Winter came on Sunday. Seems like a Dr. Suess announcement.
Julia woke up a bit before 8 and announced, “Snow. It’s snowing.” I am never crazy about the first snow. Not the snow so much as the driving. Sometime in a month or so, I’ll be ready to drive through blizzards and on inches of ice, but that first snow fall . . . All I want to do is light a fire, drink hot cocoa and huddle under my crocheted Afghan on the couch. Continue reading
Back from a week of NYC travel. A different kind of holiday, a different kind of time spent in NYC.
We usually spend Thanksgiving with old friends in a country setting but that didn’t work for us this year and so, Julia and I were in NYC, actually Kew Gardens, Queens, with Cheshire. The time was notable because we spent more time in her apartment than we have in the past and did not do any visiting of family or friends. Continue reading
On Saturday, Julia and I went to our second Zentangle class at FUS. The instructor, who encourages Julia, instructed most of us at a comfortable speed. Julia drew three times the amount that the rest of us did, adding detail, changing patterns, making mistakes and altering her spaces on the little tiles. Her tile is the one in the middle.
Last Wednesday, we had a parent-teacher conference. Julia conducted the conference, reading her notes on how she had done the preceding quarter and what she intended to do this next quarter. She has made the honor roll last quarter of 7th grade and this first of 8th grade, and she is proud of herself. She entered middle school not caring in the least about grades or tests or comparing herself to anyone. Her grades are scaled, she is not really compete with her typical classmates, but for me, she competes with the girl who started 6th grade and I see how far she has come.
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I’ve started writing almost every day since Tuesday and went straight down the rabbit hole of self-pity. It was a greater pity than “self,” making the hole deeper and wider and so easy to tumble into. Having no partner to debrief with adds to the rabbit hole quality of the writing. I read articles by those who have written eloquently. What do I have to add? I thought of posting links to all the articles that I’ve read. For days, I could post links. Instead, I tried to find quiet. Not an easy tasks with the furies and demons circling. Continue reading
After watching the debates and talking about the election in school, Julia is very much into it. She fished out an old Obama button from some treasure trove and is wearing it along with two new Hillary buttons. Her assignment for Tuesday is to color a map as results come in. She told me that she is going to color the whole thing blue before any results come in. Magical thinking to be sure, but she’s got the right idea. Continue reading
Introducing Blaze the Cat, Sonic the Hedgehog’s sister. We are going for interpretation instead of exact copying. We’ve come a long way from dancing dinosaurs that had to look like what they were.
Halloween is not just a one day affair in Madison, so Julia wore her costume skating on Sunday and then on Monday night for trick ‘r treating. We bought the wig and ears but not surprisingly, the rest of the costume is in her wardrobe.
Julia looks pretty good with purple hair.
HP pumpkins made with help from two very nice genetics grad students who are visiting us as part of their LEND work.
For the second year, the small town of Egerton, Wisconsin, organized a town-wide celebration of all things Harry Potter. (21-23 October 2016) Kinda’ disorganized, crazy busy, lots of robes and costumes, and fun. Julia put up with the jostling of fellow Gryffindors and dare to talk to the likes of Hagrid (a very tall and big man) and a few Mad Eye Moodies, as well as a beautiful Bellatrix and a stern Professor McGonall.
Sitting on bleacher watching two teams battle it out on a quidditch field which sort of looks like a game of dodge ball played with multiple under inflated soccer balls which are hurled are the opposing team by player who run around with shortened broom sticks between their legs, a little boy behind us whined is extreme disappointment. “Where is the snitch? Why aren’t they flying?” His mother patiently explained what happens when the real world meets fiction and then asked him, “How are you?” He sniffled, “I guess ok.” Ah, the curse of growing up muggle.
At some point, push coming to shove, we all, well, at least, I revert to my core. I take action is a way I recognize as my essential self. So far, the work on next year’s travels has taken the form of writing to experts, explaining what I think I want, looking at websites and talking. Last night, I followed a recommendation to CESSA, The Center on Secondary Education for Students with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Obviously, this is a promising site, the research page listed articles with alluring titles that held the promise of needed information and ideas. Continue reading
In 1851, The Whale, the English edition of Moby-Dick, was published, differing from the American edition with thousands of punctuation and spelling changes, and over 700 different wordings. In 2003, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, the fifth book in the series, was published with 864 of similar differences between the American and British versions. Has our understanding English improved in the last 150 years?
Joni Mitchelle’s For The Roses this morning. Comfort music. Not quite my first Joni but the first album that I bought when it was released. Prior to Joni, I had been such a musical snob. I appreciated trained voices and songs that were a part of stories. Musical stories. Oh, there were the Beatles, The Dave Clark 5 (my best friend’s favorite) and other distractions. They were inconsequential, or so I thought. The American Musical Theater was my ‘real’ music. And then Joni, thanks to a boyfriend, and also our newest Noble Prize winner. I’ve been humming Dylan albums straight through all week. Continue reading
Morning mural painting at Randall School stretch way beyond the scheduled noon ending time. A tryptic on the retaining wall that surrounds the gym equipment that so many of us worked for so long to become a reality. Now, five years (Really, five years?) after the ‘new’ playground equipment was assembled, there will be art behind it.
The day dawned unpromisingly gray and I was so concerned that there would be very few people to paint that I texted Kati, the organizing teacher, that we would be a little late. When we arrived, however, there was a bevy of painters young and old applying color to the walls. It was noisy, frantic and busy. I held my breath as we dove into the fray. Julia has not always been able to handle happy, noisy crowds, no matter how friendly. Continue reading
Chasing Joy 