Dancing is a Problem? Really?

We Did

Why Barack is 'Ours'

by Gayle Danley

Ours

My Aunt Ruth isn't doing very well
94 and the light that used to flicker behind her eyes is slipping

I hope she lives long enough to see this:
Thousands upon millions on top of multitudes of us of America Women and daddies and
babies wrapped well against the District's cold

And the children- who had the vision first
carried it home, believed in what was possible more than what was probable

When I was 4
Aunt Ruth and I stood staring at ourselves in her dresser mirror

The last hope of daylight spread over her yellow cheekbones

I had turned her into a big Barbie

Put barrettes and yarn
in her black satin hair

"Aunt Ruth, are you White?"
slipped irresistibly from my innocent lips

Her mouth did not answer
Her eyes did
written on them the harsh decades she had served army men lunch at Fort McPherson
pinching nickels to send me North to school

She revelled in her race and never once seemed
to wish to be anything else

Aunt Ruth won't be there on Tuesday
The journey's way too long
the air too frigid
She won't see a beautiful Brown man become what she always knew was possible

the reason
she sacrificed a big life to feed hungry men and hope for a small retirement check

But we'll be there
You'll be there, right?
He'll be there
carrying all our dreams in his hands
pride in his eyes

I hope he waves at the children and the old ones like my Aunt Ruth whose faith and dreams
made this moment ours.

Tree of Happiness (With a Side of Silly)

I got an award! I got an award!

(Fun Bit of Useless Piscesgrrl-Trivia for you: Whenever I say something like "I got an award!", I say it in the cadence Eddie Murphy used when he chanted his famous 'ice cream' bit during his stand-up show, Delirious. If you saw it, you can hear my "I got an a-war-d, you didn't ge-et one" going on. Look - I don't mean it, but there it is.)

(Fun Bit of Useless Piscesgrrl-Trivia part II: We got my mom to let us watch Eddie Murphy's Delirious at my 15th birthday slumber party by saying, "It's not that bad - just a few swear words.") (Sorry Mom.)

ANYhow, Heart Rockin Mama gave me this cool award yesterday - thanks Heart Rockin Mama! It's the 'Tree of Happiness' award and I'm to list 6 things that make me happy.

Only six? :)

Would you like the serious version or the silly version?

I don't know why I always have to be a smart-*ss. It just comes naturally to me. It really does. Growing up, during the entire ride to Grandma's house my mom would implore, "Now Honey, you don't have to 'act' - you can just be yourself and have fun!"

As soon as we'd get in the door, I'd be acting loopy and show-offish. Maybe that WAS being myself.

Things haven't changed much since then. I recently attended a workshop given by a friend who's the resident "JOY" lady. She writes about joy, speaks about joy, and has the word JOY tattooed on her wrist. She's down-right joyful, people!

During her workshop she asked us to write down 3 things we like about ourselves. "Ok, I thought - easy enough." I diligently began:

1. my life
2. my writing
3. my boobs

When I leaned to my left to giggle in my friend's ear and show her my answers (and like a good partner in crime she replied, "OMG - I thought of the same kind of thing!" LOVE my fellow smart-*sses, I do), the JOY lady asked if she'd need to separate us two. Jokingly, of course. "No no, I'll be good," I promised.

But then she asked us to push ourselves a bit, and expand our list of things we like about ourselves from 3 to 30. Thirty! Whoa.

1. my life
2. my writing
3. my left boob
4. my right boob

At that point I somehow decided to lean over to the right and share my oh-so-hilarious answers with the woman sitting next to me. She happened to be the wife of a well-known local political activist - an activist with whom I'd participated in all sorts of sobering and serious activities like Amnesty International letter-writing campaigns and Iraq war protests and workshops on how to prepare for getting arrested at said protests. I didn't know his wife and this is how I chose to introduce myself.

I couldn't really tell if she was amused or not.

But because Heart Rockin Mama is a good soul, and an unschooler, and inspires me and many others with the writing on her blog, I'll behave myself.

6 things that make me happy:

1. My life.

Sure, we have our ups and downs, and nothing's ever perfect per se, but I have to admit that I have a very blessed life. I really do. I get to be home with my kids, thanks to my hard-working husband. I get to unschool with them and be witness to and partake in their inspiration and learning and fun and aha moments. I have a cozy home and wide-open yard and family nearby and good food to eat. I'm blessed with amazing friends, a close family, and a strong marriage. And while I might occasionally chew someone's ear, b*tching about this or that (here's looking at you, Sis) or whine that it's a bit lonely in the cornfields or wonder what I'm going to do with myself when I grow up and my kids leave me (Waahhhh), all in all - it's a d*mn fine life.

2. See above

3. See #1

4. See #1

5. See #1

6. My *ss is looking pretty tight after all this working out I've been doing.

Look, I'm jus' sayin'.

______________________

And now I will go forth and bestow this mighty fine award on other good folks! So many to choose from... Here's a sampling of some of the coolest blogging mamas on the web:

1. Kim at Relaxed Homeskool for recognizing me at last year's conference and saying hello, being a kool homeskooling mama, and creating a wonderful talk radio program for homeskoolers.

2. Debra at From Skilled Hands because she posts My Town Mondays, gives away lovely, lovely art, and when she found out I, too, was going to UWWG asked if I'd join her panel presentation. Can't wait to meet up!

3. Lynn at a life worth living because she has steadily and with intention embarked upon an unschooling journey. And because being from the United Kingdom, she says things like "mum" and "whilst" and "more the clobber" and "I toppled down." Love that.

4. K. at Duff ABC's because she blogs about things like her grandma's fudge pecan pie. OMG - get over there and make that!

5. peacegoddess over yonder at Patchouli and the Porch because she just started blogging again too. Yay!

6. and finally, Kelly at she's in transition because that way I can say I linked to her twice in one week while she only linked to me (doing cheerleader moves of all things) once. It's good to have one up on Kelly at all times.

Go forth and be happy! And thanks again Heart Rockin Mama!

This One's for Kelly

I'm SURE you already know by now that Kelly, of She's in Transition, recently featured me in all my former-cheerleader glory on her blog. I don't know how she found out I was a cheerleader in a former life. I guess it might've been part of our pre-nuptual preparation or something, since we just know that if we ever manage to meet in real life, we're gonna be, like, way tight. ("Way-ay-ay-ay TIGHT!" *hold-2-3-4*)

Sorry. Sometimes my alter-cheerleader-ego appears at the oddest times.

The universe tends to work in mysterious ways though, and the recent reappearance of my old cheerleading photos, among other ancient childhood artifacts, was quite appropros in more than one way.

The teenage daughter of a friend found her mom's old eye glasses, put them on, and made a video for Facebook that worked along the lines of, "I wonder whose glasses these are? These big, dorky glasses? How do I look? Whose could these be?" I cringed for my friend and left a comment along the lines of "Sweet Jesus - keep those girls away from my childhood bedroom closet!"

Then an old friend posted my Sheena Easton wannabe photo, quite out of the blue, on his facebook page, unleashing quite the firestorm of comments.

And then, as if on cue, my mom showed up at my front door with 3 armloads of stuff. Old stuff. From my childhood bedroom closet. OY.

The pile sat. It sat 3 feet inside my front door for several days before I could muster the courage to take a look. And the odd thing is no one else noticed the pile even existed. This amazing feat - that my 3 boys can be so oblivious to a change in their surroundings - can be both a blessing (there were old love letters in there) and a curse (they'll step over an obstacle course of strewn items without ever noticing, much less picking anything up).

And so it was really only another bit of karmic magic that Kelly's cheerleader post appeared when it did. Somebody, somewhere, is having a good laugh.

The other day, home-bound with a sinus infection that could choke a walrus, I finally peeked into the stash of old memories. Several things were immediately used to stoke the woodburning stove. (Dear gawd, did I pledge my undying love for HIM?!?) (Ew!) (Double Ew!) (Like, ew to the fifth power!)

But others... others elicited sighs, laughter, and amazement. We thought we'd never forget those things. And yet... I did. I forgot about almost all of it.

So this one's for you, Kelly. (Cue Budweiser jingle.) For loving me even though I was a cheerleader in a former life.

My mom had the BEST idea. She suggested I hang all these old photos on a wall in our newly finished basement.

Rob just got one of those looks when I suggested it... one of those looks that suggest he just smelled something rather foul...

Teens Who Cook

I got two teens - Brady and his best friend Ben - to cook homemade french fries and, even better, sweet potato fries for me. Ben shared that he knew how.

He might think twice about giving out information like that from now on.

I love teens cooking in my kitchen.

A Picture a Day Keeps the Crickets at Bay (Wow - Lame)

I DON'T HAVE TO BLOG IF I DON'T WANT TO!

Dharmamama said so. And in case you were wondering, when Dharmamama speaks, I listen.

It would seem my muse has done gone and left me. (The tramp.) I'm still writing, though. I'm in charge of PR for both our community theatre's current show and our statewide homeschooling conference, so I've been busy emailing, writing press releases, emailing, creating programs, emailing, and emailing. Oy - the emailing! YOU try and email over 200 homeschooling groups in IL and surrounding states, not to mention every library in the state - twice! - and see if you have anything left for the ol' blog.

I've also been busy working on a freelance article or two, getting the kids to and from their various engagements, and arm-wrestling Brady over who gets the car that day. Having another driver makes my life both easier and far more difficult. I've also been doing the Facebook thing. If you haven't caught up with me there yet, you're missing out. Seriously - my current status update is "Laura could jump in the fray. But won't." How can you go another day without knowing such things?

So maybe I'll keep the engine warm on this here blog by posting some pictures. That's not a bad way to keep the home fires burning but not over-exert myself, right? Unfortunately, even this simple task may be more challenging than usual - a few weeks ago all my photos disappeared from Picasa. (Dear Picasa experts - help!) After the resulting nervous break-down, I'm now, with the help of my therapist, slowly getting ready to try again.

But to start off this photo frenzy, I don't need no stinkin' Picasa. (Take that, Picasa, you mean old photo-deleter!) Today's photo appeared unexpectedly on Facebook, in the photos section of an old friend from high school. I have no idea how he even got this particular photo and it cracked me right up when it appeared.

I fondly call this, "Sheena Easton Called - She Wants Her Hair Back."

Me, circa 1987

Someone Could've Said SOMEthing...

Dear Family,



Just so you know, I can take it. I mean, I'd rather you tell me than I walk around all day, oblivious, while people avert their eyes and snicker about me around corners while I'm standing there on display. I mean, I'd snicker about me around corners too, but then I'd muster the courage to confront the poor unsuspecting soul and put her out of her fashion-faux-pas misery. Then I'd laugh at her around another corner. But at least I'd have told her.

I will be hanging the following on my bathroom mirror:

Fashion rule #1 - do not wear a light-colored bra under a thin, red top.

Christmas Came to the Cornfields

Christmas came to the cornfields. And boy, did it ever make an entrance.

We not only had a white Christmas, we had a White-OUT on Christmas Eve. For the first time in recent memory we had difficulty getting to Madison for Christmas Eve festivities. We woke to 3 inches of new snow, which, when added to the previous eight-gazillion inches, made for treacherous roads.

Never one to shy away from a wee bit of hazzardous driving conditions - one doesn't grow up in cornfield country and end up soft - we loaded up and ventured out.

And promptly fish-tailed toward the ditch about 14.7 feet from the end of our driveway.

Along with Christmas came the usual merriment...

Shopping with my nieces and painting our hair blue...

Piles of cousins...

Piles of presents....

Music making....

And the requisite "What did YOU get from Santa?" conversation that begins immediately upon arrival at Grandma's. (Guess what little Armando got?)

There was also, of course, the drooling over the only-made-on-Christmas Sugarplum Coffee Cake, which is BEYOND tasty.... and not fattening at ALL. At least that's what I keep telling my thighs as I down another morsel.

And the serving of the traditional Christmas brunch. Elves go first.

This elf is about to graduate from elven school, now that he's received cologne, gas cards, and a set of car keys for Christmas. Wah!

Add in a little Rock Band....

And it was a very merry Christmas indeed.

From our family to yours, may your days be merry, your hearts filled with love, and your thighs flabby. (That's only so I'll feel better about mine, you understand.)

In Our House

In our house, any pleasure we receive from our netflix rentals is offset by the following stream of anxiety from Rob:

"Did you watch the movie yet?"
"We have to mail the movies back."
"Did you put the movies in the mail?"
"Did you watch the movie yet?"
"When do you think you'll get around to watching the movie?"
"Where'd you put the movie mailer?"
"Did you watch the movie yet?"
"Tell me you didn't lose the movie mailer."
"Are the movies in the mail yet?"
"Why didn't you watch the movie yet?"
"Did you watch the movie yet?"

*sputter*
*choke*
*faint*

A Shout Out to Mothers of Many

Today I'd like to pay homage to an overlooked, underappreciated, undercelebrated and underestimated segment of society - mothers of many. And by many, I mean any more than two, which, when in addition to my husband, seems to me to be plenty difficult, thanks. You see, I have my nieces and nephews over for the day, and I've spent the past few hours doing nothing but putting on socks, taking off socks, making enough organic macaroni and cheese to feed an entire army brigade, gathering snow clothes, putting on snow clothes, taking off snow clothes, adjusting snow clothes, pinning snow clothes so they'll stay on right, pulling snowpants legs over boots, stuffing feet into boots, stuffing hands (finger by finger) into gloves, tying boots, finding hats, zipping coats, finding toys, wiping counters, wiping puddles, and wiping butts. I'm sorry about the butts thing, but it's important enough to mention - trust me on this.

I don't know how mothers of big families do it, I really don't. The utterance of the simplest phrase - like, say, "Loh-wa, I'm hungry" - sets off a series of events that are mind-boggling in their capacity to disable even the most proficient multi-tasker. The inequality between energy output and energy input is rather astounding as well. The kids play their games while waiting for the snack-turned-full-out-meal to be made, but the mother's part of the deal is not as simple as that, oh no it's not. They can't reach the game on the shelf. They can't figure out how to set up the game. And someone didn't want to play that particular game in the first place so he's staging a stand-off. So-and-so went out of turn on the game. And so-and-so got to go first LAST time and it's not fair! Oh, and there's always a butt-wiping session in there somewhere, too. Always there is that. (Honey? Please note the addition of gas mask to my Christmas list.) All the while, the wee ones smile up at me and ask, innocently, "Is the food ready yet?"

Now don't get me wrong - I adore my nieces and nephews. I love having them here. We do all sorts of fun things and they're a joy to have around. I'm not complaining. And while I'm a bit frazzled, it's not in a mean-aunt sort of way. I'm simply amazed that there are mothers who do this day in and day out. And I have a few questions for them. First off, how? In the name of all things holy, how do you manage this every day?

Do you mainline caffeine every morning? Do you channel an inner Artemis, Goddess of Power? Are you some sort of freak of nature? I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. I mean 'freak of nature' in the best possible survival-of-the-fittest, top-of-the-food-chain, you-rock sort of way.

And now, while I'd love to wax on longer about the remarkable strength, patience, and fortitude of women who have more than two children - god/dess knows they deserve it - I have to go.

The kids are ready to come back in after 6.2 nanoseconds of playing in the snow.

Kitchen Conversations

Jonathan: Brady got his driver's license and I'm getting facial hair. Big day.

I'm Still Here. Somewhere.

Why, hallo. You still here?

Thanks for still being here! I've been neglecting the poor old blog. I've watched my stat numbers slowly shrink away. I've gotten a few "you still there?" emails from those who logged on only to hear crickets.

Yes, I'm still here. I'm here, once again, pondering the natural life cycle of a blog.

We're a compulsive lot out here in the cornfields. (Well, not Rob so much, thank the higherpower.) We tend to binge on whatever activity we're enjoying at the moment. But what do those Newton people say? To every action there is an opposite and equal reaction? Um, ya. What's the opposite of binge-blogging?

*crickets*

I don't want to retire the ol' blog, I really don't. And yet I believe the life-force of a good blog lies partly in it's predictability - that when you want to have a read with your cuppa, it's there. You know it'll be there. You look forward to it being there. And while I do indeed have a lot swirling around in the ol' gray matter, I haven't been compelled to put pencil to blog lately.

I've been lurking around other joints lately. Some know I've been on Facebook quite a bit. I've reconnected with some old friends, even a former student (eek - fine line, there, fine line). Feel free to look me up there, where I'll captivate you with such status updates as "Laura eats a mint melt-away in 4 bites."

Now do you see why I'm not blogging?

I'm non-writing in other places too. Like, I'm experiencing a debilitating case of writer's block as I try to compose a chapter for an unschooling book. My submission is due any day now, and I honestly can't seem to bang it out. Weird.

And I sat down the other day to write my own unschooling manifesto, but nothing came out there either. Well, 5,400 words did come out - boring, poorly constructed sentences that didn't at all capture what had swirled in my head earlier that day.

It's one thing to have a "moment" and get an idea. It's another to stretch that idea into an essay, chapter, or book; to tie it all together, make it flow, add some wit, and hit it all home.

Maddening.

Life goes on here otherwise. Brady just completed his first college course and is excited to be taking audio production and video production next semester. We visited the recording studios and he nearly hyperventilated. Jonathan is very busy with all-things-Pokemon lately. He plans to enter a tournament in January; if things go his way, there are big things in our future.

Life is good. Thanks for sticking around.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled...

*crickets*

Nothing is Sacred

I'm sorry to admit that nothing is sacred in this family. It's not that we can't be solemn, reverent, humble, stoic or quiet when we absolutely have to be. We can. But our preferred mode seems to be silly, goofy, irreverent, sarcastic, and witty, with a whole lot of laughter and eye-rolling thrown in. Give us one of "those" looks and it'll only encourage us. (Sorry Mom.)

My uncle's wedding last weekend was no different. We were excited for the wedding, and we were sure not to stick our tongues out at each other during the important moments. Well, there was that moment when Rob poked me after the priest said "a wife should serve and obey her husband" business. But we managed to get through the actual service without anything more troublesome than my niece Ana exclaiming "that wine was HEAVY!" after she carried the gifts to the altar.

The silliness usually begins before we even leave the house. When we're all spiffed up to go out, I tend to get a bit overly eager for photos. It's not often that we're all in our finest duds - or that all of us have bathed on the same day. Something that monumental must be captured on film. But since my boys start cringing and moaning the minute I utter the suggestion, I have to make it more enticing.

Unfortunately, that's also what sets the tone for the rest of the day. If I act silly, it's like a "rev your engines green-light-go" to the kids.

I think this move was in response to Brady's command, "Move in a little."

This picture reminds me to keep using that anti-aging cream I just bought. Oh, and to use darker lipstick. (Ok, Aunt Nancy, you were right. Maybe that darker lipstick wouldn't actually make me look like a.. nevermind.)

Having made it through the wedding, the silliness resumed as we entered the reception hall. We call this part of the night, "There will be no serious photos taken."

Apparently, this expression runs in my family. Here, I present Exhibit A: my sister Jackie, and Exhibit B: my (single, successful, funny-as-h*ll) brother Matt.

Only my mom - who is (gulp) GETTING MARRIED - was elegant and composed during picture-taking.

(There - I said it! Are you happy? Please hold for a moment while I go lie down.)

(Ok, I'm back.)

Here is mom with her new fiance, Gordy. Hi Gordy! Welcome to the family! Hope you like silliness, chaos, and mayhem!

I don't know what I was saying at this particular moment, but by the look on Brady's face, it must have been fairly horrific.

Dear nieces, and nephews: "Do as I say, not as I do. Tell your mom I said that, too."

Brady looks like he's got some sort of smart-alec retort coming on, doesn't he? *sniff* I'm so proud.

Getting the whole gang together for a photo was... well, a struggle. It was a bit like herding cats.

The kids were more cooperative than the adults. As you can see, they were eager to form a grouping and pose for the camera.

And then that quickly devolved into more silliness. Careful, don't choke Armando!

You can tell by the looks on their faces it was taking too long to assemble the adults.

So Ana decided to model some possible poses. I finally sent the kids to fetch Aunt Jackie, who was taking her sweet old time getting over to the group. This, however, only managed to start one of our favorite family games, designed by my father, called "Well, YOU tell HER...." It goes something like this:

Kids: Aunt Jackie, my mom says to get your butt over there for pictures.

Aunt Jackie: Well, you tell her that I don't have to do it just because my big sister says so.

Kids (run to me): Aunt Jackie says she doesn't have to just because you're her big sister!

Me: Well, you tell her, yes she does, because I'm the boss of her.

Kids (run to Jackie): She says yes you do because she's the boss of you and big sisters are always the boss! (They like to add their own embellishments sometimes.)

Aunt Jackie: Well, you tell her she can stick it in her ear.

Kids (run to me): She says you can stick it in your ear!

Me: Well, you tell her that's not nice, and she's a big fat poopy head.

And so on. Ahhhh.... family traditions make me all wistful and warm inside....

Eventually, Jackie wandered over and we again tried to assemble for a group photo. (Side Note: half the reception has elapsed by now.)

We tried.... "C'mon people, get your butts over here! Move it! Mas rapido!"

And tried.... "Yo Marcel, what's with the cheeseball smile?!"

And tried.... "Armando, tough guy, arms down! Where are the other kids? Where is Aunt Susan? Wait, where am I ?!?"And then we gave up.

And something tells me the new bride and groom didn't notice a thing.

Congratulations Uncle John and Bobbie Jo! And sorry about the relay races the kids had across the dance floor.

You've Got to See This

That's my kitchen. I KNOW! Crazy.

More on DC

I had never been to Washington DC before. It's a beautiful city. The architecture is amazing. The city is easy to navigate. And the sense of place and history and connection humbled me on more than one occasion.

The boys are at the perfect age to visit. We didn't do much preparation in the way of research before our trip. Mostly, because someone else planned the intinerary for me - wooHOO - but also because I know my boys are always more inspired to seek information about something once they have a real connection to it. Beforehand, it's forced. Afterward, it's authentic.

We all had a fantastic time. Here, see for yourself.

A little less than enthusiastic, but that's ok, we were just getting started. (And it was chilly.)

You can see how much Jonathan enjoyed the exhibits at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. Um, ya.

Ok, so they didn't exactly love the 892nd subway ride. (But this was after a long day of touring and before getting a late dinner.)

Rob wasn't angry about visiting Arlington Cemetary. Just, um, subdued. (But this was while waiting for Jonathan to catch up.)

You can see how captivated they were by the Changing of the Guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns. (Please don't be offended - the ceremony hadn't started yet.)

No matter how it looks, I was not squeezing his shoulder and whispering through clenched teeth, "Smile d*mnit."

Believe it or not, behind this noncommittal expression is a giant happy grin just waiting to emerge.

In the midst of all this unbridled enthusiasm, there were a few minor humdrum moments. The Spy Museum, White House, and Capitol tours had them positively peeing in their pants, but the American Art Museum?

Not so much.

The Capitol tour was a highlight. (You'll have to take my word on that.)

Here's Jonathan, showing minor signs of glee in anticipation of the next stop...

Oh.

Look - smiles!

And at the end of the day, there's nothing like some gymnastics moves on the subway to cheer up a tired 12 yr old boy touring Washington DC for 4 days straight.