My thoughts on age:

As long as you wish you could be older, you are still young.
As soon as you wish you could be younger, you have become old.

I myself have gone back and forth between young and old several times.
Tonight I feel ancient as my knees creek on the way to bed. How will I feel when I'm 80?

Book recommendation for the day: Blueberries for Sal, by Robert McCloskey. It's a wonderful picture book about Little Sal and her mother getting mixed up with Little Bear and his mother while picking blueberries on Blueberry Hill. Read it with a bowl of fresh blueberries for the full effect. Delicious.

We've just returned from a family reunion in Nauvoo, IL, and although I'm exhausted from sitting in the car for several days (how can sitting make people so tired?) I'm not in bed. It's 11 pm and I'm at the computer typing. A sure sign of... something. I'm not sure what.

We drove to the reunion, and I was surprised at how very American everything was. I guess we've lived overseas so often that most of our vacations have been to "foreign" places-- China, Venice, Morocco, the Seychelles, etc. I'm used to looking out the window and thinking, "So that's how people live here. I wonder why they do that. Do they like that food? What do their houses look like on the inside?" This time, everything was so... normal. So American.

We drove through entire states of straight, striped rows of corn and fluffy green blankets of soy beans covering the hills. The white lines in the middle of the road wooshed past, past, past, past and on either side the blacktop was brushed by periwinkle blue and Queen Anne's Lace. There were small white houses and big red barns, Cracker Barrel restaurants and blue Rest Stop signs. The kids ran through a Prairie Restoration area and watched butterflies land on yellow cone flowers. We ate granola bars in the car as we listened to The Goose Girl on CD, and we stopped for icecream at a miniature golf place with a state penitentiary to the right and corn fields to the left, front and back. The sign out front said, "Please do not pick up hitchhikers." I wondered if that was a common problem.

Nauvoo itself was a lot of fun, and I was surprised. I guess I was expecting several dry tours of old houses with explanations of who sat in this room, what they said about it later, and how the furniture is not original, but the lack of air conditioning is. Instead we tossed horseshoes, hefted slate tablets (kids should try stuffing those in their backpacks) saw the pageant and several unexpectedly delightful plays, visited the temple, and... ok... Visited some old buildings. But they were really cool! (And air conditioned, too.) Our kids got to play with cousins and hold the new babies, and all in all, it was a very nice time.

On the way home we stopped in Kirtland, Ohio (by way of the Great Wolf Lodge-- an indoor water park) and I had an amazing experience in the visitor's center there. Several years ago I had a dream (very abbreviated version here) about a terrible storm. At the end of the dream I found a place where my family could be safe-- and I realized when I entered the visitor's center that it was the place in my dream where families could come to learn, to be together, and to be safe. I was truly amazed, and I walked through the small building and cried. Yes, the truths restored at Kirtland are real, and are very important for my family to know and understand. I'm so thankful for the gospel of Jesus Christ. (And amazed that I can say that in public-- what a cool country we have.)

So now were home and back to vacuuming , errand running, folding laundry, fixing dinner and our own beds. Aaahhh.... vacations may be nice, but home is wonderful. =)

Book recommendation of the day: The Book of Mormon. If you haven't read it yet, give it a try and find out for yourself what was restored at Kirtland and Nauvoo. It's the ancient record kept by people who left Jerusalem in 600 BC and migrated to the American continent, taking some Jewish records and traditions along. And it's true, too.

Have you ever noticed how things happen in groups? It seems that if one of my friends get pregnant, there will suddenly be an epidemic of pregnancies amongst my acquaintances. Then there was the time, several years ago, when I witnessed a shoe store robbery, saw an escaped prisoner from the penitentiary at the grocery store, watched a man with a video camera casing a strip mall, and had a gun pulled on me-- all in about a month. And if the dishwasher breaks, the fridge, vacuum cleaner and drier are sure to give up the ghost within a week. Why is that?

Yesterday my older kids were at home filming their movie and Mike had taken the younger ones to a picnic. I was out on the town in search of The Goose Girl on CD for our upcoming road trip. Amazon carries it, of course, but since I had procrastinated until the last minute, they couldn't deliver it until after we leave. Borders and Barnes and Noble do not have it in stock. (Of course. I swear they need to hire me to run their children's departments.) Sam's Club, Wal-Mart and Target don't carry it. But (hear angelic choirs) the library does! I was so happy I almost hugged the librarian-- glasses chain and all. However, since the copy at our library was checked out, I had to drive to Manassas pick it up. No problem.

Manassas is about half an hour from my house, and Prince William Parkway, the road between here and there, is beautiful-- long and winding through nothing but hills and forests, with a ditch of deep grass dividing the four lanes. On my way there it began to rain slightly. I got the CD-- no problem-- and headed back home as the rain began to pour. I turned my wipers on as fast as they could go and I could still barely see the cars in front of me. I touched my breaks and felt my car hydroplane for a moment, so I slowed way down. Suddenly the car in front of me spun around, slid across the road into the ditch, up the other side and into oncoming traffic. I pulled onto the shoulder and got out my cell phone to call 911. A silver pick-up truck had stopped right in front of me. I figured he must have seen the car spinning, too, and had stopped to see if everyone was alright.

The lady who answered asked in a nasally voice, "What is the location of your emergency?" I told her I was on Prince William Parkway between Manassas and Woodbridge. She said, "I need an exact address, ma'am." I looked around through the pouring rain but could see only trees and grass, a bit of the road, and the silver pick-up truck, whose driver was now standing in the downpour examining his back bumper. It occurred to me that he must have been hit, although I wasn't sure how that was possible. "There's nothing but trees, " I told her. "I crossed Liberia about 10 minutes ago and I'm not to Davis Ford yet. I don't know other than that."

I told her about the accident as I watched the owner of the pick-up truck stand in the rain and just look from his bumper to me. He was completely soaked. "Can you tell me the color of the car?" I told her it was red and that no, I could not see the driver because of the rain. Suddenly, the truck owner got back into his truck, and pulled away! I interrupted the 911 lady to yell, "License Plate number!" I turned on my wipers so I could see and read out the number as the truck sped off.

The lady on the phone said a police officer would be coming soon and asked if I could stay until he arrived. I said yes. After I hung up I realized my flashers were not on. My finger touched the button just as a huge crash of thunder shook the car. I said a prayer that I might be safe and make it home alive and that the passengers of the red car might not be injured, then very slowly backed my van along the shoulder to where I could see the red car. As I stopped, the driver's window of the other car went down and I saw that there was one lady in the car. I rolled down my own window and yelled through the rain, "Are you alright?" She must have heard me, because she nodded. "I called 911!" I shouted. She nodded again, and we both put our windows back up to keep out the rain.

About 20 minutes later an officer arrived, pulled a bright yellow raincoat out of his back seat and went to talk to the driver of the red car. I waited for him, but after a few moments he went back to his car, took off the coat, got into the driver's seat, and just sat there. I waited and waited. Then I waited some more. The police officer was till just sitting there. Finally I called the non-emergency police number and asked if there was any reason I should not go home. I was told to call 911 and ask them, which I did. The same nasally woman answered. "You need to go talk to the officer," she said. "Yes, but that would require me to cross a busy highway, in the pouring rain with almost no visibility. I don't think that's a good idea." "Oh. You're right," she answered. "Don't do that." "So may I go home?" She sighed. "I guess I can't force you to stay." I took about 5 seconds to consider, then said, "Well, you have my cell phone number. Tell them to call me if they need me." And I set off for home.

As I neared my neighborhood I heard sirens and looked in my rear view mirror. A police car and two fire engines were weaving between traffic. I pulled over. A minute later another fire truck flew past me and turned into my neighborhood. I had a sudden vision of my kids at home-- filming in the basement with every lamp in the house plugged in for lighting. Josh was holding lamps above the camera--lots of electricity, lots of teen-agers, and no parent in the house. I sped up as an ambulance came from another direction and also turned into our neighborhood.

In the two minutes it took me to get to my street I convinced myself that I had nothing to worry about. Then I turned onto my street and saw four fire engines in front of my house. All my kids and the whole cast of the film were standing in the driveway. I began to cry and I accelerated through the trucks, screeched to a stop, and jumped out of the car. I looked at my kids-- none of whom were looking at me. They were all staring down the street. I turned and saw the house at the end of the cul-de-sac in flames. A fire engine blared behind me and I saw that my car was blocking their way. I jumped back in and pulled into my neighbor's driveway-- the only place I could go that wouldn't block traffic.

"Lightening struck that house!" several kids yelled as I came across the street. I stood with them for a moment and watched men unroll a huge hose down the street. "Now I get to see what they really do!" Peter was excited. I want inside.

My cell phone rang and it was a police officer. "Can you tell me what happened?" It took me a minute to remember that he meant with the car, not the house. I described the spinning car, and he said, "The woman said someone cut her off and hit her front bumper, and that's why she started spinning." I thought of the man in the pick-up truck checking out his back bumper and told the officer about it. He asked for the license plate number and I told him I'd given it when I'd called 911, but that I'd not written it down. He asked me two more times to tell him what happened. I did, and he thanked me, then hung up. A moment later he called back to say the lady thought it was a white car that had hit her. I said I didn't see any white car-- only the silver pick-up. He asked me again what I'd seen, then thanked me again.

It took about half an hour for the flames to be put out down the street, and several hours for the fire trucks to all leave. Elizabeth, who just happened to be holding a video camera when the lightening struck, had run outside and filmed the house burning, then interviewed the firemen about lightening strikes. Peter got (another) tour of a fire engine. And we were told that the family down the street was all safe, even their dog, although their house was clearly not alright. The water from our taps was a yellowish-brown color all evening from the fire hydrants being run.

I thought about how my car had hydroplaned, but I had not crashed. My kids had been home alone, filming a movie using tons of lights, but they were all safe. Our water was dirty, but would be clean soon. And I feel so blessed.

Book recommendation of the day: Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert. I've only just started this one-- but it's funny, insightful and engaging. Even the acknowledgements were fun to read! It's about what really makes us happy vs. what we think will make us happy.

This weekend my daughter, Elizabeth, is filming a movie in our basement. It's called Hairum Scarum and is about a beauty parlor where fairy tale characters come to get their hair done and talk about their problems. This is Elizabeth's third movie. Her first was Check Under the Bed, a mystery. The next was Peter's New Room, a short documentary about her 8 year old brother's new "peaceful room". (Peter's words. His room was recently repainted light blue with while trim. Curtains, bed covers and everything else are also white. He claims it's the perfect place to listen to classical music, which he does often.) So now Elizabeth is making a comedy. She and the cast and crew will work from 9 to 5 Friday and Saturday, and hopefully finish all the filming. Then, after we return from our family reunion in Illinois next week, she can begin editing.

Now, just in case you are thinking filming is the difficult, time-consuming part of making a movie, let me assure you it is not. After watching Elizabeth make her first movie I have a new, deep respect for movie editors. She spent over a year editing Check Under the Bed-- a 30 minute film, (unless you count bloopers and interviews with the actors. Then it's over an hour.) In the process our hard drive crashed twice and we had to hire Geeks on Call to rescue us. Elizabeth installed a new hard drive and doubled the memory, and spent at least 400 hours working on the editing alone. We told her she needed to get her own computer before she made another movie.

For her birthday this year she received a new iMac and some powerful editing software (Final Cut Express). She made Peter's New Room in order to try out the software, and now she's ready to tackle another big project. After Hairum Scarum she's planning to film a modern, teen version of Harvey. (Check out the black and white Jimmy Stuart version if you haven't seen it.) Since Harvey was my first high school play, I'll be happy to get reacquainted with the large white rabbit.

In case you wonder what the rest of us will be doing while Elizabeth is filming... Rachel is running the camera; Elizabeth is acting (as Cinderella) while directing; Joshua is doing lights and props; Bethany is playing Little Red; Dad, Naomi and Peter are going to a Pentagon picnic on Friday; I am buying pizza, making sure the house stays in one piece, and helping where ever possible.

So, today I'm off to help Elizabeth buy a wig, some hair cement, and donuts for the film.

Book recommendation of the day: Enna Burning by Shannon Hale. It's intense and almost painful to read, but well worth it.

I conducted a survey online recently about the educational choices of families with extremely and profoundly gifted children. These are children who have generally skipped several grades and/or who have IQ scores in the +160 range.

I wanted to know how many are homeschooling. I had just finished reading the book Gifted Children by Ellen Winner (HarperCollins Basic Books 1996). It was a well-written book with lots of useful info on children with many different types of gifts, and overall I was favorably impressed. But I was surprised to see her opinion that homeschooling should be a last resort-- even for profoundly gifted children.

So I surveyed the parents in my online group of parents of eg/pg kids and asked about their educational choices. I asked for information about where their eg/pg children who are school age (6 years or older) have attended school, and where they are currently attending school. I grouped the responses into three categories: Only Homeschooled; Only Public/Private Schooled; Have Tried Both Home and Public School. The results were quite interesting.

In the Only Homeschooled group there were 16 families with 19 children. The oldest three children were 19, 13 and 11. Ten of the children were currently 6 years old.

In the Only Public/Private Schooled group there were 21 families with 31 children. The oldest three were 21, 19 and 18. Four of the children were currently 6 years old.

In the Both Home and Public/Private Schooled group there were 29 families with 44 children. The oldest three were 23, 20 and 18. The oldest three that were not yet in college were 14, 13 and 13. Two of the children were currently 6 years old. Of these 44 children, 26 are currently being homeschooled, 7 are currently in public school, 4 are doing some combination of home and public school but are not yet in college, and 6 are in college. (This does not add up to 44 because one families did not report where their children are currently attending school.)

This was interesting to me. I think it shows the trend toward homeschooling in recent years, in that the younger children are more likely to be starting out in homeschool, while the older children were more likely to begin in public or private school, then move to homeschool later.

I received several comments from the parents along with the data. Most of them were to the effect that they had tried public school, but it was a complete disaster, so they resorted to homeschool as a last option. One family said they would never consider homeschool. A few families said they didn't even bother with public school, but homeschooled from the beginning. These were usually families with younger children, so homeschooling was not uncommon when their Children reached school age.

After completing this survey, I wonder if Ms. Winner is still, ten years later, of the opinion that homeschooling should be a last resort.

Our own family started out with our children attending public school, then we tried private schools, and finally admitted there was no option other than homeschool. So we did come to it as a last resort-- but now that we're here I wonder what took us so long. Homeschooling has been wonderful! What started out as an arm-twisted, under duress situation, has become my first choice for educating my children. Not all our Children are eg/pg, but most of them are bright enough that a regular classroom was not the best, or even an appropriate situation for them. At home they are able to progress at their own rates (faster in math, slower in English, or vice-versa, or whatever).

One thing I find interesting is that when people hear that my 10 year old is going into 10th grade, they often say, "Oh, well homeschooling is different." Does this mean 10th grade at home is easier than 10th grade in public school? (not) Or that being at home, it's easier to move at your own pace? (yes) Either way, I'm glad this is where we are. I hope each family out there finds the best possible educational option for themselves-- be it public, private, home, some combination of these, or something totally new.

Book recommendation of the day: Cheaper by the Dozen by Frank B. Gilbreth and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey. This book has NOTHING to do with the (stupid) movie that came out recently. It's a true story about a family in the 1920's with twelve very bright children and an energetic, loud, funny, time-saving father. (And only 10 miles from national headquarters!)

Another year older...
(but still 25, of course.)

I had a wonderful birthday, celebrated in the park with my family, our good friends the Ross family, some 6-packs of rootbeer, lots of Goliath-sized ants, fourteen children, one rotton watermellon, and our dog, Heidi.

I noticed something driving into the park-- although it was Independence Day, an American holiday, we were the only non-hispanics in the park-- other than the park rangers. Now, for all I know, these people are all American citizens, or aliens who are here legally. But it struck me as interesting, even a bit odd, that I saw more hispanic people celebrating the 4th of July than any other group of people. I can't even remember the last time I celebrated Cinco de Mayo. (Other than in Korea, of course, where May 5th is Children's Day. Koreans don't generally celebrate individual children's birthdays, other than the first and the 60th. They lump them all together into Children's Day. Rather convenient. I suggested to my own children that we adopt this practice, but the idea was vetoed.)

Today, I was supposed to have my wisdom teeth pulled. But thankfully there was a power outtage at the surgeon's main office and their x-ray equipment was down. Since there were no x-rays, we only had a consultation with the surgeon today. There is a tiny little part of me-- I think it's my pinkie toe nail-- that is disapointed at not having it over with. The rest of me-- especially my mouth-- is feeling quite relieved. Why suffer today what you can put off till tomorrow?

=) still smiling with all my teeth

Book recommendation of the day: 1776 by David McCullough. It's an interesting (as opposed to stuffy) look at the year the U.S. was born.