It's All Downhill From Here...

Today, not only did I turn 40, but I found my very first grey eyebrow hair! I'm pretty sure this means my wizard powers should be coming in shortly. I tried to capture it on film (you know, in case the wizarding guild gave me any trouble), but it turns out the individual hair color isn't really discernible. So all I got was this gratuitous, slightly creepy picture of my 40 year old eyeballs. You're welcome.

Soundbites

Emile has been out of town most of this month starting his new job at eBay. I just found out his title is "Lead Cloud Developer." He assures me that his work days are not as awesome as they sound.

Larkin, Finn and I are puttering along smoothly, doing all the usual Stuff of Life, looking forward to Emile coming home. Larkin and Emile have been playing chess online almost every evening. Skype is keen.

******

Me: If you guys are happy doing your own thing for a while, I'd like to have some time to myself to do more adult things.

Finn: Okay.

Larkin: What are you going to do?

Me: ... watch a comic book movie.

 ******

I had been making food accompanied by loud music when I realized the house had been very quiet and I hadn't seen Finn in a long time. I found him spread-eagled on the living room floor.

Me: ... What's up?

Finn: I'm full of bourbon and I can't stand up.

Me: No more Tom Waits for you.

State Of The Union

We just downloaded a charades-style app that shows your teammates something to act out while you hold the tablet facing them. Larkin was telling us about one of her favorite you-tubers, Rosanna Pansino, who had played a similar game on her show Nerdy Nummies. In her version, you were supposed to hum a song as assigned by your device. Larkin was pleased to report that she would have been able to guess several Beatles songs and "We Will Rock You", and mentioned that one she remembered that she never would have known was the "Star Spangled Banger."

After much hilarity, Emile and I disclosed that the "Star Spangled BANNER" was, in fact, our national anthem and that was why we were so amused that she had no clue what it sounded like. Yeah, not a lot of sports in our lives. The second definition of patriotic in one week was called for.

Eventually, our giggling-choked explanations stopped long enough for Larkin to ask, "was it funny because I didn't know it was our natural anthem or because I got the name wrong?" Aaaaahahahaha!

Clearly there was a gap in her education here. So we paged through our substantial music collection, expecting to find an inspirational rendition to play for her, but all we came up with was Jimi Hendrix's Woodstock performance.

Our jobs here are done.

Halloween

This year, we had a Luigi (of Super Mario fame) and a Toph (from Avatar: The Last Airbender).

We had a pre-Halloween potluck with our local unschoolers group and made these amazingly revolting looking witch fingers (inspired by a dinner prepared by friend Shallon a few years ago):

They're actually just breadsticks, colored with food coloring, with almond fingernails. We served them with a bloody (marinara) dipping sauce. They were so vile looking that several kids needed to be persuaded to try them, but once the initial revulsion was overcome they disappeared quickly.

We joined up with some friends for trick or treating (you'll notice that Mario and Princess Peach complete the Nintendo theme) in Talent:

Then retreated to our place for what is (so far, and somewhat predictably) a very high energy sleepover.

Hexa-Flexa All the Things!

[guest post from Emile]

I tried watching Vi Hart's videos with Larkin and Finn a while ago, but it was a bit too soon. (Vi Hart makes incredibly entertaining videos about math and music ideas.) Finn *really* liked the one about Pythagoras, mostly because of the beans thing, and Larkin (as usual) liked them all, but they mostly went too fast and just went over their heads.

But something recently brought one of them to mind again, and after watching it with Larkin she was HOOKED. Spent a few days watching all of them, and her favorites multiple times, and then spent the next week working on various Vi Hart inspired projects.

The hexaflexagons (you really ought to watch the first video if you've never met a hexaflexagon in person) were, as you might expect, a big hit. Many days went into folding and coloring them, trying out various sizes, learning to make double ones, etc.:

Ultimately culminating in a hexaflexamexi dinner:

The various Möbius strip episodes were quite inspiring as well. She made many strips, and played with a variety of methods of cutting them. The "cut the edge off and get two interlinked loops" trick is now a favorite:

(note also the Borromean rings there; she really likes busting that phrase out as well.)


She delights in demonstrating Mobius tricks to people, asking them to guess what they think is going to happen while she does the cutting. We went to a Spanish conversation group at the library for the first time last week, and she brought it along to show her grandpa Don and ended up demonstrating it for the whole group, charming everyone as usual.

Finally, the candy corn Serpinski triangle halloween episode made quite an impression. She has since been working on making the largest Serpinski triangle she can manage on an ever growing taped together collection of lined notebook paper. The goal is to make one as tall as her bedroom door.

One of the interesting things for me about this spate of projects is how completely independently she took off on them. She has been bringing stuff to show us, but hasn't asked for any help or advice or anything when getting going on them. It feels like something of a shift.

Just Think About Aragorn

Larkin was sitting at the kitchen table, writing out the recipe for Lara Bars to put in our box of favourite recipes.

Larkin: In one third, the one goes on the top and the three goes on the bottom, right?

Me: Yep. You know, there's a fancy word for that.

Larkin (ever a big fan of big words): What?

Me: The numerator is the number on top; the denominator is the number on the bottom.

Larkin: I'm going to have a hard time remembering which is which.

Emile: Just think about Aragorn... would he be on top or on bottom?

Me: ...

Larkin: ...

Emile: On top! You know, he's victorious and the high king and everything.

Me: Right. So Aragorn's a top...

Emile: And he's Numenorean. So the numerator is on top.

Me: ...

Larkin: ...

Emile: I am the master of mnemonic devices.

Ten minutes later, after the conversation had long since moved on:

Me: So Larkin, do you remember the name for the number on top?

Larkin: ...Aragorator?

Music Lessons

This month, Larkin, Finn and I (and friend John) went to TWO live concerts. First, we went to see Weird Al Yankovic, which, as it happened, was Finn's very first big live music event (other than assorted lawn-style hippie-fests).

It also happened to be Larkin's very first brush with celebrity-induced addlepation when Weird Al came right up to our row. She remains undecided as to whether he pointed to me or her as he sang the line, "You must have fallen from heaven... that would explain how you messed up your face."

I figure any event that leaves you with sore stomach muscles from laughing so much was successful.

I think we can all agree that the natural follow-up show to Weird Al is... Primus!

Finn was outraged near the end of their set: "But they haven't done 'Tommy The Cat' yet!" Unfortunately, they never did, but they DID do "Too Many Puppies" which was the one song both Finn and Larkin specifically mentioned wanting to hear at the beginning of the night.

John (who knew what was coming) made sure Larkin was looking through the binoculars when Les Claypool came onstage in his Mr. Krinkle mask:

Her response? "I'll never forget the horror." She was equally horrified to discover that the person in the seat next to us had a 10 year old at home who refused to come to the show with him.

John and I have competing theories on how Les Claypool makes those sounds come from his bass. John postulates that he's actually playing the bass like a banjo, a technique which apparently involves a great deal of plucking and slapping. That explains a lot. My theory is that if you slap an instrument around long enough, eventually you break its will and it will produce whatever sounds you demand. A deal with the devil may also be involved. I'm pretty sure that explains even more.

We also noticed the audiences for the two shows were quite different. There were only a handful of kids watching Primus, although that might be partly explained by the fact that it was a school night. The short among us were somewhat chagrined to discover that everyone stood up for the whole Primus show (understandable, though... I would have been hard pressed to sit still), while the audience mostly sat for Weird Al.

Timber Update

Real work is hard.

He's A Lumberjack And He's Okay...

I'm not sure this is how *all* computer nerds spend their vacation... er, I mean time between jobs, but this is how it's done around here.

Yep, Emile was laid off about a week and a half ago and we're thinking we just might try to stretch this time off out for a bit. We have a few projects planned that require beams and Emile has been eyeing some dead trees both on our property and at Jim and Mary's place.

Jim got all excited about using his wildlife motion-activated camera to capture part of the process.

Emile got all excited because the motion sensor meant that all the time he spent standing around hemming and hawing and wondering what the heck he was doing wasn't recorded.

Meanwhile, Larkin, Finn and I are at home wondering how much time we can buy with Emile if we are very, very frugal. Life has been an odd combination of stress and relief lately.

Sorely shorn, Samson snored

I've been trying to convince Larkin to cut her hair for years. In fact, I had pretty much given up trying to convince Larkin to cut her hair and had resigned myself to a lifetime of supporting her braiding and detangling habits. A few days ago, in a brisk wind, I randomly waxed nostalgic for having hair short enough that it wouldn't get in my eyes in the wind. Today, she needed to go get a hair cut. Right now.

Lest ye have forgotten the magnitude of hair of which we speak:

That's a lot of hair. The hair cutter (barber? barberess? salon lady? stylist?) was Fantastic. She didn't seem overly despondent that Larkin was cutting her hair, talked directly to Larkin rather than to me, checked in before doing anything irreversible, and was happy to take the extra time and steps necessary for us to save the hair for donation. After some on-line research, we chose to send the hair to Wigs For Kids, but it hasn't been mailed yet so if you know something we don't about hair donation, please let me know!

First step, separating the hair into quadrants and gathering the sections:

Then the moment after which there was no going back:

Somehow the tails left on the chair were a little sad. These are the first two:

I'm pretty sure Larkin grinned the whole time and never had a second thought. Boy does this kid embrace life experiences.

She had almost two feet of length taken off, total. The end result:

And one from the side for full appreciation:

She *loves* it. And can't stay away from reflective surfaces. And chattered all the way home about how she couldn't believe anyone would want to have long straight hair. And used it as an excuse to talk Emile into taking her swimming as soon as we got home ("It'll be like a celebration... and I want to know what it's like to swim without a long braid!")

I totally expected some anguish, second thoughts, moments of regret, maybe even a few tears. Heck, I wasn't even sure we were actually going to leave the haircut shop with more than a trim. I guess this just proves (again) that I shouldn't project potential angst onto this kid who seems pretty certain the world is all rainbows and unicorns.

Fortitude

My living room is currently occupied by the most prodigious blanket fort I have ever had the privilege to witness.

Through the main doors is the central office and crafting space.

If you proceed down the hallway to the left at the entrance, you will find yourself in the spacious, yet cozy, sleeping chambers.

The modest back annex houses the changing room, affording ample head space for ease and comfort while providing full blanket coverage for privacy.

Larkin, Finn and friend Sage tucked into the fort about midnight last night. They went in and out for triplicate bedtime hugs (and possibly to demonstrate the practicality and hardiness of their creation) before I was ushered off to bed. We had our house fan on, cooling off the house with the night air. I sat at the top of the stairs in the breeze for several minutes, listening to the rise and fall of their voices but unable to decipher individual words. They were speaking softly, almost lyrically, in rhythms that could have been lullabies or ghost stories. I don't often have these squishy moments, revelling in sweetness, but I'm learning to stop and enjoy it when they sneak up on me.

In Which I Demonstrate My Deeply Intimidating Nature

We've always had bears around our place, but last spring a mama with three (3!) cubs was hanging around a whole lot. I think we're seeing so much action right now because those cubs are grown up and exploring. We've had a lot of luck with firecrackers and a slingshot (I like scaring them away without causing any harm), but it's a two person job to light/load the firecracker and fling it before it explodes.

So Emile and the kids were out of town last week and I had heard a lot of suspicious noises outside, but it was never close enough to the house to worry me. Finally, on Sunday night, the noises were much closer and I thought a bear was tearing up our shed. It was close enough that I got a good look at it then flung firecrackers, clapped my hands, shouted and generally tried to make an auditory nuisance of myself. It really didn't care. At all.

At this point, I decided retreat was perhaps the finest part of valour so I went inside and even decided to lock the doors since a bear that unfazed around humans (you know, the really tough-looking, intimidating types like me) might just decide to come through a sliding glass door into the kitchen for a snack. In retrospect, I realize a lock probably wouldn't stop it if it decided to come in, but I wasn't thinking particularly clearly at that point.

 

All was quieter for a few minutes, but then the noises started up again and I decided I'd give this whole menacing gig one last try. I went back out onto the porch, pulling the door shut with nary a second thought... until I heard the lock click behind me. At this point, I was outside with no flashlight, chainsaw, axe, or any other useful implement of self-defense. Heck, I wasn't even wearing pants since the bear sounds had pulled me out of bed. The bear was making lots of loud thrashing noises, but I could only faintly see where it was because it was Dark. Some of those thrashing noises sounded distinctly like charging to my adrenaline-addled brain.

I had to go closer to the bear to get off the porch, then headed for a kitchen window. I put a thumb-sized hole in the screen so I could pull it out, then was very relieved to discover that the window was not locked. It was, however, at neck height and only opened about 18 inches. In what can only be described as a masterful feat of ninja-like reflexes and superhuman upper body strength, I pulled myself into the kitchen, at which point I decided the bear could do whatever the heck it wanted as long as it stayed outside. I'm pretty sure I was locked outside for all of about 20 seconds. Twenty very long seconds.

It turns out that whatever (valiant and purely related to my exhibition of graceful physicality-- I'm pretty sure "gazelle-like" applies here) noise I was making during my retreat was the last straw for the bear. Once inside, I caught it trundling away in the flashlight's beam. I'm going to go ahead and assume that my defensive display has thoroughly chastened it and we won't be seeing it again any time soon.