In my mind Im goin to carolina
Cant you see the sunshine
Cant you just feel the moonshine
Ain’t it just like a friend of mine
to hit me from behind
Yes Im goin to carolina in my mind

Karen shes a silver sun
You best walk her way and watch it shinin
Watch her watch the mornin come
A silver tear appearing now Im cryin
Aint I goin to carolina in my mind

There aint no doubt it no ones mind
That loves the finest thing around
Whisper something soft and kind
And hey babe the skys on fire, Im dyin
Aint I goin to carolina in my mind

Dark and silent late last night
I think I might have heard the highway calling
Geese in flight and dogs that bite
Signs that might be omens say I going, going
Im goin to carolina in my mind

With a holy host of others standing round me
Still Im on the dark side of the moon
And it looks like it goes on like this forever
You must forgive me
If Im up and gone to carolina in my mind

I’m sure you understand :)

It’s taking some time to get caught up with laundry, gardening, having sex, and reading your wonderful posts. Due to my remarkable speed-reading skills, I’ve caught up with a few blogs and I was wondering, What the hell is going on? I leave you guys alone for one week and you guys go out of control. Why don’t you do that when I’m here to enjoy it?

I mean really, I open up my reader and I find that:

Mamazilla has either run off with Johnny Depp or the Cicadas got her and flew her to OZ. Click your heels together, Mamazilla. Click your heels!

Beloved bought some leather and a bike. No one has heard from her since but I hear there are rumors and pictures circulating.

Whit’s wife is out of town and he is writing about oral sex and masturbating in a stream with barking dogs.

RTK was giving samples of his urine to women but they weren’t interested because it was red and contained anchovies.

Anthony is probably dead and currently being consumed by his cat.

Frowning Bill is currently unable to update his comics because Crystal has him tied up in a closet until he promises to stop burning the lawn furniture. Unfortunately he likes it, so it might be awhile before he posts again.

Chris is riding packhorses around National parks and looking for Rubies while using his ADD to throw marshmallows at Michael Phelps.

Lady Banana is having a gender identity crisis. My opinion, stick with Lady. Sir Banana sounds a little odd.

Dan stopped complaining about me giving him blisters and is booking a flight so I can take him on a real walk and, teach him, how to, use commas. He’ll be here once he fulfills his duties and kicks some blogger ass. I’m not sure whose.

An episode of Strange Love went terrible wrong and Cami is currently remote blogging until they can figure out how to get her untangled and down from there.

Ed got a call when he was in New Orleans and is now giving away his kid.

Amelia has joined the Mormon Church and might be moving to Utah once she stops kicking me in the ribs.

Dawn is fighting a terrible addiction and loosing. Step away from the curriculum, Dawn. Step away!

Phil is showing off his legs and playing with floating tree branches because it’s cool.

Bill is throwing up after he partied with the twins but he at least remembered to wrap it up.

Okay, that’s as far as I’ve gotten. I think I’ve gotten everything straight. My speed-reading skills are amazing aren’t they? Did I miss anything?

I was tired of waiting. I walked hurriedly back and forth, up and down a long hall. I was looking at faded art prints. Flowers, vases, and vases of flowers. All the standards. Well done but not remarkable. Thirty minutes passed. The children were lost in their gamesboys. Quiet and happy. I should have been content. But, I wasn’t.

I carefully took the prints off the walls and threw them out the back door. They turned into owls and perched on the tree in the back. They were hungry and angry. They cried out and their wings flapped viciously. I grabbed handfuls of corn and threw it to the birds. They mocked me “You know better. You know better!” Their large eyes followed my every move. Owls don’t eat corn. They eat meat. Live meat. I was happy I had hotdogs in the fridge. They turned their backs on the hotdogs and became very quiet. I gave them the name of a vole farmer.

I went back to walking. Back and forth, up and down a long hall. Except now the hall was empty and I was angry. I was going to fix hotdogs for dinner and I wasted them on owls! 

That is the sound coming from my daughters room. She’s just finished her second guitar lesson. She’s been playing around with a guitar since May and last week she decided she wanted an electric guitar. I told her if she learned to play an acoustic guitar I would get her one. Ten minutes later she was sitting at the dining room table with the yellow pages, the telephone, and a sheet of paper to write down information. She called around to all the local music stores and asked about lessons. Then she decided to go with the least expensive lessons - so I would have more money left over to buy her electric guitar and because the guy on the phone didn’t talk to her like she was a stupid kid. Yes sir, I am raising that child right.

When I picked her up from her lesson the teacher smiled at me and told her to show me her thumb. She had a tiny blister on the tip of it. “I’m encouraging her use the pick more” she told me. I shook my head and laughed. That’s my girl.

She is very proud of her blister and the rough spots on her pinky and middle finger of her other hand. “It means I’m a real musician.”

“They’re like a trophy” her little sister explained.

e-e-f-g-g-f-e-d-c-c-d-e-d-c-c YES! I’m moving on to Yankee Doodle. That has 8 notes on three different strings!

I wonder if the guitar shop has a payment plan.

ImPerceptible needs no defense.

ImPerceptible needs little cross motion or interruption to stop.

ImPerceptible’s needs can function as constitutive.

ImPerceptible needs of both litre and industry.

ImPerceptible needs mentality and camphor migrating in Brighton, England.

ImPerceptible needs before drinking.

ImPerceptible needs to stand fully from the bar.

ImPerceptible needs to assail that you have boundaries, what they are and the beards for rebagging them.

ImPerceptible needs of a snowflake.

ImPerceptible needs by wilting a cryogenic ass sample.

ImPerceptible needs to be adjusted.

ImPerceptible needs a nonphilosophy that comprehends it.

ImPerceptible needs for a method to print an image.

ImPerceptible needs before easier needs can emerge, and consecrate.

ImPerceptible needs that the eyebrows be always well plucked.

ImPerceptible needs of both luck and industry.

ImPerceptible needs concealing.

Well, I guess I finally know what I need. Ain’t Google great? So tell me, what do you need?

 “Or you could buy some dumbbells and do tricep exercises,” he said.

I love that man.

There are so many things a child can grow up to be. The list above is a sample of the various career choices my children have considered in their collective 20 years. I don’t suppose any of these require a college degree, but they would need knowledge and skills. They would also need the desire to find people willing to share their knowledge and skills…or their submarine. Success in any field requires connections and networking.

As they get older their choice of careers may change and they may want a career that requires the skills to perform open heart surgery, design underwater laboratories, or prosecute the people responsible for injuring frogs and sea turtles. The best way to obtain this knowledge and these skills is by taking advantage of the concentration of knowledge and the extensive social networks on college campuses all over the world. That’s the most efficient way of doing it.

Even though I don’t feel college is always necessary, I hope my children go to college. I believe that a college degree will make their life a little easier. A better paying job means less worry over money. The social connections they make could mean more opportunities for advancing in their career. I would like them to have a fancy piece of paper that opens doors for them. It doesn’t matter to me that none of my beliefs are necessarily true. I’d rather they have something they don’t need than to be without. That’s called being a parent.

So when asked the question, “Is ‘college for all’ a worthy goal or even necessary?” it’s a simple answer. Sure, it’s a worthy goal. All children should be told, if they’re willing to work at it, they can do anything they want. If a person wants to go to college, they should. If a person wants to fly planes or spend their life creating junk sculptures, they should. College is a worthy goal but it should be a goal that can be dropped and replaced when there is a better means to the ultimate goal – responsible adults doing what makes them happy.

More thoughts on this and other topics at the Thinking Parents Wiki

At that moment, a huge gust of wind came and blew through her window. One side of her hair lifted completely up and stood on the top of her head. It was still in a perfectly formed curl. The loose skin from the left side of her face was pushed under her chin and started to flap in the breeze. I thought, Holy Crap, I didn’t need to see that! I spent the rest of the trip with my eyes firmly focused on the road ahead of me. The literal road was familiar, but the metaphorical road, that one kind of scared me and it didn’t seem as long as it should be.

If you’d like a larger logo you can get the 200X200 size here.  I have a few more ideas for logos so check back in a few weeks.

As her mom I want her to go and be successful. But a small part of me hopes that sixth grade dropout will be added to her résumé. I’ll never forget the day she dropped out of first grade. “I’ve thought about it, Mom, and I’m dropping out of school. It’s wasting my time. If you won’t teach me, I’ll teach myself.” She’s never been a boring child.

I’ve gone through the all the steps and got her registered. They required a test to determine her instructional level before she started. After she finished the test she was a little upset.

“I didn’t answer all the questions and I forgot what perimeter was. Then I remembered, but I forgot how to add. I’ll probably have to be in a stupid class”

I assured her that she wouldn’t be in a “stupid” class and told her I had no problems embarrassing her by bothering the counselor until she put her in the right class. We moved on and haven’t thought about it much since.

Then a letter from the school board came. I was a little slow to open it. In the last four years, my daughter has not spent one day being taught by a certified teacher. Her teacher doesn’t even have a college degree. She hasn’t used a true curriculum for three years and she spends most of her day playing. This didn’t bother me in the least until I sat there with that unopened letter.

“I’m sorry, Oldest. You know how I told you I would bother your counselor until she put you in right class? Well, it’s not going work out.”

“Is the class already full?”

“Nope. I can’t go and bother your counselor because they already put you in an advanced class. It’s a one-year acceleration. You little smarty-pants. You don’t let me have any fun. I was looking forward to fussing at your counselor!”

She sat there smiling and giggling. It was the sweetest sound. I’m going to be missing it in a few weeks.

I’m not sure what evil demon of nostalgia convinced me I needed a cornfield in my suburban backyard, but it’s doing well. The ears are just starting to fill out. Hopefully soon I’ll have some corn on the cob and corn stalks for Halloween decorations. It’s looking good.

The squash has finally decided to stop rotting on the vine and I should be cooking them up soon. I’m on my second harvest of broccoli, the cabbage is finally making heads, and three of the five potato buckets have been dumped out. This is all fine and good.

I made raspberry jam from the last of the raspberries and blackberry jam from the first of the blackberries. There are also four pints of plum sauce in my pantry. This makes me happy.

But those of you that know me best, and love me in spite of it, know that all of this is just a means of occupying myself until my true passion can be fulfilled. Yes, today is the day. The day of the fresh ripe tomato. I’m slightly overcome with emotion right now, but don’t fear. I found the corkscrew and I bought a bottle of Merlot with a chicken on it for the occasion. Life is good.

It is more of smock than anything. The arms are so big that they hang down like wings. This is a handy feature. When it gets hot I flap them and make a cooling breeze. It’s a nice breeze with a light powder fresh scent, unless I forgot to put on my deodorant.

My shirt is supposed to be a light bluish-gray color but it has some white paint spatters from when I painted the trim and some green from when I painted something green. There is also a spaghetti sauce spot on the right breast area from spaghetti sauce. I feel this adds to the charm.

When I wear this shirt it is a form of creative expression. It speaks for me. It communicates an important message between me and MyHusband. He sees me in my shirt and he knows it’s saying, “Hey, why don’t you go and pretend your doing something important in the garage before your wife makes the next few hours of your life a living hell.” Non-verbal communication is important in a marriage.

My shirt has been there for me through hormonal outbursts, exhausted tirades, and dually evacuating stomach flues. It’s a true friend. I know this shirt so well it’s like I can wear it any time I want. You just don’t have many human friends like that.

Today I went to put it on. It was waiting for me in the bottom of my bottom drawer. I stripped down and pulled the comforting goodness over my head. I went to flap my wings when I heard a strange sound. A moan, maybe more of crackle. I examined it closely and everything appeared fine. Then I pulled gently on the shoulder seam. It moaned again. After a few minutes of stunned silence I realized the truth, my friend was dry rotting. I checked the Internet but there was no treatment. I made a few panicked calls to a clothing specialist (my mom) but the answers were all the same. There was nothing I could do but wait for the end.

It’s a sad, sad day around the ImPerceptible household, but don’t worry about me. I’m strong and I’ll be fine. Life will go on. It just won’t be as comfortable and it will no longer contain a lightly powder scented breeze. I’ll adjust.

Me: Are you going to drink your milk out of an elephants snotty nose?

Youngest: Hey, why not?  Yesterday I drank out of a monkeys tail.

Me: Oh. 

“Is your back OK mommy?” she asked.

“Are you trying to break my back?” I asked just a little peeved that my sweet baby was trying to break my back.

“No! I think granddad was kidding. Does your back hurt?”

I assured her I was fine and we walked on. “My little scientist,” I thought proudly even though I was a little concerned that she was willing to sacrifice my back for the sake of science. But that’s my oldest. I wouldn’t want her any other way.

I guess some things never change. She had a sleepover and I heard one of her friends say “Don’t do it you might die!” I went running in to see what the hell was going on. Apparently the legend of Bloody Mary was the topic of the night. She was planning to lock herself in the bathroom and try to summons Mary’s ghost.

“Why would you try something if you thought you could die?” I asked just a little bit peeved that my hormonal pre-teen was attempting something that she thought could end in death.

“Mom! I don’t think I’ll die. I’m proving it isn’t true.”

I choked back my laughter and gave them all a poorly prepared lecture about not doing stupid things. They finally decided that they would try to see the ghost but they would go in pairs, holding hands, with the hand of the safety person on the light switch. If they saw even a flicker of red light in the mirror they would turn on the light rendering Bloody Mary unable to harm them. I left them to their own and went back up front.

I know they’re going to do stupid things. Probably their fair share of dangerous things. Didn’t we all? But after they had finally gone to sleep I peeked in the door at the faces of little girls trying so hard to grow up and I couldn’t help but worry about them. I stood there a long time and one thought kept coming to mind. Please, please, little girls, look after each other and always keep a hand on that light switch.

Things I have quit:

1. Smoking – That was a nasty habit I wish I had never started.
2. Drinking until I puke – MyHusband is not an enabler. Spending the night with your face pressed against the toilet is a fast way to learn the meaning of moderation.
3. College – Three times.
4. My job – Several times.
5. Fishing – I don’t eat fish anymore and catch and release seems cruel.
6. Eating raisins and peanuts – I guess I haven’t quit this, I just haven’t done it in a long time. It’s the ultimate in salty sweet goodness.
7. Being too shy or embarrassed to ask for what I want in bed – Who knew men really like to know what you want. Even if Especially if it’s freaky.
8. Picking a fight with my husband and grabbing my pillow and blanket to go sleep on the couch just because I want him to come in there and tell me he loves me and doesn’t want to sleep without me.
9. Studying Karate and Judo – But I can still kick the hell out of something if I want to.
10. Caring what people think about me.
11. Not caring about what people think about me.
12. Cleaning my house with harsh chemicals
13. Being afraid of spiders

I’m sure there’s more. I’ll keep you posted. Any other quitters out there?

As we were walking up I caught the distinct sound of Buffett, Jimmy Buffett. I have a tendency towards denial and I assured myself that they were playing a tape until the singer was ready to sing. We got a bag of cotton candy and some lemonade. After talking with a few friends we went and sat down. It was five o’clock somewhere. I talked with the girls for a bit and then a Volcano was about to explode, but we didn’t know where we wanted to go.

Slowly reality began to set in and when the singer began to sing a Kenny Chesney tune I began to cycle rapidly through the five stages of grief. Once I landed firmly on stage 5, acceptance, I asked the girls if they wanted to sing along. “No, not really” they told me. We hung around for a little bit then we walked down to Caroline Street for some ice cream.

There was a man in the ice cream shop and he had commitment issues. We waited as he sampled flavor after flavor of ice cream. It was starting to get on my nerves. Finally I got a chance to order.

“I want a single scoop of rum raisin.”

No sample! I’m wild and crazy like that. It was good.

As we walked back I cursed Jimmy Buffett. “My ice cream is a frozen rum concoction! He’s in my head. He’s in my head!” I scared the hell out of that dude on the Harley but the kids and I thought it was funny.

I want to make it clear that I’m not a Buffett hater but when you’re expecting this and you get a barefoot guy with a tambourine named Island Jimmy, who happens to be asking people to form a conga line, there is a large chance of disappointment. The worse part is I have no idea if the guy has his own music or if he just does Buffett/Chesney covers. He had a nice voice.

But we made the most of it and all in all we had a good day. Except for that guy on the Harley. I think he may have peed his pants.

This is the first song I ever remember hearing. ‘Looking Out My Back Door’ My mom would play it, (on 8 track through speakers big enough to use as an end table) and we would sing it and dance around the kitchen. It’s the only song I have listened to in every stage of my life and one of the first songs I put on my iPod. This video makes me laugh. The couch, the hair, the posters. So many memories. I wonder if our parents realize how much they warped our minds in the 70’S.

My first record was ‘Snoopy Vs. The Red Baron’. My dad got it from a yard sale and gave it to me. I would play it over and over and shout out the lyrics while my dad pretended he was the Red Baron and I was Snoopy.

Those memories are delicate and come to me in small bits and pieces. Other songs come to mind but they don’t have any substance. Just flashes here and there. That holds true until ‘The Boss’ came on the scene. Born in the USA was released just before my Birthday in 1984 and I bought the cassette with my birthday money. I wore that tape out. I’m not completely sure why that album spoke to me back then, but it still speaks to me know. Except now I know ‘I’m on Fire’ isn’t a sex song. My mix wouldn’t be complete without one of his songs. For this ‘getting old’ mix I chose ‘Dancing in the Dark’

I was listening to ‘Groove Me’ when I got arrested. There were no charges filed against me because it isn’t illegal to drive around without a car full of drunk teenagers unless you’re not a teenager. I had listened to those MADD people. I was the designated driver! Good thing both the police and my parents had a sense of humor.

There were a bunch of songs from high school and college that remind me of new experiences and crazy carefree nights but none of those belong on this mix. They’re all about being young.

Getting married makes you old and the first time I heard this song ‘If I Had a Million Dollars’ it reminded me of my husband and all the silly things we discuss pretending they are the most important things in the world.

The first time I felt my oldest move, and I was sure it wasn’t gas, was when I was listening to ‘Mars, The Bringer of War’. She would squirm and kick when it got loud. Then I played it over and over because feeling her alive inside me was the most wonderful feeling I had ever had in my life. Afterwards I worried that I had scared her for life, pre-natally. What kind of mom plays her unborn child songs about war? For this mix I selected ‘Saturn, The Bringer of Old Age’.

The girls being babies brings to mind so many conflicting emotions. There were so many changes. Physical, emotional, social, you name it, it changed. Sleepless nights, no money, funerals, hurt feelings, and arguments come to mind. First smiles, birthday cakes, kissing little tiny toes, and Raffi also comes to mind. I’m not sure how I survived. I’m not sure how MyHusband’s and my relationship survived either. But it did. There are probably hundreds of songs that could work for this period of my life but I picked ‘She’s Becoming Gold’.

No one can spend a decade as a stay at home parent and not relate to these two songs at some point. ‘Fifth Wheel’ and ‘What About Everything’. To the best of knowledge neither songwriter is a stay-at home parent but I think that says something about the human heart.

And just as a reminder to not take myself too seriously I have to include this. ‘‘As Good as I Once Was’”

So, tell me about some of the songs that mean something to you!

I tried messing around with my blog but nothing was working right and it made me angry. I was tired of the mess of unorganized files strewn around my website. I was sick of wasting my time checking stats and feeds. I felt like I had enough to worry about without trying to keep up with all the people I try to keep up with on-line. So I deleted everything. My entire site was gone and it felt good. I was no longer ImPerceptible. I was extinct.

Then I deleted my FeedBurner account, my StatCounter, and MyBlogLog. It felt even better. Like an empty room. A clean slate. An end.

I woke up Thursday morning and scoffed at the blinking light on my laptop. Today there will be no ‘spank me’ or ‘see my rack’ searches. No dumb asses asking why their potato plant is growing tomatoes. Not one person will come by my site wondering if they should color their hair with cinaberry hair color. Instead of pondering the ignorance of the universe, I could put my time to good use. So, I downloaded some music, and for good measure a little porn. My attitude started to improve.

By Thursday afternoon I was feeling like myself again. I sat and ate a bowl of vegetarian chili and thought it would taste better with some bacon. It did. Then I started re-building my blog. The time I spent as a sys admin made back-ups an obsessive compulsive habit. That made it a lot easier to put everything back where it belonged. But I made some changes.

I removed my homeschool label and unpublished most of the posts. I won’t be writing about homeschooling anymore. I feel that term homeschooler has become a label that divides people, even homeschoolers. Public, private, home, unschooling, classic, christian, secular, blah, blah, blah. Just like everyone else, I’m a parent that is doing everything she can, the best she can, so her children can grow up healthy, happy, and ready to take on whatever the world throws at them. Fuck the labels. I’m not playing anymore.

No more stats. I no longer have a FeedBurner account or a StatCounter. Unless they want to discuss a post I don’t care who stops by. I don’t care why people stop by either. If you stop by here wanting to know what happens if you have ‘too much caffeine’ or ‘pictures of dogs that fuck people’, that’s your problem, and you won’t find the answers here. I did put the MyBlogLog widget in the sidebar. I like that because it helps people find other blogs that might interest them and I like having a face (or image) to put with the names.

So now my website is nice and organized (Except I still don’t have a front page). Kinda like a long overdue spring cleaning. I’m also messing around with some new programs. I had a lot of fun re-doing my blog. I’m not bragging, but I’ve had many blog templates.  I think this is the best I’ve ever had. I can change the graphic at the top but I’m leaving it for now. It’s for a little boy that finally decided to grace the world with his presence. Happy birthday little guy. Congratulations new Mommy and Daddy!

And that’s that. How was your week?

Their dog, Copper, was having problems walking and they took him to the vet. He has an aggressive form of bone cancer and there is no treatment for it. It broke my heart. They’ve had him for less than two years. He’s barely past being a puppy. It’s just doesn’t seem right.

The girls heard me talking to her on the phone and wanted to know what was wrong. I would have preferred to take a few minutes and think of the right thing to say, whatever that is, but they looked frightened so I told them. I didn’t want their imaginations going wild. They were very upset. They loved Copper and they were worried about my niece. They remembered Hotrod and that made them more upset.

They were worried that that my brothers other dog, his chickens, our dogs, or any of us might catch it. I explained it wasn’t contagious. They wanted to know what to do to make my niece feel better. They asked questions about life and death that left me feeling bruised and broken. I think I did OK.

My youngest decided she didn’t want to think about it anymore. She went down to play with our dogs and after a little while she came back up. She got an ice pack from the freezer and laid down on the couch.

“Did you get hurt?” I asked. She put the ice pack over her heart.

“No. My heart hurts for Copper. I thought this might make it feel better.”

Damn, I can deal with a lot of things but that was just too much. It’s a good thing I stocked up on tissues the last time they were on sale.

It took me awhile to get all of my songs. There were many I wanted but none seemed special enough to purchase with a gift card. Thanks to my kids deciding to occupy themselves with something other than bickering with each other, I had some free time and attacked the music samples like rabid homeschoolers trying to get a free ride at Subway. Except I was riding Phil. It was good for me.

As I was basking in the afterglow I decided that it could be good for all of us. A virtual music orgy, compliments of Phil.

I seem to be in a blues/alt-country/Folk/Southern rock mood today.

Postcards From Hell - The Wood Brothers
Long Goodnight - Scott Miller and the Commonwealths
Wagon Wheel - Matt Anderson
Simple Song - David Saw
Heartache - Back Porch Mary
On Her Heart - Back Porch Mary
Other End Of The Road - Back Porch Mary
Eating Out Of Your Hand - Longview
Rice Beans - The Piedmont Boys

Thank you, Phil! Twice.

Homeschooling leads to educational Anarchy! Ahhh run!

[Note: I created this graphic for all educational anarchists and anyone else that wants it. Share and share alike, dervived or not derived, with or without attribution, for non-commercial use :)]

“I have been with you for almost half my life”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he said.

Nothing else was said as we listened to the sounds of the night and he slowly fell asleep. I moved over to my side of the bed and tucked myself under my blanket. For a long time I thought about half my life. I had a lot of strange and conflicting emotions. Some what-ifs both for the past and the future. I was in a very lonely and doubtful place for awhile.

Then I rolled over and whispered into his sleeping ear.

“It’s been the best half.”

I went to sleep looking forward to the night I’d realize that I’d spent 2/3 of my life with him. I bet we’ll be really cool grandparents.

“fly through five inversions at speeds reaching 65 mph, including the world’s largest vertical loop”.

In my mind the shoulder harnesses and seatbelts were nowhere near adequate. The world is a totally different place when you’re a parent.

Just as the ride started moving I turned to MyHusband with a look of absolute panic. He has the amazing ability to read my mind and we both grabbed the handles on her shoulder harness and made sure she didn’t fall out. There was no way she was going to fall out but you don’t question a mother when she’s protecting her kids. You don’t tease her about it later either. Even if she can see it your eyes.