We're not homeschooling right now, and I have a little more time on my hands. So I blog. Because I think its fun. And I get to be opinionated, when so much of the time I bite my tongue. What I've noticed as I've read over the last month's blogs is that I'm a pretty irritating kook.
-Importance of family and marriage
This is just a partial list of the topics I've covered in the last month.
For the record: I also shop at Vitamin Cottage and grow my own vegetables.
Seriously, who is this girl?
Next thing you know I'll be raising chickens and mandating that my girls wear denim jumpers with applique farm animals. My boys will part their hair on the side and slick it down. My husband will wear goofy ties and pull his pants up too high. I, then, would have to wear bobby socks with Keds and broomstick skirts. It would only be right.
I got to see an old college friend this week (okay not old - very, very young - younger than me:))
I adore her. She is a free spirit (she drove a VW bus in college if that helps you understand).
Now Sam is married and has three small children. She lives up in the mountains of Boulder. Sam said her reaction to this time of life has been these ludicrous fantasies of freedom. For instance, she wants to trade in her mom-mobile for a motorcycle with a side car. Because that should be safe for an infant and 2 toddlers. Right?
I want to move to Tanzania at least 40% of the time. That sound exotic. And if Tanzania fell through I could always try out Mozambique, or perhaps Zimbabwe. My criteria for determining where I would like to move is in the name. Its gotta dance on my tongue. Denver doesn't dance; it lumbers and trods. Latvia - now that dances.
So here I am, an apparent political and theological conservative who, of all things, homeschools her 4 children. And to add insult to injury I live in a very ordinary off-white house among many other ordinary off white houses. This is so at odds with the artistic, adventurous girl I imagine myself to be. How could this be so?
I'm with Sam. I need a motorcycle.