Sick days

The warmest room in our house is the southeast facing master bedroom. In the morning the rising sun streams through its windows and wakes us gently with a rosy orange light. Many a morning I lay in bed, basking in that benevolent glow and gathering my thoughts for the day, charging up my reserves of patience and well being. Even later, after the sun follows its daily path to the other side of the house and the light in the room becomes softer and more diffuse, the warmth there remains.

In the summer, when the air in the house is hot and stagnant and the dogs are positioning themselves wherever they can find a cool breeze, we draw our shades and wish for cloudy days and big drops of rain. In the summer we use adjectives like airy and billowing. In the summer we spend as much time as possible outside in the yard or out back on the deck. The winter, of course, is different. In the winter, especially this winter of the bitterly cold polar vortex, we throw our shades open to welcome in all the warmth the sun can muster and go in search of adjectives like cozy and enveloping. In the winter, our favorite place to be is the warmest room in the house and we spend as much time as possible wrapped in the cocoon of the bedroom.

I have been asked many times this year what we, as homeschoolers, do on snow days. It’s a valid question, usually sparked by nothing more sinister than the curiosity of parents who have struggled to entertain kids kept home from school day after day thanks to this winter’s wild weather. My answer is usually a slightly self deprecating “I think we’ve actually ‘gone to school’ more than the contemporary schoolers this year!” We don’t take days off due to snow fall or polar temperatures. On the coldest days, though, we have been known to pack our whole operation off to the warmth of the bedroom where we set up camp on the cozy bed, warming our bodies with sunlight and our minds with contemplation.

This is also where we spend sick days. Even though contagion is not an issue for our little school of two, when runny noses and nagging headaches come calling we remove ourselves again to the bedroom, that satellite classroom of our homsechool campus. There we spend our under-the-weather days reading, coloring, and playing games that keep us from suffering mental stagnation without taxing our diminished ability to focus.

These are our homeschool sick days, and, excepting the headaches and congestion, I'm rather fond of them with their slowed pace and air of indulgence.

Stretching it further

And following vacation, how about vacation? Harbor Springs. Possibly my favorite place away from home on earth. Although Jon had to go home and get back to work (I felt sorry for him, I really, really did), Calvin and I spent the rest of the week staying with my Godmother, Lonnie, and soaking up sun, love, good food, and fresh air. If camping hadn't been so relaxing, and it was, the rest of this week would have done the trick. We built a sort of routine, spending a little bit of every morning on school stuff, the afternoon at the little local beach in the water and sand, and the evenings at some activity together.

We read some books, we watched some TV, and Calvin's Aunt Lonnie kept him busy with a couple of crafts and playing with her pup, Blue. We played putt putt (who can ever get enough of putt putt?), walked the cemetery looking for Ghoul Gates (you'll know them if you've ever read The Graveyard Book), and drove over some rather forsaken road to middle-of-nowhere lake in search of loons (where we found a tern and a yellow-rumped warbler, but no loons). We had dinner once at Noggin Room and once at Keyhole, two of our favorite places, and twice at home, just the three of us lounging on the deck watching the bay and the birds and listening to the wind in the trees. And we were happy together and having fun.

The hardest part about being there, is the coming home (except that this time, of course, Jon was waiting there for us, and that made coming home pretty okay this time).

17—really 17, they didn't all fit in one picture—turkeys in the yard

Pirate's Cove Golf

arrrrr, he's a pirate

arrrr, he's giving Nonnie golfing lessons

Sand pants

walking to the cemetery

ghost turkeys!

possible ghoul gate

sand, sand, and more sand

Sturgeon Bay

Yellow-rumped Warbler

The Round Table

A story by Calvin

Summary: The story begins with a table, but with no people in sight the reader is confused as to the point of the setting. Strangely, the world becomes confusing—there is no recognizable center of gravity, no easily named 'up' or 'down', and things seem rather topsy-turvy. But just when the reader is entering a stage of panic, things settle down and the focus pans out. Be prepared for the final reveal (spoiler alert)—the reader has been alone inside a snow globe world the whole time and was just a little shaken up.

Analysis: it's a big world, and there may be more to it.

Heroes

Last night, after hastily unpacking and loving the dogs and grabbing a quick dinner in town, we high tailed it to the Michigan for yet another fantastic event. Strangely, after years of not setting foot inside the historic theater we've been there three times already this year, each time for a truly unique and unforgettable experience. In May it was Fitzgerald meets Luhrmann for The Great Gatsby—favorite book by a favorite author made into a movie by a respected director culminating in a grand experience. Two weeks ago it was Shakespeare meets Whedon for Much Ado About Nothing—an enjoyable story by a respected author made into a movie by a favorite director culminating in a brilliant movie (think stunning black and white with surprisingly skillful acting for a modern take with the traditional language).

Then last night's event went something like this: star struck literary fans meet extremely talented author for a delightful signing event. Neil Gaiman came to town. We're old fans of his. Jon and I were introduced to his work many years ago through Neverwhere, then moved through all the rest of his existing adult stuff and pounced on new titles as they arrived. Later, when Calvin was reading chapter books, we introduced him to Odd and the Frost Giants, and, my personal favorite of them all, The Graveyard Book. He has a new book out that reads like a dream, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, and he planned just four U.S. stops for a signing tour; Ann Arbor happened to be one of them.

But, after rushing to the theater and taking our seats with just minutes to spare, the announcement was made that due to major airport delays Mr. Gaiman was, in fact, not yet landed in Detroit. Remarkably, and I think this says a lot about his fandom in general, the two hours that we ended up waiting for his arrival passed smoothly, and the theater was still packed when he finally arrived. I think it also helps that he is active on twitter and posted constantly for waiting fans during much of that time. Social media is fun that way. We knew the moment he landed, and that he was very, very sorry, and that he was hurrying as fast as he could, and that, regardless of what the directors said about cutting things short at the event, he would honor the original signing agreement because we were such great fans to wait (a concession that kept him at the theater wielding a pen until 3am, but which makes him that much more awesome in our eyes).

We passed the time reading the books we'd brought for signing and munching on popcorn with beer and lemonade. Then Calvin decided at last to fill out a question card and drop it in the jar just before we were finally summoned to our seats. Fortuitous, because during the short question answering portion of the event, Mr. Gaiman selected and answered that very question.

"Are you going to write a sequel to Stardust? P.S. I love your books. -Calvin, age 7," he read on stage, "Really? Age 7? Or is that a 1? No, it must be a 7."

Calvin, Jon, and I looked on with a giddy delight and a sense of incredulity that actually matched Mr. Gaiman's own surprise later when he recognized Calvin in the signing line due to the name (for personalization) and his obvious youthfulness. I got the impression that he thought the age on the notecard had either been a joke or a sloppy misprint. Calvin was the youngest fan there, by at least a few years, and I don't think he actually expected him to be 7. He signed his copy of Graveyard with a little extra—a sketch of a tombstone personalized just for Calvin. As the usher standing there said to me, "from anyone else that would be creepy, but from him that's really awesome."

And that 3am finishing time? Well, when they started the call for the signing line, being in a balcony section we were slated to be one of the last. But they called for the usual exceptions first—people with mobility issues, pregnant women, and people with young children. So we took advantage of their offer, which got us out of there slightly after nine.

In Chicago time that's only slightly after eight, and well within bedtime limits.

Stage and screen

Last night, Jon and I had a chance to go out, just the two of us, and enjoy the opening night of The Great Gatsby. Opening night for most movies is a real hoot, and this was no flop. We got our tickets to see it at the historic Michigan Theater in town, where we also enjoyed a live band, a sing-along, 1920s cocktails, and the occasional flapper before the show. Most screen performances pale in comparison to the books they try to enliven, but Baz Luhrmann is no slouch, and it turned out to be a great show. Even in 3D it was classy. Just don't expect ragtime. In true Luhrmann style (think Moulin Rouge), the sounds of this prohibition-era film are a unique blend of modern hip-hop with just a hint of the roaring twenties. We loved it, every note, every line, every actor, every moment.

Speaking of flappers...

Speaking of classy?

Earlier in the day was a different kind of celebratory performance. I raved last year at this time about our wonderful group and all the opportunities it provides. We meet indoors only during the cooler months, and we use that time to offer classes to the kids (in the warmer months we meet at parks, the only structure about the meeting being the agreed location and the suggestion of timing). When our indoor meetings draw to a close we celebrate with a party, a hobbies display, a talent show, and the theater class's play, the culmination of their semester's work.

This was the our second year meeting with the group, so it was our second "last day of school" party, but it was actually Calvin's fourth play. His acting debut was as an extra god in the stage production of Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. That performance earned him more lines in the next play, The Wizard of Oz, when he played the lead munchkin and flying monkey, and his first character part in the third play, when he played the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. Calvin has a good memory, has always spoken with relatively good diction, and loves to play make-believe, so it's not really a surprise that he has continually done well on the stage.

This semester the group performed a special stage adaptation of a book trilogy written by the dad of one of our very own members, and Calvin was one of the four main characters. Lots of lines, but he still knocked it out of the park. And he had a great time doing it.

Oh, and the talent show, too.