I lost track of who originally linked to what, so I can’t credit them properly. But thank you to whoever they all were, anyway!
Filed under “another reason I’m proud to be a homeschooler”: California court rules that private school can oust lesbian students. I do understand that it’s a private religious school, and that their denomination doesn’t approve of homosexuality. On the other hand, the girls’ parents chose to send them to that school, not the girls themselves. And demanding that everybody in the school be heterosexual makes every bit as much sense as demanding that they all be right-handed! (It also sounds like the school went WAY the hell overboard in interpreting the “evidence.”)
Not Good News: Mercury found in kids’ foods — and in pretty much anything else that contains HFCS. I’m confident of my ability to kick the soda habit, but totally avoiding HFCS pretty much means avoiding all processed foods. GAH!
Imagine youâ€™re a teenager, and you have someâ€¦ special powers. Maybe even super powers. And one day, at a sleepover, your best friend in the whole world tells youâ€”youâ€™re not alone. So begins the adventure for a couple of teenagers, a single mom and yarn shop owner, and a whole bunch of hand knitted fun.
Handknit Heroes is the first graphic novel for knitters. Each issue features a great storyline with knitting superheroes, terrific artwork, and a beautiful (and easy) knitting pattern.
I’m vastly amused, and I neither knit (yet!) nor read graphic novels. I know that does both, though, and I figure there are probably others.
Katie cleaned the top of the file cabinet next to my chair with a Method cleaner that is strongly mint-scented. Kyoshi won’t let us put the scanner there as intended, because he’s licking the cleaned surface and rubbing all over it orgasmically. (Catnip is in the mint family, and I guess this stuff is close enough.)
Leah tagged me on Facebook to write 25 random things about myself, then Sam tagged me to come up with 16 random tidbits. I’m not good at these things, but I’ll give it a try.
I didn’t go to kindergarten, but started first grade when I was 5 because my mother thought she had to put me in school.
My first-grade teacher, Mrs. Forester, was very hard of hearing, so she yelled constantly. I was constantly petrified that year, because in my family yelling meant somebody was going to get knocked around.
I spent much of the 4th and 5th grades as a substitute teacher for younger students, because one of my aunts was the school secretary and she chose well-behaved A students (always female, for some reason) for that purpose. The school or school district was apparently too poor or too cheap to actually hire subs.
My earliest memory is from the week after my sister was born, when I was 23 months old.
When my sister and I were about 2 and 4 years old, a rabid German shepherd jumped the fence around our back yard and chased us. It was less than a foot away from her when a neighbor used his hunting rifle to kill it. She doesn’t remember the incident, but she’s still phobic about that breed. Me? I wanted to learn to shoot that rifle. NOW!
I started questioning Christianity when I was about 8 years old. One of my cousins gave me a little Scorpio pendant for my birthday, which my mother promptly confiscated, railing about fortune-telling and witches. I asked her about the difference between “prophets” and “fortune-tellers” and found myself in the preacher’s office. I asked him about a specific verse in the New Testament and was told that God hadn’t given him the understanding of that verse yet, so he ripped that page out of his Bible. Since Mother spanked us for even putting a Sunday School book or church bulletin on top of a Bible while carrying them, I was convinced that he was going to Hell straightaway—unless the whole church thing was balderdash.
My first piano teacher, Marjorie Hall, had also taught my mother when she was a child. She was our church organist.
My father has had serious back problems throughout most of my life. I learned to give back rubs very early, trying to ease his pain.
My maternal grandfather, Daddy Boots, was a moonshine runner in his younger years. Some of Daddy’s extended family ran stills across north Alabama and north Georgia, and it’s very likely that he worked for them. I’ve always found that highly amusing, since Mom’s family considered Daddy to be “from the wrong side of the tracks” when they started dating.
Our extended families were very closely-knit when I was young, but both fell apart fairly quickly after my grandmothers died (both in 1987).
My paternal grandfather was a union organizer at the steel mill where he worked. He died when my father was 7, and the union did nothing to help the family, so Daddy has been virulently anti-union ever since.
I came across the idea of being openly involved with more than one person at a time in Heinlein’s Time Enough for Love when I was 13. It made perfect sense to me. I’ve been polyamorous ever since, though I have agreed to monogamous relationships from time to time.
I adore huge dogs. Yes, in the house. It’s cruel to bring a dog into a family, then keep it out in the yard. They’re pack oriented! I miss having a big, fenced yard that’s suited to letting a big dog run around safely.
I’ve always been a cat person, which is weird, since my parents have no use for them. They don’t think animals belong in the house at all, but over the years I guess I wore them down. I hardly consider any structure a home without a cat.
I miss climbing trees. I don’t think anyone taught me to do it, but according to both my memories and family stories, if they couldn’t find me, the best place to look was generally up. I used to spend hours perched up in trees, reading, as the best way to avoid my little sister.
I spent much of my middle school and early high school evenings and weekends babysitting and acting as a “mother’s helper.” I even babysat a couple of kids who were older than I was, but since I was ahead of them in school, that was a secret between me and their parents.
I started working at my father’s employer’s office after school and in the summers when I was 12.
I was involved in just about everything but art and sports in high school: marching and symphonic band, performing chorus, drama, debate, math club, Beta club, National Honor Society, Junior Civitan, Close-Up, model U.N., etc. I had no idea that any of it would matter to colleges—that was just a nice bonus.
While husband v.2 was worried about his draft number, I was starting first grade. Husband v.3 had already served in Vietnam and returned by then.
Katie really is a miracle, Goddess-gift baby. I met a woman at a Mensa national gathering, and out of the blue she asked if she could perform a healing for me. I couldn’t find a polite way to say no, so I said yes. She spent several hours “pouring energy” into me. Afterwards, I couldn’t find her, the room where we’d been, or anyone else who had noticed her. Not long after that, I was pregnant without any fertility treatments, although multiple doctors had insisted that there was no way I would ever conceive without them.
I learned that I was pregnant less than a week after conception, because of the 24/7 sickness (that stayed with me throughout the pregnancy). I thought I had a stomach flu, but it wouldn’t go away. I went to a doc-in-the-box to get a pregnancy test just to make my husband stop talking about a pregnancy. I made them do the test three times to be sure!
I’ve lost track of the number of miscarriages I’ve had. I wanted more kids, but have finally resigned myself to the fact that I got a perfect child the first time, and she’s going to be my only one.
I’m a vocal snob. I find it physically painful to be near some people when they’re singing, and have little to no patience with them. While I’d love to sing with a group again on a regular basis, I’m totally disinterested in any group that doesn’t require strict auditions.
I think I’ve forgotten how to cook. Odd, since I started cooking at a very young age and cooked dinner every day until shortly before I met Sam. (He’s a better cook than I am, anyway.)
I’m not currently reading a book. I can’t remember that having happened at any time since I was in first grade.
I’m not going to tag people specifically, but if you want to play, please let me know so that I won’t miss your list!
Look! TWO posts in ONE day! Maybe I’m finally crawling out of my pit of depression.
My very helpful child disapproved of how I was treating my small stitching project, so she sweetly put it in a huge Ziplock bag and “put it away.”
I have absolutely no idea where “away” might be, but it isn’t in my stitching bag, or near my recliner, or in the area where I’ve been sitting in the living room. Now she says she didn’t put it anywhere. Buh?
And we stopped at Michael’s yesterday to get the DMC I needed for it!1
I also got the fabric for two bigger pieces, though, so I can start one of those. Technically, I know that I have the fabric for Deep Peace around here somewhere, but I couldn’t find it, so I got a new piece. Now the original fabric will, of course, make itself known.
Smaller, less involved projects are better to do while in company, though. And it’s date night. The girl is, herself, out on a date, so I can’t even shanghai her into helping find the small project. Grump. She found supplies for a couple of different art projects while we were at Michael’s, too, so I expect heavy arting from her shortly.
We picked up dinner for the three of us at Little Azio’s on the way home, which was as delicious as usual. That was a lovely way to end a tiring, but rewarding, day.
1 I prefer shopping at an LNS, but my favorite went online-only and this was an instant gratification thing.
While browsing the AJC this afternoon, I was surprised to find Gadsden, Alabama featured as a “one tank trip” destination. I lived there for 7–8 years as a child and spent several summers there in my teens, and hadn’t ever heard of any of the mentioned attractions other than Noccalula Falls. I was even more surprised to read that Gadsden was supposedly voted “America’s Most Livable City” by somebody back in 2000. I have to wonder if any of the voters actually lived there for any length of time, as I largely remember horrible schools (no libraries, even), staunch racism, and general intolerance. I do have some good memories, of course, but they’re of people more than places, so tourists wouldn’t have access to them.