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(what a funny title, I'm laughing my head off.) I just came here while poking around online. Felt kind of nostalgic. I think I'm going to try to pirate this template to use on my current blog. See you there! |
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...of homeschoolblogger! Half the time I can't view my blog at all, half the time I can't access my User Control Panel, and the other quarter of the time, I can't post text / pics / links. (Questioning my math? Don't worry... I'm teaching my children all I know.) In fact, this is the third attempt I've made to post a "Good bye" post. Chuh!
So I'm jumping ship. Say adieu to my lovely Christmas template, and say hello to my new boring one over at blogger. I'll start a new template as soon as I've got a mo! Here is my new blog. See you there! |
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Am in the process of reading Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" to my children, ages 6 and 8. Now, I'd not wanted to wait until they were older to share this excellent book, and thought that as a read-aloud, it would cut the mustard. I scoffingly eschewed a "children's edition" I saw in our library, and thought stridently, "Things have come to a pretty pass when they're publishing fake Dickens! What will they think of next?!"
Well.
Have you read "A Christmas Carol" lately? Further, have you read it with elementary school children in mind? It's impossible. I find myself wanting to say (but not, thank God, actually saying), "Marley was dead, to begin with. |
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Goodness gracious, I seem to have lost any vestige of control I had over my children's education. I realized today, in a blinding flash of light, that it's Christmas, and my grade 3 child STILL has only learned the multiplication tables up to 5, with smatterings in the 7s and 11s. (And, of course, the 10s.) Since September, once in a while I experience, out of the blue, a crippling realization that I, and I alone, am in charge of my children's education. This means if they don't make it into the university of their choice, I am the one who can be blamed. And if they turn into freakishly unsocial weirdos, that can be laid at my door. It's scary, I tell you. I can just hear the admissions counselor at McGill, in 2016: "Dear Ms. Educated-At-Home: We regret to inform you, while laughing behind our hands, that you have not been accepted, and never will be accepted, into our university. We suspect your mother has something to do with the amusement we felt while reading your application, and advise her not to attempt homeschooling again. We further advise your ridiculous mother to learn her own eight times tables, and quit pretending that she understands anything to do with mathematics. We don't really regret our decision, and wish you well in life, although we understand that you will be permanently crippled by your lack of a decent education. Yours, in utmost sincerity, Messrs. McGill
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Spent a lovely day baking, baking, baking. Since it was decided that my sister's family wouldn't be coming for Christmas, I'd lost my joy (as Shan would say). I've let my house get disgustingly grungy, and had all but abandoned anticipatory baking. But today, on the first day of my HOLIDAYS, I suddenly felt full of zest and energy, and made not only a lovely batch of pulla (Finnish cardamom bread), but also Glazed Nut Diamonds, Chocolate Peanut Butter Balls and Vanillekipferln (Austrian Almond Crescent Cookies). AND, I'm excited that tomorrow we're having Moe come to clean our house. Ahhh! It will be so lovely to come home to a sparkling clean house after a day of Christmas shopping. (Only two gifts left to buy!) We put up our Christmas tree a couple days ago (fake, due to too much snow/no time to go out for a real one), and it is twinkling peacefully in the living room. This year, tired of too much glitz, I omitted all sparkly garland and icicles in favour of a lot of decorations from Ten Thousand Villages. It's quite a change, but I'm happy with the results: a much less North American-type tree. This is a poor picture, but you can still see what I mean:
I tried to make the switch to white lights this year, but was vetoed by the children. I didn't put up much of a fight, as I realize that coloured lights are much more magical and exciting for children. Now that homeschoolblogger.com has been "improved," I find it full of problems. It's proving really difficult to add pics and links. I'm thinking of switching over to blogger, but I'll let you know.... |
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Back in the 80's I came up with a terrific idea for a comic strip. I knew at once, in a flash of inspiration, that the main character should be called "Clumsy Ox." My brother, hoping to get in on the fun (he always kind of followed me around), approached me with the idea to name a secondary character "Tripping Theresa." I was the type of sister who was gentle and loving towards my siblings, so I kindly used his idea in my comic strip, of course remembering to give credit for his idea.
But listen to how my kindness was repaid:
In a shocking twist, my brother began to spread the dirty lie that he made up Clumsy Ox, and that I was responsible for Tripping Theresa. And, as fate would have it, he went out with enticing words of man's wisdom, creeping about privily to deceive, whereas I spoke simply, as one accustomed only to the truth. And, though it grieves me to write it, I think he began to believe his own lies.
Over the years, he has gone to great lengths to stun me with this deliberate breach of truth. But, friends, nothing could have prepared me for his recent act of faithlessness. He has created AN ENTIRE BLOG celebrating this falsehood, and he has actually made a link to my blog, calling it "Tripping Theresa."
In short, I have been trounced. Well and truly trounced.
Now, I want to warn you that you may be shocked by his perfidy. But those with strong stomachs can go here. Please pray for him, that God would soften his heart and take the scales from his eyes, that he would be able to speak the truth without shame. Perhaps, one day, he who has persecuted me in times past would now preach the faith which once he destroyed.
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Ewww... I'm sick, sick, sick as a dog. The thing about being sick is that it's all you can think about. The phone has rung about 400 times today, and I made sure each time that I answered it with a particularly small and stuffy voice, to ensure that the callers felt sorry for me. And they did, for the most part, with the exception of a rude and pushy telemarketer from Mastercard. Contact C...... 7.49 Neo Citran..... 8.49 Kleenex with Aloe..... 1.59 Being healthy..... priceless.
Anyway, I've read a lot of books and have listened to a couple of sermons I missed at a conference this weekend. One of the speakers is from South Africa, and after listening to him, I found that I was reading my book (silently) with a S African accent. Odd.
I've reread these books in the last couple days:
Now, I know that I am asking for some mocking remarks with these words, but I have to say that I love these books. It's worth noting that if I were the chick in As Sure as the Dawn, I would so totally be all over that Theophilus dude. Ding dong! I'd ditch Atretes so fast it would make your head spin, and take off with Theophilus into the Roman sunset. Mmm, mmm, mmm.
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On Monday night, I walked in the door after work and saw this:
And a close-up of the note, written creepily on torn cardboard:
It's so fun having kids!
Then this morning, my daughter was telling me about a friend of hers who, when a baby, had a knot in her tongue. It took me a few minutes to realize that her friend had been tongue-tied. Too funny.
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I had a rotten day. I slept in late, and didn't get up for church until 9:30. You know those days when you get up, exhausted before your feet hit the floor, and just want to start crying and go back to bed? Yeah, that was my day. I'm not really sure why my day was so awful, but it was.
This weekend was very busy, to begin with, between double shifts at work and a conference going on at church. I spent Saturday in the church kitchen, slicing about a million buns, making tiny rolls out of a MOUNTAIN of lunch meat, and scooping out eight hundred litres of soup. I felt like I was turning into this:
"No soup for you!"
Then today, after scrambling around trying to get myself and my kids ready for church [late], I wished I could have just stayed home. Although everyone else was having a blast, I felt grouchy and sad and unloved, and couldn't wait to skive off when it was over. Then on the way home, I had to slog through the grey slush in the Save On Foods parking lot to run in and grab milk and bread, and then realized when I was driving away that I forgot to buy dishwasher soap.
When I got home, with a bare hour and a half until going back to work, I sort of banged things around and sniffled for a while, unloading the groceries. But then I got this in the mail, and bawled over it for 45 minutes:
How nice. It made me feel loved and appreciated, and although I am not a pin-wearing kind of girl, I actually put the pin on my work coat. Because really, how many people out there have "Living Donor" pins? I felt very warm and lovingful towards the BC Transplant Society and St. Paul's Hospital. Isn't it funny how encouragement comes from the strangest places, just when you need it? Every now and then at work, I'd think, "we thank you for the gift of life," and start tearing up.
So it turned into a good day after all!
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I just read this in my sister's blog, and laughed so hard I squirted tea right up my nose. (Was painful indeed.) It's always nice to have a man around the house, especially to keep you company for a nice homemade eggnog latte. Sadly, this particular one is "not a whole man", as he kept saying to me in a sad tone, but I trust that he is happier now that he has been reunited with his missing leg.
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