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Robinson

Robinson

Found an amazingly helpful post today at one of the curriculum providers we discuss on this site!

I totally wish we’d known all this about two months ago!

Hope you enjoy!

“Because printing is central to the use of the Robinson Curriculum I know a lot of you have questions as to which printer would be best.  The good news is that technology is now delivering the ideal printers at a lower cost than ever before.  Someone said that the power of the press is for those who own one – and have something worthwhile to print!  Your computer, one of these printers, and the Robinson Curriculum give you that power.”

Read the rest here!

I Like All Words

One wordWords are wonderful. We need them to get the huge things in our minds out onto small things like paper. I like paper, too, and pencils and other small things that capture huge things.

Yes, I like all words. Even words that tell of bad things, like tornado —what an amazing word that is, rolling around in the mouth before it can get out, reminding of tortuous torment and torture—a perfect word!

I like teensy words that tell of teensy things. Think of chick“. The shortest short vowel with that clipped /k/ ending. So perfect . . . .

I like open-ended words that can change in meaning according to how we say them. Take no for example. Short and sweet and full of amazing meaning. When stated with strength it imparts an imperativeness that communicates authority and a sort of “final answer” fortress.

When screamed by a female voice, “NO-O-O-O-O!” it causes adrenaline to course through the veins of every hearer.

Great word!

Or consider that little scamp of a word: “if”. Heh heh.

Yes, I like all words.

They told me I have to pick out only one, though. January beckons and the new rage is to pick a word, any word, that will get its picker through the next year.

I don’t really like this new game. It reminds me of celebrity adoption. Everyone’s got a new word they never had before, one that will become a source of some amazement. Almost braggy, and about what?

I picked a word?

Actually, I’m thinking about how all the other really wonderful words are feeling left out, about now, since they do not express grand character traits or describe a multitude of to-do lists in one syllable. “Weed.” One word, one sentence, conveying broken fingernails, aching back, burnt shoulders, frozen knee joints, and another go for tomorrow.

Gives me goose bumps to think of it.

No, I don’t really believe in all this word picking.

So it’s really embarrassing for me to realize words are coming to me.

It’s not like when I’m writing. When I’m writing, and often when I’m not, words sort of float by my consciousness for the fun of it, for me to consider, a bit like a marquee sign I can mentally click on, any time I choose, and have fun considering derivations, true meanings, possible alternate spellings, misuses, etc.

It’s how I breathe.

No, this is more like when a bird flies over and leaves a calling card on your nose.

I’ve gotten a word.

Nuts. Didn’t want one. Sighs.

This happened last year and I actually liked the word and had fun proclaiming it throughout the land. Everyone was picking grandiose words of achievement, direction, authority, etc.; making me tired just to think of all the things everyone else would be doing during 2014. And I really am pretty sure I “got” a word, that it landed on me from the sky, and I liked it.

It was: “less”.

And I loved it and I actually achieved it. Perfect. I blogged less, shopped less, argued less—all the things that wore me out were just “less” and I think it did me a lot of good. I became contemplative, thankful, and rested.

I even ate less. Yay.

And really, a year of it was a little much. I mean, I dusted less. So you can imagine.

However, 2015 approaches and no one else is tired of the game, yet. We’re still passing this football around. She sighs. Okay. I have to admit it, here:

I got another word.

I did not want another word.

But it gets worse than that.

I think I got two. Nuts.

You see, while I was at a retreat this past September, there was this sort of river of blue fabric from which we could pick (as if it were a real river) a rock (an actual rock) to take home. On the bottom of the rock was painted a word. The word was supposed to be from God to give me direction or bless me or something, and as you can figure, I didn’t want one. So I sort of sneaked around during the word-picking section of the session and escaped.

Felt pretty victorious about it. And relieved.

However, as we were cleaning up after the conference, I got cornered.

And here, I have to explain that I was helping with cleaning it up, because I was on the team that arranged and produced the conference, and in all honesty I must admit: I was the one who introduced the great idea of the river of blue fabric with rocks with words painted on their little bottoms. I learned it from a Canadian friend who has written a beautiful book that includes much more information about this whole river idea, and I sort of blame her a tiny bit for my whole predicament, that day. (Just kidding, Bobbie!) 😉

Anyway, my co-host for the conference did not let me get away with my escape plan. She graciously allowed me to choose a rock from the box where she was packing them. So, from a box of rocks, which itself was partly my idea, with my own two hands, I deliberately chose a word.

And it was puzzling.

This word did not seem like a long to-do list.

Noble Rock

Noble Rock

It was: Noble.

Huh. Like sitting on a throne?

My ecstatic friend, however (She really is a  good friend) claimed it fit me perfectly and went on to quote Solomon about The Noble Wife.

Oh. Proverbs 31. It is a lo-o-ong to-do list. Nuts.

Because of my puzzled look, probably, my friend went on to give examples of how that word fit me absolutely perfectly.

I kept thinking, That was last year! This is still the year of LESS!

The more I thought of it, though (pretty varnished rock, truly a beauty, wanted to display it . . . ) the more I realized I could shape up a bit. Like make the bed in the morning? Get rid of the really ratty pj’s? Clear out the kitchen countertop? Dust?

Yeah, I could do it.

So it was with great ease that I planned to breeze my noble little self through all this word-picking business and arrive at the head of the pack because I’d had a three-month head start.

Competitive? Maybe a little bit?

Adopt-a-word was beginning to get to me.

Then I sort of forgot about the word. Then I sorta got a calling card.

A word.

It kept floating past on the marquee sign in my head, like a broken program somewhere was causing the marquee to display the same word quite often.

Too often.

“Organize”.

I began to consider it and to wonder. Okay. I could do that. I need to do that. Organize.

At least I have “less” stuff to organize these days.

Soon, I couldn’t wait to spread the good news abroad: I’ve given birth to a new word! Well, through adoption, that is. It’s a great word. Overused, but really productive-sounding and totally speaking of lo-o-ong to-do lists!

I was planning. A to-do list was forming.

So, finally, yesterday, the call went out: Announce Your Word! Link up! Share! Proclaim!

One word.

One. To inspire me as I walk through 2015. To guide my ways and make me a better person.

So how do I explain I have two?

_______________________

More tomorrow.

I Could not Believe My Eyes–And You Won’t Either!

A friend who is a history buff and who comments on Home’s Cool!, occasionally, sent me an amazing link you will want to follow. It’ll only take a few moments of your time, but the photos are jaw-dropping, interactive “before and after” shots of war-torn Europe and the same precise scenes as they look today.

You can left-click on each “before” photo, and it will transfer itself to the present. On a touch screen, just touch and it changes. I loved it.

You could make them into an incredible history lesson

Somehow, I found them hope-giving and addictive.

Real.

Go there and be enriched!

Ever Been Slow to Get Back Up?

English: Lush Green Fallow Field, Darrington. ...

Lush Green Fallow Field, Darrington. Green, blue, red, wonderfully summery, rural colors. Dewy morning, overcast sky. Had wanted to take this picture on a bright, sunny day, but the dew gave the field a beautiful sparkle (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today I break the mold.

I have created a hot post!

You can find it here! It’s a poem and still life of some hot stuff. Pay special attention to the contents of the little bottle. Ha.

Hot! Hot! Hot!

But it’s not.

You know, it’s not that I don’t love you all. It’s not that I don’t love thinking, writing, and typing.

I’ll tell you what it is:

It is that almost all summer long, the outdoors has seemed like I should either have Spring Fever, or some kind of lovely Fall Melancholy.

I mean, the beautiful sky is raining and covered in a beautiful gray overcast, right now, as I type. It actually was almost cold last night.

My favorite weather, really.

Makes me poetic.

Anyway, the lovely ladies I agreed to write for scheduled me lo-o-ong ago, and we all assumed, for some reason, that when I posted in late July, the weather would be hot-hot-hot in the Deep South.

Hence the topic.

But it’s so lovely out, I just feel like sitting on the porch and looking at it.

Ever been there? Know how to get out of it? Help! Comment! Share!

Oh, and go read my guest post! That’ll wake me up!

Where Is Your Favorite Vacation?

Alpine Vistas

Alpine Vistas

I live about an hour from the loveliest little spot for a vacation. Seriously, it has EVERYTHING!

Let me count the ways:

  • Antiquing. Lots of antique stores for your viewing/shopping pleasure. One huge mall and many small near-museums with absolutely everything. Seriously, I almost hate to share this part of it. I want it all for myself…
  • Horse racing. If you’re into that. I’m not.
  • Art. Galleries galore, including such well-knowns as Kinkade and Chihuly, and several with geological finds that have been made into art, such as geodes. It’s been judged the fourth art-friendliest city in the nation.
  • Riverboat ride with dinner and live music.
  • Al fresco dining in a below ground restaurant–always cool by dinnertime.
  • Real museums, including a Tussaud wax museum.
  • Amazing architecture. Totally astonishing architecture, at every turn.
  • Breath-taking vistas
  • Impeccable groundskeeping
  • History, history, history–built with government moneys, yes, by your great-grandfather’s hands to keep your great-grandmother alive, before we paid people to do nothing.
  • Food. Oh my. And prices that make you want to live there. One whole restaurant devoted to the breakfast of your dreams. On fun place decorated all over with pennies glued to the walls. Another, gourmet and pristine, a sanctuary for its guests and for its workers, who are legal immigrants, escaped from Romania, who wait on you perfectly and cheerily, with charming accents.
  • Hotels. We’re talking, here, of totally expensive, but enchantingly historic, insanely beautiful, antique hotels…
  • And–tada–fountains. Fountains full of water so hot, you can use it to make your tea; so pure, it’s piped to the public straight from the ground, to drink. Famously healing hot waters…

And now you know where it is: Hot Springs, Arkansas.

So impressive, the first time I went there, I was five, and even then, I knew I had to go there someday when I could see the whole thing.

Been there so many times, and haven’t seen it all, yet. Talking about it (to my history-loving heart) is never overdone.

Our Grandfathers' Handwork

Our Grandfathers’ Handwork

For more photos, view here.

For more about Hot Springs, view here, and here.

So…Where is YOUR favorite staycation?

Guest post for Danny Iny at Mirasee

Nervous Yet?

… Where I share how I could’ve done better…

You know how people often promote their blog sites by asking readers questions? The idea is that a question forces the mind to be more engaged, you know, and readers love answering questions.

Well, Canadian Danny Iny takes it one further and asks his readers to come up with the questions, first, and then the answers.

Subscribing to his site, I therefore receive a question almost every week, and if I can think of an answer, I usually reply.

See, the question thing works…

And, just this once, my reply was chosen to be the topic for a guest post Danny would so kindly trust me to write, and which guest post appears, here, today.

Of course, I shared from my propensity NOT to practice what I preach.

Of course, when I got really real, (of all times!) he picked me.

Of course, you all can see what, from my own collection of plenty of bloopers, I dared to share, and NO, it’s not about YOU!

To say I am excited is an understatement.

So. Please go read what I wrote about surfing, (which I’ve never done, ha!) and what to do about how floods and the tide of life can drag you under (which I know a lot about!)

And comment!

And thanks a million!

Why You Would Kill a Christian

Killing Christians is a practice as old as Christianity. Those who practice it do nothing more than imitate their predecessors. Predecessors who attempted but failed to snuff out the life of our faith in its infancy.

The practice of persecution is hard for some to understand but it’s actually an understandable act. In fact, I can think of at least ten reasons to kill a Christian.

You’ll probably enjoy reading more here.

The Christian Martyrs' Last Prayer

The Christian Martyrs’ Last Prayer (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

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