Snolfs

I don't have kids. But for those who do, I want to make sure you are aware of a resource that, to me, appears superb. There's a guy named Arthur Robinson, a scientist who long ago worked hand in hand with Linus Pauling, who was forced to figure out what to do with his children when his wife died leaving him with the brood. The Robinson Curriculum is what resulted. I highly recommend giving it a look. He has produced at least one impressive scientist son using this program and I expect the others will excell as well.

- NonE

It didn’t go as intended—which was a given before we’d even set off—but our weekend away was nonetheless filled with a lot of pleasure. The snolfs got to try their fishing poles, at long last; but, not having tried to learn anything about their equipment nor the fish in the waters they were plying, didn’t get so much as a nibble. Snolf the First was especially frustrated, because his supposedly better reel kept tangling the line when he’d try to rewind, but Darlin’ Daughter’s willingness to share her rod offset that frustration quite nicely. They learned how to cast fairly quickly, and did pretty well at it. They apparently chose the most garish of lures they have—a big red and white stripedy thing—and it looked comically out of place in the clear, cold water of the lake. Maybe the fish were as amused as I was; all the same, the snolfs enjoyed themselves, and I enjoyed watching their antics and seeing their happiness.

We had other kinds of fun as well, but I won’t bore everyone with a detailed recounting. Suffice to say that we found more interesting things to explore than we had time for, and we intend to return to the area.

Lobo and I were each a bit preoccupied in our own ways by the doings of humans in the world at large, and that was hard to shake over the weekend. Yet, nestled up in the mountains, trying to avoid human interaction as much as possible, we too were soothed by the music of wind in pines or rushing rapids; we enjoyed seeing birds of prey coasting on thermals; in short, nature provided a welcome balm.

And I wonder how it is that regular individuals—not the petty tyrants who administer and bureaucratize and dictate the rules and regulations by which we’re supposed to order our lives; in being such creatures they show they have no soul left to reclaim or rejuvenate—can so seemingly placidly plod along with those restrictions and orders.

How can someone breathe deeply of fresh, clean air; take in the breathtaking beauty abundant in nature; feel a child’s small hand slip into theirs as they walk side by side; how can any person observe or even think about the countless ways the world displays its beauty, even amongst man-made jungles, and then turn to become a cog of the state?

How do people who see the glories and the wonder–full potential of our world willingly go off to kill others in some faraway place? How can they blind themselves to the potential of those faraway places, or worse, trash the beauty there?

What does the state offer that is so powerful, so enticing, that people willingly turn their backs on their own dreams and goals, and become its thralls? I do not think most people are intrinsically that evil, nor that stupid, to choose such a deal with such a devil. But its siren songs sing to them in ways I cannot hear; or perhaps more accurately, I heard but never stopped questioning, and hence the song held no charms for me.

I may be nothing but an aging idealist, yet I cling to the belief that many people’s eyes could be opened if they would just look a little harder, or have a key question dropped into their minds. While I often ask “why”, it seems to me that for many, pointing out the contrast between a life as it is, and that life as it could be—as it was meant to be, free from busybody interference and coercive intrusion—by asking “how” might be the right key.

Lobo’s and Snolf the First’s birthdays are right around the corner, and much of my time of late has gone into trying to prepare for them—especially the latter. To be more clear, Snolf I said he wanted to take a camping trip in my trailer, so I have been trying to get it ready for its maiden journey with us ... but sadly, that won’t be this weekend.

When I wrote in the introductory column to the most recent Sunni’s Salon that “we aren’t holding high hopes for a bumper crop of anything but lessons learned”, I wasn’t indulging in false modesty. And it is now official—as reports start to come in, even friends with self-professed brown thumbs are reaping their rewards. So, how does Sunni’s garden grow? Let’s go out to the patch to review the sorry state of affairs.

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately ... some things you can guess about, others you’ll likely hear about here eventually, and some issues that will never be mentioned publicly. Suffice it to say that stuff was starting to weigh fairly heavily on me. But today I found a surefire cure for that weight.

Take one Darlin’ Daughter, add an awesome older brother (that’d be Snolf the First), a fun loving wolf, and lots of water. Slosh around well, and leave in the sun to get warm [viz., D.D. wanted to go to a water park]. Then add good pood, lots of presents, and chocolate cake with ice cream.

The result? One birthday very happily celebrated, and a tired but happy family.

The picture has little to do with our day ... for those of you who know my Darlin’ Daughter, you may recall her fondness for snails—and that’s a version of her animal totem the snail is hitching a ride from. She squealed in delight when I showed her the picture this morning, so I thought some of you might like it too.

[Addendum: I posted this late Monday night my time, but the site’s time zone is apparently different ... hence the difference between the header date, and the time stamp on the post itself.]

I’ve been so busy lately that I’ve barely had time to collect my thoughts, much less rub two of ’em together to see if they spark. This morning, however, vivid images past and present swirled in my mind; aided by a thread elsewhere, I resisted the urge to squash a poetic moment. And upon contemplating the result, I decided I liked it enough to put it here.

We finally had a deviation from the unusually damp and cool spring here, and I made good use of it. I’ve been dodging the showers as best I can, getting the garden plot ready for planting. Yesterday morning, I finished that task; and in the afternoon, the snolfs and I finally got the garden planted!

Both snolfs like the Asterix and Obelix books, but Snolf the First really enjoys them. He re-reads the books we have regularly, has adopted some of the phrases and mannerisms that run through the books, and has long wanted to have roast boar.

But I am so pleased with our Darlin’ Daughter (AKA Snolf the Second). A few days ago, I invited her to read a book with me, the deal being that we’d alternate reading pages. She very reluctantly agreed—not surprising, that, since she has been telling herself for quite some time that she can’t read.

Yes, her reading was slow and halting, with a lot of the drawn-out sounds characteristic of someone who is sounding out words. (Her cute, high voice doing this, with an invariably rising pitch at the end of each sound, sent me into fits of giggles, which did not help the situation. But, thankfully, she giggled too, rather than get mad at me.) I think she surprised herself by how well she was doing; the next day she hopped into my lap and asked when we would continue reading the story. And her reading was noticeably better than the first day.

We just finished today’s session, in which we started reading a different book. D.D. still sounds out a few words very slowly, and her overall pace is that of a beginning reader, but I do believe she can be called a “reader” now. A little bit of phonics work, and I think she’ll be soaring on her own!

I’m so thankful Lobo and I resisted our inclinations to try to push her on this. Yeah, she may be starting later than most kids, but some just seem to need more time to be ready to handle reading. Pushing will not help that, and will almost certainly hurt the child’s attitude and interest in learning how to read. Reading is far too critical a skill to risk like that, especially for the dubious aim of remaining on the educrats’ timetable.

Warning: lots of self-indulgent emoting and navel-gazing follows.

Well, it turns out that we will end up appearing to be more traditional than we actually are. I’d forgotten that it’s Easter season when I ordered a Kentucky country ham earlier this week. It is now in its daylong bath to remove a lot of the excess salt, in preparation for a lovely feast tomorrow. I do believe this is a good excuse to get some more Maker’s Mark ... a bourbon glaze is just the thing for this ham!

In a bit – after all the breakfasting is done – I’ll be boiling some eggs so that we can undertake our first experiments with coloring them with natural dyes. I have wanted to do this for years, and it’s quite possible that I am more excited about the project than the snolfs are. Look for a report, possibly with some pictures, to follow – if I survive the process, that is.

One of my favorite meats is turkey; and it’s also a meal that I greatly enjoy preparing. Transforming that pale, slippery skin into a golden, crisp covering for the juicy meat beneath is very satisfying ... and even a small turkey provides a good amount of meat. MAL has been known to bring home a turkey in the summer, and even then I’m happy to fire up the oven and stovetop to roast the turkey and make mashed potatoes and gravy.

Someday I’ll post my oven-roasted turkey recipe, and challenge Ian to a turkey cook-off—he’s already posted his brining and cooking procedure (I’m too lazy to look it up at the moment). For now, I’m focusing on ways to handle leftovers. I’ve got a good turkey soup recipe down pat, as well as turkey-potato cakes, but it’s nice to add another variation to one’s recipe box.

The other day, I set out a bunch of frozen turkey meat without a clear idea of what I was going to do with it for dinner. I started tossing things into a saucepan, stirring and sampling, and what I ended up with was a dish MAL and I really liked. The snolfs, however, did not. Having just read parts of a Calvin and Hobbes book, they dubbed my creation “Bat Barf”. I doubt that it resembles bat barf at all, but I’ve a feeling the name will stick (another of my creations has the lovely title “Ick and Yuck”).

Anyway, I’d told Ian that if he posted a chicken rotis recipe he’d mentioned, I’d post my bat barf recipe. Ian has come through in his singular style – here’s his amusing method for making chicken rotis. Read on – if you dare! – for the soon-to-be-legendary [or maybe not] recipe for Bat Barf.

Snolf the First was sick all day yesterday—fever, chills, very scratchy throat, awful headache, weak ... so guess who’s got the bug today? Darlin’ Daughter and I, that’s who. This headache rivals some of my worst hangovers.

With any luck I’ll be more vertical tomorrow ... but for now, back to bed with the wiggly, sick snolf.

They’re here! The snolfs, that is. We had a grand weekend, consisting mostly of feasting, reading, playing, and of course, our belated new year’s celebration. I had to go to a nearby Big City airport to fetch them from Lobo ... Wow. That’s about all I can say about that experience.

As I've been seeing to other business over the past couple of days, the business of child-rearing has remained in my mind. As I mentioned in a comment yesterday, creativity is an important element of the undertaking.


Ever since I was old enough to notice it, I've despised the idea of parents treating all their children the same. Not being the oldest child, I felt that my parents unjustly, and unjustifiably tied my options to my elder sibling's behavior -- and I had no control over that! My focus has shifted since then, of course, but I still dislike the practice.

I'm not saying that some children "are more equal than others". I'm saying that children, just like adults, are individuals, and that forgetting that, especially for a parent, can be problematic. Adults don't generally think much about the variability that babies show in acquiring certain skills -- learning to walk and talk chief among them -- as long as it isn't unusually delayed. It's accepted as normal that some children will learn to walk at nine months, and others won't until twelve or even fifteen months. So why is it apparently acceptable to try to use the same learning or disciplinary techniques on different children, just because they're in the same family?

Many people will respond that doing so is only "fair", especially to the children involved. And even though I too railed against the unfairness of the world when I was younger, it didn't take me too long to realize that fairness is one of those grand-sounding schemes that reduce to sucking the uniqueness out of life. Life isn't fair; it is random and capricious and opportunistic, and I think we do ourselves and our children no favors if we expect otherwise. Trying to keep discipline "fair" among children means that square, heptagonal, and decagonal children all are expected to fit into a round slot. It also encourages the children to accept (or endure) such attempts at pruning. Neither of these ideas sits well with my goal of trying to help my children discover and capitalize on the best within themselves.

It took a few attempts at using time-out with my daughter to really bring this lesson home to me. She, unlike her older brother, simply didn't care about being in time out. Thus, a warning of an impending time out wasn't sufficient to get her to rethink her current actions. However, she very much enjoys special mother-daughter time. Thus, telling her that I wouldn't be willing to spend time combing her hair or reading poems to her is highly effective.

Many parents also don't seem to recognize that they can learn a lot from even their young children. The flow of knowledge seems to be thought of as unidirectional, with the parents imparting insights and the children soaking them up. But both are active participants in that dynamic activity, and I think it's very important for children to experience their parents learning new things, rethinking existing ideas, and such. So my children get credit from me when they help me learn something new, or when they enable me to make a connection between things I hadn't seen before. Since everybody gets a turn, so to speak, at being "leader" and "follower", they learn more about social interactions (including how those can differ for girls and boys) and dynamics in addition to whatever subject is under consideration.

I've a feeling I'm not communicating all that I want to very well this morning. But, rather than ramble on, I trust anyone wishing to explore further will ask or comment.