November 2008

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abundance

November 27, 2008 in celebrations and traditions, learning | 4 comments

I’ve been collecting leaves, cones and seed pods. Every fall I’m struck once again by their abundance. Not only on hiking trails, but on city streets. Outside the library. At the playground. In parking lots. I pick them up and put them in my pockets. The squirrels and I are giddy. Like everyone else, I’m watching my pennies these days; how rewarding to find so many treasures scattered on the ground, free for the taking.

In Carmel a few weeks back I picked up eucalyptus leaves and pods. I was so glad I had them when I happened, for the first time, to Prickly Pear Bloom and read her post on missing the California of her childhood. I couldn’t bring her back, but I could send some fragrant bits of California to Wisconsin. Check out her beautiful photo of the bits in their new home. Even the squirrels can’t transport them that far.

Mr. T and I did a little classifying of our collection. It took some research because there are all sorts of mislabeled photos on the internet. 

liquidamber podsycamore label

It occurred to me that our collection might look lovely strewn across our Thanksgiving table. Lily helped me with the artful arrangement. She’s quite adept at artful arrangement.

thanksgiving table

After reading about Three Girl Pileup’s Thankful Tree, I got the notion to cut little fortune-cookie fortune slips of paper for us and our guests to write down what we’re grateful for.  To tuck among the leaves, pods and cones.

I’ve grown so fond of my collection–the pods and cones especially–that now I’m thinking I’ll save them after Thanksgiving, and give them a glossing of fine glitter and glue. For the Christmas tree. 

But stop me from getting ahead of myself–for today it’s still fall and Thanksgiving. I hope you have a day abundant with food, family, and friends. And gratitude.

thanksgiving table

pokemon revisited

November 25, 2008 in creativity, learning, my waldorf guilt | 4 comments

When Henry was six or seven (could it really have been nearly ten years ago?) he was obsessed with Pokemon. Obsessed. He studied the cards constantly, memorized them and then followed me around, asking questions like, “Did you know that Metapod has more hit points than Bulbasaur?” or “Did you know that Tentacruel’s ability is liquid ooze?” (These days when Henry complains about Theo nattering on, telling his imaginary stories, I remind him of his Pokemon days. I don’t think he quite believes that he actually talked like that.)

Of course, as a homeschooling mama I am nothing if not resourceful, so I capitalized on Henry’s obsession. I wrote down his Pokemon stories, helped him make Pokemon books, invented Pokemon word problems with him. By the time Henry finally moved on from that obsession to baseball cards over a year later, I was so tired of Pikachu and all his friends that I was happy to dismiss them from my brain forever.

So imagine my horror at our last homeschooling park day, when I saw Theo sitting with another seven-year-old and his collection of Pokemon cards, studying them for over an hour. Heaven help me, I thought, here we go again…

I was sure Theo would want to rush home and dig out his brother’s thick-as-the-Oxford-English-Dictionary binder of Pokemon cards. But no. Mr. T is not his brother. He doesn’t have a fascination with statistics, nor a mindset that borders on obsessive. He doesn’t even like to follow game rules. What intrigued him wasn’t the Pokemon game itself but the idea of a multitude of imaginary characters. Characters that can evolve into other characters. When I mentioned that Henry once made up his own Pokemon-style characters and cards, which he called Zamblasto cards, Mr. T’s eyes lit up like they’d been sparked by Pikachu’s thunderbolt tail.

He quickly spread himself and his supplies across the kitchen table and began drawing his own characters and their evolutions.

mr t's own private pokemon

He made up abilities for them, and asked me to write them down. Check them out.

check out those abilities

I especially like Surprising Scare in Dark Cave and Crack Open Balls of Power. Sort of like manga meets haiku.

One of my favorite parts of watching Theo draw is witnessing how it’s a process of animating his own imagination. Bringing it to life. He narrates the characters’ words as he draws, then has them interact, with lots of action and sound effects. Sometimes the scene gets so exciting that his very pencil comes to life, and starts zooming through the air, with plenty of “pshoo, pshoo” mouth noises.

even his pencil is a character

Which all brings me back to the idea that sometimes my kids’ most banal interests can spark their best creativity. Which reminds me not to cave so quickly to my Waldorf guilt, and dismiss Bulbasaur, Mario and Luigi and all their compatriots. If that’s what fascinates my kids, so be it. Rather than pretending those characters don’t exist, I can realize their power in my kids’ minds–and I can put my arm around them and try to introduce them to my kids’ creative brains.

Even if it means I’m going to be regaled with hours and hours of stories about characters with abilities like Cannon Do-Dow, Honk-n-Zap and Haunted House Evil Liquid.

these things take time

November 21, 2008 in learning, wondering | 11 comments

I have a problem.

Whenever I take on something new, I want to be good at it right from the start.

Can you relate?

When I started writing, I wanted to be published right away. (Instead it took 17 years.)

 

When I started knitting, I wanted to knit long, lacy sweater coats like this, from the get-go . (Two and a half years later, I finally have the skill and the gall to take on that project.)

 

And now blogging. One blog whose name seems to get dropped into my posts on a regular basis is SouleMama. For months I’ve admired her gorgeous photographs, her poignant posts. Then there are all those subscribers, hundreds of them, and what seems like an average of 100 comments per day–over 2,000 for a recent giveaway.

I’d like me a little blog like that.

Instead, I have my blog–a toddler blog on unsteady legs. Long-winded posts, photos that don’t have the depth I desire. And I’d rather not admit how often I check my Blog Stats, hoping to see my readership grow.

But wait, patient Reader! Lest you think I’m throwing a pity party for myself, let me share why I’m writing this. You see, was taught a lovely little lesson the other day, one which gave my perspective a nudge.

In trying to choose a new camera, I started looking at blogs with photographs I admire to see which cameras those bloggers use. Many mention their camera model in About Me sections or in FAQs. Some I could ascertain from Flickr posts. Then I started wondering: were these bloggers always such good photographers?

Which is what took me to SouleMama’s archives, and her very first post on TypePad, back in February 2005. And what did I find there? Sweet photos, but a few that were, dare I say, blurred. Others that were surely taken with a flash. Writing that was charming and chatty, but not evolved to the edited eloquence of Amanda’s current posts. And comments? Well, on one lucky day in February she got four, but on most others she got one or two, or even more often, zero.

Wow. I just sat there looking at my screen and took a deep breath. I’m grateful that Amanda has the grace to keep up those old posts because for a new blogger like me, they offer a whole wicker basketful of hope. They call to mind some old adages, ones that I expect my kids to understand, but forget to apply to myself:

Being good at something takes time. And effort.

It’s important to focus on the process, rather than the product.

I think I need to spend less time clicking on my Blog Stats and spend more time remembering instead the buzz of excitement I get on a run, as I trudge up hills while tinkering with lines for a new post. The fun of playing with my new camera. The thrill I get whenever I hit that Publish button. The joy of reading a comment from a reader who’s taken something I’ve written and added new thoughts to it–making my blog a living thing, a bowl of yeasted dough waiting to be transformed.

That’s a lot.  And for now, it should be enough. Blog Stats be damned.

I love my new camera

November 19, 2008 in creativity | 2 comments

a book I do not need

November 16, 2008 in books, wondering | 6 comments

I don’t think this book can help me.

I might be interested in a companion volume, however. Something along the lines of Surviving with Children Who Think For Themselves. Or, Raising Children Who Aren’t So Dang Sure of Themselves. Or, say, Raising Children Who Think for Themselves but Will Occasionally Toy With the Idea That Their Parents Might Actually Know Something.

Any of you come across a book along those lines?

What parenting book do you wish you could get your hands on? (Come on, folks, that’s a call to leave a comment. Indulge me.)

a quote for wondering

November 14, 2008 in wondering | 1 comment

“Creative activity could be described as a type of learning process where teacher and pupil are located within the same individual.”

–Arthur Koestler

Interesting, huh? What does it mean to you?

atwitter: november

November 11, 2008 in atwitter, books, makin' stuff, writing | 5 comments

I’d planned to post monthly on what has me all atwitter, but somehow October slipped by. Which just means more to share for November…

a new camera. Finally. Our camera broke right after I started this blog. I’ve been making do with Lily’s none-too-fancy point-and-shoot. But when you read blogs with gorgeous photos like Uncommon Grace, SouleMama and sixoneseven, well, you aspire to more.

Chris and I have been debating for days about whether to go for a digital SLR, or whether we need something smaller and more portable. We compromised on a more upscale non-SLR camera with a nice telephoto lens and lots of manual setting options.

I figure I can fiddle around with those manual settings, and if it turns out I have a knack for photography, maybe we’ll buy an SLR down the road. Meanwhile, we’ll have a camera that’s reasonably portable. I just hope the photos I soon post will be more like the ones I picture in my head. 

writers on writing. I love this podcast. Barbara DeMarco-Barrett interviews writers on their craft. She’s been doing it for years, and there’s an abundance of past interviews on her website and on iTunes. The October 23 interview with Billy Collins was especially wonderful. I had to hit replay and listen twice as he described his theory on breaking open moments in poetry.  (Barbara’s book, Pen On Fire: A Busy Woman’s Guide to Igniting the Writer Within is also an inspiration. Lots of bite-sized little exercises to try.)

handmade holidays.  Now, I’m realistic. I’m the Queen of Taking On Too Much; there is no way I’m going to set myself up by taking on an all-handmade Christmas as Prairie Poppins at Handmade Homeschool is. But reading about her family’s challenge is an inspiration.  Surely I can make a few handmade gifts. Follow that link to Prairie’s site and check out the stunning list of handmade gifts ideas that she’s assembled. I dare you not to be inspired too. (Of course, if making handmade yourself is too much, buying handmade is a step in the right direction. Etsy’s got that covered. Check out these hand-carved stamps. I want one!)

blurb. Do you know about this online bookmaking company?  It allows you to make gorgeous, bookstore-quality, coffee table-type books, for reasonable prices. I’m using it to create a homeschool yearbook with a bunch of teens from our homeschool group. And if you’re a blogger, check this out: certain blogging platforms can be “slurped” instantly into a book! Wouldn’t it be cool to have a beautiful book version of your blog? (Apparently they’re having some problems with certain platforms just now; I’m hoping those will get worked out by next July, so I can make an anniversary book of my first blogging year.)

the gentle art of domesticity. Oh, how I love this book! The subtitle is Stitching, Baking, Nature, Art & The Comforts Of Home. All the craft bloggers have already sung its praises, but if you’re late to the party as I always seem to be, perhaps you haven’t heard about it.

It’s a book version of Jane Brocket’s very popular blog yarnstorm, with page after page of yummy-as-candy photographs and witty writing. It’s decidedly not a Martha Stewart-like bit of gloss, designed to make us aspire to an unattainably perfect life. Instead, it’s a call to have us look for creative inspiration in the homes where we find ourselves. As Jane writes, “When I started photographing the details of my domestic life, I was quite sure I would run out of material in a matter of weeks. But instead of exhausting all possibilities, I actually found myself unearthing more and more sources of inspiration, all within the confines of a quite ordinary, domestic life.”

Plus, to steal a phrase from Jane, the book is “terribly, terribly English”. So English that it includes a recipe for Chewy Flapjacks, those absolutely addictive oatmeal cookie bars that I fell hard for in London, and have lived without since. Just have to find me some Golden Syrup at the gourmet shop so I can make a batch and I’ll be in heaven. With a cup of tea at my side, of course.

So, what has you all atwitter? Pour a cup of tea, leave a comment and let’s chat.

presidential

November 7, 2008 in celebrations and traditions, learning, wordlover | 6 comments

Stole this button from my friend Emily. Cause that’s what friends are for. Check out what she did with it. I’m proud to have friends who do such noble work.

My focus for this blog is learning and creativity. I’ve never planned to discuss politics here. But listening to our next president’s acceptance speech the other night brought to mind some past conversations with my kids.

A few years ago, when we studied the Civil War era, we read speeches and quotes by Lincoln. Oh, I thought then, to have a president who could speak with such wisdom and eloquence! It seemed like something from a bygone time. The kids and I talked about this.

Listening to Obama speak, I remembered our conversations. We’ve elected a president who can move people with his words. He may not be another Abraham Lincoln, but can you listen to him without being stirred? After his speech, as the newscasters yammered on, some talked about his gifts as an orator. They said that in a time of soundbites, he is “bringing back the spoken word”.

Can I tell you how much that excites me?

The history-making reasons for Obama’s election move my heart. But the fact that we’ll have a president who can speak with eloquence thrills my mind. I’m delighted that we’ve elected a president who seems so, well, presidential.

For fellow word-lovers, check out this short yet inspiring post on the power of words in this election.

thirteen

November 4, 2008 in celebrations and traditions | 8 comments

It’s Election Day: vote, vote, vote! (Not that you can vote three times. But it’s a day for emphasis.)

I’m still recuperating from last week. That last week of October always does me in. Two kids with birthdays, including one on Halloween. Oh, and there’s that Halloween thing too.

If you remember how sappy I got over my little guy turning seven, just imagine the emotions I could wring over my only daughter turning thirteen. But never fear, dear Reader, I will spare you the melodrama. Instead I offer a simple list:

Thirteen Things to Love About Lily

  1. She can take an image like this: 

and whip up a costume like this:

2. Singing show tunes with her always makes for a good time.

3. Her eyes.

4. When she’s angry, her combination of high drama and those flashing big eyes brings to mind Bette Davis or Susan Sarandon. She may be maddening, but it’s always a good show.

5. How she dances everywhere. You should see her sashay to the refrigerator.

6. If it’s your birthday she’ll make cards and cakes, crowns and crepes. Or a stuffed pig. She knows how to take care of the people she loves.

7. She smiles when she reads.

8. She cries when she watches movies. Recently, Little Women did it. Which, of course, made me cry.

9. She knows how to throw a party. I wish you could have seen the dresses she and her friends created at her Project Runway party on Sunday.

10. The hug she gives without fail each morning.

11. Her accents. Just ask her what to do when your curry is too spicy and see what I mean.

12. She’s sentimental. She likes to look at her baby book with me on her birthday every year.

13. On the afternoon she was born, we got the best Halloween treat ever.

And those are just the first thirteen things I could think of. She’s quite a girl.

kicking my waldorf guilt in the butt

November 2, 2008 in books, creativity, makin' stuff, my waldorf guilt | 4 comments

I bought this book to allay my Waldorf guilt.

I wanted to be sure I was doing crafty, Waldorf-y activities with my little guy before he gets too big. (And if you read my last post, you know how sentimental I am about that.) 

See all those little tabs sticking out of the book? Those are my Best Intentions, displayed in purple Post-It.

There are so many lovely ideas in this book. (And also on SouleMama, Amanda’s blog, which is not news to anyone who follows crafty, mama-written blogs.) One of my favorites was the idea of embroidering your child’s art. I was enchanted with the idea of capturing some of Mr. T’s hand-drawn characters in embroidery.

But. My craft quota is down, so down these days. I used to sew Halloween costumes on occasion, and curtains, and even a quilt or two. But as the kids have gotten older, life has gotten busier. I do a fair amount of knitting because it’s portable and something one can do in five minutes here, five minutes there. But sewing? Embroidery? My needles are dusty.

But I was determined to get to this embroidery project, before I had a kid who was too old to want his art embroidered. (I didn’t want it to be like the Magic Cabin doll I always meant to sew for Lily. I guess there are always grandchildren…)

But guess what? I did it! In time for Mr. T’s birthday even!

Those two creatures are Scritch and Scratch, two children-turned-wolves who popped out of Theo’s imagination and have been starring in his dictated stories for months now. They were simple creatures to embroider, made up as they are of mostly straight lines.

It was easy, really: I traced Theo’s drawing on tracing paper with an iron-on pencil. I transferred the image to a piece of linen and embroidered it. I reinforced the patch with Therm O Web HeatnBond (but not the portion that would get stitched to the shirt; apparently stitching through this product isn’t recommended.) I ironed the patch to the shirt, and then stitched it on with my sewing machine, using a satin stitch. (Which is nothing more than a very narrow zigzag.)

I was going for the look of those Boden applique Tee’s that Theo loves–but which I only buy on sale, since they’re so expensive. But this one was much more of a bargain: it didn’t cost much more than the $7.50 baseball Tee from Old Navy, plus a few evenings of secret embroidery in the rocking chair.

And this one means so much more–it’s Theo’s art brought to life, and Mama’s guilt brought to rest. For now, at least.  And yes, when he looked in the gift bag on his birthday and saw his wolves, I got one big smile.

Take that, Waldorf guilt!