Linkin’ Log

Thought I’d start the day by sharing some of the reading that kept me up too late last night:

First stop, Atypical Homeschool, where Ron & Andrea announce, “Gather ’round all ye readers, for the first edition of the Carnival of Unschooling.” Settle in for this one with a nice cup of cocoa…you’ll be happily occupied for a while.

Atypical also shared the link to a fascinating series of posts on Alexander’s Maitresse, where la Maitresse has been chatting with admissions officers from various colleges about homeschooling admission policies and is posting their responses. This series of posts is going to be passed around a lot, you bet.

I enjoyed perusing Semicolon’s favorite books list…we have lot of favorites in common, it seems. I’d pick Little Men over Eight Cousins any day, though. And To Kill a Mockingbird comes waaaaay up at the top for me. Although come to think of it, she didn’t say she was ranking them in order. Which is smart. Because coming up with a list of 100 favorites would be hard enough (Semicolon is up to 68 so far)—putting them in any kind of “counting down to the best book ever” order would be darn near impossible. Anyway, Semicolon has inspired me to attempt such a list for myself. It means thinking back over every book you’ve ever read: that alone presents a challenge.

Spunky Homeschool wishes to remind everyone that there are only a few days left to nominate your favorite blogs for the 2005 Homeschool Blog Awards.

Over at Brave Writer, Julie Bogart has some good advice for writing Christmas letters.

And finally, a link not to a specific post but to a blog I’ve just encountered: Mental Multi-vitamin. It is nourishing indeed.

Books We Love Part 2

Diaryworm_1Diary of a Worm by Doreen Cronin, author of Beanie’s beloved Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type. This quirky look at the life of a young worm never fails to crack me up. May 28. Last night I went to the school dance. You put your head in. You put your head out. You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself about. That’s all we could do. Hilarious details in the illustrations.

AlltheplacesAll the Places to Love by Patricia MacLachlan. This breathtaking book was the first baby gift I ever received, and it has become a family treasure. We like to hear Scott read it because it always chokes him up. Everyone in the young narrator’s family has a place he loves best about the family farm: the blueberry hill, the river rocks, the barn. (“Where else,” muses his grandfather, “can the soft sound of cows chewing make all the difference in the world?”) The boy grows up rooted in this sense of personal connection to place, and when his baby sister is born, he is the one to share “all the places to love” with her.

BubBub: Or the Very Best Thing by Natalie Babbitt. Like many new parents, the king and queen are obsessing over exactly what is “the very best thing” for their toddler son. They solicit advice from all corners of the castle, and everyone from the gardener to the court musician has an opinion. Turns out the young prince knew the answer all along: “Bub.” What’s “bub”? Your two-year-old can tell you…

JamesprudenceJames in the House of Aunt Prudence by Timothy Bush. Not much text in this book: the story is in the deliciously detailed artwork. When James visits his very proper Aunt Prudence, he tries to be on his best behavior. It’s not his fault the bearskin rug turns out to be a live bear…not to mention the arch enemy of the nasty Mouse King.

Books We Love, Part 1

Around this time of year, I get a lot of queries from readers about book recommendations for gifts. I thought I’d post some of my suggestions here. I’ll start with picture books (which make great family gifts as well as special presents for small children) and over the course of this week will try to work my way up to older readers as well. And of course I’ve already listed a lot of our favorites in the sidebar—what I’ll be posting here are (mostly) books that aren’t already listed there. If I put ALL the books we treasure, this page would take forever to load.

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All righty then. You already know that I think Jan Brett’s Christmas Treasury would make a lovely family gift, one destined to become part of a holiday tradition. It brings together in one volume these stories: The Mitten, The Wild Christmas Reindeer, Trouble with Trolls, The Twelve Days of Christmas, The Hat, The Night Before Christmas, and the book that had me in tears earlier this week, Christmas Trolls.

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The Rainbabies by Laura Kraus Melmed. Beautifully illustrated tale of an elderly couple whose yearning for a child is answered in a most unexpected manner. (Would make a extra-special gift in tandem with this adorable rainbow gnome babies set, or you could make your own with the pattern I mentioned a couple of weeks ago. Not to up the ante too much—the book is a beautiful gift all on its own.)

—More to come later—the kids just woke up and it seems St. Nick paid a visit in the night, for their shoes are full of candy. I am summoned to the joyful hullabaloo!

Feel Like Poking Around inside a Pyramid?

Or how about building a Viking ship and setting sail for some nice looting and pillaging? Or maybe you’d rather dive for sunken treasure. Now’s your chance…

If the games on this BBC History site are anywhere near as good as they look, we’re in for some serious fun. I took a quick peek at the new Egyptian archaelogy game, Death in Sakkara, and good golly, does it have Jane’s name all over it. I’ll be back with her report later.

Here’s the complete games list…Look! They even have Scottish history!

Ancient
Anglo-Saxon Coins
Death in Rome
Death in Sakkara: An Egyptian Adventure
Gladiator: Dressed to Kill
The Mummy Maker
Pyramid Challenge
Viking Quest

Archaeology
Dig Deeper Quiz
The Diving Game
Hunt The Ancestor

Church and State
Church Tour
Elizabethan Spying Game
Whose House?

Society and Culture
Gunpowder Plot Quiz
Historical Costumes Game
Muck and Brass
Who Wants To Be A Cotton Millionaire?
Women’s Rights

Wars and Conflict
Battlefield Academy
Battlefield Academy: Battle of Trafalgar
Battle of Hastings
Battle of the Atlantic
Battle of Waterloo
SOE Quiz
Weapons through Time

Other
Scottish History Games
Walk through Time

A Forgotten Day Remembered

I was browsing at Kim’s Relaxed Homeskool site and to my surprise came across a post I contributed to her “day in the life” collection some nine months ago. I’d forgotten all about it. It was a hoot to re-read it and remember what was filling our days last March. In that spirit of delightful reminiscence, I’d like to call for my readers to share your own Day in the Life essays in the comments section. In about a year I’ll remind you that they’re there, and you’ll have the fun of rediscovering your own forgotten family moments.

The pre-dawn hush when I’m the only one awake around here has given way to the noisy bustle of Sunday morning, so I’ll have to write my own new typical-day piece later. For now, here’s what our days were like a while back.

Got up early (too early) with the 15month old, watched a Signing Time dvd with him because I was cold and wanted to stay under a blanket. Also, it’s endlessly thrilling to me that he can hear—and dance to!—these videos thanks to these marvelous inventions called hearing aids.

Around 7, the 3 girls trooped downstairs one by one. The 4yo was first, and she wanted to play Rummikub. She carefully filled (and I mean filled) our trays with tiles, then said, “That was fun! Let’s play another game!” I hadn’t realized we’d started the first one.
But it was time to wake up daddy, so I left the baby with the 9yo and went upstairs. Back down to do an exercise video while the 9yo practiced piano.

Then chores & breakfast. We always read poetry with breakfast, or else a story about the saint of the day. This time it was poems about birds, because it was our Project Feederwatch counting day and we were in a bird mood.

Next: morning prayers, then a chapter of our current read-aloud (one of them), Ginger Pye. Then outside to putter around at garden cleanup.

Too chilly to stay long. Back inside, the 9yo copied out a passage from Mossflower (a la Bravewriter) while the 6yo practiced piano and I read to the 4yo. She is loving the Berenstain Bears’ Big Book of Nature. Also the Lion Storyteller Bedtime Book (which we never read at bedtime.)

The kids got busy with Sculpey clay while I tidied up for the baby’s occupational therapist, who arrived at 10:30. Good session; he’s making progress, slowly.

OT days screw up the kids’ snacktime, so we eat lunch early. Read some Children’s Homer during lunch while shoveling peaches & rice into the baby’s mouth.

Hubby came upstairs from basement office to do naptime. He reads to the 6yo and 4yo while I put the baby down for his nap and eat my lunch. The 9yo settled in to watch a History Channel show about gasoline while working on her latest crocheted creation, a hairband. Ah, quiet time…for an hour. I caught up on email, paid a bill.

History of gasoline show ended. 9yo gets out the graphing calculator her great-uncle gave her and asks if we can “figure out how to do more stuff.” On this day, this translates to determining the slope of the line formed by graphing coordinate values for Celcius and Fahrenheit, computing the slope of this line, and using this information to figure out the Celcius equivalent for any degrees-Fahrenheit level, and vice versa. My head was spinning by the end of this adventure, but the 9yo was right in saying it was pretty cool. Thanks for the calculator, Uncle John.

2pm. 6yo came down from her quiet time. Baby & 4yo still napping. We chatted for a while over a snack. Then she asked to “go to that website with the Greek words.” She is learning numbers right now. While she tinkered with Greek, 9yo returned to her crocheting (this time while listening to a Redwall book on tape). I threw some chicken in the crock pot.

2:30. I’m on a deadline; it’s crunch time, so I started work a little early. Scott and I traded places. The little ones woke up and soon they all headed outside. I tried not to watch them from the office window for too long. Wrote until dinnertime. The chicken was good.

7pm. Scott gets an hour to listen to music several nights a week. Kids went upstairs to do their chores. I straightened up the house, worked with the baby on his therapy stuff, listened to accounts of the kids’ afternoons.

8pm. Kids’ bedtime. Scott read to the girls while I put the baby down. Then I went in for prayers.

8:30. Quiet. Scott & I scattered for a half hour of email & stuff. At 9 we reunited to watch West Wing. Decided to tape Law & Order. Headed up to read in bed. He’s reading yet another biography of yet another composer. I’m reading My Antonia and Mossflower (at 9yo’s urgent request) on alternate nights. Last night was a My Antonia night. Breathtaking prose. I’m three-quarters of the way through the book and told Scott I was going to stay up half the night finishing it. This morning he told me I fell asleep before 11. Well, there’s always tonight.

Posted by: Melissa Wiley at March 17, 2005 04:58 PM

Happiness Is…Glitter

In a recent post about making beeswax candles (“Fruitcake, candles, glitter and knitty gifts”), Billi-Jean writes:

Glitter is inherently good. Like babies and homemade vegetable stew. Glitter is happiness in little flashes of coloured light.I don’t care about the “mess”, how it gets stuck in the grout between the tiles on the kitchen floor. Or how, months later, you are still vacuuming up the occasional piece. It is all worth it to me. Glitter is that good.

I remember once, talking to a neighbour who was shocked that I’d let my toddler use glitter in his crafts. “You never get that stuff up. Ever! You can sweep and vacuum and wash, but you’ll still have glitter on your kitchen floor.” I grinned. “I know. I like that. Glitter on the kitchen floor. It’s like diamonds on the soles of your shoes.”

I know a seven-year-old who would certainly agree. Lovely, Billi-Jean!

This Poem I Love

The Fish
by Elizabeth Bishop

I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of his mouth.
He didn’t fight.
He hadn’t fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper:
shapes like full-blown roses
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled with barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
—the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly—
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony.
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass.
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
—It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
—if you could call it a lip
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line,
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels—until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.

—from The Complete Poems, 1927-1979