Oh, the Heidmannity…

Friday morning, being Paul’s day off, was all about math.  The air was filled with a  veritable whirlwind of fractions and integers, variables, factor trees, and I know not what, as the girls made a constant cycle through the living room to present their finished problems to their dad, then go to the black board and work out what was wrong, then march off to work some more. I sat in my recliner, crocheting, managing Jacob as he struggled to focus on his addition problems beside me, and watched the father/daughter banter with amusement and gratitude, both for the personalized instruction and for the relational benefits afforded by this homeschooling lifestyle we have chosen.

And once, when I got up off my chair to go do something, I heard a grand hullabaloo, and upon returning, my wondering eyes beheld this heap of Heidmannity:

Poor Megan!

Buried beneath a mountain of love.

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Later as the afternoon wore on, and Paul had left to run many errands on his own, my posse prevailed upon me to take them to the Library. It seemed like a perfect end to the week.

Here Lisa and Megan examine the mosaic sculpture on the plaza.

Jacob turns to show me the robot walk.

Attempting to sit down for a photo-op,
Megan finds herself on the defense…

From a certain impish brother determined to insert himself into the frame.

Then everyone else caught up, and I thought I’d grab a commemorative shot with the Velma Teague Library in the background.
Jacob is technically visible in the pic… can you find him?

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What I did not expect when I bundled everyone up in the van, drove to the library, got out, bringing my camera along, was that when we walked up to the doors, we would find them locked up tight as a drum, with a sign on the window declaring that the library is closed on Fridays.

That was worth a laugh… we’ve never gone on a Friday before, so we never had cause to notice that sign.

On the way back to the van, we passed a grandpa sitting on a bench, who said “I could have told you they’re closed on Fridays!”  Next to him was a bicycle, loaded with all his earthly treasure, one of which was (he told us) a Euphonium, tarnished with age, use, & exposure, much like this one.

Nota Bene: The Euphonium and the Baritone Horn are frequently confused.  Here’s an explanation of the differences:

Many non-musician members of the general public in the United States do not recognize the name “euphonium” and confuse the instrument with the baritone horn. The euphonium and the baritone differ in that the bore size of the baritone horn is smaller than that of the euphonium, and the baritone is predominately cylindrical bore, whereas the euphonium is predominately conical bore. The two instruments are easily interchangeable to the player, with some modification of breath and embouchure, since the two have essentially identical range and fingering.^[2] The cylindrical baritone offers the brighter sound and the conical euphonium offers the mellower sound.

The so-called American baritone, featuring three valves on the front of the instrument and a curved, forward-pointing bell, was dominant in American school bands throughout most of the twentieth century, its weight, shape and configuration conforming to the needs of the marching band. While this instrument is in reality a conical-cylindrical bore hybrid, neither fully euphonium nor baritone, it was almost universally labeled a “baritone” by both band directors and composers, thus contributing to the confusion of terminology in the United States.

So that was an interesting interchange.  From there we went to drop off Lisa at home, along with the ROY G. BIV and Sunset afghans.

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A leisurely evening was spent with some Stargate Atlantis and finishing season 2 of The Mentalist. :(  (Insert old fogey rant: It’s always such a drag to finish a season these days… nobody knows how to make an ending that is both satisfactory and anticipatory.  Ever since J.R. Ewing got shot, the cliffhanger has ruled.  Not that this particular season finale had anything close to the dramatic cliffhangers other shows have had in the final seconds, but it was a downer nonetheless.)

Megan had an out of sorts tummy during the evening, and this morning got up no better, so she missed the wondrous opportunity to shoot in another match with her sisters.  It is noon now, so I expect they will be done by 1:00 pm or so, if it runs the way it did last time.

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And oh, woe upon me, the tragedy of it all – my washing machine is inoperable.   I was trying to clean out the yucky stuff lodged in the rubber seal around the door (it’s a front loader) and something popped off, some kind of metal ring that probably helps keep it in place, but I have no idea how to put it back….  anyway,I believe my afternoon will be spent becoming aquainted with the shiny stainless steel machinery in the new laundromat that just opened up by the Ranch Market.  Maybe I can steal Paul’s Kindle to pass the time while I wait (at least, until the folding phase begins).

Wish me joy of it!