I think I would like to spend the next few months  not running around and being quiet. In fact, I sense the call of the wild within (and without, thanks to our mongrel pooch )to return to the writing life – not that I had much of one, but, sigh, one can be inventive.

Incidentally, I found this portion of a lengthy article entitled “The best advice for writers?” , quite amusing. It should make your dinner in your contented tummy do acrobatic tricks of sorts:
“Once a commitment to writing is made it can be a long time before a person starts writing anything of quality and, as a consequence, young writers often spend years escaping into other people’s fiction in lieu of writing themselves. Then, magically, they might develop a talent for expressing their ideas in language; their ideas might not be any good, but the practice of constructing sentences around those ideas becomes far less painful. At this point, a writer might start writing more and more each day, and reading a little less.”

Painful is THE word to describe my efforts at writing – book reviews, movie reviews, THIS blog- for the past few years. I suppose this is what they call “writers’  block”.  Or “writers’ edifice” in my case.

For instance, at this very moment I am supposed to finish a book review of a wonderful book, and send it to my editor before the end of next week, and here I am – here, doing this, and not focusing on what I should be doing. In short, I am distracted. In approximately 1 hour and 27 minutes , my whole lot of happiness will come chugging home joyfully in the car, thinking that mom has completed her work and will be free to enjoy the week end with her beloveds.

I think I just reminded myself to stay on task. Well, read the rest of the advice to writers here:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2010/mar/02/best-advice-writers-read#start-of-comments

Ta. da.

A sheaf of wind. The Waterhorse Suite. Children’s voices playing. Quiet.

I live for such days!!

We’re done with the pre-Christmas flurry of carolling, gatherings, performances and gifts. Is Christmas ever complete without these? I suppose so. Several Christmases back, all we could manage were home-made gifts for each other and a Christmas tree the size of an upturned shoe-box. And snippets of carols from here and there.
It was a very quiet Christmas at home then.

This year was another thing altogether. It’s interesting how the same tradition, celebrated differently at different times, can be as profoundly meaningful. This year, we’ve been carolling -twice- and gone for two parties, attended a ballet performance (in which Dd8 danced) , drank endless rounds of non-alcoholic beverages at two mini-school reunions and picnicked at a park with a handful of little kids and their moms. We’ve not had much time to reflect on the meaning of Christmas, I’m afraid, or rather, I’ve not spent the Advent season guiding my kids in daily slotted meditative thoughts of why we celebrate Christmas.
Should I feel guilty? I do, a little. However, I wouldn’t have done it differently though. So have I become shallow and callous in my treatment of Christmas?

I’d like to think that the frenzied rounds of meeting various people who have affected my life at various stages, have been good for my family. It’s as if to say, ” Look, here are my friends and people I’ve met along the way. Sure, we’ve disagreed and made up, left for faraway shores and reunited, bumped into each other here and there. Here they are. Isn’t it wonderful how diverse God has made us. What do you think?” Laughter. Belch, belch, sing, dance- “Hark the Herald angels sing”.

Now we’re getting ready to go home to see the folks. Dad-in-law all alone in his house with his orchard of cili-padi, curry leaves and lime plants. Grandaunts all alone in their once-was-homes with their tv sets and blue-red plastic stringed lazy-chairs. Mom and dad growing old with brother who’s not little any more. All that is Christmas.

We treat the remembering of God’s Word made flesh callously when we ascribe it the religious paegentry of self-righteous pious works be it grand shows of good deeds, mega-productions to “save souls” and the closetting of ourselves from those closest to us. If we forget those whose love we have received, whose lives moved us to try to be better people, then, we have forgotten how He gave up the crowd for the individual- Peter’s sick mother, the woman with the alabaster jar, the lady by the well, the children impatient to sit on his lap. We have forgotten how quietly He came.

And so, we are going home. Blessed Christmas everyone.

Lord, help me see the bigger picture when
there are clothes waiting to be folded,
schoolbooks lying unmarked,
meals begging to be cooked,
little ones asking to be played with
and read to.

Help me remember Your call upon my life
when
all I see are books unread
poems unwritten
songs unsung
adventures untaken.

Stir me into awakenness-
so that amidst the clamor of
voices demanding proof of
my individuality- I might
show
You.

To look within and find
You here.

That is enough.

We adopted a dog several weeks ago. She’s a mixed-breed with some retriever and German Shepherd genes plus, I suspect, a hint of terrier thrown in what with her incessant digging and poking into holes. We’ve spent quite a bit on deworming medicines, Frontline (anti-tick spray/application), dog food and dog food. So caught up were we with the euphoria of finally owning a mutt, that the first few weeks were spent on the porch doing all kinds of pooch-centred activities like playing football, fetch ( alternating between the owner and dog) and obedience training. My husband finally decided to restore some sanity to our home and recall us back to the human world: he laid out some rules about the a dog’s proper place in the family ( to serve and not to be served) and firmly stated that we were not to pamper our canine family member.

As a result of that extensive series of lectures, Joy came up with a manual for dog-lovers- written in HB pencil on a folded piece of white A4 paper. The manual goes like this:

“  How to discipline your dog

I have a dog that chewed up my slipper. Your dog might do the same, but always remember to smack your dog. Don’t just overlook it because if you do, your dog will keep on chewing. When you smack , it’s okay to slap on the muzzle gently but firmly. You must still make sure your dog still knows that you love it by patting it and feeding it.

Pampering dogs

Our dog is not allowed in the house. Whether your dog is allowed in or not, that doesn’t matter. Just this: you have to walk your dog once or twice a day or more. Your dog would have liked wet food sometimes, but ifit has a sensitive tummy, do not give it too much wet food. Your dog must also understand that if it is bad, it must be punished.

Strays

If you see a stray and if it is gentle, you may want to keep it. If it has mange, you may want to handle it with proper equipment. Ticks, fleas and lice are very normal for strays. If the dog doesn’t have mange, but ticks, you just bring it to the vet.

Ideas

I, however, like most people, do not like to punish dogs. I never wanted to smack my dog, My dad did it. You, must also smack it(your dog) to discipline your dog. I would also ask that if you would not gotoo far into pampering. I would think it wise not to buy diapers, clothes or beds. Your dog hates these. Your dog would also dislike permed fur, dyed hair and ribbons. I do not want dogs to be upset or confused. You alone may think that your dog likes these things. But, your dog is only trying to please you by keeping quiet.  ”

It looks like the dog will grow up to be a sensible companion and family pet under the tutelage of my able 8 yr old.

The first one is a model of the cell of an animal.

We also had fun dyeing a cloth purple by using grapeskins.

We experimented with different kinds of arrow heads. Of course, we wished we had the real ones, but our construction paper heads did work- some better than others.

We did a mini-unit on China, focusing on inventions. Joy helped carve Chinese characters for “person”, “forest” and “big” on pencil erasers. Then, we dipped a cotton bud  into black calligraphy ink and painted them on the “printing blocks”. We also made paper by using torn-up magazines, water, bits of foil and thread. I haven’t got a picture of that though.

Joy made some paper-dolls and presented a story to the family. Grace decided that it was easier to use her “baby” as a minor character . I thought they were lovely!

We live in interesting times. We also live in anxious times where promises are glibly made and broken. We huddle for warmth around the illusion of a better government and a fairer society that is marked by clasped hands instead of clenched fists. As time passes, we find that instead of healing there is distortion- words have become merely tools for the furtherance of greed, bigotry and dishonesty. The fire burns but it is cold and those who need it most are left to contrive their own flames, their own means of being clothed and warmed.

And contrive we must in times like these. In darkness, what is needed most is light ; not electric speeches and high-octane rhetoric. Light for the one next to you, light for the one before and behind you. Light that warms because it is fueled by mercy and understanding. Light that burns but does not destroy because its source is beyond you. Light that won’t go out because of He who gave Him a long, long time ago, and still gives to all who come near to its tender flame. Light that won’t go out when its wick flickers. Light that considers the bruised reed and leans gently upon its bent back.

We’ve   been formally homeschooling for almost half a year now. That’s not a long time in comparison. I must qualify that statement though. for we’ve not stopped homeschooling our children from the time they were born.
From the time when they were weeks out of the womb, we sang, talked and read to them. We showed them sunsets, leaves and spectacular creatures like spiders and lizards. We took them for walks in the park and occasional vacations by the sea. They played peek-a-boo and hide-and-seek with their maternal grandparents and listened to their paternal grandfather’s lectures about what little children should and shouldn’t be doing.
In short, we live  as a family, doing things and being what we loved to be most- together, enjoying each other. That is what homeschooling is about after all – the putting aside of things that tear asunder: tight schedules, unrealistic expectations, external pressures to perform and to keep up.Hence, homeschooling for us has been that deliberate “no” to these destructive forces, and a “YES!” to the life we have been called to live.
It has not been that long a journey, and yet it begun from the time we became a family.

In the weeks ahead, I will be putting up some pictures of the learning activities and projects that we have done for this first half of the year. The rest of the pictures of our homeschool, I’m delighted to tell, are too voluminous to be placed in this space.

The storyline is very simple: Augustus the tiger, wants to find his smile. He searches for it across hills and forests. In the end, he finds it in a pool of water. Augustus realizes that his smile is there all the while, on his face. Joy is found within oneself , this book seems to say.

The illustrator won the Best Illustrator Award in the Booktrust Early years Awards 2006.
I can see why. The drawings of Augustus ,the tiger, draws out the mystery of the animal and the child-likeness of his quest. The brush strokes are bold , much like what you see in Chinese paintings of horses and tigers.

Another lovely tiger book is “ Tiger Who Came to Tea” by Judith Kerr, Illustrated by the author, 2002. HarperCollins Publishers.

A tiger pays Sophie and her mother a visit in their home. He is warmly welcomed and is invited immediately to join them for tea. He eats and drinks everything up, including the water from the kitchen tap. His tummy full, he bids Sophie and her mother goodbye. But there is no food left for dad when he gets home. The problem is amiably resolved with a restaurant supper of sausages, chips and ice-cream.

The appeal of this book to children lies in its simplicity. A creature of great majesty and mystery –the tiger- drops in on an ordinary simple English family. He wallops up their resources, but leaves their lives unperturbed by his intrusion. The reader gets the impression that Sophie and her family are safe, because they are strong and love each other. Problems can be overcome.

My children have borrowed the book three times from the library. When they do, they insist on reading this story again and again. They are delighted with the tiger. And they are delighted that dad gets home and settles the problem of having an empty larder, so wonderfully. I , myself, love the gentle nuances of family life depicted in this story. A good read for Christmas I should think.