Tuesday, October 27, 2026

 I can taste the ooey gooey caramel apple pumpkin spiciness now: Halloween is nigh! We've survived dirt, debris, the complete colonization of our yard, and endless noise thus far. Another week and the roofing project will be finished and I shall have my sweet (sticky and spookey ookey) reward!


This October has been something! I have mixed feelings about it really. On the one hand, it's been absolutely beautiful out: 



Fall has this exquisite quality of light that simply cannot be matched by other seasons. I assume that technically spring has something similar, as I'm sure it's all brought about by the angle of the sun, but it never looks the same. This, my lovelies, is unfettered magic. 

I want to smear myself in pumpkin guts and dance in the pale moonlight pretty much nonstop this time of year. You can feel the animism pumpkin through every vein. 



Everything comes of like a stained-glass masterpiece! 

On the other hand, this is the driest October we've had in 175 years, I believe; that's a little nerve-wracking. We actually have had a drier month than the deserts of Nevada! Weather shifts feel more ominous these days. Perhaps not an omen or a sign of the gods' distaste, but certainly a slight shift in the chances of "smokiness' and pestilence in the coming summer. 

 


ho ho ho Happy El Nino, I guess! Super El Nino, that is! (Even El Nino wanted to dress up for Halloween)


Comic book villain? Little bit. 

But we seem to at least have had a little bit of a catch up the last couple of days in terms of basic October rain. Fingers crossed!



Either way, it will be novel if it doesn't pour down rain on Halloween evening! Is a costume really a PNW costume if it isn't a little rain-proof?

We did a little warm-up (or cool down, perhaps) for the big day this past Saturday at the local TRAIL OR TREAT!

(yes, you can "or treat" almost anything in October. Book or Treat. Water or Treat. Cat or Treat. Existential Crisis or Treat. The list is endless)



Allan's crow costume is a bit inspired, if I do say so myself; since it's an adult costume, it should work for however many Halloweens she still wants to be a crow, and it's essentially a warm poncho. I found it last year and it has served admirably thus far!

Another gold-star added to its chart: this was perfect for the weekend. 



Trail or Treat is a pretty straightforward concept; attendants walk along a few set trails (lit with string lights and plenty of decor) and stop at various cabin checkpoints where different sponsors offer stamps, activities, and (of course) candy. 

There were two separate trails to traverse, and they led into each other pretty smoothly. 


Beautiful evening. An overwhelming number of small people in costumes. And dogs. Always dogs. 


Overall, trial run was a success. I have high expectations for the more ambitious Saturday to come. The neighborhood almost always goes blissfully wild gussing itself up in lights and creepy inflatables. The candy is perpetually on point! 

The crow costume will be getting one more rehearsal before the big night, as Allan will go horse riding at Little Bit in costume on Thursday. Her horse will also be in some form of costume, although this is fairly dependent on Pixie's tolerance. 

I don't have many more tales to spin this week; mostly, I just wanted to show off my fun pictures. So, TADA! Behold Halloweens!



This is our Meow O'Lantern. It's an orange cat. They wanted to be a black cat, but seriously messed up and so was consigned to be an orange cat. Orange cats are, of course, either stupid or crazy, or both! 

Story time brought to you by Allan. 


The pumpkin has a funny crack in the back that we've been calling the butt crack, so this has been title The Butt Pumpkin. Nice and mature over here, yes. 

Happy almost-Halloween all. 



Sunday, October 18, 2026

MIgratory Big Vax Playdays

Let Cold and Flu season carry on: Allan is officially super-duper vaccinated. As our esteemed founding father, Lin Manuel Miranda, so eloquently put it: I ain't gonna miss my... shot! And I assure you, we've gotten them all. 

 This has been quite the quarter for Allan-related vaccinations. Between her 11 year old checkup, a September followup, and todays' Flu and COVID, we've been keeping busy with - I believe - 5 vaccinations or so. I can't even remember them all, but I'm pretty sure her autism is effectively topped up for a couple of years at any rate. 

The COVID and Flu are a bit of a triumph after various shenanigans in which I was contacted last minute to be informed that one or the other pediatric formulations weren't available just then. Finally, managed to schedule at one of the school clinics. Yesterday, we pulled up to Madison Middle School, found our way to the cafeteria area, and she plonked herself down between two nurses. Many animal noises were made; shots were shot. In the room. The room. Where it happens. The room where it happens.

 


 Yeah, no, it's all downhill from here. Sorry. 

Allan rarely is very laid up by the flu/COVID combo (one years and years ago, she slept all day the next day, but otherwise has had zero effects). Still, it seemed like she ought to have a little weekend hurrah before getting her ultimate 2026 shots. Just in case. 

After years of meaning to stop in, we finally checked out the Seattle Playgarden, as they were having a small Harvest celebration. Turns out, playgarden is pretty sweet; it's an inclusive adaptive space for abled and disabled kids to mix among a bunch of pretty flowers, a few cool playgrounds, and a bunch of animals!



The animals were the top hit for Allan. They had chickens, ducks, and bunnies. (Oh my!) 

We spent most of the visit standing in the coop, letting the chickens wander past us. There were ducks too.  They were in a separate wired out area, performing some mildly disturbing fraternity-style assaults on the female ducks. Nature can be so beautiful, but apparently affirmative consent has not entered the world of waterfowl. Ah well. The roosters, at least, contented themselves with ambling around and crowing at each other. 



In other news: 

The roofing escapades ensue! They did a major push this week and will spend the next two weeks fixing the mess they've made, laying shingles, and (hopefully!) cleaning up all the debris they've tossed into our beautiful little garden space. 

They honestly aren't that bad. Mostly. I guess. It sounds kind of like the dryer drum got off while somebody is running on a treadmill in the bathroom. Other than that, though, it's not been too disruptive. 

Yet.

We'll see. 


I guess there was the day that there was so much debris in the walkway that it would've been impossible to leave the house. And there are all manner of strange things showing up in our (rather stomped-down) clover yard! We currently have a giant beam of wood next to the flowering currant. A different vibe than the usual mycotic boughs we keep as borders. 

But ah well... we survive! We persist! We endure!

But time to rewind all over again. This week hasn't just been strange noises and perplexing thumps. Oh no. We began with birds! As all the best ones do!

As mentioned, October 10th was Migratory Bird Day. Hizzah!


(Not a real bird!)

This is a biannual event that celebrates - you'll never guess! - the biannual migrations of birds from their breeding grounds to their wintering grounds and back again!

It's also celebrated as Global Big Day by Cornell Labs. To observe, participants simply pull up eBird and make an entry. eBird is a birding app developed by researchers that takes amateur birding logs and turns it into science: the data is made available to researchers globally and used to track bird population patterns in myriad contexts. 




The Seward Park Audubon society hosts an event that is also more or less centered around eBird. But with the bonus that if you go to all four of their stations (representing different biomes in the park) and do a 5 minutes eBird read per each, you get a prize! 


Allan picked this one out: it's a cute little baby crow!

They also have a bunch of indoor activities and screen this film about bird migrations upstairs. So on and so forth. 




It's a lovely loop around the different biomes; just about an hour's walk if you're taking a bit of time ot imbibe the atmosphere and listen to all the birdies. 


You start by the lake and work through the old growth forest, come out at the grasslands and head back through some more forest to get to the beginning again. 



In the forest, we saw (and far more heard) a certified gronking Raven!! This is actually my first as far as I know. If you don't count YouTube and Instagram, which of course includes many many ravens with whom I feel quite intimately connected at this point.

I digress. 


We also saw a metric ton of bushtits, finches, and nuthatches. Holy crap, the nuthatches were just about every which place making their iconic little honking-beeping noise!

And of course, there were ducks, albeit far fewer of them than I had expected. 



Yeah, at this point I'm just filling space to 



Fun fun fun! 

This week, Andrew went through another round of layoffs (ugh!) but remains employed, so that's a relief. I went through another transvaginal ultrasound (less sexy than it sounds) and remain mysteriously unable to ever get an image of my left ovary. This is the third time in 10 years that I've had one of these, and they have never gotten sufficient imagery of the damned thing. For all I know, it has Groucho glasses and a mohawk. Anyways, not sure why this caused a TMJ flare (my best guess is that the extra stress of having a camera yoinked around my innards on The Hunt for Red Octovary led to some brutal late night bruxism), but it seems it has. I've had a really annoying cervicogenic headache and jaw pain since Friday and am mostly living off of milk and peanut butter at the moment. Ah well. I'm sure it'll clear up in a few years!

Lord know what will come up next! I'm sure it'll be exciting as ever. 

Happy Two Weeks to Halloween! Hip hip boooooooooo!

Saturday, October 10, 2026

Spiders and Plagues and Roofs - Oh My!

Spooky Season, Indeed!


The neighbors have decked their spooky ooky halls with webs of spiders (and requisite inflatable lawnamajigs). You can feel the festivity in the atmosphere. Every crunch of a leaf is a rustle of a wrapping soon to be torn free to get at that perfectly crunchy candy bar! Bwahahahaha Merry Halloweeen Season!

It's genuinely Spider Season as well, and I have some lovely photos of real arachnids being awesome, but people are squeamish, so you'll have to ask me directly.

 I love this time of year. It's my all-time favorite. I absolutely cannot wait for Halloween. But also, I want to wait, because - again - October is my favorite!

Mostly. 

With certain caveats. 



By which I mean: 

The HOA can absolutely suck it for futzing with my Fall!

I say this a lot for a lot of reasons. Allan chose to write a recent persuasive essay assignment about why HOAs Suck for the Environment (one of my proudest moments, really). She certainly convinced me! 

But this isn't about their environmentally dodgy classist bullshit, although I'm still more than furious that they forced us to cut back our pollinator-friendly giant bushes and remove the window a/c from upstairs. 

This is actually, as it turns out, about them doing their jobs; it's more about them doing so kind of annoyingly. 



A few days ago, Andrew forwarded me an email (just an email, just to him, and never any information mailed to us or any earlier notice) that he had received (admittedly) a few days before that. But still! At the earliest, we got a week's notice; I'm not sure it was even that much, though.

 In it, we were informed that they were excited to let us know that we were getting a new roof on our townhome complex. 

Roofs are good. All well and good. 

But also, they let us know that construction was going to start in a couple of days (Wednesday the 7th) and last the entire rest of October. 


Hooray?

They gave us very little additional information except that it would be dangerous to walk outside without alerting the roofing crews and our cars would need to be moved sometimes (but not exactly when or how). Oh, that we should take stuff off the walls and secure our glass objects. Oh, oh(!) - if we fuck it up, we all get fined $500 per day.

The email included a form letter from the roofing company assuring us that the experience would be "loud and invasive" and they were just going to try to get it done as quickly as possible. Except apparently "as quick as possible" is "three fucking weeks" so I don't know if I feel like that's actually accurate. As it often does, I feel that "as possible" is coming with a pretty pregnant asterisk that's doing some very heavy labor here. 

I know it's a larger roof than a single-family home, but it's not that big. There are four (not five, even if the schematic they sent us made up an imaginary fifth condo) townhouses that share the roof and they are all pretty narrow, as townhouses often are; our roof is definitely no larger than a single McMansion roof. 

But what do I know? Anyways, it's happening regardless.


Wondering how much to prepare, I looked up what it's like living in a house while it's being re-roofed: apparently, it is not awesome. 

The worst part is supposed to occur when they take the roof off, with the entire house shaking, stirred up dust that gets in through the vents, vibrations that can shake things off the walls and break glass, and the noise being about on par with standing next to a running lawnmower

It will, in other words, be difficult to homeschool in this environment; we do a lot of reading to each other, a fair bit of listening to audio books and YouTube, and generally are both just sensitive to sound. 

The other reports from roofers suggest it's definitely possible to stay in the home while the roofers are working, but also, you might want to relocate for a few days during the worst of it. Thanks. 



Of course, schedules are floatable, so reserving an Air BnB to have somewhere to go and then having the entire schedule pushed back is more than possible. Hotels and Air BnBs also tend to check in at 3 and out at 11 so it feels like I'd have to reserve some extra nights just to have the noisiest couple of days covered, anyways. But I did consider it. It's still an option.  

So far, it has been fairly mild. The "siding removal" feels haphazard at most and results in a minor trombone-type rattle that makes it feel like the house is just particularly flatulent. But, we shall see how it progresses. 

Currently I have every form of ear protection available for use and we're looking into reserving a study room at the library. But man. 


In other news: 

The plague is back! If you somehow have managed to stay off the panic-mongering of social media, here's the tea: A woman died of rapidly deteriorating pneumonia in Russia a few days ago. About 200 people were monitored as possible contacts and a couple of hospitals have been put under quarantine orders. And early reporting was that it was pneumonic plague that she had contracted from her job when a vial cracked. A little bit like Resident Evil? A little. 

Many folks who couldn't be arsed to get their flu vaccines are now freaking their shit out because most of us have the attention spans of goldfish; never mind that babies are dying of measles (fucking measles for fuck's sake), Ebola remains uncontained in Africa, cholera is making a comeback, an insane number of people still die of TB every year even though it's completely fucking treatable, and COVID and Flu season started early this year this year but naturally we all know that people who dare to vaccinate or mask in public are probably non-binary disabled witches who want to fire-bomb lesbian bars. 

Aaaaanyways. Yeah, it's Russia of massive bioweapons project fame, so people are... suspicious. Was this a bioweapon? Are we all gonna die? I dunno. Sure. Maybe. I'll never write it off, but there are so many more plausible ways for us to die off right now, I don't know why we need to start making shit up before there's a good track record of why this should beat out all the other things going on. 


Still, that it's such an old-school classic disease gives it some romance, you know? It's gripping on a personal level, as Allan and I have been doing a lot of reading/research about infectious disease and the history of medicine. And the Plague is a gripping one! From a historically influential and medically bizarre lens, it's pretty fascinating. 

Of course, you can never avoid bloodletting, mercury or arsenic in the olden days of medical intervention. But we also have a bevy of treatments, some more zany than effective and some more effective than you'd expect A few favorites I hope MAHA will reincorporate into their regimen should all this go south: 

    *    The Vicary Method involved plucking a rooster's rear-end and then strapping the (often live) poultry to the sufferer's swollen lymph nodes! The theory was that this would draw the plague into the chicken butt, I believe (guess what? plague-in-chicken-butt!!!)

     *    Rubbing chopped up snakes all over your body. 

    *  Drinking emeralds.

    *  One of my favorites: Theriac! A complex potion with at least 35 ingredients (often up to 100), theriac included copious quantities of opium, herbs and spices, and a variety of frequently poisonous plants. 

    *  Avoiding infected areas and people! Yes! Public Health involved quarantines (often kind of brutal ones, locking up entire households to wait around to die), fleeing (har har or is it fleaing?), and avoiding plague-filled areas. 

    *Rubbing human excrement into the buboes. Um... ewww? 

    * High heat! This one actually has something to it. Pope Clement was surrounded by extremely hot torches at all times on the theory that miasma (bad air) was the cause. As it turns out, high heat does kill the bacteria, so they were onto a bit of an idea there. 


 Fun facts: One of the plague doctors of the 17th Century, George Thomson, caught plague several times throughout his life. Some people seem to have a genetic variation that makes them more resistant to plague, and I'm assuming this was far more likely to have been why he never died of it than many of his remedies. 

He does get credit for questioning the Galenic theory of balancing the humors (where we get bloodletting and forcing patients to puke and have diarrhea as solid medical approach). On the other hand, his ideas weren't exactly totally there either - Helmontian chemical theory got a bit zany as well. Then again-again, he managed to speak about the archeus in ways that almost seemed to capture the immune system itself at times, albeit with a bit of the soul thrown in for good measure. A bit. During his convalescence he took the opportunity to try out his proposed treatments, including attaching a dried toad to his stomach. 

Get on this, Wellness Industry!!


Aaaaanyways. 


Today is Migratory Bird Day (Part 2); this is the autumnal version. If birds fly south, they'll fly north again later, after all. 

We shall be celebrating by going to Seward Park and looking at birds. Shocking, I know. Got to get all prepared for a rather noisy bank holiday on Monday, as the roofers start ripping off our roof in honor of Indigenous People's Day!

Wish us great pix and plenty of bird-noise!

Saturday, September 26, 2026

Almost October!

Well, well, well, forget fall: It's almost October!! The most wonderful of all wonderful times of the year! Our first storm has been survived. A few outings were outed. And I'm feeling ready for a little cider and pumpkin spice hereabouts. Bring me the cozy chair and my book! 

But first, a little Once Upon a Time (last week, mostly - and sorry, no, the outfits aren't as fabulous as the show, and there's almost no Captain Hook sashaying about, but bear with me anyways) by the (imaginary) fireside. 

Last weekend felt pretty darned autumnal. Took advantage of the change in weather to enjoy a far more atmospheric outing to Carkeek Park


Funny story (that's your cue to smile faintly and feign a laugh at the end): 

Andrew and I met up at Carkeek on one of our first dates; it was the first date that wasn't meeting up at a blues venue - and frankly, when I was at blues dancing, I was on a date with everyone in the damned building - so one could argue it was in fact a first date of sorts.

For reasons I can't remotely justify in hindsight, I showed up in an off-the-shoulder something, a pretty skirt and slip-on plastic Barbie shoes; I think I was thinking we were going to be sitting on a park bench staring at the ocean - or possible parking by a creek to look for salmon. Also, I had been out late dancing the night before, so maybe I was just straight up not thinking anything. Instead, Andrew led me on a full-scale improvised hike. (Surprising nobody who knows either of us, but remember we basically didn't know each other at that point)

Ok, ok, this was after a 10 mile run, but definitely how it felt!


Attempting to reconstruct it now, it appears that it was a relatively "easy" 2–3-mile jaunt down Piper's Creek trail (probably?). But again: Barbie shoes.

 I really remember there being some difficult terrain and feeling myself slipping around in my sweaty ass plastic shoes (did I mention I didn't have socks either?) until my feet were chapped up sweaty blisters. All the while trying very hard to be game and not cry too much, because who wants to come off as a pampered princess on what was apparently a first hiking date that I apparently 100% agreed to in the middle of a blues set?

 I think I can still feel the phantom pains of those blisters. I did eventually ask if we could take a sit and maybe just go somewhere with lots of seating. But it took a while. 

Aaaaanyways. Somehow everyone survived and lessons were learned. Gradually. Nowadays, I just wear sneakers to everything and skeptically ask "is this gonna be a hike???" before leaving the house. Seems to work. 

I had thought I'd gone back afterwards, but now I think it was actually Discovery Park I went to, and I've never been back to Carkeek. It is on the entirely wrong side of Seattle and maybe my feet are holding too much trauma. 

What I didn't know is that Carkeek also has a beach and a cool wetland area. Not that this is remotely unique in Seattle. Most beaches are situated around some level of rocky shore. But this beach was pretty damned lit. 

Photo credit to Allan - the battery on my camera was dead on this trip, so I just took a few with my cell


It was on the other side of some railroad tracks, and what really stood out was its popularity with the local crow and duck populations! There were maybe a hundred or more crows mucking about between the area where the creek hits the ocean. 

The crows were swarming about in full frolic -- flying up high into the sky, then dive bombing each other and falling to the ground in spirals. Madness as only the corvid family can bring. We spent a chilly and fulsome morning there, before heading towards the wetlands. 


The ducks owned this area! The green covering isn't' scum or algae, but some cute clover-like plant! And I'm pretty sure the ducks adored it because they were just hoovering it up in their lil bills. 


Most of the bridge path was covered with water, as there had been a bit of a storm earlier. Or was it the beavers? There were beavers there as well. Well, there were dams; I'm assuming the beavers were inside their dams, as they prefer to come out at night. It was, all said pretty neat. 

Of course, on Sunday Andrew went out to climb something tall with somebody who knows how to buy appropriate footwear, Allan zombified herself in front of as many screens as humanly possible, and I stayed home and read a book about US Vice Presidents because I am -- in fact -- super-duper FUN(!!!!!!!!!!!!*&#@!) and it's quite a shame for all the boys that I'm no longer out there on the market dating up a storm with my plastic shoes and rich lore of Zachary Taylor and Millard Fillmore (and more and more and more, just keep filling Mill!!) Did I mention my sterling sense of humor?

**

This week was the first week of full gear homeschool schedule! Every art class, every regular appointment, and every outing. Including two days of early waking up. Including a bonus day of HVAC service, which wasn't too bad but felt a bit out of sorts because we had to hide out upstairs to accommodate. 


We... 

... survived?

It was touch and go there for a while, but all's well. And all the math that was assigned was, in fact, mathed. 

Bravo, us! Bravo!




**
It ended with a small cozy bit of panic. 

On Friday, we had our very first autumn storm! It really got going for a little while there. I love that rat-a-ta-tat of rain on the roof and windows. Had to make Allan come out walking with me until I looked like I'd just stepped into the shower with my clothes on! 

This was a favorite past-time of mine in my youth: I would go out in a big rainstorm and walk around until I was utterly drenched, and then I would walk right into the lake in all my clothes and just chill there in the rain. It felt amazing to take that warm shower afterwards!

The retaining pond by the house, however, is super gross; so, I did not, in fact, attempt to dunk myself there. We just got wet and came back inside. It was still fun. 




Shortly after, the weather cleared. The day became sunny and beautiful. And it was at this very moment that the power went out!!!

The first power outage of the season is always a good time for remembering all the stuff you meant to do to prepare for power outages that you forgot. I did locate all the lanterns but realized that the big lantern was out of batteries and we didn't have any replacements. I do have roughly an ocean's worth of bottled water. But the radio has gone missing. We have zero phone battery backups. And everything in our house is electric, so meals are gonna start being bars really fast. On the bright side, I always have a few Spotify playlists downloaded on my computer, so we weren't just sitting in total silence. Phew!




I had just started dinner when it happened. The quinoa just reached boiling, and I was about to bring the stove down to a simmer for fifteen-minutes. Turns out that the burner and pot remained warm enough to cook the quinoa in about twenty-five minutes, which was cool. But by then we'd already ordered pizza. So quinoa leftovers for every meal for a few days!!

They never did say what happened. The power outage went from "under investigation" to suddenly fixed! I'm guessing it was a branch that took a while to fall or a driver running into a pole. It did impact about 5,000 people, so happy it was only an hour or two. And I'm happy that my quinoa survived to make it into the fridge. 

Bereft of her screens, Allan consented to play a board game at the table. I had the Menorah out just in case it carried on past sunset, but we didn't end up needing it. The lights finally did come back on their own. 

We are not equipped for the upcoming Apocalypse as it turns out. Ah well. We do have spotify and some board games, so as long as it's a really short Apocalypse, we'll be ok. 



Today we are being fairly chill. Fairly. Sorta. 

It's gardening day, which actually went through like a breeze. A few of the more dastardly weeds are poking back up, so they had to go. A few things needed pruning. And Allan went ham on some willowherb. And. voila! Good to go. This time of year is a lot less work than almost every other time of year, including "late winter" which is pretty much growing season around here. 

I imagine that's really all the weekend that's required here. SO, I guess it's on to reading about the founding of the FDA (man, if you think food's adulterated now, maybe try some "pepper" that's actually dust from the floor; perhaps some "strawberry jam" that involves red coloring, grass seeds and corn syrup; perhaps a little milk with formaldehyde in it to cover up the spoiled taste? Honestly, Red Dye 40 is sounding tastier by the minute!)

Happy storms and warm bevies to all!


Saturday, September 19, 2026

Full Swing (Mostly)

Well, it's been a long fortnight of ups and downs and Shrodinger's Cars in shops! But we've made it to mid-September! No more nasty little summer. Meteorological Fall is about to be backed up by the Autumnal Equinox. 

Let's do this!

After a gradual ramp up, we've arrived: School is pretty much back in session!

How's it going? Well, busy! Sometimes. It's all relative. 

Mondays this year are a bit extra!


It begins bright and early at the public school with an art class. This is the first of two public school art classes, because you can never have enough. Being the first class of the school schedule, we actually have to get up and get out of the house before the sun, which is a bit of an adjustment given the waking time has been creeping back to compensate for the creeping back bedtime.  

After art class, there's some time at home to be surly and ornery and insist we're "just not feeling math" today. No really, we're just not in the mood for multiplication. Addition is meh. Naw to the fractions. Pshaw decimals. Exponents? Don't make me puke out a hyperbola!


After some protracted struggle/strikes/minor riots, summoning of the Pinkerton Boys, and the occasional appearance of the National Guard, a dabble of math is finished under registered protest with the UN and the Hague. After this, we both retreat to our corners for a brief while until homeschool co-op time!

Co-op this semester starts with an ornithology class. Technically it's for kids aged 6-10 but it's birds and therefore non-negotiable. As Allan happily announced to the entire class within minutes of the first class, I lied about her birthday (only by a couple weeks) to register her. I know... Shame on me. But I'd do it again. It's a bit entertaining that I did this because she really ought to be in the chemistry class that I've been campaigning for ever since she did the earlier chemistry class last year and insisted it was THE BEST class ever!! But... birds. 

Anyways, the teacher actually does know her stuff, both about birds and about navigating eager young learners' enthusiastic caterwauls. And while it isn't as rigorous or detailed as Allan's outschool class (the one with the teenagers with equivalent levels of neurodivergence and expertise), it seems fun and informational. Also, next week they will be building a giant bower in the style of Bert the Bower Bird. So, kudos. 


Allan gets along with most of the kids anyways, so it works out. They are all feral as fuck, both being younger and homeschoolers, so the class is pretty wild. And in the future, I will be bringing ear plugs. 

**

After an hour or so of bird related nonsense, the class lets out and Allan goes on to an art club. The art club is mostly attended by younger kids that Allan knows and gets on with. 

Last year, I spent most of Allan's classes out reading in a hallway, but eventually I was delicately encouraged to attend the classes as well. I think the older kid-groups are usually pretty mellow, but the younger age groups tend to benefit from as many parent helpers as can be borrowed, so I started the day with ornithology and continued on to the art club as well.

 This time, the club also had a teenager - fifteen-year-old, so that level of TEEN - show up and skulk about the edges of the room, occasionally grumbling in that particular voice that quirky teenage boys have. The flashbacks. I have had "this kid" in almost every flipping arts group and class of my high school years. I can't believe they still make them like this!



The very class went something like this: 

Kiddo (Teacher's son and Allan's friend): raise your hands if you play Roblox.

(Other kids raise their hands)

Awkward teen (speaking from a corner with an irate projection one expects from amatuer theater Shakespeare): I hate Roblox!!!

Kiddo : I play Roblox too. You would think I'm too small for it wouldn't you? I'm six. I bet you think I'm too young for it. But I play Roblox. What do you like in Robox?

Awkward kid (deeply vexed ... KIDS THESE DAYS off-my-lawn energy): How about you read some Dickens, kid?!?!?

Kiddo: is that a Roblox game? 


Aside: Dickens?? I mean, Dickens is fun enough for some melodrama and your average run on sentence, but I don't usually think of him as the edgy literary snob teen's lit du jour! I dunno, how about we suggest the six-year-old read Baudelaire? Rimbaud? Sartre? Kafka? We should save the Nietzsche for 17 but... I have a list of things I read as a pretentious fifteen-year-old. Happy to lend it.


Naturally, Allan (or was it me?) was absolutely chomping at the bit to let everyone know that Charles Dickens owned a raven named Grip who is featured in the novel Barnaby Rudge which she has never read and never ever intends to read, but isn't it interesting about the raven?





Shortly after, the awkward teen gave a rather impassioned speech in response to the ice breaker question, "what is art to you?"


He did so while pacing dramatically like a makeshift Macbeth seeing the woods approaching.


Particularly that art is anything that makes you feel (as he gestures to the sky), but also there's something that distinguishes bad art (unicorn throw up graffiti on a trashcan, I believe was considered art but uninspired) from good art (I have no memory of what he thought this included because I was not paying much attention).


Honestly, I'm sure he's a good kid, but I feel like boys like this absolutely monopolized enough of my theater groups and general undiagnosed neurodivergent youth circles and I'm done indulging them with my even feigned attention.


I stick with Allan's answer, which started with something like "Art is fun". Sure, we could get all Philosophy of Aesthetics about it like we all absolutely needed to in college, and, sure, not all art is intended to be "fun"I guess... but life is short. Let art be fun when it's fun and I'll leave off to my generalized shrug about a platonic definition of the form, because philosophy is for the twenty-year olds. The rest of us have got lives and things to do.



The rest of the kids stayed at the table and decorated paper however they felt, until the teen came back in the room with a chess board and asked who wanted to play him.


Kiddo, the six-year-old, was game. His mom warned Teen that Kiddo had never played chess, so he explained the rules rather intensely and relentlessly to six-year-old Kiddo, who was largely staring off into space and heard none of it. The other kids gathered round to watch. Teen trounced Kiddo with exceptional chagrin. Seems he has yet to meet a nemesis worthy of his chess skillz. At least in the art class dominated by 6-year-olds.


Aaaaanyways.. Ornitholgy, then art and then...




After art club, of course it's playground time, which tends to range from an hour to "ohmigod I'm exhausted, I forgot to eat lunch and I have a backache AND a headache, can we leave already????" But the kids have fun running around screaming and throwing pinecones at each other until somebody starts crying. Usually, it's the third or fourth major injury that triggers the mass exodus.


They seemed to have a blast, despite a wide array of screaming and a smattering of the child equivalent of cursing (although I swear like a grandiloquent sailor, Allan has only ever cursed once and was immediately embarrassed by her slip up - she is thoroughly buying into my strategy wherein she rebels against me by never swearing at all)


So.... that's Monday. Yep. Monday. Everything else seems pretty speedy from there.

Tuesday is actually quite mellow, as Allan only has one Outschool class. Well, this week she had to go to the doctor and get a handful of vaccines, but usually. Of course, Monday was an absolute bear, so Tuesday is perhaps not the most productive of all days. We survive. We wade through some material. We rest.



Wednesday is a bit more involved, but luckily the return to the public school isn't until nine, which makes a world of difference. Allan also has a writing class shortly after. It's a somewhat fun class (I asked Allan if she liked it and she said, "Mmmmm I dunno!" which is better than hating it), and I like the work with organization. But I swear, this teacher is trying to teach them to write like AI. All those catchy hooks and little catch-phrases. 

Anyways, we're sticking it out for a little while and then we'll see where we land. Later, we actually happily do our American History and quite unhappily do our math. And eventually work in another Outschool class. 

Thursday is our visit to the horses, meaning we do almost no other topics, except listen to an ornithology podcast in the car, read a few magazines and do some "Math review," which is just a form of color-by-number for various math equations and facts. Allan still protests but far less vehemently. She's admitted this is actually quite fun, and the protest is more symbolic. 

Friday is art class again! Or will be! Followed by her online ornithology class. And hopefully the other subjects. Eventually. The ornithology class gets elaborate notes that then must be reviewed, illustrated, and color coded and this can take actual hours. And by that times, well, TGIF, nobody is getting any more work done! So... we get to what we get to. 



I constantly swing between feeling like I'm worrying to much about formalities and that we're doing way too little. 

It is wild to me how much time is devoted to each subject in public school. Two hours on ELA, 90 minutes on math.... 45 minutes on Social Studies and another 45 on Science. I don't know what I thought they did in public school, but it never felt like that much when I was there. 

I mostly remember recess, gym, art and chorus, as well as whatever school plays I did. I have almost no memory of ELA or math, which might correlate to how I also have very limited recollection of how it felt to give birth other than not being able to pee in a cup and being concerned to hear that the nurse couldn't find the cervix (literally the panic was "oh no, it's gone missing?? How will I give birth without a cervix??? Oh, wait...").

 But I guess at least they claim they are doing a fairly rigorous schedule. 


Which also confuses me. Everyone is chagrined at how poorly students are doing recently, while also bemoaning the decline of recess and the academicization of kindergarten (which is developmentally a bit dubious, I really have to say). 

Are we just making school harder and harder while student outsource more and more of it? I'm not sure I understand the disconnect. I know, I hear that everything is getting dumbed down and the use of tech in school hasn't been hugely successful. But still. It baffles me a bit.  

Whenever I go through the fairly amorphous Washington state standards for fifth grade classes, it feels like unless my child is writing small PhDs on a weekly basis. I must be doing something wrong! Even though apparently college students can't do basic math, write a sentence or speak in coherent sentences according to a remarkable number of chagrined professors writing long essays online. 


As you might have inferred, we mostly have fallen into a lax structure with a lot of unschooling influences. Unschooling makes me nervous, but also, attention is a tenuous thing, burn out is a real issue and focus only lasts in bursts. 

I do, however, acknowledge that Allan reads on her own most evenings. I acknowledge that she journals of her own volition. I also acknowledge that I read several books to her that are typically science or history related (usually from two or three different ones each day at various points). I further acknowledge we listen to educational podcasts and that she chooses a lot of educational Youtube content. I even futher acknowledge that Allan plays with word puzzles for fun and has subscriptions to several magazines. That she sporadically journals. And that might change how much formal education offers benefits over benign neglect. 

But still! Girl hasn't written a single 50 page PhD yet! 

Ah well. Somehow, we will survive. I take comfort that maybe the schools aren't sure how to do it either. And somehow, we all still seem to be 


Aaaaanyways. Enough of this school nonsense! The weekend is here and it's time to feel super aimless and wander around wondering what I'm supposed to do, despite there being about fifty chores I typically schedule for these two weekend days. 


Hizzah!