What I am reading

Sarah and I just finished Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink today.  I knew she'd love Caddie because Caddie was a tomboy. I was not mistaken. Also, now I can go around quoting, "If at first you don't fricassee, fry fry a hen" and get a proper response.

I have a lot of non-fiction going.

The Forgotten Man: A New History of the Great Depression by Amity Schlaes has been very engaging. I've got it all marked up with notes and questions for further research. It is very well-written and easy to follow.

The Communist Manifesto and Other Revolutionary Writings, edited by  Blaisdel is just what it says it is--a collection of writings by the "revolutionaries." I started this one a long time ago and the Schlaes book got me interested in reading it again. It's a little more time consuming than Schlaes' book, but honestly, it's a book worth reading. How can you know what these men said if you don't read them?

I am re-reading my volume of Emily Dickinson poems and I am re-reading A Tale of Two Cities. With every re-reading of Two Cities, I find I have forgotten so many details. Also, Madame Defarge gets creepier.

I have a couple of others that I've put aside because they are not nearly as engaging as The Forgotten Man. It's a bit odd to say that I've put aside fiction for non-fiction. 

The dog, the drugs, and the fireworks

Lugnut, bless his doggie heart, is terrified of fireworks. I don't mean he cowers and trembles. I mean he tears things up. He tries to break glass doors. We tried all the things...pheromone collars, white noise, music, Thundershirt and many combinations. Nothing worked to calm him. It's frustrating and irritating. We just want him to understand logic and chill, but he's a dog. A dog is not intended to understand logic anymore than a toddler understands logic.

Those are just noises outside, Lugs. They are not going to hurt you. You have been hearing them all your life and you have not died yet.

Yeah, reasoning is futile.

So, we went for the anti-anxiety medications. It's a drug combination, actually. Two of these pills and one and a half of these will lull him into a a doped state that allows him no cares at all (in theory) and renders him unable to move mostly.

Here's the thing. We never know how quickly these will go into effect with him. The first time we used them, they took about 12 hours (or maybe longer). All I can tell you is that he was a wreck all through the noisiest part of the night and the next morning he was out of it. So, based on this reasoning I drugged him sooner the next time. Then it took to working just about the right time and it didn't take a whole of crazy calming from me. However, the next time took effect too late again. So, this time we determined to drug him early and drug him often. I gave him the first dose at 9am. It took affect almost immediately, but he didn't go floppy. He merely went loopy. I gave him the next dose at 5pm. He went pretty immobile, but he could still do enough panic. I was at a loss. Then the amazing thing happened. About the time the Whistling Pete's took off, I managed to get him into a coma. He dozed soundly through the next half hour. This was 7 hours after the administration of the 2nd dose. 

I figured I would stay up until he began to be mobile again so I could get both dogs into the mudroom for the night. At 1am, he still couldn't move. At 2am, he still wasn't moving and he seemed to be in a very deep sleep. I went to the sofa. I fell asleep. Before 15 minutes had passed, he was doing this woof that he does when he needs something. He wouldn't be shushed so I got up. He looked at me and went right back to sleep. After he'd slept about 15 more minutes, I tried the sofa again. Not 8 minutes later, he was woofing for me again. And again. And again.

He finally fell into a good slumber about 3am. I went to the sofa where I slept until he realized he was still alive at 5. I stayed up. 

The kids figured it out. Lugs had decided that he was at the gate of the Rainbow Bridge and he wanted me to hold his hand while he crossed. But a miracle happened. He got breakfast. Then I offered him outside. But outside was useless because his back legs were broken. Then I offered him squirrel. Hallelujah! Squirrel! Suddenly his back legs worked again and he was out (albeit rather wobble-footed) and ready to walk away from the Rainbow Bridge.

Today he was his normal, playing with his bear, barking at the neighbors self. I'm exhausted.

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.

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.

Not the path I expected.

So, this happened.

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. 

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.