I know, I know — I was going to talk about all that important magazine stuff I mentioned, what is it now, two postings ago?
But just really quickly:
You may know (I hope you know) that I'm working on an internationally themed issue of SHM. I'm trying to interview homeschooling parents all over the world, and so far, it's going really well.
I just got a terrific interview with a homeschooling mom in England. She mentioned that the laws for homeschooling are different in Scotland than they are in England, Wales, or Ireland.
So even though I have this lovely English lady, and have been in touch with a very kind mom in Wales, I'm now dying to talk to a homeschooler in Scotland.
Do you know any? Would you by any chance be one? Could you point one in my direction?
Also: still looking for interviewees all over the world, and that definitely includes ex-pats. I'll ask the questions, you'll get a free copy of the magazine. Good deal, right?
Drop me a line. You know I love to hear from you. Just delete all the pesky spaces from:
deborah @ 2ds dot org
And don’t forget to make the dot an actual dot. Okay, there’s nobody who doesn’t know that by now. I’m just making sure...
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
But first, this commercial (for someone else) message
Okay, so I'm going to talk about the ever-pressing problem of the (nonexistent) electronic version of SHM, as well as sampling the biscuits and all that.
But just really quickly, can I tell you:
I was just shopping for some tea, and of course I was online, because 1) I'm still having that hair-growing-out issue that makes me weep every time I try to make myself "outside presentable;" 2) I don't really need the hair issue as an excuse to not want to go outside, since I seem to be hitting my Howard Hughes-recluse stage early; 3) you can get really good loose tea online. (That last one was the only one you needed to hear, but the others were kind of funny. Right?)
Anyway, I'm really low on tea, so I just ordered a bunch; and one of the packages was that caramel-flavored tea I refer to in the current issue's "Here We Go Again" column. You know, the one where my friend and I are talking cozily over cups of caramel tea while our children slowly and audibly starve to death in the other room.
So I ordered some of that very tea; and when I put it into my cart, it showed up as WAY on sale. You can get a quarter-pound of it for $3.82, which is extremely awesome.
I have no idea how long this deal will last, so if it sounds good, go over right NOW:
https://www.specialteas.com/Flavored-Tea/Flavored-Black-Tea/910-Caramel-with-Caramel-Pieces.html
If you get anything else while you're there, tell me about it, please. My English and Irish friends are horrified by my weakness for flavored teas, but what can I say? I'm Welsh. We have to be different.
But just really quickly, can I tell you:
I was just shopping for some tea, and of course I was online, because 1) I'm still having that hair-growing-out issue that makes me weep every time I try to make myself "outside presentable;" 2) I don't really need the hair issue as an excuse to not want to go outside, since I seem to be hitting my Howard Hughes-recluse stage early; 3) you can get really good loose tea online. (That last one was the only one you needed to hear, but the others were kind of funny. Right?)
Anyway, I'm really low on tea, so I just ordered a bunch; and one of the packages was that caramel-flavored tea I refer to in the current issue's "Here We Go Again" column. You know, the one where my friend and I are talking cozily over cups of caramel tea while our children slowly and audibly starve to death in the other room.
So I ordered some of that very tea; and when I put it into my cart, it showed up as WAY on sale. You can get a quarter-pound of it for $3.82, which is extremely awesome.
I have no idea how long this deal will last, so if it sounds good, go over right NOW:
https://www.specialteas.com/Flavored-Tea/Flavored-Black-Tea/910-Caramel-with-Caramel-Pieces.html
If you get anything else while you're there, tell me about it, please. My English and Irish friends are horrified by my weakness for flavored teas, but what can I say? I'm Welsh. We have to be different.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
All the stuff I didn't mention last time
The response to my "remember when this was a big deal" posting was tremendous in every sense. The postings here and the emails I got off-loop really got me back in magazine-maker mode. If you’re here, you probably hate mawkishness as much as I do, so let me just quickly say that I’m feeling the love big time, and then move on very quickly as if I’d never mentioned it.
I really had a terrific time hearing the specifics about what people liked, laughed at -- and wished was different. I'll be addressing the question about an electronic version of the magazine, and how exactly one can taste a biscuit without ponying up for a whole package, this week.
Here's what else was happy-making: right after that posting, I got a bunch of love mail (pretty much platonic, although I'm beginning to think that Amy and I could be very happy together if only the passing of Proposition 8 hadn't dashed any hopes of making an honest woman of her in my home state); plus, in my actual physical mailbox, two children's books about Darwin free. And then I noticed how many other books about Darwin were coming out, seeing as how it's the anniversary year of both his birth and his most important writing. So just when I thought that this last issue of SHM had been the readingest one ever (more about that later), I'm now plowing into hundreds of pages of study for a big ol' article about Darwin, evolution, and what books are best for all ages when it comes to learning and teaching about those subjects.
On the email front, I've also been hearing from homeschoolers all over the world, in connection with the upcoming International Homeschooling issue. This correspondence has been amazing, fascinating, gratifying, informative -- all kinds of good words like that.
The two paragraphs above mean that I'm doing a ton of reading and writing right now, and I am way behind in my email. If you've written and haven't heard back yet, I do love you (unless you wrote something really nasty, but it's actually been a very pleasant month in that respect), and I will write. It's just that not only have I received a LOT of letters in the past few weeks, but most of them call for detailed and thoughtful responses. And you know me -- I can't do things by halves. The past couple of late-night sittings, I've been getting to bed way after the witching hour, and counting myself lucky to have answered three emails per evening.
If you don't hear back and are beginning to wonder if I'm alive or if your message actually got through or if I need chocolate and where exactly you should send it, I do love "Okay, just let me hear you breathing" messages. Keep poking at this body -- it'll kick sooner or later.
I really had a terrific time hearing the specifics about what people liked, laughed at -- and wished was different. I'll be addressing the question about an electronic version of the magazine, and how exactly one can taste a biscuit without ponying up for a whole package, this week.
Here's what else was happy-making: right after that posting, I got a bunch of love mail (pretty much platonic, although I'm beginning to think that Amy and I could be very happy together if only the passing of Proposition 8 hadn't dashed any hopes of making an honest woman of her in my home state); plus, in my actual physical mailbox, two children's books about Darwin free. And then I noticed how many other books about Darwin were coming out, seeing as how it's the anniversary year of both his birth and his most important writing. So just when I thought that this last issue of SHM had been the readingest one ever (more about that later), I'm now plowing into hundreds of pages of study for a big ol' article about Darwin, evolution, and what books are best for all ages when it comes to learning and teaching about those subjects.
On the email front, I've also been hearing from homeschoolers all over the world, in connection with the upcoming International Homeschooling issue. This correspondence has been amazing, fascinating, gratifying, informative -- all kinds of good words like that.
The two paragraphs above mean that I'm doing a ton of reading and writing right now, and I am way behind in my email. If you've written and haven't heard back yet, I do love you (unless you wrote something really nasty, but it's actually been a very pleasant month in that respect), and I will write. It's just that not only have I received a LOT of letters in the past few weeks, but most of them call for detailed and thoughtful responses. And you know me -- I can't do things by halves. The past couple of late-night sittings, I've been getting to bed way after the witching hour, and counting myself lucky to have answered three emails per evening.
If you don't hear back and are beginning to wonder if I'm alive or if your message actually got through or if I need chocolate and where exactly you should send it, I do love "Okay, just let me hear you breathing" messages. Keep poking at this body -- it'll kick sooner or later.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
A Disturbance in the Force (or why I stay up way too late some nights)
I'm bitter. My husband is home sick.
Yes, it's Saturday, but that's the day I count on him going out. And taking our son with him.
I really hate saying things like that. It smacks too much of the people who tell us that they could never homeschool, because they couldn't stand to have their kids around all day.
The thing is, it isn't about having "me" time. Or even having alone time. I could go out if I wanted those, although I have developed a strong aversion to going out now that I have to go out so much now that I homeschool, and I hope some civilians are reading this and reassessing some assumptions about the homeschooling lifestyle.
No, the thing is that I have a very difficult time getting anything worth doing done when they're both around. We have a small apartment, and there's no extra room or yard I can just go out in and not be in anyone's way.
If it's just one of them, I still have a hard time really focusing, but I can get some work done. It's pulling teeth to get real cleaning done, because we have exactly enough rooms for everything we need so whichever one I'm cleaning is bound to be needed for something long before I've had time to finish.
But I can take notes for articles, or look at notes I've already taken and start putting them together, if just one of them is around. I can do the pre-clean straightening. I can do the ever-present laundry. (We all have allergies, so laundry tends to pile up around here like pizza boxes in a college student's dorm room.)
With both of them around -- I can't even try to get anything done.
I tried to try today. There are some emails that are really important to me that need thoughtful and rather lengthy answers, and I really wanted to work on them.
And I couldn't.
I couldn't exercise, I couldn't practice violin, I couldn't clean the floor in the front room, I couldn't write, I couldn't even read.
Because EVERY time I gave in to temptation and tried to do something of worth and value, it sent out a signal for one of them to come in and either ask a question or require something in the room I was working in.
It wasn't as if the noise level changed. The sound of me reading junk email is no different from the sound of me reading an article someone emailed me that has some substance and depth to it. The noise level of me idling through old newspapers is identical to the sound of me paging through Lies My Teacher Told Me.
But guess which one was guaranteed to send out a disturbance in the force?
True tale of terror: my son's in bed right now, but not asleep. I have to wait for him to fall asleep before I can exercise (I don’t usually exercise at night, but see above about today’s weirdness), because our apartment is too small and the noise keeps him awake; and I can't exercise outside any more, because I get sinus infections. And I can't just let him stay up, because he gets up early even if he was up late and then he's weird with tiredness the whole next day and I have to live with it.
So I was just sitting here being silently bitter about all the stuff I didn't get to do; and I decided, hey, why not write a HY-larious Mad Editor posting about it -- one that will have other homeschooling parents sighing in relief that they're not the only ones who go through this kind of thing?
I started writing. Identical noise level to my just sitting around sorting through my files and wondering what all this junk is.
Halfway through the second paragraph: "Mommy?"
I have learned never to let that kind of thing drive me to words I will regret, because the one time you tear in your child's bedroom of a late evening demanding to know what exactly couldn't wait until morning and why isn't your undersized offspring asleep already is the one time that said offspring will turn to you with tear-filled eyes and vomit on your shirt. So I very gently and reasonably asked what the matter was, and my son anxiously explained that he'd just started to fall asleep when he felt really weird for a minute, like he couldn't breathe, except he could, and then he felt kind of shaky.
I explained that it was probably just like when you're falling asleep and your leg gives that KICK that wakes you (and your spouse, and possibly the neighbors) right up again; or maybe it was that thing that even non-snorers get every now and then, when your breathing goes all funny for a second and jolts you awake. Or, possibly, it was because Mommy was sitting down and actually GETTING SOMETHING DONE, and he'd felt the disturbance in the force and responded to it.
At which point he rolled his eyes and sarcastically thanked me for the medical advice, and I came out here to finish this up. 'Cause it's not as if I'm going to get anything else done tonight.
Yes, it's Saturday, but that's the day I count on him going out. And taking our son with him.
I really hate saying things like that. It smacks too much of the people who tell us that they could never homeschool, because they couldn't stand to have their kids around all day.
The thing is, it isn't about having "me" time. Or even having alone time. I could go out if I wanted those, although I have developed a strong aversion to going out now that I have to go out so much now that I homeschool, and I hope some civilians are reading this and reassessing some assumptions about the homeschooling lifestyle.
No, the thing is that I have a very difficult time getting anything worth doing done when they're both around. We have a small apartment, and there's no extra room or yard I can just go out in and not be in anyone's way.
If it's just one of them, I still have a hard time really focusing, but I can get some work done. It's pulling teeth to get real cleaning done, because we have exactly enough rooms for everything we need so whichever one I'm cleaning is bound to be needed for something long before I've had time to finish.
But I can take notes for articles, or look at notes I've already taken and start putting them together, if just one of them is around. I can do the pre-clean straightening. I can do the ever-present laundry. (We all have allergies, so laundry tends to pile up around here like pizza boxes in a college student's dorm room.)
With both of them around -- I can't even try to get anything done.
I tried to try today. There are some emails that are really important to me that need thoughtful and rather lengthy answers, and I really wanted to work on them.
And I couldn't.
I couldn't exercise, I couldn't practice violin, I couldn't clean the floor in the front room, I couldn't write, I couldn't even read.
Because EVERY time I gave in to temptation and tried to do something of worth and value, it sent out a signal for one of them to come in and either ask a question or require something in the room I was working in.
It wasn't as if the noise level changed. The sound of me reading junk email is no different from the sound of me reading an article someone emailed me that has some substance and depth to it. The noise level of me idling through old newspapers is identical to the sound of me paging through Lies My Teacher Told Me.
But guess which one was guaranteed to send out a disturbance in the force?
True tale of terror: my son's in bed right now, but not asleep. I have to wait for him to fall asleep before I can exercise (I don’t usually exercise at night, but see above about today’s weirdness), because our apartment is too small and the noise keeps him awake; and I can't exercise outside any more, because I get sinus infections. And I can't just let him stay up, because he gets up early even if he was up late and then he's weird with tiredness the whole next day and I have to live with it.
So I was just sitting here being silently bitter about all the stuff I didn't get to do; and I decided, hey, why not write a HY-larious Mad Editor posting about it -- one that will have other homeschooling parents sighing in relief that they're not the only ones who go through this kind of thing?
I started writing. Identical noise level to my just sitting around sorting through my files and wondering what all this junk is.
Halfway through the second paragraph: "Mommy?"
I have learned never to let that kind of thing drive me to words I will regret, because the one time you tear in your child's bedroom of a late evening demanding to know what exactly couldn't wait until morning and why isn't your undersized offspring asleep already is the one time that said offspring will turn to you with tear-filled eyes and vomit on your shirt. So I very gently and reasonably asked what the matter was, and my son anxiously explained that he'd just started to fall asleep when he felt really weird for a minute, like he couldn't breathe, except he could, and then he felt kind of shaky.
I explained that it was probably just like when you're falling asleep and your leg gives that KICK that wakes you (and your spouse, and possibly the neighbors) right up again; or maybe it was that thing that even non-snorers get every now and then, when your breathing goes all funny for a second and jolts you awake. Or, possibly, it was because Mommy was sitting down and actually GETTING SOMETHING DONE, and he'd felt the disturbance in the force and responded to it.
At which point he rolled his eyes and sarcastically thanked me for the medical advice, and I came out here to finish this up. 'Cause it's not as if I'm going to get anything else done tonight.
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