I would like to tell you that I am one of those women who is so organized that not only does my home look like an inviting and neatly equipped cross between a library and a bed and breakfast, but I am also working on a book to tell you how you too can live in such harmony...but I might fall over laughing in the process, giving it all away. My husband (a Virgo) and I agree to disagree on the state of our house - or rather, to love each other a lot in spite of our different approaches to how things swing here. He appreciates that I have other priorities than continual dusting and scrubbing and filing, and I appreciate the days when he decides to give the house the most thorough vacuuming it's had in years.
I do manage to frustrate myself, however, with my obsession with piles. If I am thinking about something, I like to make a little pile of books and materials that goes...well, over there, until I get to making it happen. We do sometimes use at least part of a math curriculum, and those books have a spot on a shelf, with some manipulatives that aren't too hard to find, but everything else is an idea, a possibility, as in, "I wonder if the girls are as interested in clouds as I am right now?" and the piling of books, construction paper and oil pastels that eventually become field guides about clouds.
The piles reflect what I'm thinking about I guess, and are my arsenal for those free, focused moments in our days - moments when I can insert a "hey, what do you think about....?", for that's more often how things happen here.
Plants, poetry, puberty...short stories, rituals...math stories, the history of time, "great books" booklists...yeah, that's all mingling around in my mind, and on the kitchen counter, bedroom dresser, bookshelf and the corner of the kitchen table. Not the most efficient method, but it keeps those ideas present and available, so it's working for now. (Right?)
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When we returned from our trip last week, I settled into my piles - of books, laundry, and the various projects that present themselves afresh whenever you've had some time away. The girls, after a long day in the car (not so long, thanks to Treasure Island on tape) were eager to get out and run, even though it was a cold day. Soon they were bursting in the door, breathless, 'cause "they're filming a movie with kids in it across the street, can we watch???" Which of course, four hours later, turned into "we can't come home yet, 'cause we're in the movie and we have one more scene to shoot!!"
|Waiting for "Action!"|
|and....Action!! (Ani's running up the hill; Eliza's waving to her friends)|
Unexpected and fun.
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After dinner one night this week, Eliza taught us a game she'd come up with (I think) that was sort of Charades and sort of Truth or Dare without the Truth part. She called it Forfeit, which then became "Who's the Turkey?" thanks to the turkey hat we used to hold the slips of paper. You just never know when the turkey hat is going to come in handy. Dan laughs, but really...I think he might love
my the turkey hat.
|E, modeling the turkey hat. Now, on to the game...|
Set up: select as many cards as players, making sure one is the joker. On small pieces of paper, write 20 or so funny things to do (for example...sing a song in a french accent. loudly. outside.). Eliza provided us with all of our "dares"...stick these in a hat. If your hat has a turkey on it, you too can call this "Who's the Turkey?" Otherwise, you'll have to come up with your own clever name for it...
To play: everyone selects a card, hoping against hope that it won't be the joker...which it usually is!!
The lucky joker draws a piece of paper from the hat, reads the challenge, and then executes it. Uproarious laughter ensues...
I think my favorites might have been the booty-shakin' dances out in front of the house...