"You have been talked of since your travel much"

 

"your intent In going back to school"

Monday this week was the first Monday I've had in months and months without the prospect of any school hanging over my head.

It's Wednesday, and I'm already working on next year's school.

Part of this is our own fault. We start early and go late so that we can usually have a four-day school week, and everyone is on board with this. But it makes for a pretty short summer break, and when the back part of that break is going to be spend abroad you need to make sure that your school books are ordered and your school plans are submitted to the district well in advance.

So I got a total of about two whole days off from school before I was filling the Amazon cart with books, looking up information on requirements for homeschooling a high-schooler (!) and trying to find workbooks for textbooks that have apparently gone out of print since we started doing this.

The good news is that there has probably never been an easier time to be a homeschooling parent. I can't imagine doing the process of book-buying and curriculum research before the age of the internet. Not only are there more resources now, but they are considerably easier to put your hands on.

I do feel, however, a bit like Milo of Croton. I started the homeschooling process with James 10 years ago by carrying one small bull-calf up the hill. We did some handwriting, we did some reading, we called it a day it was great. 

Over the years my shoulders have grown accustomed to the weight of the growing bull (and the bull's brothers), and I've been able to accept the incremental increase in work and responsibility until I apparently am carrying three full-grown bulls uphill every day, one of which refuses to wear his glasses and will hide his schoolbooks under the sofa when he thinks I'm not looking.

(I'm not sure that this metaphor has much more life in it.)

But the point is, it's time to start another year of school. There will be yet a little bit more work to do, a bit more responsibility for all parties involved. 

And the household can hold together and stand it for one more year, right?

Right?

"Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man"

I was getting ready to change and drive to my evening concert and happened to look at the forecast. It was supposed to get chilly--down below 60 once the sun set, and this concert wasn't going to start until after 8:30. 

I could wear my white jacket!

White jackets as a staple of summer orchestra programs have been slowly disappearing since my career began. They can look wonderfully dressy when clean and fitted correctly, but most programs, even evening programs, are not performed in weather that is appropriate for wearing long sleeves. I had a cheap (polyester of some sort) white jacket for the early years of my career that I was constantly sweating through and didn't particularly enjoy wearing. It was several sizes too large and probably looked okay from a distance but was embarrassingly cheap and ill-fitting up close. (Not to mention slightly stinky.)

Several years ago, despite the fact that most of the groups that I work with were slowly phasing out the white jackets, I bought a real one. Not only a jacket that fit me correctly, but high-end slim fit proper dinner jacket in ivory (real dinner jackets are never pure white) made from expensive Italian wool with a satin shawl collar. It was a piece of real high fashion from a store that I usually wouldn't be able to afford, but happened to discover being sold used despite being practically new. 

It was magic when I put that jacket on. It fit me perfectly, and I looked like James Bond about to roll into a casino.

But I usually don't get to wear it, because we're always playing summer concerts in the sweltering heat, and the group that I play most with over the summer has almost entirely phased tux jackets out. 

Tonight, however, I was playing locally and the weather was cool...I could wear the nicest piece in my wardrobe. I pulled on dress pants, my black leather dress boots, and a clean white dress shirt. I was looking forward to coming down the stairs in much more dazzlingly formal attire than usual. 

I tried to imagine my reaction to J's reaction.

"Yes, I do look like James Bond. But James Bond can't even begin to play the trumpet, of course..."

"I WOULD like to go out with you soon...want to wear that your lowest cut dress if I wear this dinner jacket?"

"No, I don't have time for THAT right now, but if you stay up I won't be back too late after my concert..."

I finished tying my shoes and came down the stairs to show off.

What she actually said was:

"Oh, your white jacket...were you eating in ketchup in it?"

"What do you mean?"

"That stain...what is it? Is it coffee, maybe?"

"What stain? Where?"

"Bottom right corner. Oh, Roy...it's all over the arm too. What did you do in that thing?"

"I didn't do anything! I haven't worn it since I got it back from the dry cleaners after last summer!"

"You did something. Oh, honey, it's all down the side too. You can't go onstage in that, you know."

"What IS this?"

"Maybe the cleaners can get some of it out..."

I really didn't eat something with ketchup or drink coffee in my nicest white dinner jacket. I have no idea how it got massive brown stains all over it. Maybe something leaked in the closet, or I stored something extra dirty next to it? But anyway, I didn't exactly preen onto the stage in my very fine looking James Bond tux jacket. I did, however, put it on after the sun went down. Because I was the only one who thought to bring a jacket, and was therefore the only one who didn't get cold.

So there.

"I will last you some eight year"

 

"Look where my abridgment comes"

 Declamas belle, causas agis, Attice, belle

historias bellas, carmina bella facis,

componis belle mimos, epigrammata belle,

bellus grammaticus, bellus es astrologus,

et belle cantas et saltas, Attice, belle,

bellus es arte Lyra, bellus es arte pilae.

Nil bene cum facias, facias tamen omnia belle,

vis dicam quid sis? Magnus es ardelio.

Martial, Epigrams Book 2 no. 7

"You speak beautifully, you argue beautifully, Roy,

you tell lovely stories, you write beautiful music,

you entertain handsomely, you tell funny anecdotes,

you know your grammar, you know your astronomy,

you sing and move beautifully, Roy,

you play your instrument beautifully, you run beautifully.

Although you done of it well, you do it beautifully,

would you like me to say what you are? You're a consummate dabbler."

"a Monday morning, 'twas then indeed"

I’ll be thrilled when my boys are back home. I’ll be eager to see them, to hear about their time at camp, and to play foursquare at the playground across the road with them.

But what a great morning this has been.

I didn’t have to cajole anyone into starting school.

The only person I made breakfast for was myself.

I’ve been reading on the pergola for hours without being interrupted once.

I did a warm-up in the living room and no one complained that it was too loud.

I haven’t even heard Axel F even once.

No one has begged me to take them swimming.

No one has blamed me for the weather being a disappointment.

The only dirty laundry I’ve picked up has been my own.

I folded a couple of blankets, and they’ve stayed folded for hours.

I poured a glass of of sparkling water and no one came running to ask if they could have some too.

I’m going to go for a run in a few minutes, and I won’t even have to confirm that there is an extra adult in the house.

But the most incredible thing of all…

…every single light in the house, at 1:00 on a sunny afternoon in July, is turned off.

"What news, my lord?"