tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86298830649550821852024-03-05T17:26:20.230-05:00Or Die TryingMyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-73165787702815938272014-08-13T09:48:00.001-04:002014-08-13T10:01:58.297-04:00The Elusive "Away"<div>A <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">number of items in our home are "out." For whatever reason, even after living here for a dozen years, we still haven't found a place to put them "away." So they sit there: on the countertop, on the table, in the corner, in the way. Instead of being put away, they are perpetually left </span><b style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><i>out</i></b><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">.</span></div><div><br></div><div>It's frustrating.</div><div><br></div><div>And you know what? I don't want to come home every day and immediately feel frustrated. I don't want to come home and forever feel overwhelmed by visual clutter. I want to come home and feel relaxed, welcomed. I want my home to be my own Away. </div><div><br></div><div>And so today I am working in our kitchen, as I have been for the past few days. I'm making room in the cabinets, getting rid of what we don't need, what we don't use, so that the things that are <i style="font-weight: bold;">out</i> and living on our countertops can finally be put <i style="font-weight: bold;">away</i>. </div><div><br></div><div>Even though I'm getting rid of what seems like a lot of items--coffee cups come to mind here--I suspect we won't really miss them. After all, does a three-person household really <i>need</i> twenty-nine mugs? Or would it be better for us to have a half-dozen mugs <b>and</b> space to put our cast-iron skillets Away?</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxt_ZLotiu59U4jT9VLG9Qz3SL-hjQKZuNepm0hueubILy_H91lQTlb84zk5hc2RS98e1a8bJWzWJtL6EHrFYNRaTc86ooztvdmroOKnyvul5yDuTbZ3IR7isLlziu8Ma0_7OdEz9DPlw/s640/blogger-image-546540960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxt_ZLotiu59U4jT9VLG9Qz3SL-hjQKZuNepm0hueubILy_H91lQTlb84zk5hc2RS98e1a8bJWzWJtL6EHrFYNRaTc86ooztvdmroOKnyvul5yDuTbZ3IR7isLlziu8Ma0_7OdEz9DPlw/s640/blogger-image-546540960.jpg"></a></div><br></div>MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-30315551924825648592014-08-10T13:57:00.000-04:002014-08-10T14:06:51.982-04:00It's More Meaningful to ThemYesterday, as I was completing yet another task that should have been done weeks and weeks ago, I came across some old yearbooks that had been among my grandmother's belongings when she died. When I found them, I could remember my mother and my aunt discussing what to do with them: "We could donate them to the historical society," one of them--probably my mother--said. "Do you think they would want them?"<br>
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"We could just throw them away," came the reply. </div>
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I don't remember how long they considered the fate of those volumes but, in the end, I ended up bringing them home. Sigh...I do have a soft spot for family history. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1956 & 1957 yearbooks from Eden School, which served grades 1 through 8 and<br>employed two teachers. </td></tr>
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Finding and looking through the yearbooks was fun. I got such a kick out of it that I even shared my excitement on Facebook. Then, as often happens in my Facebook world, a distant cousin commented. It had been a l-o-n-g time since she had heard anybody mention the old, two-room, rural schoolhouse whose playground had welcomed us both as children. She wondered if there were any pictures of her father in those old books. Turns out, there were. </div>
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Turns out, there were also pictures of her father's sister, a woman I had never met, who had passed away when her own children were young, and whose children were now...looking at photos of their school-aged mother that I had posted on my newsfeed. They were, in fact, looking at photos of their mother that they never even knew existed. </div>
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A few likes, comments, and shares later, I offered to mail the yearbooks to these unknown, distant cousins. </div>
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Sure, I could have kept the yearbooks for myself; I did, after all, enjoy them very much. But they will always mean so much more to my new-found cousins than they will ever mean to me.</div>
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I don't anticipate ever regretting parting with the yearbooks, even though there are a few photos of my mother, my aunt, and my great-grandmother within their pages. Instead, I know that every time I think about them, I will smile knowing I gave two sisters a small piece of their mother's too-short life.</div>
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MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-42096704072347120502014-08-09T14:31:00.000-04:002014-08-09T15:27:41.537-04:00Ship It, Already...For the past four years I've been the <a href="http://www.terracycle.com/en-US/" target="_blank">TerraCycle</a> coordinator for at least one, sometimes two, and for a brief period three, schools and organizations. If you don't know about TerraCycle, the easiest way to describe it is as a fundraising-recycling company. You join a recycling "brigade" or two (or twelve), collect the brigade-specific difficult-to-recycle items, print a free shipping label, and ship them off to find new life as upcycled or recycled products. For each unit TerraCycles receives, your school or organization earns money. It really is a great company, and I frequently recommend it as a good way for groups to set up ongoing, long-term fundraising.<br>
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But if you need help with your TerraCycle collections, don't come to me. I won't be in charge of it. Not any more. You see, even though I've been doing this for awhile, the truth is that I'm a bit of a procrastinator. In fact, to call myself "a bit of a procrastinator" may actually be a bit of an understatement. It might be more correct to say that I'm "a lot of a procrastinator." Because of this, I've struggled to stay on top of the "shipping" part of the TerraCycle process. Basically, I've collected the brigade items, boxed them up, but then they just sit there near my front door. And they don't just sit there for days. Oh, no. I could deal with that. My husband could deal with that. The truth is, they sit there for weeks. The even truer truth--the kind of truth that comes only if I don't mind embarrassing myself--is that it sits there for...months.<br>
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There, I've admitted it: my TerraCycle shipments linger in my entryway for months. Judge me if you must, but at least give me credit for honesty.</div>
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Something else I'll admit is that there's nothing quite like a big pile of boxed up recyclables to <strike>welcome us</strike> weigh us down as we enter our home after a long day at our jobs or running errands. Nothing says "<strike>kick back and relax in your personal sanctuary from the world</strike>" "come on in and feel stressed and overwhelmed by your unfulfilled responsibilities" quite like a pile of un-shipped boxes.<br>
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So today, as my first intentional move toward a calm home--an actual sanctuary from the rest of the world--I finally did what those of you who have your stuff together would have done months ago: I shipped the damn boxes.<br>
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Ah, but I'm trying to be honest here, right? Does that mean I should admit that the reason I hadn't shipped these packages months ago is because I couldn't find the packing tape? It's embarrassing but true. I knew I had four rolls of clear packing tape, which is why I refused to go out and buy more. I had already decided to step down as the TerraCycle coordinator, but closing up these shipments is the only thing I ever do with packing tape. I would not go buy a new roll only to come home and find four more rolls three days later. Besides, the fact that I couldn't find the packing tape is part of the point. Every day, I walked into a house with a pile of boxed-and-ready-to-be-taped-and-shipped recyclables by the front door and four rolls of packing tape...somewhere.<br>
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And I've been doing this for four years.</div>
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Today when I found the tape, I immediately went and closed up the boxes, attached the labels, and loaded them all into the trunk of the car. (Unfiltered honesty: I put them in my husband's trunk, and he dropped them off at UPS for me. He was just as sick of that pile of boxes as I was.) Now I can look toward the entry and see the truth: they are gone. They are actually gone!<br>
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Maybe you can see why this is such a big deal. Maybe you can't. Either way, it's so freeing to know that no longer will I spend a Saturday morning sorting recyclables by brigade. No longer will I walk into my home only to be met with the heaviness of unfulfilled fundraising responsibilities. No longer will I stumble into that pile of boxes when I turn off the downstairs lights and head up to bed. Now, even though I still won't walk through my front door and immediately enter an inviting, relaxing oasis (I don't think I've mentioned yet that we are mid-renovation), at least I will not be tripping over a mountain of recyclables.<br>
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The empty space by the front door is proof: I am one step closer to the calm home I desire.</div>
MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-78511606552581644272014-08-09T08:54:00.001-04:002014-08-09T09:42:40.671-04:00Unstructured ChaosWhat? Because there's such a thing as "structured chaos"?<br />
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Yes. Yes, there is such a thing. I know it. I've seen it. In fact, there's an entire industry built around the idea of "structured chaos." Closet systems. Storage systems. Organizing systems. Container stores. Let's face it: selling us ways to structure our chaos is Big Business.</div>
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As I look around my house and see Unstructured Chaos all around me, I know that I could go and easily find help to deal with it all. I could hire a professional organizer who would help me determine the right system for me. I could buy shelves, and racks, and bins, and decorative boxes, and, and, and, and...</div>
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And the very idea of it exhausts me. You see, I want out. I want out from under the weight of the clutter. I want out of the cycle of sorting and purging and organizing and reorganizing. And lately a voice in my head has been whispering, "You could get rid of it."</div>
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That voice is growing louder, stronger. That voice has become MY voice. I could get rid of it: the Stuff, the Excess, the Chaos. </div>
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I could have a calm, ordered home. And I will have a calm, ordered home. Or Die Trying.</div>
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*I am considering this a Preface to my Home Recovery. I'm going to be honest. I'm going to share photos. Some days I'm going to be boring and simply list what I'm getting rid of that day. Some days I'm going to make it fun or, as my mother always advised, "make a game out of it." This blog will, for a time, be my daily diary. And really, it's just for me, to keep me honest, and to give me a place to pause when my task seems overwhelming.</div>
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MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-19393094418735770732014-01-05T08:59:00.000-05:002014-01-05T09:41:16.269-05:00Webelos EngineerAs part of the requirement for his <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=orditr-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B002W5LQTK&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>" target="_blank">Webelos</a> engineer pin, Nate needed to draw a floor plan--including the doors, windows, and stairs--of our house. I originally envisioned handing him a piece of paper and a pencil, and then asking that he independently sketch a mostly-accurate representation of the space.<br>
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My husband had other ideas.</div>
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And as hard as it is for me to admit this, my husband had <i>better</i> ideas.</div>
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Would my approach have been good enough to fulfill the requirement? Oh, undoubtedly.</div>
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But with his father's guiding hand, Nate got three very important results that are far more lasting and valuable than simply fulfilling a requirement:</div>
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1) Althouh Nate has excellent mathematical thinking skills, he still struggles with a some very basic practices, including math-fact automaticity, rounding and estimating, and measurement. With my husband's influence over this project, the boy got practice in all of these areas. More importantly, this task was not purely conceptual or theoretical. The goal (to draw a floor plan of our home) and the motivation behind it (to earn a Webelos pin) were both very real and concrete. This wasn't something Nate was doing in order "to learn." This was just something he was doing with his dad for Scouts. </div>
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2) Speaking of "something he was doing with his dad," it's worth noting that this project took nearly and hour--much longer, unless you count the time he'd have spent complaining, than it would've taken for Nate to simply make an approximate sketch. Also worth noting is that this hour was spent, not alone and seated at the kitchen table, but in active cooperation with his father. That's right...this was, without a doubt, <i>quality time</i>. And seriously, any approach that results in an hour's worth of positive parent-child interaction is automatically better than any other method (even if another method would allow you to prepare dinner at the same time).</div>
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3) When it was all said and done, Nate ended up with a drawing that was immediately ready to be created in <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=orditr-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B00992CF6W&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>" target="_blank">Minecraft</a>. And would you care to guess what he did as soon as he got home from his Webelos den meeting? Yeah...Minecraft.</div>
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(By the way, this might be the closest I've ever come to admitting that I was wrong and my husband was right. I'm begging you...please keep this admission a secret. It'll just stay between us, right? You, me...and the internets.) </div>
MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-59821380057209101152014-01-02T15:07:00.000-05:002014-01-02T21:41:12.752-05:00He Chose Science<div>
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"Art or science?" I asked.<br />
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Without even a breath of hesitation, he answered, "Science."</div>
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I've been preparing for this afternoon for a few weeks now. Super frustrated with the abundance of websites dedicated to pre-K and early elementary art and science activities--and the corresponding lack of similar materials for upper-elementary families--I've spent a bit of time searching out projects that might suit our needs. </div>
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I've gathered quite the arsenal, and I hope to share them with you as we explore them. </div>
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Some of the activities I've found are from books (you remember books, right?). That's what we're beginning with today. Searching through my homeschool leftovers, I came across several <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=orditr-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B001C4TR5W&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>" target="_blank">Janice Van Cleve</a> volumes. I love these books for several reasons. First of all, each title focuses on only one area of science, which makes them ideal for public-school families who want to supplement their child's education. Also, nearly all of the experiments are quick, another great feature for all those after-schooling families out there. Finally, most of the experiments require only common household materials, which is good for any family without a resident physicist (or chemist, or biologist, or geologist, or volcanologist...you get the picture).</div>
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I also love them because they don't try to do <i style="font-weight: bold;">too much</i>. They are designed to introduce a topic, and they provide an excellent jumping-off point if your child wants to investigate further.</div>
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And so I give you "<strong><em>Glow</em></strong>" :: <br />
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(This experiment is the first in <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=orditr-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B001C4TR5W&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>" target="_blank">Physics for Every Kid</a>, but is also widely available online, the best version I've found being Steve Spangler's <a href="http://www.stevespanglerscience.com/lab/experiments/human-conductor" target="_blank">human conductor</a> experiment.)</div>
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Aaaaannnnddd...that's the only photo I can share with you, as the remainder of the experiment was done in a dark, dark room and I only have a basic, basic camera. Essentially, he used the balloon to create static electricity which, in turn, caused the fluorescent light bulbs to produce light. It was interesting to discover which style of bulb created the most dramatic result. (I would tell you, but <strike>then I would have to kill you</strike> I fear it would spoil your fun.)<br />
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It was also interesting to see where he took the experiment once all of the written steps were completed. He not only tried creating static with other materials--cotton roving, a wool sweater, a walk down the hallway dragging his feet--but he also tried the same experiment with different types of light bulbs. Of course, traditional incandescent bulbs did not work, and he had zero interest in finding out why, but the connections he made today are <strong>made</strong>, and they might come into play at another time. Today, he built a foundation, and I cannot even begin to guess what this foundation might support someday. <br />
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Of course, before locking ourselves away in a dark, dark room and attempting to create balloon-powered light, we needed to know just the tiniest bit about mercury (the element, not the planet...or the messenger god of Roman mythology).<br />
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Thank goodness we still have a set of encyclopedias lying around. This was an opportunity to go cross-curricular (shhhh...don't tell the boy that I snuck in some extra learning). In an age of search engines, it is a good idea to stretch your alphabetical muscles every once in awhile. Also, you might find out some pretty neat things about meerkats while you've got the 'M' volume open. An encyclopedia article provides other instant curricular leaps as well. For instance, after reading the 'mercury' article and finishing the electricity experiment, you could naturally shift to Roman mythology. Or the periodic table. Or geography. (Did you know that the major mercury producing nations include China, Finland, Mexico, and Tajikistan?)<br />
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You could also segue into a discussion or exploration of the solar system, or tie what you've read into your Latin curriculum (unless you're an <strong>aggressive</strong> after-schooling family, I guess that last one would be primarily for the classical homeschoolers among us).<br />
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The point is, this ten minute activity could lead so many places. It's really up to you and your child. Or it could just be a fun ten minutes of together-time on a Sunday afternoon or before bed.<br />
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My one word of caution: if you embark on this activity <strong>for fun</strong>, then please let it be <strong>fun</strong>. Go as far with it as your children want to go, and please, <strong>please</strong>, <strong><em>PLEASE</em></strong> don't kill their sense of curiosity and exploration by insisting on <strong>more</strong>.<br />
<br />
Remember the Buddhist proverb: "enough is a feast." </div>
MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-46908924689446098052013-01-20T19:00:00.000-05:002013-01-20T19:00:01.570-05:00A Brief Reflection on Being BusyI hear people talking.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, the people I hear talking are actually present, not hallucinations, but perhaps the relief of that distinction is best left for another post. <br />
<br />
But I really do hear people talking. I think I hear mothers talking most of all, and the crux of everything that I hear from them is that they are busy. <br />
<br />
They are busy getting the kids to school. They are busy at their jobs. They are busy with soccer practice, football games, violin lessons, Scouts. They are busy taking two children to three activities in one evening. <br />
<br />
Their busyness is all-consuming.<br />
<br />
They are even busy talking about how busy they are. And if they're not talking about it, they're posting and blogging about it. It's like everybody is engaged in a Busy Olympics where if they win they get...<strong><em>what?</em></strong><br />
<br />
This preoccupation with needing to do everything--with making sure everybody in the house does everything--has really impacted me lately. In fact, it has made me want to do...nothing.<br />
<br />
Instead of packing each day, each evening, each weekend with more activities than we can sanely endure, I want to set aside one day each week, even just one evening, to stay home with my family. <br />
<br />
I want to build a wall around this time so that we can do nothing, and so that we can do it together. <br />
<br />
And I want to know what your family does when they do nothing together.<br />
<br />
<br />MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-74432011031392211432012-10-28T13:49:00.001-04:002012-10-28T14:05:18.654-04:00On ChurchI'm about to talk about church, which I know can be a sensitive subject, but I beg you to thoughtfully consider what I'm about to say before you respond in anger.<br />
<br />
I used to go to church (it's true!), but for the past several years I've been only an occasional visitor. The reasons I stopped attending don't matter, nor will I discuss them here. Instead, I want to acknowledge my desire to return, to find a church where I feel a sense of community and belonging, where my children can both learn about and witness the love and grace of Christ, and where all of our questions about faith, God, and religion will be taken seriously.<br />
<br />
Because of this desire, I decided that I would visit the next chruch I was invited to. <br />
<br />
I made this decision in March.<br />
<br />
It is now nearly November.<br />
<br />
I have yet to be invited.<br />
<br />
Please believe me when I say that I am not trying to put the responsibility for my own church attendance onto others; this is not the case. I have, in fact, visited churches during this time. But one fact remains: <em>I want to be invited.</em><br />
<br />
Or, I did. If somebody invites me <em>now</em> I will think it's because they've read this post. Although I will try not to, it's likely that I will look on such an invitation with suspicion and cynicism. <br />
<br />
So instead of inviting <em>me</em>, I urge you to invite somebody else. If you attend church, and if this church is a vital part of your life, if it is a place that not only serves your needs but also offers you an opportunity to serve the needs of others, then please invite your friends. <br />
<br />
And if they don't visit when you invite them...invite them again. And again. Invite them to services. Invite them to special events. Invite them to concerts. Even if they <em>never </em>attend, you can still invite them with love and without judgement.<br />
<br />
Sometimes Christ pursues others through you. If you let him.<br />
<br />
How has he pursued you?<br />
<br />MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-64064715139262094862012-09-11T21:30:00.001-04:002012-09-11T23:47:10.322-04:00Kandinsky HackI don't know much about art, but I know what I like.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLM36NwmqCDA6aEokAzje9-wQyUWCzWf0Hy2PZXeZjGAecqE-NdQZYxuEhWyQ55WqcEWKjhyphenhyphenWNMx4gJs9FI2dmeOOpUZLBd1MOcNXitkk50gAO5zP-y-W7Ot9X3qVo0T5YLi3SDWih6o/s1600/wassily-kandinsky-farbstudie-quadrate-c-1913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLM36NwmqCDA6aEokAzje9-wQyUWCzWf0Hy2PZXeZjGAecqE-NdQZYxuEhWyQ55WqcEWKjhyphenhyphenWNMx4gJs9FI2dmeOOpUZLBd1MOcNXitkk50gAO5zP-y-W7Ot9X3qVo0T5YLi3SDWih6o/s320/wassily-kandinsky-farbstudie-quadrate-c-1913.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
And I like <a href="http://www.abcgallery.com/K/kandinsky/kandinskybio.html" target="_blank">Kandinsky</a>.<br />
<br />
I like that he tried something new. <br />
<br />
First of all, he didn't begin seriously studying art until he was almost 30. I mean, he was a law professor, for crying out loud. He was set. But he left his life as a University lecturer to pursue something completely different. <em>He chose art over security</em>.<br />
<br />
He intentionally changed the course of his own life.<br />
<br />
How many people actually <em>do</em> that?<br />
<br />
Plus, he was basically the first artist to create completely abstract pieces. And he continued to create them even though it <a href="http://www.ushmm.org/research/collections/highlights/bryan/video/detail.php?content=germany_art" target="_blank">irritated</a> some pretty powerful people (ahem... Communists, Nazis). <br />
<br />
Finally, he was pals with a guy named Gustav Freytag, who I like to pretend is hiding out somewhere on my family tree.<br />
<br />
Hey, a girl can dream, right?<br />
<br />
At any rate, my Nate and I made our own Kandinsky over the weekend. If you know me at all you won't be surprised to read that it's basically made out of garbage: a painted pizza box and some colorful plastic lids.<br />
<br />
The process is pretty self-explanatory, but here are a few photos anyway.<br />
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So, tell me: what do you think?<br />
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<br />MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-29256180556773559162012-09-04T01:27:00.000-04:002014-01-05T09:17:15.621-05:00Books: A Top Five<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZv9UjSocy53uJZanE9out1l6u2xr6moWxhCkHxhNdMjfYJVYdPlW-Mwaftvg5ugv6QKmCMVzONhRaXgLkm5EgPGxrq4fajxQMtqJWthOsJUS5Ep1RzQvbr_1scsq7Vz0kLZB7mbzfNA/s1600/Books+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZv9UjSocy53uJZanE9out1l6u2xr6moWxhCkHxhNdMjfYJVYdPlW-Mwaftvg5ugv6QKmCMVzONhRaXgLkm5EgPGxrq4fajxQMtqJWthOsJUS5Ep1RzQvbr_1scsq7Vz0kLZB7mbzfNA/s320/Books+008.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
My pal over at <a href="http://wanderations-jess.blogspot.com/2012/09/books.html" target="_blank">Wanderations</a> left an open invitation to participate in a Top Five Books project. The challenge for me is to limit my favorites to only <i>five</i>. Oh, and not to write an entire post on <i>why</i> I chose each one. In the end I chose, not five books that I simply enjoyed, but five books that in some way defined a season in my life. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=orditr-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0451528832&ref=tf_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>" target="_blank">The Secret Garden</a> by Frances Hodgson Burnett<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=orditr-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B004FGMD9G&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>" target="_blank">A Midwife's Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard, Based on Her Diary, 1785-1812</a> by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=orditr-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B005CRQ2Y4&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>" target="_blank">The Crying of Lot 49</a> by Thomas Pynchon<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=orditr-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0310266300&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>" target="_blank">The Irresistible Revolution</a> by Shane Claiborne<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=orditr-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0307744434&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>" target="_blank">The Night Circus</a> by Erin Morgenstern<br />
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<br />
And here's a brief look into my own wanderations: <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvc7L5e01Lp-ZQa2d4eiv0eMa61fPZQwrxCO0e0ubsOqYZ4Avnbzvmf1oLkQWbj_5E9bIlU_80sQSlBNoKrKb6_g4-2NRiLEKl2Qeaa47KbexvfzJzCNBbHc2l6dcAK1JGQH5lrhL1uU/s1600/160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvc7L5e01Lp-ZQa2d4eiv0eMa61fPZQwrxCO0e0ubsOqYZ4Avnbzvmf1oLkQWbj_5E9bIlU_80sQSlBNoKrKb6_g4-2NRiLEKl2Qeaa47KbexvfzJzCNBbHc2l6dcAK1JGQH5lrhL1uU/s320/160.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nate capturing the sunset in Siesta Key.</td></tr>
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<br />MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-18496499067509915852012-09-03T22:26:00.002-04:002012-09-04T00:03:28.419-04:00A Gift of TimeNow that our anniversary has come and gone, I can finally share my gift idea and how I implemented it.<br />
<br />
I wanted to give a gift that represented the most important thing we have ever given each other -- indeed, the most important thing we ever <b>can </b>give each other: <em>time</em>. A clock was the obvious choice, but I needed to find a way to make it <em>meaningful.</em><br />
<br />
You see, my husband has always loved and wanted a clock to chime the hours. With a sort of wistful fondness he has frequently reminisced about the tick and strike of his grandparents' clocks when he was a child. Because of the sort of history that he already had with such things, I wanted a clock with meaning beyond just a sentimentality for his own past. I wanted it to represent <b>our</b> family and <strong>our</strong> memories, not just <b>his</b>.<br />
<br />
So in January of this year I asked my uncle to find a clock for me. I knew that involving him in the gift would ultimately make it that much more meaningful since my husband holds him in such high esteem. And luckily for me, my uncle repairs and restores clocks in his retirement.<br />
<br />
Seeking his help turned out to be a <em>very good </em>decision.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7f7uuDipcw2cLtgWagE4gHKkgpAV2669e_f6iEtdmbJwNRS4I4fBTt1xnImbRBD2s1AB1VZA6xiI945Y5IkEFblOUrDgoKkQdNAjJi9TEJFZUR8Dx48ORAuFK-nJIYZxVMhZm_jfzhDw/s1600/Roof+&+Anniversary+Post+069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7f7uuDipcw2cLtgWagE4gHKkgpAV2669e_f6iEtdmbJwNRS4I4fBTt1xnImbRBD2s1AB1VZA6xiI945Y5IkEFblOUrDgoKkQdNAjJi9TEJFZUR8Dx48ORAuFK-nJIYZxVMhZm_jfzhDw/s320/Roof+&+Anniversary+Post+069.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My uncle put this together from two separate auction items.<br />
The actual clock mechanism was purchased and restored first.<br />
He later found the body, which was in pieces and completely blackened.<br />
(P.S. This is one of those times when I wish our home had better lighting. Also, I am moving "paint the office" up on the ToDo list. That wall is just ghastly!)</td></tr>
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<br />
However, just two weeks before our Big Day I still didn't know if the clock would be ready in time. What I needed was a back-up plan.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKsfa34xp6Y-EiPLphXQA2_wBrhPMswP-1rDx8NJUpPxqn23WjvTzYcF6vAApcuX2k1qq-4Zxd9sHo8BAeIDv4pzI7_Lr2Nf99OFYQBuvIiOvuQRHPKWMEUddPMrQekkqhwwdvQMdkeC8/s1600/Roof+&+Anniversary+Post+072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKsfa34xp6Y-EiPLphXQA2_wBrhPMswP-1rDx8NJUpPxqn23WjvTzYcF6vAApcuX2k1qq-4Zxd9sHo8BAeIDv4pzI7_Lr2Nf99OFYQBuvIiOvuQRHPKWMEUddPMrQekkqhwwdvQMdkeC8/s320/Roof+&+Anniversary+Post+072.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<br />
So I made a Plan B gift that, while much less impressive, still thoughtfully represented our Time together. It's just a simple list of dates, but I thought it turned out well for a last-minute emergency gift.<br />
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<br />
I will say that my husband loved both gifts, but his favorite thing of all was the card. Perhaps it's because I rarely give cards. Or it could simply be that I took the time to make it myself. But I like to believe that he loved it because of the obvious amount of thought that went into its creation. When he finished reading it -- and then when he finished chuckling and re-reading it -- he said, "This makes me feel loved."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7A5kf1YTr4F5kL6VBWw3fvBEfLcWyjReFvZr6uzt2n37mTKyAjgA2gII0LPNHH5VAa3VyQmZZC8uDJ-377Uj9YZaONUjVWLcq1yN3jVHxn-I7UUBs4R8TSXr4UuMwVEl0pWhcgeihlk/s1600/Roof+%2526+Anniversary+Post+074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7A5kf1YTr4F5kL6VBWw3fvBEfLcWyjReFvZr6uzt2n37mTKyAjgA2gII0LPNHH5VAa3VyQmZZC8uDJ-377Uj9YZaONUjVWLcq1yN3jVHxn-I7UUBs4R8TSXr4UuMwVEl0pWhcgeihlk/s320/Roof+%2526+Anniversary+Post+074.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's difficult to read, but this is a collection of catch phrases, song lyrics, and movie quotes that we have used over the years when a lengthy conversation was just not necessary. Either one of us can say any of these lines and it immediately invokes ten years of meaning without having to say anything more. </td></tr>
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And he is loved. Very. Meus amor.<br />
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<br />MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-19107197152606344442012-08-11T22:21:00.001-04:002012-08-11T23:17:41.829-04:00Summer Reflections<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2LE9LXVexW7ah9_UJUxSFl4AMQRT4tWFJ9_tNJXN-zKhySNenHjZamBkAB-eD90rtkvfRavVKPEjUUkCeg3T0lTYYFEGfs1Td0yeztd2lvKqG8SEwPAtbRLrhyphenhyphenVCPo-wH0In8dWjC51Q/s1600/Summer+2012+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2LE9LXVexW7ah9_UJUxSFl4AMQRT4tWFJ9_tNJXN-zKhySNenHjZamBkAB-eD90rtkvfRavVKPEjUUkCeg3T0lTYYFEGfs1Td0yeztd2lvKqG8SEwPAtbRLrhyphenhyphenVCPo-wH0In8dWjC51Q/s200/Summer+2012+017.JPG" width="133" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WMfZNeEgtzp0usW4PK-tBU8ONv0Dqi71dPzrbdWQO68Pgf_bqTit468qdnXlW4Ijh8GDy9dn35sugzaeogM_Ho4sVr7X9vOOjK0Ddpx5_ssV86n_Is5jurX9lNi_KaFtEw-591NJK4g/s1600/Summer+2012+022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WMfZNeEgtzp0usW4PK-tBU8ONv0Dqi71dPzrbdWQO68Pgf_bqTit468qdnXlW4Ijh8GDy9dn35sugzaeogM_Ho4sVr7X9vOOjK0Ddpx5_ssV86n_Is5jurX9lNi_KaFtEw-591NJK4g/s200/Summer+2012+022.JPG" width="200" /></a>It's been one of <em>those</em> summers. You know the kind: kick off your sandals and watch shirtless boys run around in the heat, fill water balloons while the cook fire gets hot, fix a Dutch oven dinner in the coals, and finally watch the moonrise kind of summer.<br />
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In a word: <em>glorious</em>.<br />
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If you've never had a summer like this, I wonder what you could possibly be waiting for.<br />
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Time is flying.<br />
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And dinner won't save.<br />
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<br />MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-26627027670831833922012-08-11T21:07:00.000-04:002012-08-11T22:31:23.073-04:008 Years, 51 Weeks<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="my love Poesy Ring" border="0" height="120" src="http://www.tsbrown.com/images/64-BR024R_small.jpg" width="120" /></div>
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It's no secret that I loved my engagement ring. Platinum. No gemstone. Engraved with "amor meus," which we always said in reverse: "meus amor."<br />
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And it's no secret that I lost the band within a month of our engagement. All I have now this sad, empty box.<br />
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Sigh.<br />
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My wedding anniversary is one week from today. <br />
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This is big news, but not the big news that you might expect. You see, this is the first year that I remembered which day my anniversary actually falls on. Most people assume that men are the ones that habitually forget important dates, but that is not the case in my household.<br />
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Here, it's me.<br />
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But this year--<em>this year</em>--I am prepared. <br />
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I even arranged a gift. And made a back-up gift. And I promise to post photos of them soon. <br />
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But not yet. On the off-chance that my husband stumbles over and reads this post, I will refrain.<br />
<br />MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-37615529864427281222012-05-07T08:31:00.002-04:002012-05-08T06:13:21.700-04:00A Son's ChallengeSo, my Neil has been in public school for 2.5 years now, and I believe he has truly hated every minute of it. In addition, I'm not sure he's even actually been learning. This, to me, is depressing. But what to do?<br />
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I certainly don't have that answer, but it has led me to think extensively about education. What is it? Can it be compelled? How does it differ from <em>schooling</em>? <br />
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As I contemplate these and other questions, I have offered my son the following two-part challenge:<br />
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1. Think of three things that you <strong>want to learn</strong>. These do not have to be academic; they need not even involve books or formal research. Perhaps he wants to learn how to drive a stick-shift. Maybe he wants to learn how to make cream puffs. Maybe he wants to learn how to play more than just the guitar intro to <em>Back in Black. </em>For the purposes of this challenge, almost anything goes. I did stipulate that it cannot be illegal, unreasonably dangerous, harmful, or fueled by hate. Beyond that, he is limited only by his imagination. <br />
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2. Think of three things that you want<strong> to do, to earn, or to accomplish</strong>. Again, there is a world of possibility here. I know he wants his driver's licence. Great. Put it on the list. Does he want to go SCUBA diving? Rock climbing? Does he want to dig a root cellar? Fine. List it. I just want him to think about what he really <em>wants </em>to accomplish. <br />
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I have now put the challenge forward, but I do not want an immediate response. He still has three more weeks of school, and I will remind him of the challenge frequently during this time. By the end of this month, however, I want him to have developed these two ideas. What does he want to learn? What does he want to do?<br />
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And I did not guarantee that I would make these things happen for him. But I will do my best to help <em>him </em>find a way to access the tools he needs to pursue at least one item from each list during the course of the summer. <br />
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I want him to know that education, insofar as it includes the pursuit of knowledge that adds to a sense of self and fulfillment, is within his reach. <br />
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But he will have to do the reaching on his own.MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-18896236229842647962011-10-20T20:38:00.001-04:002014-01-05T09:16:26.690-05:00Pushed & PeltedThe rain to the wind said,<br />
'You push and I'll pelt.'<br />
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from "Lodged" by <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=orditr-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0805069860&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>" target="_blank">Robert Frost</a></div>
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And that pretty much sums up my day: rainy, windy forty-degree Ohio October...a lovely day to visit the zoo. Home now for hours, my feet will not warm and my son lies huddled beneath a comforter. But the boy had fun, and maybe he learned a little something along the way. (He's in the middle, below.)</div>
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MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8629883064955082185.post-87302788538512397462011-10-19T15:30:00.000-04:002011-10-19T21:04:46.891-04:00I am a Half-MarathonerI ran the half at the Columbus Marathon this past Sunday. That was three days ago now, and I'm just beginning to walk comfortably again--except when going down the stairs. More than once today, I have forgotten something upstairs and have simply decided that whatever-it-was was simply superfluous, unnecessary. The past two days have been spent in a fog of exhaustion and pain. But, before you even ask, let me assure you that it was worth it. It was MORE than worth it.<br />
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One year ago my husband, my one truest love, ran in the same race. At that time, I was obese and mostly sedentary. I attended the marathon as a show of support, as a show of my love. If running the half-marathon was important enough for him to train for, to pay for, and to complete, then it was important enough for me to attend. <br />
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After seeing my husband (and 15,000 other runners and walkers) off at the starting line, I found my way to the final stretch and settled in to wait. Half-marathon finishers began trickling in well before I expected them to, and pretty soon I was on my feet cheering the accomplishment of dozens and dozens of perfect strangers. I was awed when the first modified wheelchair completed the full marathon in under two hours. And as the spectators filled in around me and the crowd continued to grow, each person cheering wildly as their friends and family members crested the hill to the final stretch before the finish line, I thought, "I want this for <strong>myself</strong>."<br />
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I started jogging the next day. My husband helped me create a training plan, and we chose a race goal: a 5K on New Year's Eve. When I began in September of 2010, I could only run for one minute at a time. Gradually, my endurance increased, until I was able to run/walk the 3.1 mile neighborhood behind my house in around 45 minutes. I completed that first 5K in around 35 minutes, running nearly all of it. There was one major hill near the end of the course that I did end up walking, but I was so proud of how far I had come.<br />
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Since then, I have accomplished so much more than I ever dreamed I would be able to. I lost 61 pounds. I went down six clothing sizes. With my husband by my side, I completed additional runs: another 5K, a 10K, and the Columbus Half-Marathon. I also began cycling, opting to ride my bicycle on most of my short errands during the summer. By the autumn I was ready to become an occasional bicycle commuter, relying on my Giant and my own power to get me to work, fifteen miles from home. My husband and I even completed a metric-century bicycle challenge this fall. <br />
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In the end, as great as it was to cross the finish line at the half-marathon, my proudest moment came at mile eleven. Since the day I started one year ago until I reached that mile marker, I have run 2,000 miles. <br />
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And I can't wait to begin the next 2,000...Or Die Trying.MyLickingCountyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490099326535372954noreply@blogger.com0