We haven’t carved a pumpkin in several years, so it’s sort of sweet to put one out again.
In the comments, someone asked I am able to keep all of the books, or if I face “tough decisions.” I have not kept all of the books, but that did not involve tough decisions; after all, not every book is a keeper. We sold or donated more than a quarter of the library before our last move and nearly that much again when our home education adventure concluded; and my rate of acquisition since then has not yet outpaced the shelving space with which we outfitted the forever home.
The space is finite, though, something my husband and daughters, who often help me shelve and shift, regularly remind me.
About a third of the students in the first aid and CPR course we completed over the summer were, as my older daughter and I are, employed by schools. The instructor remarked that, like the certification we earned that afternoon, basic ASL skills are also a terrific asset to educators, both in emergency situations and in the classroom. Naturally, then, when the local college posted a fall course schedule that included a four-semester sequence of ASL classes, it seemed like one of those serendipity / synthesis / synchronicity moments, and we enrolled.
The required text for the class is A Basic Course in American Sign Language; I picked up the optional workbook and DVDs from the series, too. Knowing that we appreciate having several delivery options when we study, my younger daughter, who began learning ASL from a college friend last year, recommended Sign School (which her friend played a large role in developing) and the American Sign Language Dictionary app.
While my daughters use their skills regularly, the older in her work and the younger to communicate with her friend, my husband (who also decided to take the class) and I don’t have an immediate need for ASL. Both of us have been teaching fingerspelling, however: he to his colleagues and I to my students. I have also taught my students several signs, including AWESOME, SURPRISED, and INTERESTING.
Perhaps it goes without saying, but the fact that, even now, we are still engaged in a version of the family-centered learning project is so motivating. Bonus: My study group lives with me or is only a FaceTime call away!
Last night I finished reading Book 51 of the year, Thi Bui’s illustrated memoir, The Best We Could Do. Because I’m about halfway through The Perfect Mother (Aimee Molloy), a meh recent novel, and Janesville, an excellent non-fiction work, I expect to meet the goal of Robin’s 52 Books in 52 Weeks by Thursday.
On the topic of non-fiction, I’m well positioned to meet one of my own reading goals: to read thirty-six non-fiction tiles in 2018. I’ve read seventeen, so far. In fact, here are my commonplace book entries for the sixteenth, Sarah Perry’s haunting memoir about her mother’s murder, After the Eclipse:
As far back as I could remember, reading had been a perfect escape, an alternate universe where none of the problems were mine. When I was upset at home or school, I could always pull out a book, or know that one was waiting for me in the next quiet moment. In first grade, encouraged by my teacher, I began writing stories, and this was even better; I could create whatever escape I wanted, include whatever characters I wanted to spend time with. Writing gave me power.
Sometimes, the scary thing about suicide was that it seemed inevitable, the only logical end to everything that had happened.
Violence outpaced lab funding everywhere.
Our family book club is tackling The Aeneid this summer. We’ve already listened to the three introductory lectures in Elizabeth Vandiver’s course on the work and have decided to read one of The Aeneid’s twelve books each week, complemented by the appropriate lecture(s). The Girls Rule! Book Club has also tentatively scheduled Madame Bovary (Gustave Flaubert) and The Art of War (Sun Tzu), which may prove a bit ambitious with their commitments, but we’ll see.
The library’s reading program commences later this week, and frankly? My group enjoys some slightly lighter fare in the summer, too, so my assembled a pile of fiction includes Sometimes I Lie (Alice Feeney) and Red Clocks (Leni Zumas) — perfect, I think, for reading lakeside in the early morning between birdwatching and chillaxing.
This week provides a bit of a breather between two fairly momentous events: my older daughter’s college graduation and my younger daughter’s departure for an internship at [insert name of U.S. national laboratory here]. Soon, everything will change again, but in this brief, not-quite-yet space, we have been assembling our Girls Rule! summer book club list (more about that soon), shopping for career wear (theirs), swapping work stories, planning the next few weekends of theater and museum adventures, walking, working in the yards, and simply enjoying one another’s company.
My school year concludes soon, which should translate into a bit more time to post about some of the terrific books I’ve read and plays I’ve seen this year. And I have plenty to say about adult music-learning and -making, too. Until then, pics of recent acquisitions must do.
Miles driven in those nine days.
Films seen: Lola rennt (1998) and Die fetten Jahre sind vorbei (2004).
Plays seen: The Book of Will at Northlight and Hard Times at Lookingglass.
Geocaches found, the first of which represented 8 of 15 in the challenge on which we are working and the second of which marked the nineteenth find since beginning this pursuit. (Yes, we are doing this quite slowly.)
Games played. We worked on a puzzle, instead.
Pieces in the puzzle.
Zoo visited — our holiday tradition.
Chapters in our latest podcast obsession, Accused. We finished eight of those chapters while on break.
Books finished. I will finish the final one hundred pages of The Road to Jonestown (Jeff Guinness) today.
Hours slept last night. I sleep better when they’re home. Sigh.