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Posted in Inspiring, Scripture, Wisdom

Sunday Scripture – REFUGE

I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy.
I pour out my complaint before him; before him I tell my trouble.

When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who know my way. In the path where I walk men have hidden a snare for me.
Look to my right and see; no one is concerned for me. I have no refuge; no one cares for my life.

I cry to you, O Lord; I say, “You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.”
Listen to my cry, for I am in desperate need; rescue me from those who pursue me, for they are too strong for me.
Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name.

Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me.

                                                                                                                       –Psalm 142

Posted in Good ol' days, Inspiring, Sayings, Wisdom

Saturday Sayings – 7

1.  Curiosity, people say,
      Killed the kitty cat, one fine day.
      Well, this may be true, but hear me:
      This is what to do for curiosity–

See the Encylopedia, E-N-C-Y-C-L-O-P-E-D-I-A!
Encylopedia, E-N-C-Y-C-L-O-P-E-D-I-A!

      Just look inside this book and you will see
      Everything from A clear down to Z!

Encyclopedia, E-N-C-Y-C-L-O-P-E-D-I-A!

                                  —Jiminy Cricket, c. 1958

2.  The first and simplest emotion which we discover in the human mind is curiosity.  –Edmund Burke (1729-1797) The Sublime and Beautiful

3.  Shun the inquisitive person, for he is also a talker.  –Horace (65-8 B.C.) Epistles

4.  Curiosity is one of the most permanent and certain characteristics of a vigorous intellect.  –Samuel Johnson (1709-1787) The Rambler

5.  He that pryeth into every cloud may be struck by a thunderbolt.  –John Ray (1627?-1705) English Proverbs

 

Cracker Jacks © first contained a prize on this date in 1912. 🙂

Posted in Believe it or not!, Good ol' days, Home School, Inspiring, Who's the mom here?, Wisdom

The Last of the Unsupported Homeschoolers

Growing old in home school!We were homeschoolers when homeschool wasn’t cool.

We had no support because there was no such thing as a homeschool support group.

We started about the same time as Home School Legal Defense Association started, but they and we did not know about each other, so we also had no legal support.

Internet was only a child, then, and had not maximized its potential to help homeschoolers. Computers had no practical applications in home schools.

All, all the curriculum available to us was published for collective schools and some publishers refused to sell to home educators.

Back in these very good, old days, only the driven, committed, principled, loyal, persevering, stubborn, maverick, determined, motivated, obsessed, dedicated, devoted, steadfast, unswerving, faithful, home educating parents survived. We had somewhat of a reputation for being a pain, especially among status-quo legislators.

Many of us could relate to the Washington/Jefferson/Adams triumvirate, always questioned by those around us and always questioning ourselves, testing ourselves, proving ourselves.

Always hunted and attacked by the government that claimed to protect us.

Always in semi-hiding.

Always ready with an escape plan.

Always losing money on this project.

Always making do with do-by-self.

We faced obstacles, penalties, hindrances, impediments, barriers, hurdles, deterrents, limitations, and interference.

We were hated.

We were arrested.

I guess it’s the American way.

Now that home educating is the bright star that it has become, and we have retired after a quarter century of it, people want our opinions.

  • What curriculum do I think is best? Pick one you like and get busy.
  • What is my child’s learning style? Lazy and stubborn. What about yours?
  • Do I homeschool during summer? All parents homeschool at all times.
  • Do I think you’re harming your child? Probably, but better you, than someone who doesn’t care.
  • What do I do about socialization? I talk to my child; I teach my child; I read to my child.
  • What about computers? Teach your children to read, spell, write legibly, and type, and to love English, first, in that order. No computers allowed until high school and no Internet until the last half of the senior year.

Does all that sound harsh to you?

Does it sound grumpy?

You will not get a marshmallow answer from a homeschool-callused person.

We did not plant our homeschool garden with a tractor, but with a shovel and a hoe.

We did not have curriculum choice unless we wrote the curriculum, so we did.

I beg you, for your own and your children’s sakes, pick one you like and get busy.

Posted in Womanhood

In the Maelstrom

Time for a totally honest blog.

I just finished reading a lengthy public apology written by a sweet, unassuming lady who has been attacked with nasty politics on the blogosphere. Her reply to the meanness around her was well-thought-out and gently, but firmly, put.

I wish I could have her popularity on the Internet, but not enough to attack her.

I wish I could have her calmness under fire.

She looks, in her lovely Madonna photo, to be many years my younger. She is incredibly beautiful, like Mona Lisa. Her baby could have been painted by Raphael. Everything about her blog is all sweetness and light, happiness and help. To me.

To others it has seemed to be some sort of Internet poison, or something. The vitriol aimed back at her was dammed up by the asininity of failed Internet connections. Once the log jam broke up, I’m sure it nearly swept her away. Now, no matter what she does, it seems no one is satisfied.

My heart is broken for her.

And I am afraid.

 That is why I thrust out boldly to make this assertion: No matter what, when good people try to do good, there will be others who love—yes, LOVE—to do evil in return. It has always been that way and always will. They will grumble and rumble and lash out with lightning bolts. They will feel threatened and judged. And they won’t know why, although they will think they do.

Only recently I attempted to reach out to someone who had posted a very sad and touching poem on a blog. All I said, since I was, after all, a stranger, was, “Someone cares.”

The poison I received in return, and that was published for all to see, right below my name on that site, was breathtaking. How anyone could contain that much pain is beyond me, but now I think it is a common occurrence. I am sure I got only the tip of the iceberg because that’s all anyone ever gets. At first I was numb, then saddened to think probably this person is beyond help. Very saddened. When I apologized and stated that I had not meant to offend, but only to comment on a poem that perhaps I had misunderstood, I received no reply.

Of course.

As, probably, will this sweet young mom.

But she has supporters. She has a wonderful family situation. Her fans absolutely love her. She will survive. But her totally wise decision, to withdraw from the melee, is a loss to the whole world.

I never was going to blog about blog. It reminds me of meditating on toenails. But this is really about something else, isn’t it?

And I wonder if the holders of the reins, up there, have any idea.

And if they’re too busy to care.

And if I’ll be next.

Posted in Believe it or not!, Homemaking

Six Steps to CFL Safety

Ban the Bulb?
Ban the Bulb?

Have you ever broken one of the new twisty light bulbs? You know, the ones that cost so much you hate to break one? It is so easy to do because the glass is so delicate.

I don’t have any of those in my house because when real light bulbs started to become scarce, I  bought up a bunch of them. Then, when folks began to squawk and they started making real ones over again, I bought a bunch more.

But I don’t mind using sunlight or oil lamps or candles–not at all.

those blinkin’ lights!

The main reason I will not install a fluorescent light in my house is that they blink.

Blinking light decreases your attention span and slows your reading.  Think of them as a sort of “light pollution”, as are TVs and computer screens. They effect the ability to think. For some people, especially young children, this effect is drastic, shutting down straight-line thinking almost completely. No child should study under a fluorescent.

So, as a source of light in a homeschooling home, they are a failure, in the first place. The rooms in our house with long-bulb fluorescents installed by the builder were never used for children doing schoolwork. In fact, one of my children asked not to use that room, which woke me up to the real problems inherent here. (I had not been noticing, but he had.)

caution! poison!

The other reason is their toxicity. The bulbs contain powdered mercury, which can kill. Add to it the fact that these light bulbs are extremely easy to break–far easier than the old enormous tubes–and you have a recipe for disaster, something that definitely should be labeled “keep out of child reach”.

now for the safety rules:

If you have one, though, you must memorize a long list of protocol for how to survive the experience of breaking one, with your health intact. If you want, why not print this list and post inside your broom closet? Here is what you have to do and why:

  1. Most important: open a window for at least 15 minutes before beginning cleanup. The bulbs contain powdered mercury, which is extremely toxic, and we must not breathe it. Mercury poisoning can kill. Opening the windows is essential to safety, even during rain or cold weather. (Who knows what it does for the birds and butterflies?)
  2. Do NOT handle the pieces with bare hands; wear disposable rubber or latex gloves. A cut from glass coated with this fine powder would also poison.
  3. Place the pieces into a plastic bag, and then into another one, and use duct tape to pick up the tiny fragments. A paper bag could allow fine particles of mercury to escape.
  4. Wipe the area clean with damp paper towel and place the towels in the bag, too. Damp toweling would most safely collect the finest particles, which might even be invisible but would probably cling to the damp towel.
  5. If the bulb broke over carpet, you’ll have to vacuum the carpet, but you must immediately remove the vacuum bag (or empty and wash or wipe out the canister) and put the vacuum bag in with the other CFL trash.
    Vacuuming is the only way to remove most of the fine mercury particles and remaining glass hazards from carpet (there is no way to remove all the mercury), but it is totally unsafe to breathe in the same room while you do so. Go outdoors to take deep breaths and then hold your breath, enter, and vacuum until you need to breathe again. Repeat. Vacuuming would be foolhardy on hard surfaces, and could easily spread the dust more, if using a multi-surface upright.
    You also must not breathe while emptying the bag and wiping out the canister. Also, you should wipe out the insides of your vacuum even if you do have a bag to throw away. Of course, you should shower and shampoo thoroughly, afterwards. You probably should also immediately launder the clothing you are wearing, in a separate wash load and machine dry them, taking precautions that the dryer does not vent near any pets, children’s play areas, or edible plant materials.
  6. Check with your trash company or recycling center for specific disposal directions. Usually, fluorescent bulbs can be put in the trash or taken to the dump if your state and local regulations allow, but please call your trash or recycling company. Do not ask them about your broken CFL; ask them about mercury toxic waste disposal or about recycling mercury. Few people, even professionals, make this connection, otherwise. If you receive permission to throw away your CFL, please label it clearly to avoid accidentally poisoning the trash pickup personnel.

There you have it: why I don’t use CFL’s and what to do if you do use them.

Have fun.

Posted in Believe it or not!, Cats, Sayings

Weekly Photo Challenge: Curiosity

I’d Like to Kill a Mockingbird!

Willy
Willy

We once had a house cat. He was amazing at first, the funniest kitten I’d ever seen, and I’m a connoisseur. A totally fluffy gray furball with longer white hair, he looked frosted. We named him Pussy Willow Catkin, Willy, for short.

As Willy grew, he developed issues with me, the discipline person who floated through the house in those wonderful reversible gauzy skirts, draped armloads of sheets to the laundry, and popped open trash bags, all of which activities scared him.

Not only that, but I often exchanged his raunchy litter box for one that smelled good, an activity he took as very personal rejection.

Eventually he learned which side of the bed was mine and occasionally he dumped on me. He knew which chair I would least like full of gray fuzz. He knew which floor was most problematic if peed on. He knew which windowsills had breakable brick-a-brack. He used all his information to pay me back for scaring him with my floaty, drapey, trashy ways.

I only did one thing right in his eyes: catnip. He loved it; I grew it.

The day came, though, when we weaned him to be an outdoor cat. After an initial wild exploration, he settled in to sleeping in the bird feeder. The birds frowned about that. He often fantasized that he could catch a bird, although all his forays into the wonderful world of the hunt were flops.

Especially the last one.

Around our property lived a mockingbird, which I don’t care what Jem’s Dad said, they do harm. They deliberately flaunt their senseless songs and seducing dances from atop the huge light pole that holds not only several wires and a yard light, but also the transformer for a few families. They do this only if a cat is in sight. Every time our cat would start up the tree near that pole, our mockingbird would keep up its cat-courting ritual just long enough to irritate the cat, then fly off.

One morning, Willy did not show up for breakfast. It wasn’t long before we discovered where he was: at the very top of the pole. At 5:00 a.m.

We decided he might learn a lesson if he had to wait until normal business hours to be rescued. We never dreamed what would happen next.

The skies opened up and dumped an inch of rain in 15 minutes. I’ve never seen anything like that and I’m also a connoisseur of rain. Love to watch it.

At this point, cat is drenched and bird is wherever birds go to survive downpours. Cat decides to take matters into his own hands and discovers that the perfectly safe props that got him up are now hot. Live. Murderous. In a moment, Pussy Willow Catkin lies at the base of the pole, basically dead.

We replanted the catnip bush over his grave.