• graduated!

    This week my older son completes his senior year…more or less. I mean, he’s in grade twelve according to his Sunday school placement at our church, and according to our “intent to homeschool” form that I fill out at the end of every summer, but for homeschoolers, the lines between grade levels tend to get a little blurry. 

    Last spring when he decided to enroll in classes at the local community college, we learned that enrolling as a homeschool student required all sorts of paperwork — letters of recommendation and such — but then another homeschool mom told me to just declare him graduated. “It’s much easier,” she said.

    “I can do that?”

    “Once he turns 16, sure.”

    I had no idea.

    So we told the college he was graduated, whatever that meant, and he took the two placement tests — English and Math, and both for free — and that was it. We had a college student on our hands! So then the kid was all like, I just graduated, yay! Can I have a party? and I had to backpedal right quick: Just because we declared you graduated doesn’t mean you actually are… But yeah, you kind of are… But, um, not really?

    It was rather anticlimactic, poor kid.

    But then my parents gave him a graduation card with a hundred dollar bill which made it a little bit official (sort of)…

    …and then he took off for Peru and spent five weeks being all sorts of independent, which probably cemented the fact that he was growing up better than a party would’ve done.

    He’s spent the past year taking classes part-time, studying for a nursing degree, and now we’re finally wrapping up the graduation stuff, for reals this time. Just a couple weeks back, there was his last choir performance for which he wrote the welcome, and then performed it with another chorister —

    …I second that, and before we blastoff
    take out your phone, please, make sure that it’s off
    The sound of a ring, or a ping, or a ding
    Is not part of the repertoire that we sing. 

    And not just your phone, but any noise making machine!
    Your pagers and dialers, anything with a screen.
    Turn it off, shut it down, do what you must,
    Just keep it silent, in you we can trust… 

     — and next Sunday our church will host a “tea” for the high school graduates. Each student gets to fill a table with anything and everything that’s important to them (photos, sports gear, art projects) and then everyone mills around, looking at the displays and writing notes of encouragement in little notebooks. Unfortunately, we’ll miss our son’s tea since it’s schedule for the Sunday after we leave, but he’s staying behind for an extra week (to take finals and have some downtime), so at least he’ll get to be there.

    This same time, years previous: an ordinary break, full disclosure, back to normal, coffee crumb cake, the quotidian (4.28.14), the quotidian (4.29.13), better brownies, baked beans, creamed asparagus on toast.

  • that fuzzy space

    With one week until departure, I’m beginning to enter that fuzzy space otherwise known as Transition. I feel off-kilter, ditzy, and at odd ends. My mind is cluttered. I pace and make lists and then, when I should be working, I crash on the sofa with Netflix and end up going to bed way too late. There is much to do, and yet, weirdly, I’m bored. I can’t settle into anything. It’s like being revved up on caffeine while in a coma.

    I was like this before we went to Guatemala, though that upheaval was much worse than this one. This time around the kids are bigger and we’re only packing for one climate (hot). Also, it simplifies things that Puerto Rico is just another part of the US: we can still get Amazon, there are Costcos(!), and I just learned that we can forward our mail to our new address. Maybe we’ll never come back?

    Speaking of that new address: A lovely rental house is awaiting us!

    Judging from the video that our supervisor so thoughtfully sent us, it looks like the place — plenty of extra space for hosting guests and holding meetings with the weekly volunteers — will meet our needs perfectly. I am so ready to move in, set up shop, and start living.

    *** 

    One of my goals for when the little cousins came was to eat up all the bits and bobs of food floating around the house. I shopped my shelves and made menus and then conscientiously worked my way through each day.

    Some bread crusts and a couple cups of leftover quiche filling?
    An egg bake for lunch.

    A bag of dry white beans and a quart of frozen, ancient turkey?
    White chicken chili.

    A frozen container of red beans and overripe corn?
    Again, chili.

    Chickpea and barley flours?
    Buttermilk pancakes.

    Two half-boxes of macaroni?
    Mac and cheese, duh.

    Unfortunately, I neglected to take into account how little small children will actually eat, so I didn’t plow through as much food as I’d hoped. But still, their presence did force me to be intentional, and I hardly spent any money, so there’s that.

    *** 

    We’re gradually farming out the animals.

    in the back of the truck, heading out 

    The goats are gone, on loan to a neighbor. The chickens are being banded and dispersed to different homes (to be collected upon our return). The dogs will go to my parents. Two of the three cats we’re giving away; Obie will continue to haunt the barn — my parents will set out food for him.

    My daughter is giving Velvet away to her farrier who has three young, very excited children. It’s a smart move on her part — Velvet is getting old, and my daughter wants to save for a warmblood — but still, it’s a little sad, saying goodbye to her first horse, so the other evening when she asked me to go up to the farm to take some last photos of her and Velvet under the budding fruit trees, of course I said yes.

    ***

    Our work phones and hotspot arrived from MDS headquarters.

    The children are green with jealousy.

    *** 

    What will we read while we’re in Puerto Rico? There are libraries, but best I can tell they’re mostly academic. Probably in Spanish, too. 

    When we went to Guatemala, I took a whole stack of pre-screened books for our family read-aloud, but we don’t need read alouds now (that’s more a winter-time thing, plus, our evenings will be considerably busier this time around). Still, I’d love to have several good books on hand for each person to read and then share amongst ourselves.

    my collection thus far 

    But along with gerneralized fun reading (my aunt has loaned me her copy of Educated which I know it’s going to be fabulous), I’m also looking for a variety of other in the following areas:

    *Several, high-quality young adult books that most of the kids would enjoy
    *Material about Puerto Rico. I just purchased this book, and we already have the travel guide.
    *Books (both fiction and nonfiction) set in Puerto Rico. Blogs, too.
    *Books on cross-cultural awareness, disaster management, etc.

    So tell me: what should I (we) be reading? If nothing else, just share what books you’re into these days. That’ll be enough to get my wheels turning, I’m sure.
  • the quotidian (4.23.18)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace




    A good meat thermometer makes all the difference.

    Attempting to copy my mother’s prune cake recipe: hers was better.
    In an effort to once again experience the flavors of Guatemalan street food: from a food truck.

    Raiding my candy stash, the stinkers.

    Atop the grape arbor, with lemonade.
    On a knitting kick.

    Little worker.

    Cousin Week: Day Six.

    Dunging out: destined for the thrift store.

    Parting shots: she’s giving her away.

    This same time, years previous: life can turn on a dime, let’s pretend this isn’t happening, out of character, Sally Fallon’s pancakes, ailments, out and about, the quotidian (4.23.12), rhubarb crunch, me and you, and the radishes.