Living-Deliberately.com

And look at my little niece, born yesterday!

I’m in Alabama with her on my lap, feeling a little bittersweet that I have to drive away and when I see her next, she’ll be a big ole’ baby. But for now, she’s 6lbs of sweet perfection that blond hair just might have a tinge of red.

Notes on the birth:

• my sister is the strongest laborer I’ve ever seen
• pushing uphill is not productive; someone tell the hospitals just exactly where they can stick this little idea.
• it’s amazing human reproduction continues on

Read the whole birth story here.  Tomorrow I’m cooking freezer meals and doing some nursery art. Saturday the kids and I head home.

Father Stephen’s blog…..

I knew from the painting, which held my attention for several minutes, that this was going to be a thought-provoking post….something to nestle in nooks and crannies of thought to be pondered more later. It’s a little igniter of a post…lots of trails to follow in the course of a day.

Which, incidentally, I wonder if that’s one way heaven and earth unite for me.  Contemplating the heavenly while going through otherwise mundane routines in a day: washing dishes, folding clothes, sweeping floors. A moment here and there to look at art that successfully has transcended my surroundings; all of it perhaps evidence of life that has been radically transformed by the eternal.

Large families with little financial means rarely get the opportunity to minister much to those in need. I make sure our hand me downs find good homes and we offer hospitality much more often than it is accepted, but by and large we are filled with a desire to give more than we have means to fulfill. It is sometimes as strange place to be.

And yet we have been blessed richly since moving out here to the country to minister to many starving and homeless lives. When we first arrived, they were here waiting, watching in the shadows, trembling with fear and hunger and curiosity. Within the week our porch had become a soup-kitchen line, with nervous eyes focused laser-like upon us, as we handed out meals and drink, knowing they remained ready to flee lest we be lying in our kindness.

The kids wanted to name and take in every one. One was a very young mother and brought us her baby in earnest desperation. She struck me with her pragmatism; I don’t think she really wanted to be around us but she knew we held life and she put up with us long enough to return to health to secure a home for her baby. When an orphan was abandoned, unable to eat on it’s own, she was then strong enough to take it in herself. We saw a second generation benefit from our efforts. There was a protective father, I think probably the father to a whole group of the….litter, because I am speaking of cats after all, and I watched in amazement as he was more than just the neighborhood Tom and actually seemed to shepherd this little group of vagabonds.

They weren’t all cats; there were two dogs, ugly and unwanted and they refused to leave. We honestly weren’t so eager to reach out to these two….the one with her rotting flesh and the other with a smelly coat ridden with parasites. In the months that followed we came to understand our role with the older one: it was to mercifully put her suffering to an end. And with the younger, it was clean him, love him, and to allow him do what he so wanted to do: belong.

The Taming of Everett was a story that hasn’t yet really been told. He is an animal that is not quite mentally complete, yet who is one of the most affectionate and eager felines I’ve ever come across. He leaps from his daytime hiding place to our porch each night after the sun goes down for a late night dinner and a few hours of love in a warm house; then returns to the night until the passing of another day. He’s a wonderful little friend, yet unwilling to completely trust and lay down the burden of previous rejection.

Today another little hungry, starving life ventured to our door. Maybe a relative of Everett; same long fur, same eyes, but a body gray in color rather than orange. She has ribs that protrude and a raspy meow. Andrew found her and brought her in; she devoured a bowl of food with paranoid desperation, frequently looking over shoulder at us. Against caution, Andrew named her “Francesca” and declared her his.

David, our “not really a cat person” family member, took this all in stride, a good sport to endure our apparent magnetism for dejected animals. There is a sadness about each one of these little animals so abandoned and alone. It is simply easy to be kind to the least of these; it strikes me how it requires so little of me and yet they are all here because others found it simply too hard to do.

I do hope one day that we are able to give to humankind multiples more than we give to animals. But as I stroke the coat of one more cold and shivering animal, I realize that if I can not do to the least of these, I will never do to more.

Tonight after we opened gifts and read the story from Luke, the children took the Mary, Joseph, Jesus, and angel figures and added them to the cow and donkey waiting in the barn. Animals in a barn bore witness to that great and mighty thing…..A simple thought that leaves me silent meeting the profound beauty of it.

paint stockings, bake cookies, spend a day with oldest son and Algebra.

change diapers, bake cookies, read to little son about penguins.

wrap presents, bake cookies, teach daughter to dip stuff in chocolate.

start terrace steps into the big hill, bake cookies, watch movies with children.

wipe sniffle-y noses, bake cookies, keep the fire in the woodstove going.

open cards, bake cookies, answer emails.

It’s cozy and grey here….we await visiting grandparents and sit evenings with popcorn and board games. What are you up to the week before christmas?

Today was Parachutes; Here’s “Don’t Panic” (lyrics), and Don’t Panic by Coldplay“>sound here.

I added (with some help from the uber-web guy Joel) a calendar in the sidebar. Move your mouse over the date and you can see our day’s menu is.

And down below all the other stuff is a button to my cafe press products. We still have a few kinks to work out for display when you follow the link but it’s up!

And Richard’s book is now in my sidebar, a feature this month. Check it out!

Here is the second and final part of my interview with Richard Morris of breadandmoney.com, author of the book A Life Unburdened. See part one of the interview here.
You could have just changed the way you ate as a family and quietly gone on with your life. What made you take the pursuit of fulfilled living another step, to growing a garden, spending time on a farm, and sharing it all with the world?

The garden and the internship, working on a farm, were all part of a natural progression—a logical and inevitable domino effect, that resulted from taking responsibility for my own life. I’ve lost family and friends unnecessarily to our crippled health care system and our genocidal profit-based approach to nutrition. The American Diabetes Association, for example, encourages diabetics to consume sugar. A recent medical study, funded by a member of the grain producer industry, recommends that Black diabetic women load up on grains as a diabetes management strategy. A certain maker of fast food sandwiches parades around a guy who lost weight eating their food and the take-away message we get is that we should rely on a fast-food purveyor for our nutritional advice. In the face of this industrial assault on our health and our lives, I felt as though I had no choice but to go public with my story.

I read that you garden and that you did an internship on a farm on your website. What kind of things do you grow and do you have plans to raise animals?

We grow heirloom tomatoes mostly, but also some greens, beans and herbs. It’s a work in progress and we have yet to realize the garden’s full potential. The health of the soil is paramount and we’ve been working toward amending the soil with compost we’ve been building. We don’t currently have any animals, but yes, one of the chief reasons I did the farm internship was to sample the farming life. I especially wanted to see what it was like to keep a cow. We live in the “burbs” and would likely have a hard time getting a cow waiver for our half acre lot. Actually you’d need about three acres to keep one jersey fat and happy on grass and clover. We’re definitely in the market for more land, beyond the burbs, but whether or not we buy a cow remains to be seen. One thing I definitely want to do next year is to buy a live chicken and go through the whole process from the back yard to the kitchen table. I think it would be very educational for all of us.

Ah… (visions of Richard becoming a city chicken farmer swirling around in my brain ). One of my pet-passions, because I think it’s more realistic than everyone moving out of the city , is urban and suburban homesteading. I’m finding that there is a mixture of attitudes…I love what you said about kitchens getting bigger and more professional and yet few people cook. There is a lot of that conflict going on. Anyone can tell from the size of gardening sections at Home Depot that people like to garden and plant…and yet we grow little of our own food. Laws are inconsistent and nebulous about keeping city poultry. I get a bit of criticism from people who think we “can’t go backward” and yet with food scares, I don’t see how we can get away from the need to grow at least a portion of our own food. Do you have any ideas about this?

I don’t see producing our own food as going backwards. That’s the problem with how we perceive food today. It’s taken decades and hundreds of billions of dollars, but various industries has been very successful in convincing us that producing our own food is somehow wrong. Owning a family cow used to be a sign of moderate wealth in this country. Growing your own food used to be regarded as a sign of independence and intelligence. No more. We’ve become a nation of infants, utterly dependent on deriving our meager sustenance from the corporate teat—or more correctly, the industrial trough. We went backwards at the turn of the last century when we abandoned our agricultural roots for the promise of convenience and more free time. We’ll we got convenience, but I don’t know anyone who believes they have free time. In addition, as a bonus, we also have diabetes, cancer, obesity and heart disease at levels that surpass what we had in 1900. It’s not an either/or option. Either we go back to pulling a plow or we go forward to eating food chips made from recycled human waste. No, there is a middle ground. We can still have many of the modern conveniences we enjoy, but we can also have healthful fermented foods, backyard and community gardens, pasture-based meat co-ops and while we’re at it, localized, solar energy-based economies. That’s what urban/suburban homesteading is about—the diffusion of the old with the new. This we can do.

You know better than most how hard it is to break a destructive cycle and change your life…what kinds of things do you say to others who want to but feel overwhelmed by the thought?

People have to be inspired before they can motivate themselves to make real change, so I try to inspire. My story seems to have that effect on some people and for that I’m glad. The bottom line though is that there is no fast and easy way to fix your health, nutrition and life problems. What I do, then, is show people for instance, how they can give themselves a raise so that they can afford to buy better quality food. I stress the importance of self-directed education about your body and nutrition. I talk about time management and how most of us really do have the time to cook. The key thing I talk about is that we are not powerless. We can change our lives for the better.

I’ve been pondering this aspect of “living deliberately” for a long time. When I’ve made choices, like to cloth diaper or learn how to make something, I feel empowered by it. Ultimately, it was realizing how much personal power I had over my own life that enabled us to break out of the monotonous and damaging lifestyle we had in Florida. This has got to be one factor, I think, of why it can be so important to have community gardens in the inner cities, and relationships with farmers too, as they realize there is a demand for what they have. What would you say to someone who wants to eat better but finds the cost and effort to be daunting?

Much of the focus on healthy eating concerns what we eat. That’s fine, but some people can realize dramatically positive change by focusing on what not to eat. Get soda, soy, unhealthy vegetable oils, ready-to-eat cereals and most forms of sugar out of your diet and you’ll be amazed by how much better off you’ll be. Of course you’ve got to replace those “foods” with something else, like healthier whole foods, but they cost more right? There is a common myth that cheap food is, we’ll, cheap, but often that’s not the case. I have an exercise where I walk people through some common foods and I show that for Coke and Pepsi, we often spend $3.00 a gallon or more for them. That’s more than most of us pay for gas! Instant oatmeal is far more expensive than whole oats when you calculate the price per pound. No one would buy these foods if they were priced by the gallon/pound, but industry marketers know that we’ve been trained not to think this way (thank’s to the public school system) which allows them to profit from our ignorance. Mary and I decided that good food and good health was more important than cable TV, so we cut the cord, canceled the account and gave our big-screen TV away. A side advantage of this is that my youngest daughter stopped asking for McDonald’s once she was no longer being hammered by their ads everyday. We realized that spending hundreds of dollars per year on mobile phones was dumb, given that humans have thrived for eons without cell phones. We ditched our old phones and got simple pay-as-you-go accounts. In total, I’ve spent about $120.00 for the entire year for my cell phone and account. We buy food in bulk (half a cow, half a pig, etc) and save quite a bit in the long run—plus it’s good quality meat. Organic produce, bought in season and locally, is often the same or less expensive than conventional produce. Instead of buying new cars, we fix our old ones because when you do the math, the repairs never cost anywhere near as much as a new car. There are lots of ways to reduce your household expenses with the most important one being getting rid of your consumer debt. This frees you from indentured servitude to the consumerist culture. Finally, I tell people to not get overly hung up on labels. Sure pasture-based, omega-3 enhanced, cage free, organic blah, blah, blah… it all sounds great, but what if you can’t afford these foods or don’t have access to them? Do these four things:

1. Stop eating garbage (see above)
2. Buy conventional meat as unprocessed as you can find and afford, whole dairy (especially butter, yogurt and milk), whole eggs, fresh fruits and vegetables, whole grains.
3. Cook
4. Read, think and learn, read, think and learn, read, think, and learn…

I can’t say this often enough. If we did that, most of us would be far better off than we currently are. You find that you also have more money in your pocket because cheap food is expensive, in part because we tend to eat more of it.You know, in my experience it is very unusual that I see a black face among the “farming foodies”. I think that might be at least part of why I find you to be a refreshing voice. Have you found a niche, a way to reach an audience that may not pay attention to health-nut fitness guys or aged hippies (both, who are typically white in my experience) sending a similar message?

It’s a challenge getting Black people, as a social class, to take personal responsibility for their health. Part of the problem stems from a dangerous proclivity toward reliance on the supposed omniscience of authority figures in medicine and government. One look at the tragic health statistics among Blacks shows that this blind trust is ill-placed. The problem has it’s roots in more than two centuries of forced dependence on a hostile social system for the necessities of life—a system that has not historically had their best interests at heart. In this regard, the legacy of slavery lives on in the arrested development of that natural inclination to think for oneself. Fortunately, that innate tendency has not evolved out of existence, but lies dormant… waiting. It can be reawakened. Poor nutrition and the dire health consequences that result from it, are everyone’s problem. It is neither a social or class issue since, these days, everyone eats the same food more or less. I believe in equal opportunity nutrition, so my message is for everyone. I go wherever I’m invited and speak to whatever audience shows up. I think it’s simply a matter of finding Malcolm Gladwell’s tipping point; that point at which an idea can no longer be resisted by the people. I believe we’re getting closer to that day. I’m optimistic at least… but then again, it might just be the food. (laughing)Well, okay. I think you’re awesome and these changes are obviously working for you. You have an energetic aura of freedom around you; it comes through in your site and in your words. Were you a positive-thinking kind of person before changing the way you ate and lived, or is that a beautiful bi-product of the revolution?

I would say that my positive perspective is largely due to the food I eat today. I know that may sound crazy to some people, but it’s true. When I was a vegetarian years ago, I lost about 50 pounds and certainly looked healthier, but I was cranky and even somewhat depressed in those days.

Doesn’t sound crazy to me at all . I should think that speaks loudly to anyone who knew you before and after.

I was actually pretty good at concealing how disconnected and unhappy I was. Most people who knew me would have described me as “serious.” These days, I can truly say I am happy. I really like the phrase, “living deliberately.” It suggests to me, the concept of living with purpose. Too often we go through the motions, drifting through one day after another, taking little notice of our own lives. To have a purpose, a reason for waking up in the morning and a plan for your future, that to me is living deliberately. We are social animals with a historical and evolutionary connection to the land, so gardening and establishing connections with farmers is that part of our behavioral heritage that we’ve lost. When I was on the farm, I felt as though I was part of something important. Every day had real meaning. That is how we should all live, with purpose, intent and honesty.

Someone asked me last week what I thought Living Deliberately really looked like and it was the same day you sent me this. “Man! Now that’s Living Deliberately!” Living with Purpose, intent, and honesty.

In my book, I have a section called, The Ten Steps for Success. The point of this section is to make the point that as great as good food is, it’s not just about food. Our lives are very complex. In order to realize positive, long-lasting change, we’ve got to change more than just what we eat. Everything from stress management to relationships to how and when you sleep contributes to your success. What makes food so important is that it provides the raw materials to fuel your life so that you can make the other changes you need to.

Okay, I’ll say it again, “I totally agree!” I get reminded of this when I want to eat out with the kids and what we get costs way more and fills us less than a good bowl of porridge or veggies. What do you do for food when you travel?

We travel like pioneers from the 1800s by always taking food with us. Things like dried fish, beef jerky and pemmican, cheese, nuts, raisins etc. Pemmican, for example, is made from dried, ground lean beef mixed with tallow (beef fat).
It’s what the plains Indians used to rely on hundreds of years ago. It’s very nutrient dense and the fat is very satiating—it acts like an appetite suppressant. I can literally live on pemmican for days when I’m traveling, although I usually stay with like-minded people when I travel so I get to eat well. We usually don’t go to restaurants. The last time I ate at one, I got sick. I’ve discovered that once I purged my body of processed foods, I lost my tolerance for them. Ironically, I don’t get sick anymore from viruses and germs, etc, so while I might get a bad case of acid-reflux from eating at a restaurant, I can sit on a crowded subway train where everyone is sneezing and coughing and never even get the sniffles.

What’s the next book about?

It’s a follow up to my first book. A lot of people have been asking for recipes, what my exercise routine was like, etc. I’ve learned that it’s not enough to say “just eat good food,” because some people don’t know what good food is. This second book will be a more detailed description of what I did, but it will not be a diet book. I hate diet books.

Amen! I appreciate this conversation so much! You came at a point when I’d been getting a bit discouraged and this has been one crazy week to be sure. I hope sharing you with anyone who reads this has the same effect on them!

I also know what it feels like to be discouraged. Sometimes you just can’t help but ask yourself if all the extra effort and money is worth it. Why not just do what everyone else does and pop a nameless package of something into the microwave and choke it down with a Coke. It’s then that I think of all the family and friends who are no longer around, because they died of the diseases of civilization (cancer, heart disease, stroke) and our broken health care system. I remind myself of how much richer my life is today… how I love my wife more today than the day we were married 20 years ago and how I see opportunity and hope where once there was only despair. When I think of these things, my answer to the question of whether it’s worth it is a resounding, YES.

Does it get any better than that?!?

I have some stocking stuffers hidden under my bed, alongside a bag of blocks someone gave to Rowan that are awaiting wrapping paper. Wheaton sometimes lays down on my bed when he wants “quiet time” and apparently he’s been spending some of that time snooping…

Celia: Mom! Don’t let Wheaton in your room! He’s been snooping for stuff!

Wheaton: She lies! I did not Mom. I don’t know what’s under your bed. I just know there’s a bag.

Celia: well then tell us what you saw in the bag.

Wheaton: I didn’t see anything. I did NOT see the videos. I promise. I only saw the legos. Just the legos, not the videos……

******************

Up four times after bedtime Wheaton came down with a stomach ache.

Wheaton: I have bad throw up. I tell ya, it’s bad. In the toilet and everything.

Dad: Do you want some medicine?

Wheaton: oh yeah. My belly hurts so bad.

Mom: well he did get into a whole bag of candy today so I bet he’s sick alright (Wheaton gets sick with sugar; it’s vomit trigger for him).

Wheaton: Oh yeah. I hope I don’t get spanked for that. Well it’s kinda too late.

Need a close up of that hair do?

I don’t think Red Fox thought it was as funny as the kids did…..but he sure smells better!

• Herr Pit Bull (otherwise known as Meanness), was just leashed and loaded into a borrowed pick up. He apparently doesn’t like to go for rides because it took much cajoling on the part of the owner to get him up into the bed of the truck. But they drove away with the beast and here’s hopin’ he’s gone for good.
• here’s something I’ve never seen before: today it’s warm and sunny and I decided to hang the wash to dry on the line. I clipped jeans, sweaters, socks and the like to the line and then watched with astonishment that they were actually steaming  in the sunbeams.
• I spoke with the teacher who runs the tutoring program across the street today and she thinks she knows of some other homeschoolers up here! So maybe we aren’t the only ones after all…..
• Our christmas packages are shipped (there were only two this year to go), we’ve had on a few tunes (though Peter Pan is on right now), we’ve made some cards, and baked a batch of cookies. Like last year, I’m finding “christmas lite” to have it’s freedom. Excess is an impossibility and there is a certain beauty to that.
• I don’t think it’s going to be a white christmas this year…there is lots of rain in the forecast but not the low temps we’d need to make that snow. Our woodpile can use the reprieve and it’s not like there isn’t plenty of winter still left!

 

It’s been a couple of months since we last attended our beloved church in Knoxville. Moving out here to the country made regular attendance difficult, then our hearts were challenged and led through ancient doors, and the result is that we’ve regularly been visiting an Orthodox church in Oak Ridge. We loved everyone and just about everything about our church so it is odd and unsettling to find ourselves no longer a part when there was no negative catalyst making the change happen. No scandal, no offense, no argument. Just a move and then an internal journey and now a new location both in our bodies and hearts.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that Sunday sometime this past fall, when it was to be our last Sunday at our Presbyterian church, it was also our last Sunday for quite some time to partake of the communion elements. Both the Presbyterians and the Orthodox “fence” the table; the Presbyterians would issue a welcome to those “baptized and part of a bible believing church”, and the Orthodox, fence it as those who have joined with the Orthodox Church. Those not part of this parrish may partake, if they are Orthodox, but those who are not Orthodox may not. As the priest sings, “the holy things are for the holy”.

And I am hungry.

While Presbyterians, we took communion every week, a rarity within protestant churches. More than that, we took it as a baptized family, our children as well, “from that wonderful cup”. Good bread and real wine while the congregation sung Psalms and whole family groups went up and the pastor blessed each one made it the fulfilling climax of each Lord’s Day worship. We understood it to be a sacrament that bestowed grace upon us and it sustained us.

I first became aware that I’d likely be facing a season without the elements when our pastor called to talk to us about the Lutheran church we considered out here. There were some differences in how the two denominations viewed what actually happens during communion…..big words like “con”substantiation, and “trans”substantiation, words that describe just how Jesus is part of the sacrament, if it’s really his body and blood and so on. The summation was that we likely could visit there but not commune.

Through visiting, we found the Lutheran church here was a wrong fit for us for a multitude of reasons though, and none of them had anything to do with communion. The fragments of division waited on every corner and left us wondering how there could be so many versions of “the” way. Right about that time we read “At the Corner of East and Now” by Frederica Mathewes-Green and life started to really change.

We wanted to listen in quiet. To hear, to explore, and not to argue any more, weary of having to always have “the rightest answer”. Touching the ancient, imitating the earliest followers of Christ spoke to us of a faith that wasn’t lonely, but rather crowded….crowded with saints and angels and fellow journeymen. It penetrated beyond our “lifestyle” into our essence, our souls, and engaged our every sense in the call to “come and follow me”.

When one is ready to cease mere inquiring about Orthodoxy, one becomes a catechumen. The word is Greek for “learner”. Being a catechumen is for an indeterminate time, based individually, but at the end the learner, if already baptized, becomes chrismated, not unlike the wedding after the engagement.

There is a time in the Divine Liturgy where the catechumens come forward and are prayed for by the congregation and blessed by the priest.

“Let us, the faithful, pray for the catechumens that the Lord will have mercy on them.”

and the church sings, “Lord have mercy.” The priest sings again, “That he will teach them the word of truth,”. The church sings, “Lord have mercy,” and again, “That he will reveal to them the Gospel of Righteousness.”

“Lord have mercy…..”

And it goes on. At the end, the catechumens “depart”, though not physically any more as they once did. They just stand in the back as the rest of the church prepares to take communion.

It’s a beautiful time, one that gets caught in my throat at the profound wonder, moving me to cry each week. The church and choir repeat over and over, “now lay aside all earthy cares” and a feeling descends that we are not alone in the room, but quite surrounded by others. The Nicene Creed is sung, there are many more prayers, a hymn to the Theotokos, the Lord’s Prayer and then…

“Let us attend! Holy things are for the holy!”

I take a step back, my head bowed. The line is forming to go up for communion, each with their arms crossed over their chests but for the parents holding babies. The choir sings, “Take the body of Christ, taste the fount of immortality.”

The bread and wine are mixed together and served on a spoon. Each is fed and then they kiss the chalice the holds the elements. From there they go over to a small table that holds blessed bread….the original loaf was divided, and while some went to become “the lamb” for communion, some other was set aside, blessed and for all. They take a piece of bread, and some take pieces plural, and a few walk over to our corner.

It’s at this point that I feel a wash of relief come over me. I’ve watched the little babies with a mix of envy and gratitude….it is beautiful to see the agelessness that surely mirrors heaven, but I also watch them with a pang of realizing that they can do what I can not right now, they taste what I am closed off from. It is so simple for them, which is just as it should be, but I do long for the day that I will line up as well. The communicants approach us, giving each of a bite of blessed bread in fellowship. I accept the blessing that it is, eagerly caring for every crumb. It is what is available to me now but it’s not the body and I miss the grace.

And yet, I’m also afraid. There is a time at the end of the liturgy when they all line up again, this time catechumens and communicants alike and kiss the cross and the priest’s hand that holds it. They’ve kissed icons and bowed as the scriptures were brought in, as the incense was shaken their way in blessing. I find I stand there feeling very unworthy and often afraid to move.

In fact, never in my christian life have I ever come so face to face with my own wretchedness, my smallness, my hesitation to receive and really open myself to the fullness of what surely a life that follows Christ must hold. It occurred to me today that this may just be a common response, as they pray before communion, “And make me worthy to partake without condemnation of Thy most pure Mysteries….”

After the Divine Liturgy this morning we gathered together in front of the iconostasis (icon stand/wall that divides the altar from the sanctuary) and were blessed by Father Stephen, made catechumens, learners of the Orthodox church. Even that had it’s own liturgy, no doubt passed down through the ages for use when others in time made a similar journey. I don’t know how long we will rest in this stage, how long before we taste the fullness. I feel an infant again, with much to learn before a vast ocean to draw from. I do hope and pray for the courage, the feeling of worthiness, enough to approach and kiss, to bow and venerate, and one day, be fed.

Will Smith is a homeschooler! And his attitude, already very prevalent from his career choices and countenance in my opinion, is definitely one that inspires!

Here’s the interview and here’s a quote:

“Smith: The things that have been most valuable to me I did not learn in school. Traditional education is based on facts and figures and passing tests — not on a comprehension of the material and its application to your life. Jada and I homeschool our children, because the date of the Boston Tea Party does not matter.

RD: But there are some basics in education that need to be taught.
Smith: Of course there are. Reading, writing and arithmetic, because those are the languages of our country.

RD: When you say you homeschool, do you mean you actually teach them?
Smith: No, we have hired teachers who teach what we feel is important. For example, Plato’s Republic — kids need to know that. Why is that not taught in first grade?

RD: You think kids in elementary school should read Plato’s Republic?
Smith: Yeah. You cannot be an American without reading it and Aristotle’s Politics. That is what the forefathers of this country read, and they used them to create what I believe is the finest system of government that has ever existed.

RD: So, you don’t see any reason to go back to a formal education yourself?
Smith: I know how to learn anything I want to learn. I absolutely know that I could learn how to fly the space shuttle because someone else knows how to fly it, and they put it in a book. Give me the book, and I do not need somebody to stand up in front of the class.”

Guess what this is?!?!?!?!?

This, my friends, is the FIRST EGG!!!!! One of the Red Hens laid her first pullet egg today!! It’s tiny and perfect and beautiful. Behind the wonderful offering are my loaves of bread today; I’ve learned that keeping the entire process warm, from ingredients to rising environment to oven, is key. Tonight we’ll have it with Lucie Sandwiches, my version of a sandwich once had at the Tomato Head.

Wheaton loved his Over The Shoulder Baby Holder and Rowan practically spent his whole first year snuggled up a like a pea in a pod in our green Maya Wrap. But this one…oh my! Look at this one with it’s sweet satiny inside!! (Anna are you watching?) What a lucky baby!!

I’ve been wondering how much to share with others the “joys” our particular two year old has given us recently….especially in light of a week when my open sharing was used against me by, well, by a “pot” callin’ this kettle “black” ;-). But this little Bundle of Wonder is getting much too vibrant to contain, and so, must be shared, hang pots and kettles.

Historically, I’ve found the “terrible two’s” really are at their peak during the six months that lead UP to the second birthday. So when our Giant Baby found the windex and licked it, pulled all the toilet paper down and strung it through the hallway, accidentally locked himself into a bedroom alone, and played “egg ball”…and those kind of things would happen all in the same day, with a never-ceasing variety, I commiserated to my mom, we’d laugh, and I figured it would pass with his birthday.

Not too surpisingly, I rather looked forward to the end of November…

And whaddya know but this is the kid that is going to further break the mold his other siblings fit into so nicely? The first four make it into the world with a 15 minute transition labor…Rowan took FOUR HOURS. Three of the first four (this where I can’t include Clara) sleep through the night around 3 months….Rowan never has. Not even close. And those six months leading up to his second birthday? Ah….he was just gettin’ started.

Rowan knows how to unlock the doors and turn the deadbolts. We installed locks up hgh, near the top door jam….he knows how to push his high chair over there and then find his freedom. Rowan is fond of not just Egg Ball (his version of using eggs) but also loves to smash glass with the same glee. This means our own mini version of Kristallnact (night of broken glass) as Rowan found the christmas balls, the votive candles, my french press. Rowan just discovered the oven door, which is too old to have a locking mechanism, and thinks it funny to stand on it. That kid screaming on aisle three in the store? That’d be Rowan and yesterday it meant he was not just screaming (to have his new shoes put on) but also….wait for it, naked.  He is still doing the “naked thing” and now tries to do it in public. This morning when his big brother loaded wood into the wood stove, Rowan added the plastic playmobil pirate ship.

As an infant, often the only way to calm him (other than nursing, his first love) was to walk him outside. David walked many moonlight mornings with him in the stroller, finally done crying while he stared with wide-eyes at the Big World Outside. That is still true; I find myself walking him outside (no more stroller; it involves too much sitting) so he can run, run, run some of his energy off. It gets us a nap every day at least….

He loves to be read to, sits well (mostly) through church, and is still a sweet Bundle of Wonder in the middle of night, wanting to snuggle. I do hope though, that the next few months will see a wind-down of some kind, that maybe it’s just a bit later than usual, like his speech or something. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment for hoping that…today I baked cookies with Celia and Rowan got the beater. There’s a twinkle in these eyes that tells me I just might be in for the ride of my life….

But who could be mad at that face??? Ooooo I just want to kiss it!