Cajun Cottage Under the Oaks

Did You Know It's the Month of May?

No time for blogging but I have pictures that I must share for prosperity and memory-making if for no other reason. I already have a picture folder labeled "Summertime".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

End-of-School-Year Homeschool Fun Day at

Sam Houston State Park

Potato Harvest

Here are the potato harvest pictures I promised.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The potatoes, onions and beans have all been harvest. My husband tilled the ground and furrowed the rows yesterday. Chili peppers, banana peppers, and okra have been planted in their place. 

Late Night Issue Daybook

This is my own Cajun Cottage version of the Simple Woman's Daybook

Outside my Window...my white filagree bedroom curtains keep the darkness out of my home and hearth.

I am thinking. . . of plans our real-life co-op is forming for the new school year.

I am thankful for. . . abundant gardens.  Really and truly thankful!

The harvest is plentiful...

Stay tuned for pictures of the potato harvest.

From the schoolroom. . .my eleven-yr-old and I worked on a nice little English lesson today: the Figures of Speech. So much nicer than an evening of Math. In my book anyway.

From the kitchen. . . schoolbooks! lots of schoolbooks stewing on the table. We're trying to finish our work by the end of May. And we will!

I am wearing. . . navy blue nightgown

I am creating... something fun...fixing to be unveiled...soon.

I am going. . .to bed.

I am reading. . .lots of Great Depression picture books with my children. Check the left-hand sidebar for the listings.

I am hoping. . .the Bishop is able to help our Catholic hs group find a permanent facility to use for co-op.

I am hearing. . . the faint sound of a distant television. A door clicking closed. The hiss of the water filter. Dogs barking. Seems there are more sounds at night than in the morning. Odd.

 I am praying...for many online prayer intentions.

Observing the Liturgical Calendar... May is all about Mary. Plans are for:

• May altar
• May garden
• May crowning

Around the house. . . I'm too tired to look. One day it's clean. Another day it's cluttered. Let me just say...'tis lived in.*

* This has not changed since last week's daybook or the week before that.

I have cleaned out the schoolbooks and aligned the school books for next year but if you look around my sitting room you'll be fooled. Stacks of books are heaving and tumbling all over the place. They will be going into next month's used book sale. For now, they sit.

I cleaned out the bathroom drawers today and my youngest daughter set-up a spa in the living room while my oldest daughter decided to repaint and remodel her room this week. She shoveled all her stuff into the hallway. Combine that with the bathroom being remodeled. Step laddars and paint buckets and stacks of tile and buckets of grout threaten to trip-up my best intentions.

I'm pretty discouraged in this housekeeping department. Can. Not. Get. Ahead!

One of my favorite things. . . mimosa and magnolia trees in bloom.

A few plans for the rest of the week. . .senior supper tomorrow night (even though I don't have a senior this year) and graduation party for friend's son on Saturday

And Grace and her family coming to see my garden. :-)

And hopefully a frappuccino or mocha shared with my niece before she leaves on her cruise.

Here is picture thought I am sharing...

 

The mimosa trees and magnolias have dressed up in their Sunday finest just in time for summer. :-)

Mother's Day---9 Days Later

I've been cleaning out bathroom drawers!

"OMG!!! (ie: Oh My God!!!)  So exclaimed my dear husband in his text back at me.

I know, I know...  <sheepish grin>

Annie was helping me...until she found a spa kit. :-)

My living room has officially been transformed into Annie Claire's Scented Spa.

Oma and I just received a delicious aromatic pedicure and rub down with all sorts of fragrances and sprays and perfume and scents.

I smell like a flower.

Better prepare myself incase the bees return.

By the way, Annie Claire's Scented Spa charges only $1.00 per pedicure...if anyone is interested.  No men allowed!

When Bees Enter in

April showers bring May flowers which certainly do bring hivernating bees out for their annual spring housekeeping.  Literally so!

When you blog these things you are able to tell your husband exactly when this natural occurance last occured. 

June 24, 2007: We unveiled a host of bumblebees and their gold!

But this time they were inside my house and I could not, would not, go down without a fight.

 

Afterall, I have a family to protect. I did not get pictures of it live. Who would, I ask? My seven-year-old daughter was freaking out and they were swarming at my window. Hundreds of them! On the inside and outside. A few had ventured into the kitchen area and living area looking for a way out.

Sorry, all you beelovers.

May 30, 2008: My Texas friend Wendy dreamed of finding a hidden treasure!

May 2009: My California friend Lissa and her family are flirting flitting with bees this month.

I adore them too and am perfectly aware of the studies connecting their survival to ours but...

Battle lines have been drawn.

You'll be happy to know that the ones outside took the hint and anxiously pinged off to, hopefully, another---safer?---destination.

And to think that just today I told my friend Linda and her daughter that the only thing to fear when visiting my house was its deplorable state of remodeling.

Wondering...

In the mist of OBama delivering the commencement address at Notre Dame, not many of us are aware of who gave it at Tulane's 2009 graduation in New Orleans yesterday. I wasn't.

Now I know: Tulane Commencement Address

It doesn't matter to me that Ellen gave it.

I do wonder what is being classified as an "inspirational" address on today's college campuses and why we have taken to inviting jesters and comedians to give commencement addresses. 

Perhaps it's because note-worthy citizens who have given these addresses in the past have become something of a joke.

A Lesson in Mathematical Patience

Many who read my blog have commented to me how happy my children seem, how they can tell it's so from their smiles. Well, of course I put pictures of my children smiling. I'm a proud Mother and I think my children are pretty great...fantastic, in fact. And, yes, they do smile...often.

But blogs are like a magazine cover. They show only a fourth of the story.

The picture above speaks volumes.

I have never claimed to be the perfect mother. That would be totally irresponsible of me and, since some of my children and certain relatives read this blog, they would take me up to task on that declaration. 

I have also never claimed to be able to teach math. God forbid! Math drives me bananas. I've always suffered math annoyance and I'm afraid my children think I'm annoyed with them when I'm trying to explain it. I'm not. I'm annoyed with all those little numbers and figures who scatter in numerous directions, won't follow my orderly train of thought, and never do what I want them to do. That's what annoys me.

My children even say I yell!

I don't. I raise my voice, yes...sometimes...but I don't yell. And, anyway, I'm not raising my voice at them. I'm raising it at all those squirrely little numbers. Geesh, why do some people have to take things so personally?

I admire the mothers who are patience-made-over, who speak in gentle tones, whose voices reinforce, recharge, and revere their young students. I wish to God! that He had blessed me with that knack. He didn't. But something happened last night that reinforced, recharge, and revered ME and reminded me that God is always in control of all situations, despite our weakness and things we lack grace in.

Last night, I was trying to explain a math problem to my eleven-year-old daughter, but I didn't want to. I was doing the laundry. Math versus Laundry. Hands-down, laundry wins.

My daughter wasn't getting it and I was annoyed again with myself for lack of explaining-skills. All those rambling numbers scurried around the paper like undisciplined delinquents. It was past nine o'clock at night, thus giving merit to the school's theory of teaching math in the early morning. Nine o'clock! Why in the world were we still doing schoolwork? I wanted to go put my feet up and read a book. I wanted to relax.

I took my load of soft, bleach-tinted towels and gracefully flounced out of the room. At least I'd like to think I flounced out of the room with the grace of Scarlett O'Hara, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't that graceful. And Scarlett had no grace anyway.

Like Scarlett, I wanted to dissolve in a pitiful heap at the bottom of my stairs and cry into the bounty of freshly washed towels. Only, I don't have stairs in my house. Easier still was claiming this heroine's stance, casting my eyes heavenward and proclaiming that "Tomorrow is other day!" Shake the dust off your feet and get on with what you were doing. Folding laundry. Yeah, that works for me.

But my poor child still didn't have a clue how to solve the problem and she was pitiful. I knew if I tried explaining it, I would be accused of "yelling" at her even though I was only "raising my voice" at all those unruly little numbers.

My college advisor warned me over twenty years ago that I had a mental block against math. Twenty-years later I'd say she's right. Give me a book to read aloud, a picnic basket with paints and brushes, a field trip to the crawfish farm, a bunch of girls and a kitchen (I do love the kitchen), a ticket to the museum, or a classroom of thirty high schoolers for Louisiana History. I do just fine. I do the dance beautifully. That's my fancy. That's my style. That's my forte.

Ask me to explain a math problem is equal to putting a fly on vinager paper. It's not pretty. In fact, I stink.

That's why I ordered Teaching Textbooks for my little math students.

True...using computers for school subjects can be frustrating. Computers can freeze, short-circuit, and catch viruses....just like a mother. But they don't yell. That was the plus. Yet our computer was down for a month and a half. The TT would not work on it. It was during this time I realized the student still needed to be given basic paper to do basic math. Paper! there's nothing like it.

So for the past month and a half we've been suffering through workbooks and, now that the computer and TT are back in service, I am hesitant to give-up daily problems on paper. They serve as reinforcement. I fear the computer can become too much like the calculator and leave our minds in the dark ages. Using TT for the lectures, explanations, and the problems as practice is wonderful, excellent; but make sure you're offering them some paperwork as well.

But let's get back to last night. It might be that "birds of a feather flock together" or that Corey, the older brother, remembered the stress and anxiety of Mom trying to explain math. He remembered the flouncing and the lifting of my voice. He remembered the inhaling of my breath when the math book was laid open.

It's not something I want my children to remember but God has a plan. He's in control.

As I returned from my laundry duty, Corey never said a word but went to the table where his bereaved little sister sat, pencil poised in hand. He was gentle and patient while explaining those math problems to her. He gently and patiently explained and worked through every last problem with her until she understood it.

Did I fail?

I could say what a terrible mother I am. What a loser I am. But I won't. Afterall, I'm Scarlett O'Hara.

No, it isn't that I'm a terrible mother. What it is is that God has blessed me with some really great children. And, as you can see, it isn't anything I've done. It was through my weakness that my son stepped up to the plate.

I prefer to look at the moment and evaluate what was learned. It seems my son learned something more than just math. Afterall, math is math. I didn't learn how to make change until I was in my thirties. So much for public school teaching me math. But I eventually did when I had to and I've claimed it.

Corey learned something mightier than math. He learned that some things, like gentleness and patience, have more substance than figures. They get us where we need to go while making the trip a whole lot nicer.

God used my human weakness and sinful nature to teach my son in twenty years what took me forty years to learn:

• to instruct the ignorant
• to counsel the doubtful
• to bear wrong problems patiently
• to comfort the afflicted

Those works of mercy are of infinite worth and immeasureable beauty in the Kingdom of Heaven and both my children will reap the benefits and claim the rewards.

And so will I.

 

Many who read my blog have commented to me how happy my children seem, how they can tell it's so from their smiles. Well, of course I put pictures of my children smiling. I'm a proud Mother and I think my children are pretty great...fantastic, in fact. And, yes, they do smile...often.

But blogs are like a magazine cover. They show only a fourth of the story.

The picture above speaks volumes.

I have never claimed to be the perfect mother. That would be totally irresponsible of me and, since some of my children and certain relatives read this blog, they would take me up to task on that declaration. 

I have also never claimed to be able to teach math. God forbid! Math drives me bananas. I've always suffered math annoyance and I'm afraid my children think I'm annoyed with them when I'm trying to explain it. I'm not. I'm annoyed with all those little numbers and figures who scatter in numerous directions, won't follow my orderly train of thought, and never do what I want them to do. That's what annoys me.

My children even say I yell!

I don't. I raise my voice, yes...sometimes...but I don't yell. And, anyway, I'm not raising my voice at them. I'm raising it at all those squirrely little numbers. Geesh, why do some people have to take things so personally?

I admire the mothers who are patience-made-over, who speak in gentle tones, whose voices reinforce, recharge, and revere their young students. I wish to God! that He had blessed me with that knack. He didn't. But something happened last night that reinforced, recharge, and revered ME and reminded me that God is always in control of all situations, despite our weakness and things we lack grace in.

Last night, I was trying to explain a math problem to my eleven-year-old daughter, but I didn't want to. I was doing the laundry. Math versus Laundry. Hands-down, laundry wins.

My daughter wasn't getting it and I was annoyed again with myself for lack of explaining-skills. All those rambling numbers scurried around the paper like undisciplined delinquents. It was past nine o'clock at night, thus giving merit to the school's theory of teaching math in the early morning. Nine o'clock! Why in the world were we still doing schoolwork? I wanted to go put my feet up and read a book. I wanted to relax.

I took my load of soft, bleach-tinted towels and gracefully flounced out of the room. At least I'd like to think I flounced out of the room with the grace of Scarlett O'Hara, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't that graceful. And Scarlett had no grace anyway.

Like Scarlett, I wanted to dissolve in a pitiful heap at the bottom of my stairs and cry into the bounty of freshly washed towels. Only, I don't have stairs in my house. Easier still was claiming this heroine's stance, casting my eyes heavenward and proclaiming that "Tomorrow is other day!" Shake the dust off your feet and get on with what you were doing. Folding laundry. Yeah, that works for me.

But my poor child still didn't have a clue how to solve the problem and she was pitiful. I knew if I tried explaining it, I would be accused of "yelling" at her even though I was only "raising my voice" at all those unruly little numbers.

My college advisor warned me over twenty years ago that I had a mental block against math. Twenty-years later I'd say she's right. Give me a book to read aloud, a picnic basket with paints and brushes, a field trip to the crawfish farm, a bunch of girls and a kitchen (I do love the kitchen), a ticket to the museum, or a classroom of thirty high schoolers for Louisiana History. I do just fine. I do the dance beautifully. That's my fancy. That's my style. That's my forte.

Ask me to explain a math problem is equal to putting a fly on vinager paper. It's not pretty. In fact, I stink.

That's why I ordered Teaching Textbooks for my little math students.

True...using computers for school subjects can be frustrating. Computers can freeze, short-circuit, and catch viruses....just like a mother. But they don't yell. That was the plus. Yet our computer was down for a month and a half. The TT would not work on it. It was during this time I realized the student still needed to be given basic paper to do basic math. Paper! there's nothing like it.

So for the past month and a half we've been suffering through workbooks and, now that the computer and TT are back in service, I am hesitant to give-up daily problems on paper. They serve as reinforcement. I fear the computer can become too much like the calculator and leave our minds in the dark ages. Using TT for the lectures, explanations, and the problems as practice is wonderful, excellent; but make sure you're offering them some paperwork as well.

But let's get back to last night. It might be that "birds of a feather flock together" or that Corey, the older brother, remembered the stress and anxiety of Mom trying to explain math. He remembered the flouncing and the lifting of my voice. He remembered the inhaling of my breath when the math book was laid open.

It's not something I want my children to remember but God has a plan. He's in control.

As I returned from my laundry duty, Corey never said a word but went to the table where his bereaved little sister sat, pencil poised in hand. He was gentle and patient while explaining those math problems to her. He gently and patiently explained and worked through every last problem with her until she understood it.

Did I fail?

I could say what a terrible mother I am. What a loser I am. But I won't. Afterall, I'm Scarlett O'Hara.

No, it isn't that I'm a terrible mother. What it is is that God has blessed me with some really great children. And, as you can see, it isn't anything I've done. It was through my weakness that my son stepped up to the plate.

I prefer to look at the moment and evaluate what was learned. It seems my son learned something more than just math. Afterall, math is math. I didn't learn how to make change until I was in my thirties. So much for public school teaching me math. But I eventually did when I had to and I've claimed it.

Corey learned something mightier than math. He learned that some things, like gentleness and patience, have more substance than figures. They get us where we need to go while making the trip a whole lot nicer.

God used my human weakness and sinful nature to teach my son in twenty years what took me forty years to learn:

• to instruct the ignorant
• to counsel the doubtful
• to bear wrong problems patiently
• to comfort the afflicted

Those works of mercy are of infinite worth and immeasureable beauty in the Kingdom of Heaven and both my children will reap the benefits and claim the rewards.

And so will I.

 

Clara's Poorman Meal

Clara's Poorman Meal

featuring Annie Claire as our domestic diva!

* * * * *

First you take the onion and you dice it...you dice it...

then you take the squash and you squash it...you squash it...

 

MOM!!!

 

You cut-up the potatoes too (straight from the garden as were the squash and onion) and you put it all together and you cook it...you cook it.

Salt and pepper to taste.

 

The recipe didn't call for the squash but we're having a rainfall of squash right now and must cook them. Studying the Great Depression is as much a lesson in waste-not-want-not as anything.

 

Then you take the hot dog and you slice it...you slice it...

 

Put it all together and you stir it...you stir it...

 

 

Then you eat it...you eat it...

 

As well as any leftover diced squash, as Annie's note invites you. Very tasty.

This was one of the better Depression meals, folks. It was very tasty and I plan to make it again w/ a variety of meats.

 

Sweet Music of Gardening

 This afternoon as pots and pans clanged and sang around my kitchen...

"Annie! can you run out to the garden and get Mommy an onion and a bellpepper to go in the spaghetti?"

 

I LOVE this style of grocery-shopping!

The Mother of All

 May, therefore, is the time in which there are such frequent Alleluias, because Christ has risen from the grave, Christ has ascended on high, and God the Holy [Spirit] has come down to take his place.

~ Venerable John Henry Newman

 

When you obediently said "yes" in the house of Nazareth, you allowed God's eternal Son to take flesh in your virginal womb and thus to begin in history the work of our redemption.

 

You willingly and generously cooperated in that work, allowing the sword of pain to pierce your soul, until the supreme hour of the Cross, when you kept watch on Calvary, standing beside your Son, who died that we might live.

 

From that moment, you became, in a new way, the Mother of all those who receive your Son Jesus in faith and choose to follow in his footsteps by taking up his Cross.

~Pope Benedict XVI (World Day of Prayer for the Church in China)