May3
May3
A Best Friend
I had a best friend as a child. His name was Bo. This was his nickname which I loved and frankly, I still do. What a wonderful southern nickname with such character. Bo was an adorable and clever boy whose impish mischievousness identically matched mine and whose mother beat him so badly with a belt that his legs would be covered with black and blue. We did all those things you read about in the cute little clips about, “I grew up in the age of no helmets, drinking water out of the hose”, etc. We also played really fun games like pretending my baby doll was dead and we were having a funeral. We especially loved humming a funeral dirge as loudly as we could while running up and down the street with my doll which really did look dead after having been dragged around the neighborhood for god knows how long. We had her on a makeshift stretcher. It seemed like a perfectly good game to play and we loved it.
In our time adult neighbors were allowed to interact with kids, including to tell them they would “jerk a knot” in them if they did such and such again, our parents did the same so we did not question authority. We had a neighbor who lived a couple of streets over and we would go knock on her door periodically to ask if she might just have any candy. I remember feeling like we hit the mother lode when she gave us each a tootsie pop. What could have been better. Even though she had been kind and given us the candy and we smiled and thanked her grandly we hunkered together to whisper and giggle that her last name sounded like witch.
Peanut butter and jelly was a fine lunch to be made by us and dragged into the woods WITHOUT washing our hands or using hand sanitizer which hadn’t even been invented. I don’t think we got any sicker than kids today, in fact if I hadn’t grown up with two smoking parents which caused me endless allergies and ear aches, I don’t think I would have gotten sick at all. Picnics were adventures in the woods where our imaginations truly ran wild. We ran around like feral children with no adults to supervise us other than to call us in for dinner at night. We got filthy on a regular basis and when we skinned our knees we would just stay out if it wasn’t too bad. Going home might mean being asked to fold laundry or for Bo much worse.
We grew up just after Beatlemania but we were crazy about The Monkees and Herman’s Hermits, of “Mrs. Brown You’ve Got a Lovely Daughtah” fame. Bo and I would regularly do fake British accents which must have sounded pretty bad combined with the intense Tennessee twang we had mixed in but we would giggle and I am still surprised to this day that there were some folks, adults included, who actually believed we were British. Pretend was our best playtime and Bo would don his cub scout uniform and I would come up with some get up and Bo’s older sister would play the wedding march on the little plastic organ they got for Christmas one year. We felt rather solemn about this and I was afraid that maybe this was a little too serious, in the end it only added to the excitement of the event.
Bo had a G.I. Joe and I had a Barbie. Needless to say we joined the two and what fun we would have. I loved all the cool accessories G.I. Joe had as much as the Barbie stuff and anyway I really only had a Barbie with NO accessories. Let’s face it, G.I. Joe was a real man compared to Ken so off Barbie would happily go in the US Army Jeep. I was occasionally jealous of my other friends who had all the extras, like the houses, pink cars, clothes and the Kens but none of them had a friend like Bo with all the cool boy stuff so I was content.
When I was eleven Bo’s family moved away and I was heartbroken. There was no Internet then, no Facebook, long distance phone calls were expensive and I wasn’t much of a letter writer, though we did try really hard to stay in touch. I finally lost contact with him by about age 13. I did have the chance to reconnect finally after after almost 40 years and have had the opportunity to hear how lonely and difficult his life has been. Bo’s mother drank herself to death when he was a young teenager and his father put him out for things many parents of teens routinely deal with. Being the gifted young man he was he did get to college to study Spanish and Art but his life has been a lonely one, disconnected to his family who I don’t think really ever could connect with his free and yes unusual spirit. Fortunately he has a better memory than I do and any story I can recall he can add to with colorful details. It is wonderful to have a best friend as a child.
In the photo I am the one with the cool sailor hat with inset sunglasses, I did love that hat, and Bo is the boy in the middle next to me with his lovely impish grin, and yes we were probably drinking out of the hose!
Apr30
Moss in a Shoebox
Apr29
Moss in a Shoebox
When I was about seven or eight years old I had the good fortune to be able to become a Brownie Girl Scout. This afforded me the grand opportunity to wear a lovely little brown outfit complete with matching, knee socks, sock holder uppers, pins, sash, belt and the literal crowning glory, a little felt beanie. Words can not express what wonderful pride I had to don that little number to school, to wear it before my classmates as if I were a four starred general, or the queen of England for that matter. Although I can not remember what we did, other than to collect a dime each week for dues and say our Girl Scout promise I do remember looking forward to that meeting all week.
One of my most vibrant “snapshot” memories of childhood which is etched in my mind and comes back to me repeatedly in vivid color is of a trip I took with my Brownie troop. We took an outdoor nature hike to Chickamauga Battlefield. I had a shoe box which I was told I could use to store any items of interest I found. Our leader bent down to show us a patch of emerald green moss and explain what it was to us.
I do not remember what she said or even who she was. I do not remember who else came on the trip but I do remember carefully collecting a specimen of moss in my shoebox and being allowed to bring it home. This has such a monumental effect on me. Who could have known this would be one of those color memories that just will never fade. It truly brought me joy to have that moss in my shoebox. I felt as though I was carrying a box full of priceless gems and in a way I was . Perhaps this is why I still feel like the little Brownie Girl Scout when I go out in the woods and am in awe of the majesty and miracle surrounding me.
Apr25
My Life Appears to Me…
My life appears to me as a series of color snapshots stored in the memory bank of my mind. When I was four years old, after a very long car trip, I arrived at my new home to find that my father had gone into the woods and cut down a tiny evergreen tree and affixed pieces of bubblegum to it with string. I’m sure he could not know at the time that this small gesture would be a brilliant color snapshot I have carried in my mind and heart for my entire life.
Not all of my snapshots are brilliant color, some of them are black and white and still others are underexposed and so that they fade altogether after a time. My gentle, loving father was also an active alcoholic for my entire childhood. More later…
Feb18
What Does Homeschooling Look Like Right Now?
Feb18
What Does Homeschooling Look Like Right Now?
Right now homeschooling looks like a 12 year old spending about four hours a day on a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle, the last three days that is. Well, it is of King Tut, does that count for history or something? I suppose I could mention Ancient Egypt to make it seem more scholarly but I did not. We did visit a mummy exhibit and see King Tutty type stuff stuff about two weeks ago. That *was definitely* scholarly.
Homeschooling also looks like kids doing math lessons on their own that I have to “catch up” to when I get a chance, and I will I promise, even if it I have to miss Zumba to do it. It also looks like kids spending hours playing guitars and violins. I am not exaggerating about the hours either. I’m OK with that, we’ll call it advanced music class and they are really good too. Why I can’t get them to play together though, I wish they would play a duo but they don’t even like to be in the car together so I guess no duo for now.
Vocabulary??, does scrabble count? Our family is in a scrabble craze lately. I don’t remember what started this but we play just about every chance we get and the adults in this house do not always win either. I do remember getting creamed by a 12 year old but I console myself with the fact that there is also a bit of luck involved.
Homeschooling can look like an overly enthusiastic mom with a set of amazing blue ray DVDs on history that her children are only watching because they were forced to. At least mom is really in to them and maybe the kids will remember something from them, this is history right?
Homeschooling also looks like a bunch of science junk all over the dining room table such that we squeeze in the kitchen to eat because nobody wants to clean the bio hazard. It also looks like an experiment that can not be completed because I CAN NOT find the damn plastic tubing required. I HATE that it, makes me want to tear my hair out and I can ill afford that right now.
Homeschooling looks like kids actually enjoying reading Frankenstein, hey its a fantastic read so who can blame them. Homeschooling looks like NO P.E., no “dressing out”, what a waste that all is anyway. Running with the dog is so much more fun and hey the dog gets exercise too. Homeschooling looks like cranky teens staying up way too late and sleeping in way too late and wanting to start their day on Facebook.
Homeschooling looks like pajama day every day. Although, one child also wears stiletto heels with pajamas, she says she needs to practice. I make it a point not to wear shoes that I have to practice walking in. I learned how to walk over 50 years ago and I think I’m pretty good at it. Right now homeschooling around here does look like a huge mess and plenty of noise and a mother who worries daily that her children are never going to get educated.
Nesperennub, a temple priest who lived 3,000 years ago
We take our studies very seriously.
Feb12
Smiling Dogs
My neighbor has the most gorgeous dog. Koda comes round to visit every now and again. She trots around and says hi to all the neighbors and then returns home. She is an Icelandic Sled Dog, but mostly she is adorable and very sweet. Have you ever seen a dog smile?
Feb12
Homemade Pizza
This is an easy, hard to mess up, delish pizza dough recipe. You can change it up too. We’ve done almost everything wrong at one time or another and it still came out not only edible but good.
1 cup water, 1 cup milk, 1 tablespoon sugar, 2 teaspoons yeast, 1 teaspoon salt, 1/4 cup oil, 5 cups flour
I usually heat the water for a minute in the microwave, then put the cold milk and swirl it around so it is warm but not hot. Then I mix in the rest of the ingredients. For years I kneaded this by hand on my kitchen table but now I use a dough hook on my fancy mixer, either way it should be kneaded about 15 minutes and then left to rise for about 90 minutes in a warm place. If the dough is too sticky I add bits of flour until it is sort of like play doh.
It usually makes enough for three decent size pizzas which we roll out on our kitchen counter. I sprinkle the dough with Italian Seasoning, then use regular tomato sauce or left over spaghetti sauce. We are mostly vegetarian so we rarely use meat toppings. We do lots of onion and pepper but our favorite is chunks of pineapple. Let me know how your pizza ends up.
I cook the pizzas on 425 degrees, setting the timer at 10 minutes at which point I switch the position of the pizzas. The cooking time depends on the thickness of the dough and how many toppings you have too though. I find that often you can tell when the pizza is done by smelling it. Having a decent pizza pan is also really helpful. People swear by the pizza stones but I have not been able to spring for that yet. Cheers.
Plain Cheese Pizza
Feb12
Snakes
Copperhead
Five years ago I wrote a post about killing a corn snake in my back yard. As a naturalist this is something extremely embarrassing. I can now clearly identify a venomous from a non-venomous snake AND even if I had a venomous snake in my yard, which in this area would only be a copperhead, unless it was threatening us I would let it be. I had a couple of photos of the two snakes which are sometimes confused. For more on snakes I suggest looking up the herpetological society of your own state. Snakes are fascinating creatures.
Corn Snake
