Pithy Signs Don't Make You Cool

It seems like everywhere I go lately, every store, every home, everywhere there are these wall hangings with clever, sweet and pithy little sayings like,

Last night, my husband and I were out and we saw one that said this:

In our home, we

Live Joyfully... Sometimes, but not always. Read this, and you'll know sometimes I'm really sad.

Laugh Abundantly... Sometimes we do laugh so hard it hurts. But, what does abundantly mean? 

Sometimes, we don't laugh at all. Sometimes, we yell and call names. Sometimes, we are mean.

Give Generously... That sounds nice. Wouldn't it be nice if we did that?

Love Affectionately...

Care Deeply...

Listen Carefully...

Smile Spontaneously...

Yes, let's do those things. 

Pray faithfully...

Forgive Freely... Yes, let's do these things too. I want us to do these things.

Play Adventurously... This one. This one, my boys have it down. They know how to play adventurously. But, it's okay. I'm not afraid of the E.R. Been there. Done that.

Hug Tightly... This one. I'm really good at this one. I can give Squishes ALL DAY.

But, I look at this list. This wall hanging that I keep seeing everywhere I go, and I wonder.

If I buy it and hang it on the wall, will that make it true?

No. It won't.

I didn't buy it. I'll probably never buy it. 

But, then I saw another sign and it gave me an idea. We don't have an Elf on the Shelf to do silly things or give our kids little gifts, and we don't pretend that a fat man in a red suit is bringing them stuff either. 

But, they do have a generous Dad and a silly mama. So, this morning, while they were all sleeping, I made them a sign. One we can all do. It's on the wall in my kitchen. 

It looks like this:

This.

I'm pretty sure we can accomplish this.

We are going to be amazing today.

And, maybe we'll even be amazing every day.

People are like painted walls, you never know what's underneath all those layers

Home remodeling projects always take more work and more time than we expect.
Several weeks ago, I started to tackle the bathroom walls.

Several months ago, I tried to ignore the bathroom walls.

The paint kept peeling. I would pick at it just a little with my fingernails, just enough to keep it smooth so the babies wouldn't mess with it. But, it just kept getting looser and looser until the spaces that were missing paint were pretty obvious.

Too BIG to ignore.

So, I got a scraper. I still intended it to be a quick job. Simple.
I would just scrape around the loose edges, get it smooth enough to paint and paint over the problem. That's obviously what everyone before me had done.

I even found the matching paint in the collection of various colors that line a wall in our basement. The can even said "downstairs bath"

But, no. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems.

The "downstairs bath" color was NOT the current color of the downstairs bathroom walls. No match. I looked again. I'm still hoping that maybe one of those unlabeled cans might be a match, because I haven't opened them all, so there's still hope.

But, then I had another thought. The painted walls look like tile. The floors are ceramic tile. Hard tile. Like every dish that hits the floor breaks on this tile. What if the bathroom walls were the same tile, but painted over? Wouldn't that be neat?

I thought maybe I could pull back the layers and find something beautiful underneath. I like to think I'm that way. Covered with layers of life experience, some beautiful, some ugly, but underneath it all is something wonderful. I wanted the walls to be beautiful underneath all that paint.

Layer after layer after layer, I slowly and carefully peeled and scraped until finally I found bare tile. But, it was not what I thought. It's just plaster.

Today, it made me think about how people are sometimes that way too. They look on the outside like something beautiful underneath the layers of life, but then they turn out to be mostly plaster covered in paint. Layers and layers of paint, but nothing but plaster in the end.

So, now, I've set myself up for all this work, and I still  have to finish peeling the paint layers off the wall, so my babies don't. And when that's done, it will be my chance to make it something beautiful. Because plaster can be patched and painted. So, I'll join the long line of women who have lived in this home and thought they could make it beautiful. This time it will be my turn to discover a beauty within myself that I can project onto the walls of my home, so that the next person might see something beautiful under a few less layers.

Why don't you just ask for help?

Why don't you just ask for help?

Sometimes, I get a little crazy. Some people call it Depression, some call it panic attacks, some call it anxiety.

I think DROWNING. I feel like I'm drowning.
Can't. Get. Enough. Air. To. Breathe.

Sometimes, it makes me say mean things. Sometimes, it makes me cry irrationally. Sometimes, it makes feel like I'm dying.

I used to think I was the only one going through my emotions, that they were brought about by the circumstances of my life. Abandonment. Neglect. Loneliness.

When I was in high school, I used to do all sorts of crazy things to try to get attention. Attention from my mom, my teachers, my classmates. Boys. Mostly, I tried to get attention from boys.

Then, when I got to college, I thought there must be something wrong with ME. It was not my circumstances. I met other people who had gone through way worse things than I had. They survived. They didn't panic or cry or freak out. They just went on. Why did I have so much trouble going on?

I thought I must need drugs, therapy, some remedy for this ailment of mine.

But, that didn't seem to help either.

As the past twenty years have gone by, I still get crazy sometimes. Some times I get crazy more often than not. But, I've come to realize that so does everyone else.

Everyone I've ever met, who I've really gotten to know, has admitted in some way at some time, that yes, they too have moments of crazy. Moments when you can't figure out how to move past the emotional block in your mind. When you just can't imagine how life can go forward from this moment and ever be good again. Sometimes, you can't imagine good at all. You can't even remember that it ever was.

EVERYONE.

Now, if you have a friend who has admitted this to you. I believe you have. You probably tried to give them some advice. I always do.

Try Vitamin X.
Try this therapist.
Try Medication Z.
Try Yoga.
Try. Try. Try.

Let me tell you how much I've tried. I've found that the more I try to FIX this thing, this craziness, this whatever it is, the more I find I can't FIX anything. I only end up making things worse, feeling like more of a failure and then spiralling downward into the insanity abyss.

Why don't you just ask for help? Well meaning as it is, and I say it too. Usually, we say something like, "Just call me." "I'll help you." "Let me know what I can do to help you."

I know you mean well. I always mean well when I say it too. It is a most sincere offer. Mine usually goes something like this.

"The coffee is always on at my house. Please, come interrupt my day." (Many thanks to the wonderful friend who first said this to me and meant it.)

But, it doesn't fix the hurt. I don't know why some things in life hurt SO much. But, I do know who carries that hurt for me.

Why don't I just ask for help? It isn't because I don't believe you, or that I don't trust you. It's simply that I know there really isn't anything that you can do. In those moments of crazy, I don't believe that anything can be done.

If I thought there was something that could be done to help the situation, then I would have already done it. See? It has nothing to do with the kind of friend I think you are, or whether or not I believe you are sincere. In that moment, I don't believe that anything can FIX it. It is a moment without HOPE. It is scary and I don't see any way out.

The only thing that pulls me out of the abyss is Jesus Christ. I find myself often laying helpless at the foot of the cross and begging for God to please, please, please just end this pain.

I wish I could say that He always does. But, He doesn't. He just carries me through it to the other side. He helps me remember the good. He helps me see that there is good on the other side, and He reminds me of the people and things that I love. Then, I wipe the tears off my face and I do the next thing.

That's it. Just do the next thing.

"It's okay to feel sad sometimes. Little by little, you'll feel better again." - Daniel Tiger

NOTE: Just to be clear, I'm not making light of real diseases, like Clinical Depression here. I'm just talking about the reality of living in a sinful world where we all pretend we are as happy as our internet memes portray us to be.

The Giver book review

The Giver by Lois Lowry.

I didn't like it. But, it has had me thinking and talking about it ever since I read it, so that's something. I had not read it before this past fall when it came up on our book club list, but many people have. in fact, they often say they read it around fourth grade.

This fact is what has me talking about it.

I don't question that the book is an easy read. It wouldn't be too difficult for a fourth grader. But, just because someone can read a book, it doesn't mean they should.

SPOILER ALERT - the following text will give away some important plot points. You've been warned.

The setting for the story is a utopian society where everyone is assigned a role during childhood, and those who aren't useful or don't follow the rules are thrown away.

Literally.

They are injected in the forehead with a needle of poison and then they are disposed of in the trash bin. Babies who don't meet milestones? Trash. Old people who don't work? Trash. Women who've had three babies? Trash.

It's fiction. I'm a Stephen King fan. I can handle scary. And gory. And weird.

What bothers me is why is this such a highly recommended book for elementary students?

Here's my own mental connection. (Keep in mind, this blog used to be called 'onecrazylady' so I make no claims about having some kind of revelation that isn't completely nuts. This is just my opinion)

The adults who read this book in elementary school over the past twenty plus years are now part of a generation that struggles with "life" issues. We fight about abortion, euthanasia, etc. Is it possible that this one story "The Giver" is just a small cog in a wheel of an education that normalized the idea that the only way to have utopia is to throw away those who aren't useful? And, don't we all want a perfect society?

The young and idealistic twenty-somethings fighting for a world where there are no guns, no arguments, no anger, no crime... maybe it all starts by forgetting how our world got so messed up in the first place (Adam and Eve trying to become God) and it ends with all of us taking drugs to keep from feeling any emotions and throwing away all the people who don't fit into the perfect mold we've created.


Alright. Having said all that, I actually like the book a little more. It's a pretty good what if? scenario.

I still don't think we should be assigning it to fourth graders.

Making my home beautiful

I live in a parsonage.
That means I am always struggling to balance the fact that this is my home, but it is not my house.

Before my husband attended Seminary, we had always owned our own home. All of our married life was spent in homes that belonged to us, homes that we made payments on, homes that we put our financial equity in as well as our sweat equity.

I've spent most of my adult life living in a place that was wholly mine.

I don't mind not being responsible for all the maintenance and repairs, that part doesn't bother me a bit. But, during Seminary life, we were renters. It was never ours and it was always short term, always had an end date.

So, I didn't hang pictures on the walls, or paint, or decorate or care if it was beautiful. I found beauty in my children and my books instead.

But, now, we don't know how long we'll be here.

I think part of making a place feel like home is making it beautiful. But, everyone has their own idea of beautiful.

I think about this as I scrape through layer after layer of paint on the bathroom walls. It had started to peel, probably because of the humidity, and I had picked at the peeling paint. I couldn't help myself. I felt obligated to fix it. I planned to scrape just the loose bits and then paint the walls, but it kept coming off and every time I thought I was ready to paint, I would find another loose spot.

There are reds and greens and blues and creams and pinks and shades of grey. Some I think, oh I like that color and others I think oh my I wouldn't have chosen that. But, all of these colors and patterns were beautiful to someone at sometime. Now, it's my turn to choose what I think is beautiful.

We've been here for two and half years, and this will be the first time that I have had a chance to put some of myself into this space. It will never be my house, but maybe someday it will feel like home.

Failing NaNoWriMo 2015

It's November 29, 2015. Only two days left to complete NaNoWriMo. I have less than 15,000 words in this year's story. No where near the 50,000 needed to win. I will write today and some tomorrow maybe, and I will get closer, but I probably won't reach the goal.

It feels like failure. But, I've learned a lot this year.

In September, I read books and completed research to create a plan for writing a book. I put together a schedule and worked to see how many hours could realistically be squeezed out of each day.

In October, I put my plan into action, created an outline, character sketches and setting descriptions for November's novel.

In November, I set out to turn October's work into a finished novel.

I'm not there yet.

Instead, I went on vacation with my husband and children. A week of fun and sights and visiting. I took my laptop along, but my kids are just too much fun to be ignored.

Then, I won a huge turkey from out local grocer, so I invited some friends for Thanksgiving, so I fed twenty people dinner because they are more important than that story.

But, now that the last days are here, I can't make any more excuses.

I didn't finish the word count because I didn't put in the hours.

That's all.

I chose to do other things, like dishes and laundry, changing diapers and playing with babies. Every day I made the choice to be a mom and let the story sit.

But...
and this is a big one...
I'm not finished.

11:59pm on November 30th is not the final minute of my writing adventure.

This story will still be here. The outline is still solid, my characters compelling and the story worth telling. So, I won't win NaNoWriMo this year, but I am not defeated.

NaNoWriMo 2015

It's NaNoWriMo time!
I've been blog lazy lately, but November always drives me to designating writing time, and that always makes me think about blogging.

So, this year, I'm working on a book to finish. My NaNoWriMo journey is different, more mature maybe. In years past, I've ridden the wild ride in the chase of the fifty thousand word mark.

But, now, I'm thinking about the end product more than I'm thinking about numbers.

This year's novel journey actually began in October as I spent the previous month writing the outline for this novel. I'm working through my notes from a book I read a few years ago that gave step by step instructions to completing a novel. I've made some adjustments and catered it to my own writing style.

I've created character sketches, written setting descriptions and outlined major plot, several subplots, back stories and scenery.

Now, I enter November with a pile of ideas all ready to come together in a cohesive story line.

My word count is growing slower than I might like (probably because I'm raising and teaching 8 children - and we are on vacation this week, so every day is filled with museums and zoos and parks and fun stuff, bringing me home exhausted by the time I put all the tired babies to bed.)

But, I'm excited!

I'm dreaming about putting this year's novel on KDP or some other self-publishing platform. I would love to hear your experiences with this format.

Do calories count if I throw up?

First, let's get a few things straight: 

I am overweight.

I am counting calories in order to lose weight.

I am NOT bulimic.

I do throw up sometimes.

I spent two stressful days on the road for a funeral. I ate fair food, fast food and gas station food.

For TWO DAYS!

I ate a LOT of calories.

My first night home, I woke up sick. I'm sure it was my body rejecting my poor excuse for nutrition. But, it made me curious. I wondered if the calories would still count against me.

I searched this question and found some disturbing answers. Most of them were along the lines of 

"If you're sick, you shouldn't be worried about calorie counting."

OR

assumptions that the question implied the person asking had a problem such as bulimia.

But, I'm curious and I like the math to be accurate. I like to think of things scientifically. So, I changed my question.

What is a calorie? A calorie is a measurement of the heat that is required to heat one milliliter of water one centigrade. Read more here.

How does the human body get calories? Here's the basic answer from a microbiologist:

Food is broken down into smaller parts to make it easier to digest in the mouth and stomach. (macro-nutrients into micro-nutrients).

Nutrients are not absorbed into the body until they are broken down into their simplest parts, which happens in the small intestine. These nutrients contain the calories.

So, the short, uncomplicated answer is this: Calories enter your body in the small intestine, so food you throw up does not contain calories you can count.

Another simple explanation can be found here. Keeping this phrase in mind, "Absorption must first occur so that fuel can enter the cell."

So, there you go. If you are just curious like me, I hope this helps you understand the process. Sometimes,  you just have to ask the right questions.

Homeschooling with a Meek and Quiet Spirit by Teri Maxwell book review

I thought this was a really good read. 

First, It’s short; you could probably finish it in the doctor’s waiting room. This is great for the busy mom.

She does speak to the important job of the homeschooling mom in her preface, “There isn’t a more determined, dedicated set of women in the entire world! You have chosen an unpopular, difficult path that comes with little outside encouragement. Yet, you have set your face on obedience to the Lord and what you know is best for your children no matter what it costs your personally!”(9)

But, she has some good, honest insight into the heart and mind of a mom, not just those that homeschool. She speaks to our inclination to dwell in states of worry, anger, fear, anxiety and frustration. I think many moms would appreciate this text.

She encourages all those who are seeking Christ in their vocation, when she writes “…when Jesus Christ calls one to a task, He can also give the enthusiasm to go with it.” (13)

She encourages moms to recognize sin and call it what it is, confess and receive absolution. Perhaps my favorite quote from this book is  “Godly sorrow truly grieves over sin, confesses and repents of it. Then godly sorrow puts a smile on its face and walks in the joy of ‘no condemnation’!” (52)

What a beautiful thing forgiveness is.

Maxwell puts this in opposition to the idea of worldly sorrow, such as “…disappointment in your spirit that the reality of homeschooling didn’t match the ideal.” (16) 

These words spoke to me as I considered my moments of despair most often come from a feeling of failure that is directly related to my own high expectations not being met, which then leads me to feel that I have failed in some way to achieve the perfection that I had perceived possible. The root of this is my own PRIDE.

She says this well, “When negative emotions come over me, it is usually because I am thinking about myself.” (109)

This is not an advice book, or homeschooling book with curriculum suggestions, but simply a book that shares her personal journey in the search of contentment. It is hard work that we do as moms, and homeschooling adds to that work load, but we can, with the help of God, be content in the work that we do.

You can get a copy of Homeschooling With a Meek and Mild Spirit here.

Why Marriage Matters For Girls

The wealth of a classical education is that we can learn from the foolishness of those who came before us by reading about them. In my quest to improve my own education, I've been working my way through The Well-Educated Mind.

Well, okay, that's a flat out lie.

The truth is I've been working my way through the first novel in the reading list, Don Quixote, and slowly at that.

But, I stopped reading this morning as I came across a quote that struck me. Quixote, in his adventures, comes across a man who tells him a story. In this story, the man tells of his friend.

"He loved a wealthy farmer's daughter, one of his father's tenants, and she was so beautiful, modest, intelligent and virtuous that nobody who knew her could decide which of these excellent qualities was most outstanding in her. And they raised Don Fernando's desires to such a pitch that he decided that to have his way with her and conquer her virginity he'd give her his word of marriage..."

The story teller goes on to explain that his friend suggests that going away for a time would be the solution to his problem. The young man agrees and encourages him to do so.

"By the time he told me all this he had already , as later became apparent, enjoyed the girl's favours as her husband, and was looking for an opportunity to reveal all without having to pay the consequences, fearful as he was of what the Duke his father would do when he found out about his folly."

So, the story teller encourages his friend to go back home with him to get away from the temptations of this girl who so drove his desires that he was willing to marry her to quench the fire. But, then, when they had arrived at his home, he discovered that his friend had already taken the girl as a wife (without putting forth the necessary price of marriage).

This next quote in the story is pivotal to the point here:

"It happened, then, that since love in young men is usually not love at all, but lust, which, since gratification is its sole aim, ceases to exist as soon as it is satisfied, and what had looked like love turns back because it cannot go any further than the limits fixed for it by nature, which does not establish any limits for true love... what I'm trying to say is that as soon as Son Fernando had his way with the farmer's daughter his desires abated and his ardour cooled, and, if at first he'd pretended to want to leave so as to cure his desires, now he really did want to leave so as not to put them into effect."

Did you get all that?

The lust of men "gratification is its sole aim"
The lust of men drives them to "give her his word of marriage"
The lust of men "ceases to exist as soon as it is satisfied"
The lust of men looks like love, but "what had looked like love turns back" as soon as it is satisfied.
The lust of men is "abated" and "cooled" as soon as it is satisfied.

Men are naturally inclined to burn for women, so much so that he would sacrifice anything to have her, even marry her. Marriage during the writing of Don Quixote and throughout most of history meant for a man that he was bound to provide for her and her children for the rest of his life.

But, once he has had her... the desire that drives him to make that sacrifice is "abated" and "cooled" and "what had looked like love turns back".

Once a man has had a woman, she is left with nothing to offer him that would secure her protection and provision, and he is left with a desire that is not for her, but instead a desire to avoid her.

Uber Organized Laundry

This.

is a fabulous idea.

I love it.

But, I'll never do it.

So, this mom takes all of her daughter's laundry and as it comes out of the dryer, she matches up the sets (her child only has sets) and folds them together in a large zipper style clear plastic bag.
When her daughter is getting dressed in the morning, she does not have to sort through a closet or dresser to find all the pieces of her favorite outfits because ALL she has to do is grab a bag.

I love this idea.

In fact, when I pack for long trips, I have done this exact thing with my younger children's outfits and even labeled each bag with a name and weekday assignment before putting them into the suitcase. I did this to prevent certain children from crying that they had no pants to wear after two days of vacation. It was a survival mechanism.

It's great.

But, for me, it must be filed under the category of things I would do

IF

I only had one child.

Some things just have to be let go.

This is one.

What is a taxi stand?

What is a taxi stand?
That's this morning's internet search.

Not because I don't know, but because I'm wondering if my readers would know.

Which leads me to the real question, which is, how much should I explain?

How as a writer can I be sure that my readers, the bulk of them at least, will know and understand the meaning of terms and phrases through surrounding context?

And, which terms and phrases need more explaining within the story?



BTW, if you don't already know, a taxi stand is a designated parking area for cabs to park, usually in a line, waiting for walk-up passengers. These are often found in front of hotels, or nearby in hotel districts, or in front of hospitals, near theaters, in bar districts, etc. They are prominent locations where pedestrians can easily find a taxi when needed so that they don't always have to call and order one, but can often find one already parked at the taxi stand.
These also serve as queue lines for calls as drivers call in to dispatch to say which stand they are in line at and the dispatcher can disperse call in orders based on location of drivers and the order in which they arrived at that location.


AND, if you're paying attention, you just got your first clue to the plot of my next novel...

What Makes a Man Sexy?

What Makes a Man Sexy?
That is the latest request to my search engine.

To be honest, a man wearing a baby in a sling makes me melt.

But, I'm looking for some romance novel type sexy. In a romance novel, how do you describe a man so that readers think he is sexy? How do you describe him so that women want the heroine to be with him?

I'm leaving today to go on a husband sponsored retreat (that's sexy, right?) to write a novel. I will have about 24 hours without interruption, except for a nursing baby and my own body's requirements for sleeping, eating and endless coffee. As I prepare, I am researching publisher's guidelines and developing an outline to work from as I take advantage of those 24 hours and attempt to write a novel in that time.

I see a pattern of publisher's looking for a "sexy" hero.

What is it that makes him sexy? How do I put it into words? Thus, I turn to Yahoo...

So, here's what I found:
Confidence
Sincerity
Humor
Charm 
Stability
Protective
Leadership

Apparently, I'm not the first journalist to ask this question. USA Today produced an article on just this topic back in 2012. The writers interviewed here said, "cowboy hat" and I'm not so sure that fits my guy...

But, I'm thinking maybe my guy will be just a little bit dangerous, coming from sordid past, have some shady friends, but in the end, be just the kind of take charge and protect what needs protecting man that my heroine needs. That sounds pretty sexy to me. What do you think?

Please Don't Take My Kids Away

I'm afraid of the CPS worker... afraid they'll show up at my door and take my kids away. You could tell me that I'm crazy, but I already know.
I keep seeing articles about families being investigated for education neglect just because they homeschool, or for letting their children play at the park. I wonder some times what my mom was thinking because when I remember walking alone to the beach.

Yes.

The beach.

Three blocks from my house.

The beach; with all of Lake Michigan just sitting there waiting for me to drown in it, a no barriers or hand rails break wall to run on and fall off of into the rocks and drown, AND a gigantic slide with no side rails that I could  (and actually did once) fall from the top of.

I walked there, crossing streets, all three blocks.

I was five.

FIVE YEARS OLD!

But, I digress, because honestly I'm way more paranoid than that and I would never let my five year go the beach alone, even though I did. Isn't that weird? What is so different now?

It's fear.

I'm afraid of what might happen to him and I'm afraid that someone would call the police and I would be dealing with over zealous social workers for THE. REST. OF. MY. LIFE.

Or worse.

My children would just be gone. Forever.

But, like I said, I'm not sending my five year old alone to the beach, so what am I afraid of?

Well, first, they might see my eight year old riding a Go-Cart 40mph down the middle of the road on the steep hill by our house,

or they might see that same kid jumping from the top of a tree or trying to climb freestyle up the rocky side of the church next door,

or they might see my two year old sitting under the dining room table with a blanket and a box of cereal, eating out of the box and not having even one single bite of dinner.

Or they might have seen what my laundry room looked like before I cleaned it out and took two full trash bags out of that mess.

Or they might see my twelve year old falling all over the pavement trying to do tricks on his new skateboard without a helmet.

Or they might just say, 8 KIDS!? That's too many.

Or maybe one day they'll be walking down the sidewalk in front of our house and they'll hear what I hear when I stand outside hanging towels on the line.

SCREAMING!

Even when they are having fun and playing happily, they are LOUD. Loud enough that I can hear them through the walls with the windows closed. It's even worse when the windows are open.

Then, I realize that if you add in my voice and my husband's voice, it's probably doubly loud. And, that's when I start thinking... someone is going to walk by this house and they are going to call someone and say something is going on in that house. And then I start to wonder where I can hide my kids, but there's no where to hide because we are so stinkin' loud that people can hear us through the walls.

Hard Core Poor, a book review

I just finished reading Hard Core Poor by Kelly Sangree. I read a lot of books on this topic. I find an enjoyable challenge is seeing how little I can spend and still have everything we need, so new books on this topic intrigue me.

This one isn't bad, but I still haven't found any that can compete with The Complete Tightwad Gazette.

I commend Sangree for taking the time to write it.  I've often thought of compiling my years of notes and personal experience into a book on the subject, but always feel like the topic is endless.

Hard Core Poor is a short read.

Her conversational tone allows anyone to glean from her ideas. She covers most of the basic essentials of life and offers a broad range of options in each category from the free method to some of the most expensive. And, if you are new to the idea of being frugal, this could be the book that gets your brain thinking in that vein.

Her ideas aren't bad, but most of them are little more than surface discussion, and don't really get into the nitty gritty of living a frugal life. I think what I love about the Tightwad Gazette is the mass number of specific tricks to try, from washing and reusing plastic storage bags to creative crafts made out of old milk jugs. To see some of my ideas worth sharing, check out my blog posts on the topic of Frugal Living.

Some of my favorites are making your own dishwasher detergent, variations of a pot pie, and the $400 grocery challenge.

Normally, I don't buy these books, but borrow them from the library instead, because they so often contain the same or similar material as books that came before them.

Sangree admits that experienced frugal mommas will find most of her book covers material we already know, but she does discuss a few novel things like where to cash a paycheck when the bank won't let you, and housing options when you can't afford rent. Hard Core Poor also has several website and blog references, making it simple to springboard into other resources fairly quickly.

I picked it up free on Kindle during a promotion, and offering her book free really speaks to her heart for those who are really "hard core poor", so for that reason, I don't mind recommending it.

The Well-Educated Mind Reads...A LOT

I've been reading a lot lately, which is normal for me, but it also means less writing as my limited free time has to be divided between the two in some manner. Currently, reading has been overwhelming the writing.

I started in January with The Well-Educated Mind a follow-up to the popular book on classical education titled The Well Trained Mind. The Well Trained Mind is considered the primary source on classically educating your children at home. Susan Wise Bauer offers parents and adults "...the classical education [they] never had" in the Well-Educated Mind.

The first 80 pages or so offer her arguments on why you need to be classically educated. One of my favorites concerns the way we discuss things as adults. First off, Logic tells us that an argument is an offering of ones reasoning on an issue based on reasonable conclusions that follow agreed upon facts. But, one look at a series of comments following most blogs or articles on the internet will tell you that we don't argue well. We fight; we name-call, we spout fallacies of all sorts, we insult people we don't even know and we write things we would rarely say to someone's face. Bauer argues that we behave this way as adults because of the way we were educated as children.

Essentially, her argument is this: Children who are expected at early ages to read (or listen to) material and immediately spout opinions without any foreknowledge or facts to base those opinions on are taught that their opinion matters more than facts and historical knowledge and so become adults who spout opinions without much foreknowledge or facts on which to base those opinions.

Instead, she argues, we should be teaching ourselves and the next generation to first memorize basic facts and gain a foundation in historical knowledge (perhaps we'll be less likely to repeat the mistakes of those who came before us if we take the time to learn the results of our forerunners actions).

Secondly, we should analyze the data presented to us in the context of what we already know. Does the history make sense, are the scientific claims well founded, The idea is to connect these pegs of knowledge that have been memorized to the current information being received and make determinations about its accuracy and validity.

Only when we have done all this can we begin to share our own opinions.

Of course, here I am telling you what I think... laughing in the face of my poorly educated state of mind. Ha!

The next 300 or so pages of Bauer's book is essentially filled with a reading list and summaries of each suggested book. The readings are even listed in the order she recommends you read them and include explanations of why each one is on the list and the basis for its spot in the line up.

In the fiction line up, first is Don Quixote. I bought it. I'm reading it. It's slow - the book is looooooong and it's just plain silly.

But, I'm determined to finish it. So, back to reading for me.