Saturday, December 31, 2016

A Favorite Childhood Book

I recently ran across an article in Book Riot (sorry, in spite of my searching, I cannot find it now to link it for you) about favorite childhood books and what they may say about your character.

It got me thinking about one of my favorites.

Turtle's Flying Lessons is a relatively unknown book though I did manage to find one on Amazon. I still have my copy and it's here next to me. As I thought through the plot and moral of the story, it was quickly apparent that this should indeed be a favorite. 

Turtle has a very sedentary, calm, quiet life. He has a settled life. Routine. He doesn't have to hurry, and he has no worry. He knows how his life is going to play out day by day. Pheasant and Grouse are his friends but they pity poor Turtle for his seemingly boring existence. They devise a plan to help Turtle bring some excitement into his life. Turtle is going to learn to fly. Or not. In spite of some very clever inventions and in spite of some very valiant effort, Turtle cannot fly. He is not created to fly. He is created for water. He is created for a slow pace. He finds his joy in being what he was created to be.

So now we discuss.

1. Do you know that I have, on more than one occasion, borne the nickname, "Turtle"? It's true. I am a turtle. I am slow about my business. My slowness leads to a lot of time day-dreaming. I need my daydream time.

2. I, like Turtle, enjoy my routine. I need the safety of not being hit by spur of the moment matters. (I can deal with those surprises, but I need routine.) I don't need flying lessons. I  need time to think.

3. While predictability seems boring to many, I find it energizing. I have been so insanely busy lately with Rod being out of town, Hannah deciding to join the Army and all that busy that came with it, the holidays--I have not had enough time to sit back and think about the important things, the quiet things.

All of this makes me wonder whether Mrs. Anna Brown (who gave me this book as a going away present when we were leaving Bonita) didn't see this in me already. I mean, was she telling me to embrace the quiet that was in me? Or, was it just a cute little book that she could give?

Whatever the case, I think that I AM TURTLE. And as I approach 50, I am okay with that. Everyone needs a quiet place sometimes because this world is chaos. I know very well how to be quiet.

Friday, December 30, 2016

This is my letter to the world...Or Why I don't do those letters

Dear Friends and Family,

The Rod Moore family has had an exciting marvelous fulfilling --they have had a year.

January saw us celebrating Hannah's birthday.

February saw us...um...breathing and eating and stuff.

March came and brought Rod a birthday. I think that's all besides the living stuff we continued from February.

April meant tax day. We observed that.

May allowed us to let Hannah officially quit homeschool and pass 3 of her 4 GEDs. She failed math by 1 point. But then she retook it and failed by 2 points. Hannah dug a deep hole of disappointment and moved in.

June brought us news that Rod had to travel. Two trips to California and one trip to Israel. No one knew when. Then only knew what. And also Mike had a birthday.

July was a 21st anniversary. That was cool. I can't remember how we celebrated or if we celebrated because regular life doesn't stop moving. Something else may or may not have happened, but that's okay because we were still doing the living stuff. I probably bought gas. And we waited on travel details because travel was supposed to happen in August. 

But August cancelled the trip at the last minute so I missed my mom and dad's 50th wedding anniversary because Rod was going to be travelling so I needed to stay home and do the adulty things. But the travel changed and I missed things.

September brought me another birthday. We still all did the living stuff, and also we did the waiting on travel stuff. The waiting was growing obnoxious.

October was Sarah's turn for a birthday and Rod's travel was solidified. Unless they changed it, but they didn't. I also told my brother happy birthday. I think I also said that to my cousin but I can't remember.

November was TRAVELTIME! And Rod was gone for the following:
  1. Tabitha's 20th birthday

  2. Hannah's announcement that she was joining the army
  3. All of the insanity of having to get stuff for that above thing
  4. the Thanksgiving prep
  5. Tabitha's first date
But November let him come home for a week to enjoy Thanksgiving. And it let him skip the Israel trip.

Finally December. Rod was, of course, gone mostly. We still did the Army stuff and we got snowed in. And we did the living. Rod still gets to skip the Israel trip. But there is still time for December to change its mind or whisper wicked things to January.

Friday, June 10, 2016

The more things change

I now have two children done with homeschool. This is bittersweet. They are pretty much done with me as mom; they are ready for me in a new role that is less active but more behind-the scenes as they begin to navigate new waters of work and future. At least they are still under my roof. I still have them. 

I just set books aside for Becca's last year. My homeschool shelves have thinned by a lot. 

I've chosen to put Mike in an online charter school. Strangers will now choose his books for him. My role for his schooling is changing.

I am not sure that I am equipped to let these children go. 

Monday, May 2, 2016

Been there, done that, got the broken ribs

When, once upon a time, you took a path that led only to brambles and pits, you were muddled and confused while you tried to figure out what happened and how you got there. Then, a moment of epiphany came and you knew you had to get out. You spent some time looking around at how deeply you were tangled and then you went for it. You got yourself out, bloodied and bruised, but free. You ran the opposite direction. You spent time nursing the wounds and found you had some broken ribs and gave yourself time to let those heal.  Then, someone came along who decided that you needed to walk down that path again.  The difference this time was that you knew where it ended. You knew it ended with wounds difficult to heal and you dug in.  Oh, your new comrade tried to coax you into going, then that comrade tried to coerce you into going.  But you knew and you weren't going to land in the confused muddle again. So, you walked away. No one understood, but it was okay because you knew the end already. 

Friday, March 18, 2016

This is your brain on speech apraxia

When you have a child with any degree of learning disability, life becomes a challenge. There are roadblocks you have to navigate that the "average" child doesn't have to deal with. 

Sarah has apraxia of speech. As best as we can determine it is due to birth trauma.  She was born with very low APGAR numbers and she took a few minutes of intervention to perk up. Hers is not as bad as it could be. I am grateful for that. The condition brings things I have to figure out though.

If you research speech apraxia, you will find that it typically affects other areas of development. She's a little bit of an uncoordinated klutz and she is very picky about textures of food.

Through 4 years of speech therapy with some really great teachers, we got her past the worst of the speech issues. I don't believe you would ever know she dealt with this if you were engaged in casual conversation.  Unless you recognized that her hesitation in speaking to people she isn't completely familiar was more than shyness, you would think she was normal.  She doesn't speak to people much because her words don't often come out as articulately as she wants them to. When she's overly emotional, her speech issues show up again.

Last summer, she taught herself to swim--and she lost ground on her sounds. Her r's grew lazy again. She can't do all the things at once. She is very aware.

Now, we are facing a new issue. She has great ideas floating around in her brain, but her speech cannot keep up with those ideas and she is easily frustrated by her perceived lack. She feels stupid in this area and gives up easily. 

What's going on? She has to learn to write coherent passages. Getting the words in her head down on to the  paper involves mental acrobatics that just wear her down.  

I'm back to researching how to help her navigate this so that she can prove to the world that she is as smart as we know she is.  

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

We are all monsters

Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley, is a classic. It's a tale of horror. It's a tale of terror.  It's a tale of whining and moaning and groaning and complaining.

Victor Frankenstein is ambitious and arrogant. He cannot be taught by anyone that disagrees with him. (He sounds like so many college kids I currently know.) Those who disagree are pointless and worthy of nothing but disdain.  


He wants to create life because he wants to know, in his arrogance, how God feels. He works feverishly to accomplish this. It is only when he faces his creation full in the face that he realizes what a mess he's just created.  Instead of immediately fixing the mess, he flees.  Victor is a coward.

And he is weak for he falls into agony and illness as his horror looks him full in the face.

He spends and entire book whining about what a poor wretched creature he is; he brought it on himself by his refusal to take correction. (Proverbs 29:1) 

Now his brother is murdered and a young innocent girl is executed; Victor knows she did not do the deed but he opens not his mouth in order to save himself from being termed "mad." (Proverbs 17:5)

His monster then turns and demands what he wants in order to stop him from further murder. (The creature making demands of the creator?) When Victor finally decides not to give in to the demands, the monster murders more. 

Victor continues to bemoan his unhappy state--which he brought on himself.  

Then we hear the monster's side of the story. Let's be aware that the monster is as whiny as his creator. The monster began gently enough but humanity drove him from his kindness! Alas, the monster was forced to become wicked. Only wait a moment, the monster himself tells the reader that he chose his way out of anger. Yet, he feels he is not to blame because HE is the victim. No one can possibly feel as bad about life as he does. 

This book was horrible reading, and yet it sounds so much like America today. Everyone is a victim and no one is constrained to take personal responsibility. 

And one more thought, the monster is Judas Iscariot, though Victor is no Jesus.




Wednesday, February 17, 2016

An Odd Lot

The day was nice enough. It was sunny. The sunlight only served to invigorate us after days of El Nino had sucked our senses dry. We had chores to catch up on while our senses were enlivened by the warmth. In the middle of our busyness, BOOM! and everything went dark. (Yes, it was broad daylight, but my house eats light.) My firebug lit the candles, the other girls got out the board games. An odd thing these days, laughter. The girls sat around the candles and laughed and played together. The adults in the neighborhood all began to peek out.  "Lose power?" "Sure did. Did you hear the boom?" "Yeah. I think it came from the high school side of things."

Neighbors I've never seen came out of hiding. With no power there were no meals to prepare, no laundry to be done, no dishwashers to run. There were no imaginary internet friends to interact with. 

We all, rather stupidly, stepped into the sunlight. There was never so much block walking at once. One neighbor has a grandbaby I knew about but had never seen--before that day. We smiled at each other and waved. And we gawked while the power company sent their crews racing to restore us to normalcy. 

Truly, the explosion had come from the high school side as I thought, and the crew member who discovered the issue cheered. As did we all as we crept back into our caves. 

For a few strange moments, we all felt life.  It was if we, like Dr. Manet, had been "recalled to life." But, El Nino sent us more deluge and we all went back into our caves where the darkness sucked us dry again. 

What an odd lot we are.

Monday, February 15, 2016

IA:Initiate by John Darryl Winston

I have not been so struck by a book in a long time. IA: Initiate is set in the Exclave, the bad part of town. All the characters are there--the nuclear families, the broken families, the shop owners, the bullies, and the bullied. But Naz struck me.

I should let you know, in case you didn't, that I used to spend hours on Saturdays while I was in college in Glen Park which is a neighborhood in Gary, Indiana. It wasn't the worst neighborhood; it wasn't the best.  The thing I know is that I know Naz and Meri. I met them there in Glen Park. I loved them with my whole heart. Granted, Meri was only 3 and her name was Athena. But I can only imagine the spunk she had at 3 translated into "firecracker" by age 9. 

But Naz. Naz is so many of those kids. They were full of hopes and dreams and wishes and desires. The circumstances of their lives hadn't squashed all that joy out of them yet.  I don't know if they knew their lives were hard or not.  I can't say because they were happy.  

They had huge televisions in their living rooms but their coats were threadbare. They grabbed what they could to feed themselves and their siblings--often Twinkies or chips. Their mamas had been squashed and squished and their dreams were gone; but the kids' dreams lived and bubbled inside them. Their mamas hardly had a reason to get out of bed some days; but the kids could still dream.

As I read Initiate, I was back in Glen Park. I saw those kids again. And I wondered what ever happened to them. Did any of them have dreams survive? Did they become the hero that was inside their minds? Did any of them succumb to the same fate that squished their mamas? 

I'll likely never know. Where is Athena now? Did she maintain her spunk? Did she grow up and become a teacher? A mother? She had so much life in that little body. And my boys? What became of them? Did they excel in school? Did they get to college? 

When an author writes kids you know or knew once upon a time, and when he grabs your soul because you knew those kids, you know he's done a good job. 

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

WHY??

I have games on my phone. I have Kindle on my phone. While I'm playing games on my phone, no one has anything to say to me. As soon as I open my Kindle app, everyone needs me. Why do they hate me?

Monday, February 1, 2016

Confessions of a (formerly) fat girl

So, I keep buying smaller and smaller sizes. I am currently sitting here in a size 10 pair of jeans and I'm thinking they are a little loose. And I'm thinking that I don't think I look fat sitting here. But then I see myself in a mirror and I still see myself 30 pounds ago. I can still see the lumpy bumpy mess that I was.  Rod tells me he keeps doing a double-take because he has to figure out who I am. So, I'm obviously looking good, so to speak. But, not to me. Not really.

I guess it takes a while to get past that fat girl block. When will I see the me in the mirror that others see?

"You are looking really good." (Thanks, I guess. I'm wearing Spanx.)
"You are wasting away." (Well, I still have plenty of fat to lose, you know?)

Do we ever see ourselves how we are after weight loss? Or do we always see ourselves how we were?  I guess these remain to be answered. For myself at least.

BTW, I am in my goal size(s) but I still have 15-20 pounds left to lose.

Sunday, January 31, 2016

A Little Rant

Facebook is a great place. It's especially great if you are an introvert which is a whole other can of worms.

It's great that I can watch your kids grow up no matter how far you live from me. It's great that I can share your happy moments and your sad ones as if I were there.  

It's not great when you are the sort of person who only puts a vague statement about something and people have to draw it out of you.  Seriously.

"OH! My heart hurts!" What?? Are you having a heart attack? Call 911! Don't tell facebook. Well, never mind, your cat got hit by a car we find out 2 hours later. 


"I can finally breathe." Were you having an asthma attack? I just checked your last 5 days of posts and I have no indication otherwise.  What? Never mind, your car passed DEQ inspections.

This sort of adrenaline rush isn't good for anyone.  Just say what you need to say.  I have no idea whether your drama is drama worthy unless you just tell me because I don't have time to waste begging you spell it out.

Did a runaway bus load of children run over your dog and then careen down an embankment where they all died?  Or did you simply have a flat tire?  


We need conversations that go like this:
"My grandpa died."
"Oh? When was this? I had no idea. He was a really fun guy."
"Last week, I posted it on facebook."
"You did?"
"Yeah. I said my heart hurt."
"Oh. Well, you didn't say why it hurt so I just assumed you were having a heart attack. My dog was barking at the neighbors though, so I had to run out and get him in before the other neighbor called the sheriff again. Maybe next time you should just say what happened so I know it's important that I get back with you."

Monday, January 25, 2016

The Current Reading List

If you stumble across this blog every once in a while, you will know that I might have ADHD when it comes to books. You can count on me to have several books going at any given time.

So, the current list includes the following:

1. A Very British Family  This is a history of the (in)famous Trevelyan family. It's written by a Trevelyan, but it is the only book I could find.  It's slow going in this one, but it has led me to increase my TBR pile because now I want to read The Competition Wallah, which was written by one of the Trevelyans.


2. The Ninja Librarians is being read with the kids. It's slow. I like that this book takes place in a library.  I like that this book introduces some awfully clever words that the average middle schooler won't likely read otherwise. I hate that in the first 86 pages I have had to correct grammar.  There are awkward moments of humor that help ease the tedium. This book will be finished but only because of the principle of the matter and also...there's my Goodreads challenge that needs the numbers.

3. Israel is nearly complete. As a matter of fact, we will finish it tomorrow and move on to Afghanistan. As we have read through the books about the various Middle Eastern countries, I have found extreme agendas in promoting Islam. This book began with a seeming bias against Israel by oddly worded sentences that made Israel look like the aggressor in many cases where history shows Israel was attacked first.  However, as the book moved on, the wording changed and became a little more honest.  Yes, I realize Israel has done some things that have been aggressive; but not all the things were started by them. Honesty is good.

4. IA: Initiate is only just begun but there has been magic already.  Most notably, my inner reading voice became James Earl Jones-ish.  My inner reading voice is rarely male and never big like his. That was unique and cool. So far, the characters I've met are believable and quite possibly just like children I knew when I spent so many hours with kids in Gary, Indiana.  As a matter of fact, the young girl is most definitely pictured like one most adorable saucy child. This is quite readable and I'll possibly read it to the kids if I ever finish slogging through Ninja Librarians.

5. The Windcatcher has been slow. I started reading it last May.  The writing style is difficult for me, but this is a book I go to when I feel specific clarity mentally. It takes a few minutes to get into the proper mode and then I can go only a short distance.  I will finish this one but it may take a while. It isn't because it is uninteresting.  It is more that it doesn't match my style. I don't mind books like that.

6. The Korean Word for Butterfly is odd. I don't know if it's going to get any better, but I've read words like "groovy" and "cool cat." This is a book set in the 2000's. 

There may be others.  Well, there are always others. Catch-22 is languishing under my bed because the thought of the droning on makes me feel as though fingernails are being dragged down a blackboard. 

I have just completed The Mad Tinker's Daughter which I loved. It was my first foray into the steampunk genre and it was clever and it was fun. There is a good possibility that I will go on to the 2nd in the trilogy at some point.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

My Heart Leaps Up when I Behold...

I decided to stop in at Barnes & Noble last night and just buy a journal to keep in my purse for those weird moments of strange inspiration that need to be written down so that I don't have to scrounge for an odd receipt anymore. It's actually quite cute and purple. Purple is important to me.  But as I wandered, I ran across a thing that made my heart leap up. No, it wasn't a rainbow in the sky. (I'm sorry Mr. Wordsworth.)  It was a notepad.  Yes, a notepad made my heart leap within me! I embrace my quirk. 




Okay, now do you see why? Wouldn't you be all giddy over this find?  No?  Well, as I said, I embrace my quirk. This notepad took me back to all sorts of times and places from pre-IR checkout. 

I remember how I loved looking over the library pocket cards to see how long it'd been since it was checked out. I enjoyed reading books that had been overlooked for a while. I enjoyed seeing the names of the previous borrowers and wondering how they'd responded to the book in question. And, oh! Was that the name of my current crush? Well, we'd have something to talk about, wouldn't we? I mean, if I actually talked to people outside my tiny circle.

In sixth grade, I got to volunteer in the library. It was wondrous. I got to stamp the cards after the names were signed. I got to file the cards in their proper order. It was divine. I got to put the cards back in when the books were returned and it was marvelous. 

So, seeing the notepad ignited nostalgia. In these days of quick-self checking, the stories of the pocket cards are gone.  I didn't realize I missed them until last night.

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

And the sign flashed out its warning...

The neon signs flashed their messages relentlessly through the pouring rain.  "Nails & Waxing" and "OPEN" beckoned her. There would be a phone there, she thought. Only, who would she call? Who would help her? In her moment of hesitation, the signs went dark. Her chance to do something different gone with the lights.

I guess that I need to carry a small notebook with me for these stupid little things that introduce themselves into my brain at odd moments.  Last night, Sarah and I sat in the van waiting for Rebecca to finish taekwondo.  The rain was dumping and Sarah mentioned that the signs were obnoxious. I looked up and watched them for a few moments.  They seemed to speak something else to me. I fished around my purse for paper and pen. The only paper to be found was a folded receipt. 

Does this moment qualify me for "writer"? No, I think I'm merely a dabbler.