scenes from my chalk boards

I kind of love chalk boards.   Maybe it's a math thing, but still. Chalk boards. 

Chalkboards are good for spontaneous art by small people.  And they're also good for spontaneous art by the grown-up-sized aunts of small people.  And just generally, for spontaneity.

A sheep that my daughter drew.  A snail by another daughter. 
And a plethora of hieroglyphic symbols by my granddaughter.

When my husband and I bought this house, I splurged and bought chalk boards for the home --- not just one chalkboard, but two chalkboards.  One of them is up in the room that I call my "command center", and the other is in the dining room, surrounded by pictures of family.

The dining room chalkboard, with family photos all around.

When I said I "splurged", I wasn't kidding.  I might get a bunch of my furniture from yard sales and Freecycle, but these chalkboards, not so much.  I custom-ordered these babies, carefully selecting the size, the surface, and the frame, and I paid a few hundred bucks for them.  So much for the "miser" part of "Miser Mom", eh?  

I like this particular brand of board because of a couple of things.  They accept chalk well (some chalkboards aren't easy to write on, and you have to press really hard, but these look really nice).   And also, they're magnetic.  

Photos of my kids, newspaper clippings, a sabbath to-do list,
and a cleaning cloth (with magnet)
on my Command Center board.

I stick things up on the board with magnets.  I jot down notes for my kids, so when they come over to visit every week or so, I don't forget to tell them stuff or give them mail.  I've come to love grabbing a piece of chalk and writing quick notes to myself.   My family appreciates my scribbled to-do lists, too; possibly that's because my notes about my tasks are a tad eclectic.

Because who doesn't have To-Do lists that say "Shelves, Unicorn"?
Oh, and the paper is this year's advent calendar. 

I like also that the combination of chalk tray, magnets, and writing space makes it easy to label small things or obscure pieces of paper. 

When you move to a new home, you get new keys . . . 

. . . and if you're wondering where you left that bus pass,
this might be a clue.  

There's a beautiful book of photographs coming out from Princeton U. Press called "Do not erase".  It's a collection of photographs of mathematicians' blackboards.  I'm not in the book, and neither are my chalkboard drawings, but I am very much looking forward to getting my hands on a copy of the book.  (Even though it's not due out until a year from now, it's already getting nice press).  

And yes, I've seen the Hagoromo Chalk video (and know a couple of the mathematicians featured therein), and it's possible that a certain brand of chalk might make its way under my Christmas Tree this year.  

And so, in my new home, with its Question-mark-shaped kitchen, its alpine-steep stairs, the Dungeon in the basement, the purple Adirondack love seat on the front porch, and the oddly high ceilings, there's yet another quirky feature to make me love this new little place. 

Self referential humor makes me giggle.