Guest Post: The Dastardly Dog

I've been sadly behind in posting lately. Homeschooling has been keeping me extra busy...it's quarterly reporting time, and the end of the school year is fast approaching. I hope to be back on track with posting soon. In the meantime, my dog has graciously offered to sit at my laptop today and write a guest post for me. Some of you have already been introduced to her as The Dastardly Dog. Without further ado, I give you Trinket.....

Trinket: Thank you so much for that flattering introduction. I take great pride in my role in the family. You know, a lot of people think dogs have easy lives. Let me assure you that just isn't true. Walk with me, if you will, for a day in my life...the life of a dog.

6:00 am- The alarm clock blares and BadDad gets up to work out. It's hard work to ignore the noise, but I burrow deeper into my blankets and manage to get back to sleep.

7:00 am- WorstMom starts her day. I trot out when I hear her start the coffeemaker. I have to make a quick decision...face going outside now, or bolt for my family room basket? If the weather is bad, I usually try to avoid going out as long as possible.

7:30 am- The kids are stirring now. BadDad heads out for the day. I may see him to the door with a few friendly barks. If I feel like it.

9:00 am- WorstMom is trying to herd everyone up to the schoolroom. Right about now is when I really, really need to go out (perfect timing I know). After I come inside again, I'll pester everyone until they feed me.

9:15 - 11:30 am- Everyone is busy with lessons. I'm busy sleeping in my indoor doghouse in the schoolroom. I like to think my snoring is the perfect white noise to study to.

11:30 am - 12:30 pm- WorstMom throws in laundry, cleans, and starts dinner during her lunch break. I worry that she doesn't have enough to do, so I get her to let me out. After a minute or so I want to come in again. Unless I see a squirrel or rabbit out there. Then I'll bark for awhile to alert the neighborhood. Or, I might take a moment to roll around in something deliciously smelly. The family just loves when I do that!

1:00 - 4:00pm - I have to determine where the family is gathering for the afternoon. If they're reading on the couch, I'll squeeze on there too. If they're back in the schoolroom, that's where I'll be. I'm not one to abandon my post. I'll catch a few more zzzz's while they work.

4:00 - 6:00 pm - This is the danger time. Sometimes they leave the house and accidentally forget to take me. I have to stay focused and watch for any sign of people putting on shoes or coats. The sound of the keys is, of course, a dead giveaway. At the first clue that they might leave I have to follow them around, barking loudly (so they don't forget me). Unfortunately, sometimes this backfires and I end up in my crate. Oh well, it's time for another nap anyway!

6:00 - 10:00 pm - I like to have an early dinner. Sometimes, if I beg enough, more than one person feeds me and I eat twice! By this time, at least some people are usually home and I start my evening routine. I make a choice between the couch or my basket and doze while I wait for the house to quiet down. Eventually I'll trot down the hall to my bedroom basket and call it a night.

Wow! Are you exhausted just looking at my schedule? I know I am! It's been a pleasure to meet you all. Now I'm off for a nap.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts

I only recently discovered how delicious Brussels Sprouts can be. We never ate them growing up. When I was in college, I thought they were adorable and worth a try. I bought a package and boiled them in my dorm room kitchenette. Disgusting!

My experience with them might have begun and ended there, if my hubby hadn't suggested that we try them a few months ago. Always game to experiment with recipes, I agreed to give them another try. Am I glad I did! Roasting transforms Brussels Sprouts into an amazing treat, crispy on the outside with a creamy, savory center.

They are surprisingly easy to make, given how decadently delicious they turn out. The easiest way, of course, is to buy a bag of frozen, already cleaned Brussels Sprouts. While I enjoy the taste of these just fine, my kids prefer the fresh variety. Of course they somehow manage to absent themselves from the work of preparing them...go figure.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts.

1 -2 lbs fresh Brussels Sprouts

2 -3 Tbsp olive oil

2 Tbsp chopped garlic

2 tsp sea salt

ground black pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Remove the outer leaves and stem end from Brussels Sprouts. Place in a large roasting pan in a single layer.

Drizzle with olive oil. Add garlic and toss well, until all of the sprouts are evenly coated with oil.

Sprinkle with sea salt and pepper, and stir again.

Bake for about 45 minutes, until sprouts begin to brown, stirring once. They should be fork tender.

Yields 6-8 servings.

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The Transaction

The other day I got the sense that something was going on with my kids that needed my attention. Being the experienced mom that I am, I deduced this merely from hearing the words, Don't tell Mom! hissed by my oldest to his younger siblings. That's what 13 years of parenting will get you!

Just then M-girl came running into the kitchen and informed me that 13 year old K-boy had sold his 6 year old brother an old, handheld video game for the bargain price of $20...a game that might have been worth five dollars brand new.

Over the protests of both boys, I negated the transaction, although I did allow D-boy to keep the game for free. When I appealed to K-boy's sense of fair play about the whole thing, he admitted that it was a dirty deal. Then, looking sheepish, he asked me, How else am I supposed to make money?

Ah, the problems of the young teen! So much to buy, yet too young for working papers!

Black Beauty Book Club

This month for book club, the girls read Black Beauty, by Anna Sewell. Though it was first published in 1877, it still speaks to young girls of today. At least half of the book club girls are crazy for horses right now, so this was a natural choice to have them read.

I began our discussion by explaining to the girls that Anna Sewell wrote Black Beauty with the intention of changing some of the ways that horses were treated in Victorian England. She purposely highlighted some of the sadder details of a horse's life. At the same time she managed to weave a story about friendship and loyalty. To her credit, attitudes about the humane handling of horses did begin to change shortly after her novel was published.

It was interesting to see how well the girls were able to draw comparisons between foolish, harmful fashions for horses and ridiculous fashions for people. They once again upheld my theory that exposure to great literature is a desirable tool in shaping great minds.

For our project we made these adorable horse heads (black of course) using the outline of each girls' shoe to form the face. Three more triangles of paper form the neck and ears. The faces were drawn on and the mane was made from snips of black yarn.

The girls all enjoyed reading and discussing Black Beauty. Next month we'll be discussing, Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos, by R. L. LaFevers.

At Last

Sorry it's been so long since I've posted anything. You've all been anxiously waiting...right?

My schedule got completely thrown off by everyone in the family getting sick a couple of weeks ago, starting with me. I managed to keep everyone fed, clothed and educated, but updating the blog fell by the wayside.

Now we're all more or less recovered, and I'm back to my routine. At last.

Kitty Cat Birthday

Around here, our pets are a part of the family. They're a part of the family that eats the same, dry food all of the time and gets left at home when we go on vacation, but still they're valued. We even make them cake on their birthdays. Of course then we eat it right in front of them, but the thought is there, right?

 

M-girl and D-boy took charge of decorating the cake for the cats' recent birthday. It was yummy, and you could tell just by looking at them how much the cats appreciated it. That's what it was all about, the cats' happiness...really. I mean, it wasn't just an excuse to have cake or anything.

See how thrilled they look! Priceless.

What about you? How do you spoil your pets?

Facing the Fire Baton

I know that it will shock anyone who knows me now as the confident, sophisticated woman that I am to learn that I was once a shy, awkward little girl. Ha ha! Ahem, allow me to start over...

Okay, I don't think it would shock anyone who really knows me that before I became the semi-confident, introverted woman that I am today, I was a really shy, socially awkward girl. My parents tried various ways to combat my nature and make me more outgoing. Dance lessons at age three were followed by girl scouts, soccer teams, and one spectacularly disastrous season of basketball. The summer that I was 12, my mother had another idea...baton lessons.

Her idea took root when my younger sister's friend's mother decided to sign her daughter up for group baton lessons taught by a former high school majorette. Isn't that how the best plans always start?

Soon enough my sister was signed up for the baton troupe too, and strutting around the house in a rather cute, flouncy skirted uniform. I must have gone with my mother to pick up my little sis from her lesson one night, because somehow the coach got wind of my existence. I suppose from her point of view, I must have seemed a more promising pupil at my advanced middle school age than the seven year olds she was coaching at the time. At any rate, she spoke to my mother and before I knew it, I too was decked out in a slightly used red and white uniform.

I began to join in the weekly practices in the elementary school parking lot. We learned to twirl our batons through our fingers, and hurl them into the air without clonking ourselves on the head. The coach soon convinced my mother that my sister and I could benefit from private lessons. She began showing up in our driveway in her station wagon, ready to teach the two of us the secrets of batoning.

Soon though, it became apparent that Dawn, the coach, was more interested in me than in my sister. I was older. I was roughly the right size for the spare uniform. I had the potential to become, in just a few short years, a high school majorette!

It seems that for some time our local high school had been without any majorettes at all. They had cheerleaders, and a marching band, but as for anyone skilled in the mysterious art of baton twirling...not so much. Obviously the standards for new recruits were pretty high at that point.

Dawn extolled the glories of being a majorette to me. I was already sold on the adorable uniform, so she was preaching to the choir. There I would be, she told me, the star of the show, out on the football field with all eyes on me.

I honestly cannot remember if I had yet heard the word introvert in my short life up to that point. I do know that my mother was prone to talk about how I just needed to 'come out of my shell' and my life would change. And so I bought into what Dawn was saying. I pictured myself out on the sunlit field, the band playing, while the crowd cheered me on. I practiced my spins and twirls, and endured the occasional clonks on the head from the baton...because I had the vision.

Then came the day when Dawn got a little too excited at the thought of filling the majorette position. She told me in a voice breathless with glee about FIRE BATON!

I listened in horror as she described how the ends were lighted (she even showed me the special baton). She showed me the routine that I would do and warned me to expect my eyebrows to be singed off until I got the hang of handling it.

Oddly enough, that's about the time I discovered that I really did not have any interest in pursuing baton lessons anymore. My sister quit not long after that too. I spent my high school years doing activities like Yearbook Committee. Center of attention? No. Eyebrows and lack of major burns? Yes.

That is the story of my short-lived, not quite, stint as a majorette. I don't know if Dawn ever did find anyone to fill the position.

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