult around but my mother does not have to actually do anything with them. I'm also looking at grants, loans and scholarships to see if I can make it just going to school.... And STILL hoping that my arm will heal so I can do massage. Watching for which doors open and which close, and (mostly) staying trusting that good things are in store for me!
Things are about the same...
I have an MRI scheduled for tomorrow to have my arm checked out and find out why it isn't healing. The tendonitis is much better--not totally okay, but much better. The upper-arm stuff is just not getting better, so they are going to see if they can figure out what it is and what to do about it.
I drove to TN again--fourth time in eight months; this time in a Toyota Corolla with the four younger kids. Wow. Not something I hope to do again any time soon. The kids were really good, considering. (Helpful hint: In the ABC Game, you can find all the letters through "O" on just two signs. "A" through "I" can be found on "WATCH FOR ICE ON BRIDGE" and "J" through "O" can be found on "Kingdom Hall of the Jehovah's Witnesses." Also, the easiest state for the ABC Game is Arizona, eastbound. Lots of navajos and signs for Albuquerque, plus a "Z" on every highway sign.)
I took the kids back to visit their Dad, at his request according to the court's order (by which we seem to be abiding for reduced maintenance and visitation, but not for division of property payment--go figure). We have to make the trip halfway every other month. Kinda crazy. I chose to take them all the way this time, instead of back and forth halfway twice (to drop them off and pick them up. Halfway is the Petrified Forest in Arizona, almost to NM.
"He" brought the kids to TN after their week together, and we visited with some of the friends they had not been able to say goodbye to when we left in March (because we did not know we would have to move when we left). We also drove past the house we left. Carlson is still angry and grieving. He says I lied to him. "You said we were just going to spend a lot of nights in CA and now we live there." It makes me sad. And, truthfully, its hard for me to not want to turn his anger where it belongs--to his Dad who left us no choice but to move--but I just affirm his feelings and try to explain that I thought it was true when I said it, so it wasn't a lie.... Wilbur is also having a hard time with the move. When I woke him in the morning on Thursday, so he could get ready to leave, he started crying and shook his head "no" vigorously. he said, "I don't want to leave here again. I wish we could just stay."(Dallas, on the other hand, never intends to leave CA, and would actually rather live in OK than TN....isn't that wierd? Ruby doesn't say much about it, but she seems content to be in CA.)
I, it seems, moved to CA without my inner child. (As illustrated in a sculpt at the therapy weekend by my therapist: Kent the Wondershrink.) My challenge is to bring my whole Self to CA for the experience God has for me here. It is amazing how different I feel already. This experiential therapy stuff is wierd...but it works for me. I chose to drive the whole way this trip so I could attend the Reconstruction of my "Father of Choice." I'm so glad I did. I got a LOT out of the weekend, and the kids got some closure around the move.
I am not sure YET if I am divorced. I expected a decree in the mail when I returned home, but there was nothing here. And my attorney is on vacation until next Monday. Still no date for the Reconsideration hearing, as far as I know...
I'm looking into night jobs, so the kids can have an adult around but my mother does not have to actually do anything with them. I'm also looking at grants, loans and scholarships to see if I can make it just going to school.... And STILL hoping that my arm will heal so I can do massage. Watching for which doors open and which close, and (mostly) staying trusting that good things are in store for me!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Two Funnies
I love little kids and the way they think, interpreting things through what they know.
Funny #1
I am teaching poetry to the 2nd-5th graders in our homeschool co op. (2nd gragers rebelled against being in with K and 1st, so came to my class.) The youngest in the class, Leif, is just seven. I taught them about meter, stressed and unstressed syllables, using their names, and their bodies. "An easy wasy to remember it is if you're stressed, you're kinda on your toes, and when you're unstressed, you're pretty relaxed." So we went around the room and said everyone's full name, rising up on our toes when the syllable was stressed, and flopping rag doll-ish when the syllable was unstressed. A couple of weeks later we did the same thing with lines of poetry.
Leif, my little seven year old, really got it. He would raise his hand every time we read a poem and would say, "It went, DAH duh, DAh duh, DAH duh...." or whatever. A couple of weeks ago he raised his hand and said, "It went UPSET, not upset, not upset, UPSET, not upset, not upset....."
Funny #2
The twins are learning keyboard from video at home this semester. A few days ago, Ruby was practicing a new song. It was in a minor key, with lots of diminished chords--kinda saddish. Carlson came up to me and said, "Mom, this song is hurting my feelings."
Funny #1
I am teaching poetry to the 2nd-5th graders in our homeschool co op. (2nd gragers rebelled against being in with K and 1st, so came to my class.) The youngest in the class, Leif, is just seven. I taught them about meter, stressed and unstressed syllables, using their names, and their bodies. "An easy wasy to remember it is if you're stressed, you're kinda on your toes, and when you're unstressed, you're pretty relaxed." So we went around the room and said everyone's full name, rising up on our toes when the syllable was stressed, and flopping rag doll-ish when the syllable was unstressed. A couple of weeks later we did the same thing with lines of poetry.
Leif, my little seven year old, really got it. He would raise his hand every time we read a poem and would say, "It went, DAH duh, DAh duh, DAH duh...." or whatever. A couple of weeks ago he raised his hand and said, "It went UPSET, not upset, not upset, UPSET, not upset, not upset....."
Funny #2
The twins are learning keyboard from video at home this semester. A few days ago, Ruby was practicing a new song. It was in a minor key, with lots of diminished chords--kinda saddish. Carlson came up to me and said, "Mom, this song is hurting my feelings."
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