Teaching

Our county homeschooling group has an extracurricular thing that functions much like a co-op. Each Friday for ten weeks, parents volunteer to teach classes for groups of kids within the group, and it gets our kids exposure to other kids and the socialization that non-homeschoolers are always so concerned about. (For pitys sake, we don't lock the kids in a closet for 18 years!)

The winter semester last year was our first experience with this group, and it was an all-around good thing. I mentioned to the coordinator that I'm a writer and would be willing to teach a creative writing class, and I'm on the class list for this semester.

Now, I'm going out on a limb here, talking about it so early. I may be in for a huge disappointment if no one signs up. I know I have one student--Vicky wants to take it. I can't be too crushed if my own kid wants to take it, right? I am excited about it, though. I must be; I have my lesson plan done two weeks in advance. It's been rattling around in my brain for about six months.

My Walter Mitty side is sure that the class is going to be received so well that they'll be calling me to teach it even when I'm done with homeschooling and no longer have a child enrolled. There will be so much demand that they'll have to add a second time slot and I'll have to teach it twice a day. Reality could be VERY different! It often is, but Walter Mitty is my muse. (Isn't that sad? He's a fictional character!)

I should find out Friday how the sign-ups fell. If I come up missing over the weekend, I've either had to add a class, no one signed up and I'm trying not to cry on my keyboard, or Scott actually showed up and we're working on Book 2. The rest of the week is a little insane, so I may be scarce anyway!

It's all about attitude

DaMomma posted recently about worries keeping her up at night. Her life is in a state of upheaval right now and I can understand where she's coming from. I posted the following in her comments (mine was 57, I think, in response to her question, "What do you stress about?")

I don't worry. I used to worry about everything. Then we moved four times in six years (once overseas and once back). I have spent most of those years homeschooling with a round budget (no corner left to cut) and mounting debt. Our cat died a month after we arrived in Italy; when we moved home a year later we imported two cats and could have had more but Hubby said I couldn't save them all. My kids are teens, we have a mortgage, my primary job (besides teaching my daughter) is washing dishes at a bistro. It's all in God's hands, and when I start to get worried about something I dump it on Him. Worry is fear, and fear is a sin, and that's the hardest lesson I've ever had to learn.

I know all about fear and stress and uncertainty. I know from recent experience how it feels to face impending unemployment, to juggle the budget and squirrel away every spare dime to make sure we can keep the lights on until another job comes up. I know what it is to tell my boss I need more hours so that I can make sure the kids stay fed while Eric finds a new job, and then to feel guilty at how many hours of summer vacation I spent with my hands in dishwater instead of with my kids.

It's all learning. It's all growth. The kids didn't suffer from my absense; they were with their friends, and their friends' moms were keeping an eye out, making sure everyone stayed out of trouble.

My life used to resemble a country song. Yeah, you know, the one where the dog dies and the house burns and the truck breaks down on the side of the road with three flats and the hubby is in a bar with a bunch of beer-swilling hussies. (No, Eric was never in a bar with beer-swilling hussies; it's an analogy.) Then I moved four times in six years and homeschooled.

Now my life is closer to a praise song. I'm finding more and more I'm content in all circumstances, or more of them. I'm not on par with the Apostle Paul, but I'm getting here. (On the other hand, Paul was never the parent of teens.)

What kind of music is your life?

fabric!

I've been doing research on the 18th Century, both for writing and Rendezvous, and one of the things I learned recently is that linen and wool are the preferred fabrics for authenticity and comfort. Go figure--every costume piece we have is cotton of some form!

It's the wrong time of year for wool, and linen is tough to find without something blended with it, but I did manage to find some on E-Bay. I won the auction, paid, and waited, and finally, it got here today. I have enough white to do a chemise and a shirt, or maybe two chemises if I skimp on the length a little. There is a lovely brownish color that will soon be a shirt, and several yards of a rougher brown that I have yet to decide what to do with.

While I waited, I popped into a fabric store and stumbled on a partial bolt of green linen. To be honest, I was too impressed with the shade. Baby snot (pre-ear infection) came to mind. Still, it was 100% linen, and there were seven yards on the bolt, so I bought it all. It washed beautifully. It must have been somewhat jaundiced in the flourescent because it's quite a yummy shade of celery, and I should have enough to do a petticoat and a short gown if I'm careful.

I get to sew this week!

Now I just need to find more linen, some tropical weight wool, and order a pattern to make stays...

public service

Here is a little something Xerox is doing. Go here, pick a card and a message, and Xerox will print the card and send it to one of our deployed troops. You don't get to pick who gets it; they have a list of people to send it to. Just think of it as something nice to do for a person who is away from hearth and home, trying to make the world a better place. You don't have to support the war to support our troops.

paused

My brain has been pretty well shut down this weekend. This afternoon is one when I know I need to wash clothes, get some words in, maybe get a little light sewing done, but I find myself staring at the wall, looking for patterns in the paint texture. Watching grass grow sounds interesting to me today.

We did manage to get through the first week of school. Only 35 left. Oh, yeah, I need to do a new spelling list, too.

If I didn't know it would totally mess up my sleep cycle, I'd go take a nap. As it is, I need to stay up so I can get up early tomorrow. This grown-up thing is no fun sometimes; I think Peter Pan may have been on to something.