I didn't intend to take the summer off from writing here-it just happened. It's been an...odd...summer. I can't put my finger on why, but it's probably just the whole growing older thing.
Young Epic headed back to school today, and that's always a poignant time. I let him take a library book on cd, and I'm not the least bit worried about getting it back. I'll just let Athena know he has it, and it needs to be returned. Ah, the power of knowing the girl friend! His room feels really empty even though he only took his chair this time. And Epic Dog is positively mopey.
"Empty Nest" is an apt term. I find myself wandering into his room and aimlessly moving things around. It has become much easier over the years, and, from experience with Eldest Epic Son, I know that once he is settled into his adult life, I'll move beyond this feeling.
Teachers head back to school on Monday, and I don't feel ready. I'm uploading files to my SchoolWeb site in an attempt to go paperless. That's probably part of my whole malaise this summer. This is a huge change, and there is an underlying sense of trepidation-change is never easy for me.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Summer Bum
Aside from the week of curriculum writing and the afternoon of looking at and discussing the direction we'll take for vocabulary-I have not done one single productive thing since the end of school. One full week of being a book-reading, TV-watching, couch potatoe. I'm ready to say "that's enough of that," but it's too blasted hot to get too wound up about anything.
I'm finishing Aprilynne Pike's Wings, and it is a charming book. Fifteen year old Laurel has been homeschooled until the age of fifteen, and the move to public school is traumatic. It gets better as she forms a friendship with David, until a bump appears on her back. And then the bump blossoms.
Next in the pile is Generation Dead-or maybe The Shadow of the Wind. I must finish Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close for a committe meeting at the first of August. Sigh. So many books, so little time...
I'm finishing Aprilynne Pike's Wings, and it is a charming book. Fifteen year old Laurel has been homeschooled until the age of fifteen, and the move to public school is traumatic. It gets better as she forms a friendship with David, until a bump appears on her back. And then the bump blossoms.
Next in the pile is Generation Dead-or maybe The Shadow of the Wind. I must finish Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close for a committe meeting at the first of August. Sigh. So many books, so little time...
Monday, June 8, 2009
Cussing
Mr. Epic says it's time to stop the book reviews and do a different type of writing. So, here's an excerpt from my reading autobiography. It's titled My Reading Life, or How I Learned to Cuss.
Mine was an extremely conservative family. No one, absolutely no one, in our household used even the mildest of profanity. The only place I might hear the word “hell” was in church. However, as a precocious eight year old reader, I was attracted to those paperback westerns Papaw read. I not only reenacted scenes from the books on horseback, I attempted to emulate the language also. On day in third grade as we stood in the lunch line (I recall being in a plaid jumper and wearing black patent leather shoes, but that may be wrong), I stamped my little foot and proclaimed “DamN it, I’m tired of waiting!”
A boy in my class turned around, stared wide eyed at me, and asked “What did you say?”
I repeated myself, and he responded, “It’s ‘dam it’, there’s no ‘n’, and you better not let a teacher hear you say that.” I was intrigued. He filled me in on a couple of other words I better not say in front of an adult, and let me know that it was called “cussing.” However, he didn’t provide a complete lexicon of cuss words, and about a year later, a book again added to my education.
My older sister and I were going for a swim in the back yard. As we raced down the hill, I yelled, “Last one in is a dirty awld bitch!”
After we hit the water, my sister swam toward me, and in a hushed tone asked, “What did you say?” I repeated myself, and she responded “Where did you hear THAT?”
I replied that it was something I had read in a book. She laughed derisively and answered, “No you did not. That wouldn’t be in a book you read; you heard it at school. And you better not ever let Mother hear you say it.”
I shrugged and continued swimming. I knew that arguing with her was useless. But when I got out of the pool, I went and found the book I was reading, National Velvet, and located the offensive line. In the book the father, or maybe the grandfather, was lamenting the fact that the dog had given birth to a litter of puppies. Ah. So now I knew that the word for “dog that gives birth to puppies” was not acceptable language around adults.
See, reading DOES expand the vocabulary...
Mine was an extremely conservative family. No one, absolutely no one, in our household used even the mildest of profanity. The only place I might hear the word “hell” was in church. However, as a precocious eight year old reader, I was attracted to those paperback westerns Papaw read. I not only reenacted scenes from the books on horseback, I attempted to emulate the language also. On day in third grade as we stood in the lunch line (I recall being in a plaid jumper and wearing black patent leather shoes, but that may be wrong), I stamped my little foot and proclaimed “DamN it, I’m tired of waiting!”
A boy in my class turned around, stared wide eyed at me, and asked “What did you say?”
I repeated myself, and he responded, “It’s ‘dam it’, there’s no ‘n’, and you better not let a teacher hear you say that.” I was intrigued. He filled me in on a couple of other words I better not say in front of an adult, and let me know that it was called “cussing.” However, he didn’t provide a complete lexicon of cuss words, and about a year later, a book again added to my education.
My older sister and I were going for a swim in the back yard. As we raced down the hill, I yelled, “Last one in is a dirty awld bitch!”
After we hit the water, my sister swam toward me, and in a hushed tone asked, “What did you say?” I repeated myself, and she responded “Where did you hear THAT?”
I replied that it was something I had read in a book. She laughed derisively and answered, “No you did not. That wouldn’t be in a book you read; you heard it at school. And you better not ever let Mother hear you say it.”
I shrugged and continued swimming. I knew that arguing with her was useless. But when I got out of the pool, I went and found the book I was reading, National Velvet, and located the offensive line. In the book the father, or maybe the grandfather, was lamenting the fact that the dog had given birth to a litter of puppies. Ah. So now I knew that the word for “dog that gives birth to puppies” was not acceptable language around adults.
See, reading DOES expand the vocabulary...
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Wow...
Reading Roland Smith's Peak right now. I'm ninteen pages in (had to stop for a minute to let the dog out) and I don't belive I'll be going to sleep tonight. This one is going to be a cover to cover, one sitting read.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The Power of Communication
When we were in the DFW area for Young Epic's conference tournament, we ate breakfast several mornings in the Denny's next to the hotel. A waitress told us one morning that for three different meals, totaling $600+, a coach for one of the tournament teams (not our coach) left no gratuity. The waitress of record (whose ID goes into the computer system) has to pay taxes on 15% of the bill, even if no gratuity is left.
By the time we heard this, that team was out of the tournament. I emailed the president of the university, and within hours had a response from the coach. He thought the gratuity was figured in the total bill, and he is sending $100 to the Denny's.
I wonder why the manager of the Denny's, the second or third time the team came in to eat, did not at least ask the coach if he was displeased with the service and as a result did not leave a tip?
By the time we heard this, that team was out of the tournament. I emailed the president of the university, and within hours had a response from the coach. He thought the gratuity was figured in the total bill, and he is sending $100 to the Denny's.
I wonder why the manager of the Denny's, the second or third time the team came in to eat, did not at least ask the coach if he was displeased with the service and as a result did not leave a tip?
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
What I Hate
Young Epic's team came in third in their conference tournament. The final game was a wild one-they were down 7-2 in the top of the 4th-2 outs, 2 runners on, and the batter with a 2 balls 1 strike count-yesterday afternoon when the game was stopped because of lightning. Play was resumed at 10:00 AM today, and the batter started his at bat with the 1-2 count. He smashed a single that started a three run rally.
As the game progressed the score was eventually tied 10-10. In the bottom of the eighth, the opposing team hit a bases empty home run, and they went on to winn 11-10. Then came the part I hate. I hate watching young men who have left it all on the field as they cope with that final loss of the season. It's especially tough to watch the seniors, but it's heart wrenching to watch all of them as they stand outside the fence, looking out over the field, certain that with one more inning, the outcome would be different.
I know it's part of their journey to become men, and I know they must learn the lessons it imparts. But I don't have to enjoy it.
As the game progressed the score was eventually tied 10-10. In the bottom of the eighth, the opposing team hit a bases empty home run, and they went on to winn 11-10. Then came the part I hate. I hate watching young men who have left it all on the field as they cope with that final loss of the season. It's especially tough to watch the seniors, but it's heart wrenching to watch all of them as they stand outside the fence, looking out over the field, certain that with one more inning, the outcome would be different.
I know it's part of their journey to become men, and I know they must learn the lessons it imparts. But I don't have to enjoy it.
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