A Joyful Noise…and other sounds

Our first art lesson this year was from a book I bought this summer called Discovering Great Artists.  Each page has a brief history about an artist along with a project you can do in their style of art.  Our first artist was Giotto di Bondone.  He kind of bridged the gap between Gothic and Renaissance art. (Correct me if I’m wrong here, Kim!)  He blew everyone away because he (gasp!) painted his images with a three-dimensional quality.  Also he painted the  his backgrounds more realistically.  Like a blue sky, for example, as opposed to the more conventional black background.  What a weirdo, huh?  We also learned that these artists of long ago had to make their own paint out of whatever materials they could find.  Minerals, berries, roots and even bugs.  Then they used egg yolk to hold it together and make the painting stick to the canvas.  Or wall, or ceiling.  So, for our project, we made our own paint out of colored chalk, egg yolk and water.  First we had to grind the chalk.  Having not acquired my own mortar and pestle, we used rocks and a piece of paper.  At first I tried running over the chalk with the car, thinking that would be an efficient way to get the chalk ground up, but fate must have wanted us to have a genuine Renaissance experience because it didn’t work.  Once our chalk was ground up, I mixed the egg yolks and the water together and then April and Janey mixed that with the colored chalk.  It really does make decent paint, albeit a tad grainy.  So here are the finished artworks.  I think Giotto would be proud!

On Saturday I got to do something I have been looking forward to for a long time.  I, along with two of my best friends (as well as former college roommates) met in Cedar City for lunch and to catch a show at the Shakespearean festival.  I know what you are thinking: Oh, she’s a literary geek.  She must have seen a Shakespeare play.  But you are wrong!  More on that later.  First, I have to talk about our lunch.  I have never had, but have always wanted to try, Thai food.  It just sounded cool/delicious.  So, on the recommendation of a student worker at the library we met at Sweet Basil in Cedar City.  We had no idea what to order, so we asked our waiter for a recommendation.  He suggested any of the Pad Thai dishes.  I ordered Chicken Pad Thai.  (I’m not sure if I am supposed to capitalize that or not, but I feel I should.  It was that tasty.)  The restaurant also had a “spicy scale” and you could choose how spicy you wanted your food, from zero to ten.  Zero being not at all spicy and ten being fire-and-smoke-pouring-out-of-your-ears-spicy.  At first I said zero, then got brave and jumped clear up to a one.  The food came out, and it was delicious.   A combination of some kind of noodle, (cooked perfectly and not to heavy), egg, chicken, bean sprouts and just the right amount of spicy something.  When it comes to spicy stuff, I am a class-A wimp, but I really enjoyed this.  It was served on a plate with white rice on the side.  I gobbled it up.  Now I get what all the fuss is about with Thai food.  It’s fabulous!  On to the theater. 

We opted to see the musically adapted version of Great Expectations.  Having never read the book, I didn’t know the plot, but the show endeavored to explain what was going on in their songs.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t always hear the lyrics.  Luckily, there was Wi-Fi in the theater and we looked up the plot line on Wikipedia during intermission.  I can’t see this show ever being a huge Broadway hit.  I didn’t feel the songs were strong enough to be very memorable.   But I still enjoyed it very much.  The actors were phenomenal, being both very musically and dramatically talented.  Also the story wrapped up neatly in true Dickensian form.  Now, back to the question that I know is burning in the front of your mind (that is, if you have even read this far without  falling asleep or finding something better to do like say, I don’t know, staring at an empty wall.  If you have, I admire your fortitude): why didn’t I see a Shakespeare at the Shakespearean festival?  Well, first of all, my choices were limited.  I didn’t feel like seeing Much Ado About Nothing.  I have read the play more than once, and seen the movie several times.  Also, I feel like if I am going pay real money to see Shakespeare, I want something heavy duty.  I would want to see Macbeth or Richard III or even Hamlet.  So, maybe next year there will be one of the great tragedies that I could drag my friends to.  I already know where we are going to eat!

As a homeschooler, perhaps it seems weird to write about the first day of school, since we don’t have a timetable like public schools do.  But hey, I figured since my kids don’t get to do the whole “new outfit, new backpack, standing outside in the morning while mom takes a picture” thing, the least I could do was write about our school days at home.  We actually started doing our lessons for this year last week, but yesterday was the first day I actually tried to implement the schedule I hope to keep for most of the year.  It went pretty well, but I was a bit tense by the time it was over.  It takes some fast talking to keep Eli occupied/entertained with what we are doing.  April did some math, Janey practiced her letters, and Eli “wrote” in his notebook.  Then we all sat down on the couch for a history lesson.  I signed April up for a history course, but so far it has been more geography than history.  We have studied the seven continents, including their names and locations on the globe.  Yesterday we learned about different land forms such as peninsulas, islands, rivers and canyons.  We are also learning how to read maps and know directions.  I don’t know how teachers at public schools do it for seven hours or so.  I was tired after two hours.  But, I was also happily surprised when I went to bed last night and I realized that I was excited to see what we would be doing the next day.  Maybe that’s how all teachers (the good ones, anyway) maintain their enthusiasm: keeping the thrill of learning and sharing knowledge at the front of their minds.  It’s fun for me too.  I am actually looking forward to the opportunity of teaching April the principles of subtraction, because I will get to learn it all over again too.  I feel pretty lucky that I get to be the one to see the light bulb turn on over their heads.  Just like any parent helping their child with homework or a school project,  we are all learning together.  This quote seemed appropriate: “Get over the idea that only children should spend their time in study.  Be a student so long as you still have something to learn, and this will mean all your life.”  Happy learning everyone!

As far as social networking goes, this blog is about it for me.  I am not, along with .0042693% of the rest of the world’s population, on Facebook, which just goes to show it’s not as popular as some people think.  And I am really, really, not a Twitter-er.  At least, not me personally.  Today I became, on behalf of the Snow College Library, a Twit.  That is what anyone with a Twitter account should be called, myself included.  It fits quite nicely with the rest of the Twitter jargon.  I feel as though I have hit a new low.  A place I swore I would never go.  It’s a phenomenon I constantly made fun of.  When he was still on TV, I loved to watch Conan O’Brians’ “Twitter Tracker” segment.  So, on the day I realized the new library at Snow needed a Twitter account was a day that something inside me died.  Either that, or the questionably aged spaghetti I had for lunch was rearing its’ ugly head.  In any case, I felt vaguely nauseous.  Could I, in good conscience and with a straight face, propose to the library director that the library should have its’ very own Twitter account?  Gag.  I mean, have you seen some of the messages (I cannot, I will NOT use the word ‘tweets’. Double gag.) some Twits have posted, to be read and consumed like so many fruit-flavored mini-marshmallows?  Kind of tasty at first, but leaves you with a faint toilet cleaner-y aftertaste.  Yuck.  Yet here I am, signed up with one message already sent.  I hope to use this tool for good, not evil.  Or inanity.  I hope to send pertinent, relevant information about the library such as: “Our holiday hours for Labor Day weekend are…..”  Instead of  “Whoo-ee!  That leftover spaghetti sure ain’t sittin’ right! Don’t stand too close if you come to the reference desk! :/”

So, you thought you knew me, didn’t you?  Well I am just full of surprises.  You’d never peg me as a fan of a band such as this.  I admit I’m not much of one, but I accompanied my husband to their concert on Saturday at The Rail in Salt Lake.  It’s hard to pin down what kind of music they play.  The lead singer has once described it as psychedelic polka, which is just as accurate as any other genre they have tried to be pigeonholed into.  They are a genre unto themselves and the concert was a fascinating study in stoned-out drunkenness.  Here are some highlights:

The completely baked guy standing right in front of us whom we had to keep nudging into an upright position to keep him from falling backwards.

Discovering the folly of wearing flip-flops to a standing-room-only concert venue. My feet were black from other people’s shoes stepping on them, and sticky from beer being spilled on them.  I promise, it was other people’s beer!

When the crowd got too rough, Kim basically picked me up from behind and moved us back to a safer location.

Watching Kim fight his way to the front of the crowd so he could see one of his favorite bands up close.

People watching.  It’s always entertaining, and at an event such as this, it can be downright hilarious.

Watching to see what crowd-surfers made it to the front of the stage.

Hanging out with Mike and Dianna.  There are some friends with whom, no matter how long it’s been, you can just pick up right where you left off.

If a sportscaster were announcing a baseball game played by our family, it would go something like this:
Well it’s the first and only inning and the Christensens are playing nobody. First up to bat is Eli “I’d rather hit it like a golf ball” Christensen. Eli and his mother step up to the plate. Here’s the pitch, they swing and it’s a hit! The ball sails 10 feet towards third base and Eli remains at home plate. The pitcher goes to retrieve the ball and Eli is up to bat again! Well, this is typical of the Christensen team. Nobody usually runs the bases and each batter gets about four hits. Now the next batter is up. The pitcher has sent Eli to the outfield. He told him to run behind him, and he just kept running. The “outlet” as he is referred to by his sisters, is a good fifty yards away now. I am told “outlet” actually means outfielder.  Well, maybe the pitcher knows something we don’t about this next batter Janey. She is more commonly known as “Giggles”, due to her fits of laughter every time she is up to bat. Here’s the pitch…and…it’s a strike due to uncontrollable giggling. The catcher is….where’s the catcher? Oh, she’s picking flowers. The pitcher is trying to get the catchers’ attention. The batter is pulling on the pitchers’ leg. She’s trying to tell him something, I can’t quite make out what it is. Oh, she’s saying “I want to be the outlet!” The pitcher has apparently denied this request and managed to get the catcher to throw him the ball before she goes back to flower picking. Here’s the pitch, and thanks to the batting coach, she gets a hit! Now the catcher has left her post and is asking if she can hit the ball. But, the pitcher has left the mound because the outfielder is now running to the family car in the parking lot. The whole team is shouting for him to stop, which he does. Janey Christensen is now the outfielder, April is up to bat. They call April “The Distracted One” and now I see why. The batting coach (also her mother) is trying to explain to her how to hold the bat, but April seems to have her mind on other things. When she’s not staring into the middle distance, she asks the pitcher if she and her siblings can play in their hut instead. Finally, here’s the pitch. April has insisted on hitting herself. And, it’s a strike. Here’s the next pitch, she gets a piece of it, but it’s a foul ball. The catcher has left his post and is wandering down the sidewalk. The batter is now saying she wants to be done. And that’s the game. The score is tied at zero and the Christensen family wins. Tune in next time!

Since last Saturday we have had the pleasure of having my niece Ainsley stay with us whilst her mother toiled away at girls camp.  Ainsley and Janey were born about 20 hours apart from each other, and while they are not identical, they could be sisters.  So it was fun for me to pretend for a few days that I had twin  four year-old girls, as well as leave that impression upon strangers.  It was fun and educational having her.  Fun for us, educational for her.  You see, Ainsley is the youngest in her family, so this week she got seriously schooled in what it’s like having a little brother.  A hair-pulling, toy-grabbing, attention-stealing little brother.  All in all though,  I think she liked being in a big-sister role.  She was very sweet and patient with Eli, and all three girls absolutely reveled in the five-day sleepover.  I hope it becomes a yearly tradition, girls camp or no.

We love you Ains!

In Ephraim there resides a scaled-down model of a ship that resembles those that first crossed the Atlantic ocean to the New World.  It is located in the backyard of a very nice family who allow anybody that is interested to come explore and play.  A friend and I arranged to take our wards’ playgroup ther this week.  We had a great time!

Our sleeping accomodations.  You can sleep in this room if you measure no taller than the width of a double-size bed.

“There were four in the bed and the little one said……AINSLEY!  WAKE UP!!!!”

We went to walk reverently around the temple grounds yesterday.  For one, the temple grounds have shade and grass.  Two things we are seriously lacking in.  Also, it gets us out of the house on a Sunday.  The kids had fun reverently playing on the stairs, the grass, the trees and the rocks and Kim and I had fun reverently feeding them candy to keep them going.   At one point, Eli was reverently playing around by himself on the stairs when he started running and reverently yelled “The pioneers are going to get me!”  Mmmm, right. I forgot about how on Pioneer Day weekend all the long-dead pioneers come out to haunt those who venture onto the temple grounds.  Way to be on guard buddy.  We also met a family visiting from Logan.  They had 5 kids, and they had come down to Sanpete on a kind of ancestor finding trip.  They were so nice, we reverently talked and laughed like we’d known each other forever.  It was the highlight of our Sunday.

Eli was trying to do exactly what Kim was doing.  He doesn’t quite have the “relax your face when you close your eyes” thing down yet.  But look how reverently he is folding his arms!

Walking reverently down the hill

April kept stopping and posing for pictures about every three seconds.  This is one I actually took.

Janey at her most reverent.

PS: As far as reverence on the temple grounds goes, we really do try to show respect for the House of the Lord.  But, sometimes kids (and their parents) walk a fine line when they’ve been cooped up on a Sunday afternoon.

We just finished our swimming lessons for the summer.  I’m really glad I signed them up, even though my kids still don’t know how to swim.  Last year, we said “Oh, we’ll just go to the pool a lot.  We don’t want to pay for swimming lessons.”  Ha.  We didn’t go once!  So, I knew this year I would have to have some motivation, like forking over 90 bucks to get my kids to the pool.  It’s true that none of them really learned how to swim, but they are more comfortable in the water and I suppose learning to swim is a process for some kids.  It is for mine.

I came home from work on Sunday and noticed a ziploc bag full of goo on my counter that had not been there when I left.  “Who left this?”  I demanded.  I knew what it was.  The date written on the bag, and the page-long sheet of instructions sitting next to it all led me to one awful conclusion: Amish Friendship Bread.  Oh yeah, I’ve been down this road of friendship before.  The question I ask myself is this: who in the world named this stuff Friendship bread?  Here friend, here is a bag of goo that you have to babysit for the rest of your life, making bread at ten-day intervals, becoming a slave to the bag of goo.  You’ll find yourself waking up in cold sweat one night because you worry you might have forgotten to mush the bag.  Or on day six, when it’s 11:30 and you are crawling into bed and you realize that you haven’t added the flour, sugar and milk to the goo like you were supposed to.  Oh, and by the way, you can’t stir it with a metal spoon or put it in a metal bowl. Which means I can’t use my KitchenAid or my electric hand mixer.   And don’t put it in your fridge.  And you have to add 14 other ingredients before you can bake it.  And there is a guaranteed trip to the grocery store too, because who honestly keeps a supply of instant vanilla, butterscotch or banana pudding?  Not I.  Suddenly, a sane woman has become a hysterical basket-case.  Her children eat nothing but the bread, and she searches through her contact list, trying to think of somebody she hasn’t given a bag of goo to.  The last part on the instructions is my favorite.   It says only the Amish know how to make the “starter”, so if you want more, you have to wait until someone gives you some back.  Well, apparantly the Amish have shared their secret with Recipes.com.   So, rather than wait around, living in fear of getting a bag of goo dumped in your lap, you can make your own “starter” and begin taking your revenge on all your “friends”.