Saturday Was a Special Day

They were tiny special things...but I enjoyed them.

1) I was in the craft/fabric store waiting in line behind a lady who was holding a twenty dollar bill. When the clerk rang up the total and turned and said, "$31. 53" the lady looked at her a minute without speaking. Then the clerk repeated the sum and finally the lady replied, "Treinta?" and several more words that neither I nor the clerk understood.

She picked up a couple of her items and gestured toward the register's screen. I saw the twenty dollar bill and realized what was going on. The clerk definitely did not have a clue. So, I pointed at the screen to the cost listed for each of the three items she was holding and said, "Seise, seise, seise..." Oh, the lady realized her problem. So she handed one of them to the clerk and gestured to return it and reduce the cost of her total. She had to do it with a couple of more items, and then the clerk declared, "$17.02" and everyone looked at me expectantly!

"Diecisiete...y dos centavos" I immediately blurted out. I was flabbergasted that I knew how to say 17 just like that! I usually have to count up to get the right number. And then, half the time I end up saying it in French instead. (My first foreign language counting encounter.) So, everyone smiled, she turned over her $20 and told me something about her casa and ingles and I nodded and smiled and said, "Si, ingles es muy dificil." Hopefully that translates to "English is very hard."

Imagine!! Me---translator! I'm sure my children and grandchildren who actually speak Spanish are cracking up.

2) So, I cooked dinner and Coolguy came in from the garage as I was finishing the "plating". He looked over my shoulder to see what I was fixing and said, "Oh, look, we're having [EarthSignMama] potatoes." Huh?

"You know...sweet potatoes--lucious, delectable, succulent, wonderful [EarthSignMama] potatoes."

Ahhhh... :)

Uh-Oh

Well, it just can't be a good thing when three out of three of your teachers contact your mom in one week. Hmm.

This morning we had conversations with a mom of a boy new to our school. She'd come over to see who was threatening her son. But, I had called and left a message last night about the need for a talk about his behavior. And, unknown to me, the other two teachers had also called her this week!!

It turned out that, indeed, a boy had been trash-talking him this week, and then had met up with him outside one day at dismissal and shoved him. This was to head-off the big-brother-from-middle-school threat. But, still, you can't put hands on other kids. Anyway...the shover was sent home for the day, a mandated result of committing physical violence.

Then the boy who'd stated he was calling in the big brother reinforcements had to own up that, yes, he had called the other kid names, he had been acting out in class all week, he had told everyone that his big brother was going to come over and kick some butt.

I heard mom saying as they left the office, "Now you'd better be telling me everything this time, you hear? Because when all three teachers call me and none of them knew the other one had called and they all have the same story, it isn't a good thing." No, indeedy, not a good thing.

At the End of the Day

We rode about 120 miles today on the motorcycle. Not all at once, of course, but eventually. The weather was marvelous--sunny, cool breeze, clear and beautiful. I remembered the sunscreen this time. Last year, I fried my face because I forgot how it is in Southern California. Even if there is a cloud cover, you are getting the rays. But, I greased up good today, and so tonight I'm just a little pink.

However, that 120 miles...Let's just say that the backseat of CoolGuy's motorcycle isn't really made for that much sitting at once. Or perhaps it's not the motorcycle's seat, but my "seat" that is no longer up to the challenge. At any rate, I'm rather tired tonight and it's too bad my hot tub is in Las Vegas.

But the most painful part of my body is the bottom of my feet. I have blisters. CoolGuy says that only I could spend all day on a motorcycle and end up with blisters on the bottom of my feet. Well, it's because of the hiking. We spent some time driving around looking at a couple of different state beach campgrounds. When we got to one of them, I wanted to go look around at the campsites and then I started following the trail that led to the beach (under the highway, around the corner.) Well, it was a rather long trail, turned out. And I didn't want to give up because next spring when I'm booking my campsite for the August Go-Camping-at-the-Beach-with-Grandpa-&-Grandma I wanted to have some good data for choosing a great beach. As I hiked up the trail from the beach, back to the parking lot, I could feel the blisters starting on the sole of my right foot, right by my big toe. Tonight it is a huge swollen blob. The left foot isn't so bad, but it is very tender.

You know why cowboys ride horses all the time, right? It's because it kills your feet to walk in those boots very far. So, anyway, after putting all those miles on the bike, my biggest problem is sore feet. Weird, huh?

Another Reason to Be a Good Person...

...Just in case the Buddists are right about the scheme of the universe....

You might qualify to be reincarnated as a Golden Retriever.

Who lives at the beach.

And whose owner has a tennis ball.

Nirvana defined.

Not-Laboring Day

We got up and drove south till the thermometer in the truck dropped 30 degrees. And here we are at the ocean! We are in Ventura for the Primer Nationals, a show we attended last year and it was fun and -- hey, it doesn't take much motivation for me to go to Ventura.

CoolGuy (aptly named) got a reservation at the Inn on the Beach. Just outside the sliding glass door of our room is the beach. A well-chosen moniker for this motel, c'est non? So, we unloaded the motorcyle from the trailer, put all of our stuff in the room and I headed out to the ocean.

It is a perfect beach day. I swam, I splashed, I body-surfed. Drat, I forgot the boogie board....Then I laid on the beach for a while to catch my breath.

After I washed the seaweed out of my hair, we got on the motorcycle and rode over to our favorite (because it was our first experience with the cuisine) Thai restaurant, Charn House, in Camarillo, and had a succulent supper at their sidewalk table. It is really a pleasure to just be outdoors and be comfortable. I've become aclimated to the desert, and I don't whine all the time about the temperatures, but the contrast is extremely vivid when you're in the perfect climate of SoCal.

Tomorrow we'll go look at all the old cars and motorcycles and freaks and their chicks. We'll just be another couple of geezers wandering around looking at cars and bikes as old as we are. It'll be fun.

Things I Like

I like salmon cakes. One of my daughters made them for us at dinner last year, and I'd never had them before. Yum...now it's one of my favorites.

I like Green Day. Yeah, I know. I'm an old lady. But I still like several of their songs. I was an old lady when they first came out, but I was introduced to them by one of my sons and I thank him for that.

I like mango salsa. This was served to me by another of my sons, who happens to be a terrific cook and I don't believe I'd really eaten it before. Wow. It is awesome. Now our house will always have a mango ripening on the counter, when they're in season, of course.

I like LOL Cats. It's a website that is absolutely ridiculous! You must click on the link. Then I dare you to leave the site in less than 15 minutes. You won't be able to because you'll need to see "just one more" and you'll laugh and find you need to forward at least three of them to your friends. I was introduced to it my other daughter and I love it!

I like riding bicycles. I didn't have a bike when I was a child. That sounds so sad, huh? But, ahem...I had a horse. It was much more functional on the farm. However, when my oldest son became a teen, he really got into mountain biking. He subscribed to a magazine, he went out with friends, he got the merit badge. He made it look so fun that I bought a bike. My first, ever. Wow. I loved it! It's been a few years since I've owned one, but I'm saving up for another. In California I rode mine every day, everywhere. Thanks for introducing your mom to a great thing.

Thanks to all of my children for bringing new ideas into my life. It's one of the best parts of motherhood.

My Fan

I went to a training meeting after school on Thursday. At one point in the evening, we were instructed to regroup at our tables into teams that would mix up the disciplines of the subjects we were hired to teach as professional trainers. Then we were going to use the laptops there to do the next activity.

As we waited for everyone to get settled and turn on the computers, my partner to the left of me introduced herself and asked my name. She then said, "I know you from somewhere..." We exchanged current teaching assignments, past teaching assignments, possible training classes we'd attended together. She was sure she knew me. She inquired that perhaps I'd been here or there with her. No, it was pretty clear we'd never been enrolled in any professional development classes together, nor taught in the same building. I assured her that I had "one of those faces" and fairly often I met folks who thought they knew me, but it turned out I just looked like someone else they knew. No, she was still perplexed--she knew my voice--I was just so familiar.

Finally, I laughed, and said, "Well, I was on t.v. last fall. Maybe that's it!" And she stared at me and said, "The Millionaire show??" ....Yes...Well, it turns out that she had just watched me in re-runs last week. She didn't usually watch it, but as it came on, the announcer said it was a teacher from Las Vegas and so she sat and watched it to see if she knew her. "Yeah, you called your daughter for help, right?" ....Yes.... She went on to say I had been so sweet as a contestant and she really thought it was so cool that I'd won a bunch of money. And then she could relax and enjoy the rest of the meeting because she DID know me from SOMEWHERE and she finally knew where.

I live in Bizarro Land.

It's All in the Timing

Today, the fourth day of the new school year, was long. It is the fourth day in a row of intense, focused teachering, and then at lunchtime I found my lunchbox (under my desk) was filled with ants who'd invaded the plastic wrap of my sandwiches. All I had left to eat was a plastic container of watermelon that they had been unable to penetrate. ARRRRGGHHH!!! So, I sprayed all over the floor under my desk with some stuff from the custodian, and I guess I'll have to put my lunch on top of my file cabinet from now on.

Immediately after school, I rushed down to a school office building where, as a new member of the Social Studies Professional Development team, I attended a two hour (paid) meeting to learn about my new part-time job.

Then, I stopped by the city library to find an appropriate video to show tomorrow to the fourth graders about the solar system so we can fill the final hour of Friday. This hour will be filled on all future Fridays with fun activities when our "Electives" are fully organized by our counselor. But, tomorrow...

So, I arrived home hungry about 7:20 P.M. (after leaving home at 7:40 A.M.) to find Cool Guy just parking his motorcycle. He'd been out for a ride. I pulled into the open garage, shut off my car, and rolled down the window. I looked at him and said, "So, where's my supper? I'm starving!"

He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, and replied, "Right here, Sweetie." Then he opened up the right saddle bag lid, and lifted out a container of ribs, some baked beans and coleslaw!!! He'd just come back from picking it up.

Yes, my jaw dropped, I shouted a loud hurrah, and went in the house to get some napkins.

Wow. You couldn't have planned that one.

Manna Shoes

Yes, we've discussed my pathetic feet several times in this forum. They tend to dominate my thoughts now that school is starting again---tomorrow is the Big Day. I spent so much of last year in pain because of the combination of the flat feet, pronation, tendon strain, joint misalignment that can only be corrected by lying down all the time.

No, really, I have diligently worked on the PT exercises to strengthen my muscles to realign my hip and leg and foot so that I do not over-extend the whole thing with my weird foot problems. And I bought new shoes (that really do help) and I've had a summer off from the constant standing. I even got extra drugs to really knock back the inflammation. So, I'm starting out the year with non-sore feet and a non-sore leg. Crossing my fingers, doing my exercises.

Well, I decided I wanted to have some new shoes. White sandals, specifically. I felt hopeful that between all the stores they have here in the Shopping Mecca of the West I would be able to find a pair of white sandals that would also be supportive and reasonable to wear to school. I drove to my first choice to look, and I found a parking space in the shade, exactly across from the door! So far, so good. Then, I walked into Dillards, and as I entered the shoe department, it was like a little ray of light descended on the shoe display on the wall and there was a pair of white sandals, the brand I've found that keep my feet aligned the right way! And they had my size. And they were on sale!! So, therefore, I am referring to them as the "manna shoes" because they were there right where I needed them, right when I needed them and so they are a blessing.

Covenants

I gave a talk today in church. I was asked to use this talk as my source material. It was about the power of covenants and I learned a couple of things I want to share. First, when you look up covenants in the Bible dictionary, it points out that we don't enter into covenants with God as equals--it's not like we make some deal with God. He sets out the terms, we accept or not. But He has an excellent record for keeping His side of the agreement. We are guaranteed results for our puny efforts. Another thing I liked was reviewing the etymology of the word endowment. We refer to the temple covenants as the endowment. It is a perfect term because endowment refers to a gift that generates income. (Like a rich alumnus endows a college chair for a professor.) Well, when we keep our side of the agreement, we certainly do experience incoming blessings.

Three of the strengthening effects Elder Christofferson spoke of were being strengthened by 1)gifts and blessings, 2)with increased faith, and 3)with the "power of Godliness". We get blessings every day through keeping our promises we make at baptism to be like Jesus. Who isn't blessed by trying to be honest, or kind, or by trying to do good to others? And more literal blessings like the health effects when we abstain from harmful substances and behaviors? Also, I was impressed by the concept that I have experienced in my own life: when you exercise a little faith, you are blessed by God with power, and His spirit which expresses His love for us, and His pleasure that we are willing to obey Him. This enlarges our souls, gives us confidence to use faith again, thereby enabling us to feel His love and joy. It's a cycle.

Plus: it isn't anonymous. These important covenants are done personally, individually, by name. Think about it---we are referred to by name when we make these covenants at baptism and in the temple. It is personal--just us and our Father in Heaven agreeing to something, and He always keeps His promises. He never lies.

Finally, the last thing that was so powerful to me is that the number one covenant that God has made with us is that, if we believe in His Son, Jesus Christ, and try to live His teachings, we will have eternal life. He sends us the Holy Ghost to be with us always to give us strength to do hard things, power to overcome temptation, knowledge of how to speak up for Him, and the ability to feel God's love.

I learned a lot preparing for this talk. I'm sure it is all information I've heard before, but something about trying to distill another's words into a form that one can explain to others is always so educational. I hope you learn something, too, reading this.

Vacation

Well, in two weeks it's back to school for the teachers. I've definitely gotten my summer's worth this year! I've been on five different trips away from home--whew. And some of them were strictly for fun, too. In the past I've felt like summer was when I got my "real life" back: I didn't have to get up and leave home and go to a job every day. I could stay in my own home, sew, clean, cook, take care of my kids, do service for others--all the things I did for the 18 years before I became an employee.

This year, something changed, however. Maybe it is because I've been an employee for almost as long as I was a mom at home; this will be my 15th year as a teacher. Maybe it's because I don't have kids at home--this year is the first time someone didn't come and live with us for any part of the summer. (sigh...) But this year I really felt like I was just "on vacation". That perhaps my "real life" is the life of a school teacher, and I was having a break.

Of course, it could also be that because I was enrolled in a college class all of June, and spent any time not reading, writing and studying for that, in preparation for our family reunion, that I didn't actually experience any time "off." Then in July, I traveled here and there and everywhere... So I've been vacationing during this Summer Vacation.

This week and next, I have no official duties for work, so I have a list. I've checked off parts of it too: go exercise every day; rotate the tires; move all the furniture and scrub the tile floors; organize the pictures and artifacts I brought home from the reunion. I'll go into my school next week for a day or two because I need to unpack my stuff in my new room (natural lighting!!!). But, even that will be okay, because I won't be on the clock yet. I'll still be ON VACATION.

A Daughter of Neptune

As you can read on the title page of my blog, I have an affinity for California. I've lived in two different counties there, San Diego and Ventura, and both of them have very moderate weather. By "moderate" I mean fabulous, consistently fabulous. It is neither hot nor cold most of the year. It is simply nice. Well, I spent last week in Ventura county, camping at the beach, enjoying the company of those of our children and grandchildren who could get there, too. And, once again, I found myself wondering why I don't live there still. There are several reasons, none of which I will go into here. I'm not sorry we moved each time we did; there were compelling reasons. Now, California is in terrible condition, governmentally and fiscally, and despite a drop in home prices, has outrageous real estate costs. And yet, it remains my number one favorite place to live. So, someday I will return there. My well-worn line to CoolGuy is..."I'd live in a tipi on the beach, if I had an internet hookup." We did have a tipi, a kid-sized one we recently purchased, and we did have internet when CoolGuy turned on his computer, and it was good.

The ocean is what draws me back there. The campground is on the east side of the Pacific Coast Highway. There is a trail under the highway for access the beach. The campsites are all shaded with large trees, there are real toilets and hot showers (you turn on the timed water heater with coins), we had a fire ring so we could have a campfire each night. This isn't roughing it. Plus, we'd rented a motorhome for the week, and it allowed me to cook on a gas range and use a refrigerator, and in the middle of the night, I could use the bathroom without needing shoes and a flashlight. It was awesome. The ocean is very rough there, so we didn't swim, but the kids played in the sand building towering structures and we walked along the shore, and enjoyed the sights and sounds. You could hear the surf all day, and the seagulls calling. (At the campground an enormous flock of wild parrots--orignially from escaped pets--would descend on us each morning and scream and holler as they ate the berries from the many varieties of trees. They were a little annoying.) But seagulls are a great sound. Along that shoreline we had always seen plenty of dolphins and we were not disappointed on this trip. Everyday there were two or three pods of at least six swimming just offshore, fishing and frolicking. I love to watch pelicans as they skim just above the surface of the water, adjusting their height as the waves surge up and down beneath their outstretched wings. Occasionally you get to see one as it spirals down from a higher flight and dives with precision straight into the water to fill up its bill with fish. The beach is the only place I go without anything to read. I just love to watch the ocean and the wildlife that it supports.

I took the boogie board one afternoon and drove north to a more swimable beach. Everyone else was satisfied to walk down the trail and build sand castles and nap. But I'd had a little taste of the surf the day before and was craving the full immersion experience. Yes, the ocean water off southern California is cold, has lots of seaweed and other random plants and animals. Yes, sharks live there. But I love the chilly, salty, living reality of it. I waded in gradually, letting my body get accustomed to the coolness. I had the board strapped to my wrist, and finally got up my nerve to lay on it and paddle out to the breakers. I got drenched, pounded, soaked and blinded by the first wave. The next I rode all the way in, and then I just paddled out and floated on them, letting it roll under me and leave me there, while I laid on the board and felt at home. I love the ocean. I love swimming in the ocean. I could have stayed there all day. Except that I've become such a weakling this winter that soon my arms were quivering with the effort it takes to hang onto the boogie board and keep upright and on top of the waves. I realized that I need to really get serious about getting back in shape if for no other reason than the ocean requires you to be tough. Plus, if I ever want to go to Surf Diva school, I can't be a wimp.

Some day, I'll be back to stay. I'll go to the ocean everyday. I'll surf, I'll swim, I'll just sit on the seawall and watch it. But, I'll be there. I'll be the one with the long gray braid, wearing sandals, and sunglasses, with the boogie board, looking at the waves and smiling.

La Vida Loca

We were riding the motorcycle a couple of nights ago on our way to a new restaurant CoolGuy saw and wanted to try out. (Unfortunately, the location we went to was only open for lunch...) We ended up traveling south on Las Vegas Boulevard in the downtown section--not The Strip. The distinction is that downtown is a little shabby and far less manufactured and corporate.

So, as we were riding up the street through the older part of town I noted the sequence of businesses.
a) Wedding Chapel
b) Bar
c) Strip Club
d) Bail Bonds

All that was missing was the attorney. You know, to get you back out of jail and file the divorce papers.

Cousins Reunion

The two little blondies that are the same size in the center and just to the right in this picture are my cousin and I. My birthday is February and hers is October. Our dads were brothers. We seldom had any of these occasions when we were all together--they were four girls, we were four girls (and then two more girls and two boys, eventually)--[and the girl on the end is from the third sibling, our dads' sister). So, now after probably 40 years since we last visited, my cousin and I have spent a week together. Our dads would be excited that their kids are getting together again.

She has retired and wanted to buy a house here in the desert because she lived here for many years and the climate agrees with her. Her husband is still working in Oklahoma, but he's willing to live here, too, upon his eventual retirement. In the meantime, she'll split her time between the two homes for her health. I got involved in this, after having not seen her for so long, because her dad, just before he died a couple of years ago, put her in contact with my brother who lived near her in OK. When she told him she was coming out to Nevada, he forwarded that info to me, we exchanged e-mails, and I was very happy this week to help her out of a jam when the closing didn't go through as planned and her hotel room budget was being drained dry.

She has stayed at our house, and spent the days dealing with realtors, property managers, bankers and contractors. Tonight she could finally move into her new house. We'd been storing several boxes at our house (she bought new furniture here) and we got it all carted over there and she is unpacking.

It has been interesting to talk about the ways our lives diverged, the commonalities, the memories we have our limited family interactions as children. The fact that the few photos we have of her dad are all of him holding a string of trout. He loved to fish, just like my dad...Family ties. It's good to have them. And now, I have a relative in town.

Beat the Heat on the Grey's River Loop

We went to Wyoming for a three-day trip. There was a wedding in CoolGuy's family and it was being held at the Box Y Ranch, a favorite place to visit, so it was an easy decision to go. Also figuring into the equation was the temperature in Las Vegas on Thursday: 110 degrees. The Box Y is at about 7000 feet above sea level, so we knew it wouldn't be 110 there. It was, however, 85 at the peak of the afternoon. When we left Las Vegas the temperature on our truck's thermometer was 108 and ten hours later, as we went over the pass into our hometown's valley the thermometer read 49 degrees. It was amusing. We got back and it's still at 110 here. But, it is summer and it is the Mojave Desert, so I'm not surprised nor complaining. The swimming pool is the mitigating factor here.

As we left the ranch, CoolGuy asked if I'd like to take the scenic route home. (As if anywhere we drove up there would be the non-scenic route...) So we traveled around the "loop", following the river to its headwaters, going over a little pass, and going down back down the other side to end up on the opposite end of Star Valley. It was outrageously beautiful. There were wildflowers everywhere. We saw towering mountains still amply streaked with snow in the ravines. We saw a bull moose, a cow and her calf, some antelope, grazing deer, cattle and sheep. There were expansive meadows and narrow ravines where the road seemed to be little more than a trail with the shrinking stream rushing below us in the twilight of the dark pine trees. We finally got to the top of Three Basin Pass (where the water travels downward into the three different drainage basins: Columbia, Great Basin and Colorado) and then the streams grew wider as they picked up capacity from all the little springs and trickles on that side of the divide.

Here are some photos. What a drive! What a fabulous area! I can't believe I lived on the west side of this place for all those years and didn't even go there. The bigger picture is a beaver lodge in a pond. The smaller image is a long view of a valley that goes east to another town in Wyoming on the other side of that mountain.

The next few are pictures of wildflowers--lupine, sunflowers and Indian paintbrush.

And the final one is a cow moose and her calf. They were standing in a stream as we came around a corner and they didn't like us seeing them, so she was heading uphill into the trees.

Government Groupies

We had a tour of the Capitol Building while we were in D.C. I've been there before, a couple of times, but it isn't a place where you go once and then the next visit is just ho-hum. Each time you are there, it is obvious that you are in a special environment with history seeped into every corner. If you forget for a minute that it is a unique location, you can just look down and perhaps there will be a brass plate on the floor declaring this spot to be where A.Lincoln had his desk when he was in the House of Representatives. Or, there will be a bust of John C. Calhoun in an alcove as you walk down a corridor.

Then, you can wait in a line, pass through another metal detector (in case you were able to slip something through the metal detector and purse search at the main door), you can quietly enter the gallery of the House or the Senate. There you take a seat above the main chamber floor where the two legislative bodies covene. First, we went into the House gallery and looked around at the empty desks, asked quiet questions of the guide standing there. I told the two granddaughters about how the Constitution allows every state two senators, but the representatives were apportioned according to population, so there are many more of them. After about 10 minutes of boring (for them) sitting there looking at empty chairs, we left.

We (the grandmothers) wanted to see the Senate chambers too, but we promised the girls that if there was a long line, we wouldn't make them wait. Luckily there wasn't a wait at all. We whisked through the metal detectors, left our electronics with the guards and slipped into the gallery seats to discover that the Senate was in session! Someone I didn't recognize was giving a speech about an amendment that was on the floor. The Sergeant at arms was there, the clerks, the pages, but--only one senator--the one speaking. Weird...but then Senator Boxer from California came in and called for a vote on the amendment. And over the next fifteen minutes, 98 senators came through the doors (which were opened by pages) and went up to the clerk's desk to give their vote, which she then announced into her microphone. (Two senators, Byrd and Kennedy weren't there because of medical reasons.)

"Mrs. Feinstein, No. Mr. McCain, Yes." etc. etc. We (the grandmothers) were beside ourselves. We recognized face after face as they came through the door. Knowing we'd be immediately ejected by any outburst, we pantomimed our excitement as each political celebrity walked into the room and went up to record his or her vote. They stood around in little clumps chatting with one another while the entire process was completed. The amendment was not passed, Sen. McCain got on a mic and complained to the body about not doing as the president had asked--pass the amendment-- "My Friends", and urged them to reconsider and then everyone filed on out the doors again.

The granddaughters watched the two grandmothers wiggle and whisper-squeal with one another, and I tried to explain. "It's like if you went to a Jonas Brothers concert and Hannah Montana showed up too, and Beyonce..." Sort of...But I think they got my drift. We finally left and when we got out into the foyer again, with our electronics and purses returned, the grandmothers grabbed each other's hands and jumped around in a little circle and squealed out loud, for real. Yes, we got looks...but hey!! It was like all those celebrities showing up at once for us political junkies. So awesome...

Off-Line

I returned last night from a week in Washington D.C. with my friend and her daughter and granddaughters. We stayed in a motel that did not have a business center, and as a result, there was not computer access for me all during that week. And I survived nicely. I did read the Washington Post everyday, which was really indulgent. It is one of my favorite newspapers to hold and read. Note how I didn't just say "read" because I don't really enjoy reading it on-line too much, although I do read parts of it. But as a reading experience, the WaPo is simply marvelous.

The newsprint they use is sturdy and feels good in your hands. They have a nice mix of photos and writing. They employ such excellent writers, too. I don't always agree with their editorial positions, but I love to read the way they write it down. I even read the sports section of the WaPo just for the craftsmanship.

When I read the paper (any newspaper) I need to read all of it. It is probably just a manifestation of some sort of disorder that I obsessively read an entire newspaper. But I can't help it. And when I'm reading the Washington Post it is a very satisfying hour. Reading a paper on-line just doesn't do it for me. So, that's one thing I miss since leaving Maryland--the daily paper.

The First on the Fourth

33 years ago, it was the Bicentennial of the United States of America. (Well, yesterday it was, anyway. I didn't realize it was so late when I sat down here.) So all of the country was in a state of massive celebration and there were parades and speeches and I remember they sailed the USS Constitution again and a lot of spectacular spectaculars occured. But mostly it all went right past our family.

We had our very own Spectacular Spectacular event. We brought our first born child home from the hospital on the Fourth of July, 1976. He was born on the first. His due date was July 1st. Isn't that just so convenient that he was born on his due date? It set a standard that most of his siblings could only approach, and none of them achieved. Most were pretty near, the last one quite a long time after, but I always had that expectation that pregnancy and birth would be orderly and sensible because his whole existence up to, and including, his birth were orderly and sensible. When he came out, the doctor held him aloft and declared, "It's a boy." To which his dad replied, "I know." Now, mind you---we didn't get sonograms or 3-D prenatal photos in those Olden Days. His dad just knew. He'd had a feeling one day, and from then on, we just knew.

So, anyway, I'll always remember the fabulous Bicentennial Celebration of the United States of America because I missed it all. I do remember walking around my living room with him in my arms, realizing that it was the Fourth, and just being really excited that we were all home, our new son was so cool, and that no celebration could ever eclipse the fabulous, fantastic reality of being a parent.

And, so far, no celebration has ever done so. And he is still a fabulous, fantastic son.

Packrat Payoff

I have finally started my summer vacation. School ended on June 5th, but I was immeshed in a graduate class that took up many hours, and then preparation for the family reunion scooped up the rest of the time. I also traveled a couple of places. But...here I am, up to my elbows cleaning out my spare room/office. Since we have a newly empty space in our bedroom because we were able to take our daughter her cedar chest, I've decided to move some bookshelves over to that room. Which requires that I clean them out first. Which is a time consuming operation, because I need to evaluate each item to see if it is a keeper or a tosser. I've found some really excellent artifacts, too. I opened the binder that holds my oldest son's elementary school memories and found an envelope from his college freshman composition class. It has fantastic essays in it! Plus, how I could I resist re-reading the scrapbook made by my former co-workers in the school where I taught for nine years?

But, the best find, there only because of my dreadful pack-rat tendencies...is a packet of medical papers from my adventures in mal-digestion from four years ago! When I took an antibiotic that destroyed the good flora in my guts resulting in months of diarrhea. Yes, months. So, now I have a similar malaise and even though my gastroenterologist has ruled out worse problems, his evaluation that "there is nothing wrong with you" is incorrect. There is definitely something wrong with me. But, now I have a whole packet of papers complete with the name of the medication that solved the problem four years ago. So, I will move this bookcase, and then I will drive over to the walk-in clinic where I started this whole mess when I got the initial meds for the sinus infection, and tell them what to prescribe. I'm on my way to Washington D.C. on Sunday for a week being the tour guide for my friend and her grandchildren. I know I'll be standing in line a lot, and I know how few and far between the public bathrooms are there.

Family Time

I've been very busy during the last week preparing for my family reunion. When my mom died three years ago, we all agreed, in a meeting following the service, that we would have a formal family reunion each year. Our parents worked very hard to maintain family ties with their extended families, and in some cases, that took a lot of effort. So we made a decision, unanimously, that day when we all became orphans, to meet each year. We divided up the responsibility for host duties so that two of us would be in charge each year. This year it fell to me and my youngest sister, so we decided to have the party at her home in our home town.

She and her husband were heroic! They hosted 46 people for two or three days! We ate there, we slept there and at different relatives' homes around the valley, but the main event on Saturday from noon to 6:00 was all at her house. He got several of his horses from a distant pasture so we could take rides with our little grandchildren. He helped cook breakfast and dinner on the grill and in Dutch ovens. He put up with non-stop talking and laughing. I really appreciate his willingness and sportsmanlike attitude. She was a human dynamo! She is so calm with all the amazing chaos around her. She made a variety of huge salads the day before, she constantly answered questions of "Do you have..." "Where is the..." "Can I get a ..." with patience and calm and everything turned out fabulously. We simply had a terrific reunion and I totally credit them with a large portion of the success because of their incredible hosting.

We had a chance to sit and discuss the life of our Dad, who died 25 years ago. I'd prepared a presentation with pictures and narration that came from memoirs that each of my brothers and sisters wrote and sent to me. We made a disc for every adult in the family (so I can send them to those who weren't there) and included the pictures, the articles, and several other documents that are relevant to our Dad's life story. I did a good job, thank you, and it was all due to my very difficult graduate class from this winter where I learned to make a really good presentation using PowerPoint. Anyway, it turned out great, I had a fine time creating it, and Cool Guy outdid himself in converting it to a format that everyone can use, and adding the documents. Then, he copied all the discs for me AND made a really awesome label. The label was the crowning touch. Then he and our son set up and ran the technology so we could all view it.

So we had a good trip, we enjoyed the camraderie of relatives, Star Valley was exquisitely green and blooming, the weather cooperated by being perfect. I am relieved that it is finished, we've been plotting it for a year. And I'm relieved that it was so fine. So thanks to everyone in my family who helped and we'll look forward to next year! It'll be great too!

Happy Father's Day

I've spent the better part of the last three days making a presentation for my upcoming family reunion. It is the reunion of my parents' family and, since this year is the 25th anniversary of his death, we are going to highlight my dad's life. Most of the grandchildren don't remember him or weren't even born yet during his life. I've been putting captions with photos telling about his childhood and the years of our family as they added one child after another until all eight of us were born. I've been having a great time, and each of my brothers and sisters have sent me a memoir of him from their growing-up years. We have a theme: his love for us, his hard work, and the way he took care of people less fortunate than himself.

I hope our children will also be able to look back and appreciate their father, too. I'm confident that they will, because I think they appreciate him now. I know we all appreciated our dad at the time, too, as well as in retrospect. But here are a few examples of why Cool Guy was/is a great dad.

He was never afraid to get right in there and be the dad. He changed diapers and cleaned up vomit and walked all night with sick babies. This might not seem so amazing, but when we started with the baby-having time in our lives, this wasn't common place for men to do.

He set a good example that work was for everyone. He got up from the table one day when the first ones were very small and said, "Would you rather have me give baths, or clean up the kitchen?" I was taken aback. He'd already worked his job all day, and the home was my job. But he said he felt dumb sitting there reading or whatever while I did all of it, and it was no problem for him to join in. So, he'd choose a "helper" and the two of them would clean up the table and wash the dishes while Mom bathed the babies. Everyone took their turn helping Dad and learned that it isn't just Mom's house--we all live here, so we should all help doing the work. Plus, he has had a paycheck-paying job since he was 12 years old. That, all by itself, is a legacy for our children...who all work to support themselves and their families in a very responsible way.

He's very funny. Humor is a great quality to have in a family. If you can't laugh at things that happen, then you're in for a very difficult life. He doesn't make fun of others, he's just able to laugh at himself and at situations. It's a good skill to have with teenagers, because a little laughter helps people to not take themselves too seriously and lightens the atmosphere for all.

So, Happy Father's Day, Cool Guy. I appreciate the awesome children you helped me create. I hope they'll always appreciate you.

The Bathing Suit Solution

I've worn out all my swimming suits. My one really favorite one was killed by an overdose of chlorine from the pool at the hotel in San Diego at Christmas. But the others have just deteriorated through the four years I've been swimming here in my own pool. We don't have to use as many chemicals as a commercial pool because it is usually just the two of us. The filter can keep up with our cooties with just a little boost from a floating chlorine tablet basket. But, the sun and the years and the chemicals have finally wrecked all of my suits and I have been shopping for a new one.

What a drag. Quite a few parts of me have changed in the four or five years since I last bought a suit. None of them for the better. I'm just a bit too larded to comfortably fit into the biggest Misses size, but I'm not quite yet one of the X girls...you know--20X, 22X, etc.

So, I've come to the realization that the ultimate solution is: just go to nude beaches for the rest of my life. You see, there I wouldn't need to worry about looking like a pregnant grandma encased in Lycra. Nor would I look like a German sausage in floral casing. I would just be another person in skin. I'm guessing that most people at a nude beach aren't there to make judgements about the rest of the naturalists. So, I could just calmly be a little saggy, a little too chubby here and there, a little wrinkled and cellulitish without a qualm.

Or, I could try and lose 10-15 pounds this summer by exercising and eating more salad and fewer cookies.

Hmm...I'll have to give this some thought.

The Not-so-Dusty Winnemucca Road

If you're a Johnny Cash fan, then the title should provoke humming. If not...google it. But, we were in Winnemucca on Friday and it was definitely not dusty. It rained most of the way across northern Nevada on I-80 all day Friday and Saturday. It was beautiful and green. And orange--as in safety cones funneling us all into one lane of the interstate while crews fixed the other lane--either widening it or repaving it. Blah. We spent a great deal of time wedged between 18-wheelers inching our way along. Then, we'd break free for a few miles and it would start raining again. And not just rain, but torrential downpours that forced us to drive slowly again. So, instead of traveling at 80 on 80 (as is traditional in Nevada) we alternated between 40 and 60. But, it was a pleasant drive anyway with hilarious commentary between Lil' Dude and SBoogie in the back seat.

"But, I don't want to be a mountain."

"Yes, you have to be a mountain and I will be the clouds.."

"No, mountains have grass on dem. I don't want to have grass."

And on, and on.

Oh, pleasant, except for the, ahem, cramping and nausea. I just finished a dose of antibiotics to wipe out a sinus infection before I flew up to Sacramento and I wiped out more than the infection. I also apparently wiped out all the good flora and fauna in my digestive system, too. So, about one hour after I'd eat anything, the pain would start. It is actually quite a long way between rest stops in Nevada. Pepto Bismol helped for a few hours, but ultimately we had to find somewhere to stop for a few minutes for Grandma. Geez, I'm such an old lady. I got some meds this afternoon to restore everything to normal. Whew, because I've "gone" everywhere, man.

Coed Redux

Yesterday, I had my photo taken and was given my 5th college ID card. It's not that I lose them. I mean, it was the fifth college for which I've needed an ID card. And that doesn't include the three other colleges I've attended for just a single class through an affiliation with a school in which I was enrolled. Or, I attended a week-long or week-end seminar, and was allowed to receive credits by having seat-time and writing a big paper. Whenever I request transcripts, it is quite a production.

I intend to complete my master's degree here at UNLV and then---that's it! NO more degrees, no more transcript requests. No more ID cards. Too bad I didn't keep all of them, it would be a cool post to scan them all in and see how I've changed over the years.

June Zoom

Well, if you look at my calendar for June there are very few days that do not have an appointment. Sigh. But, it's all my own fault. I agreed to be on a textbook selection committee way back in January. That is four days worth. Then, I signed up for a graduate class--hey--It's 3 credits in four weeks! That's a deal. Then I only have to take one class per semester next winter and spring to fullfill my required 3 classes per year. But, it's a doozy and is MTW from 4:00-6:45 and she pointed out that we would not be finishing early. Ever. There's the family reunion. There are two doctor appointments. I must go to physical therapy three times a week to try and help my pathetic right leg. And, minor detail, I have school the rest of this week and next Monday (the last two days are teacher days) and I have to pack up my entire room to be moved out so they can rip out the ceilings and replace the air-conditioning.

So, if I'm not blogging much in June, it's because I don't have a spare minute. See you in July.

Don't Take Your Ego to Fourth Grade

About a year ago, in anticipation of my pending appearance on television, I changed my hair slightly. I have worn my hair long for years. I occasionally catch a glimpse of myself in a reflection and will be dismayed to see a haggy looking old person looking back. But...I've cut my hair short several times in my life and I've always disliked it intensely. So, I continue to wear it long, now it is long and mostly gray. But, the style I got last summer was a bit of a change--a few layers, just to give it some body, and I really like it that way. It is still possible to French braid it or wear it up in a clip or a bun, so it wasn't too radical. This picture is from 1974...

This morning, I washed my hair, dried it, used the curling iron and the hair spray and I was pleased with the result.

I went to school, and about 1:00 P.M. a boy said, "Is this crazy hair day today?"

I replied, "Not that I know about, why?"

"Oh, you just looked like you fixed your hair for crazy hair day, that's all."

Hmmm...that's all.

Workers

I just returned from a weekend surrounded by my people. I went to a family wedding, then spent the next two days with a variety of sisters, visiting cemeteries in the communities that dot the valley of my childhood home. We placed an abundance of flowers on the graves of loved ones because I've reached that age where I know about as many people underground as I do above-ground. As we visited the cemeteries I encountered a few old friends and several relatives. We chatted, and I realized that, whereas I've moved a long way from the world of my youth, they live right there, still surrounded by people who mostly earn their living through physical labor of some type.

When I was growing up, everyone I knew--including most of my teachers--lived on farms and milked cows or raised cattle or sheep. This involved the related activity of growing feed that could be stored and used to keep these animals alive throughout the long winter. Everywhere I looked there were vast acres filled with grain or hay, carefully cultivated, and then cut and stored, always through the hard work of us people. Again, I repeat, even many of my school teachers had farms and animals and were engaged in this pursuit, despite having graduated from college and being employed in professional, white-collar jobs.

The fact that they farmed as well as taught school, or ran a ranch (a local doctor) or had a herd of sheep (a store owner) seemed normal to me--in fact--it seemed correct. After all, in my mind, farming was the premier job. It was the job that resulted in all the other jobs. It was like this: if there weren't farmers, then there wouldn't have been a tractor dealership, nor a grain mill, nor a creamery/cheese factory, nor the hardware store. Then, there wouldn't be people who needed to shop at the grocery store, or the drugstore, or go to a movie theater, restaurant or bar. There wouldn't be children for teachers to teach, or patients for the hospital. It all started with the farmers; the others just came along to serve his needs.

It may be a faulty concept, but it illustrates my teeny-tiny world at age 10. But I have always been proud of my farm girl roots. I remember once meeting the father of a college roommate. He had a prominent, highly regarded job in a very large city, and had grown up there, been educated there, and was reknown in his world. He asked what my father's profession was, and I proudly told of his dairy farm in Wyoming. The tone of the reply and the expression on this man's face made it clear to me that this pride was wholly unrequited and, in fact, dismissed. At that moment, I lost my respect for that person, and didn't consider him my father's equal. My dad would have shown much more regard for someone's work, regardless of its stature in the world's eye.

This brings me to a pet peeve. I am a teacher, yes. But I think we in America have made a big mistake in educating every student as though they are all going to grow up to be English professors. It doesn't suit everyone. We still need plumbers and mechanics. By insisting that a school's success is only measurable by the number of students who are accepted to a university following their high school graduation, we cheat those kids who would be happier and much more suited to work in the trades. I think that a "degree" has become devalued. There are many students who are completely unsuited for the standard college-prep curriculum. They'd be so much better off in a program that truly taught them a marketable skill. A few high schools here in Las Vegas have been retooled, or built from scratch, to do just that.

But there are far more students who would benefit from that type of education more than they do from the usual "push everyone into the round hole of college-prep" that schools are attempting now. The drop out rate will never go down as long as boys see no point in their literature class when they can already earn money repairing cars. Why not offer a comprehensive course for these natural mechanics that includes reading skills and math but in a context that will be useful for them and help them to become capable of operating a business, or at least managing someone else's shop? Then there would seem like there was a point to the torture that school is for many. Such a torture that they readily drop out and turn to gansterhood for a buck, when they have a talent for so many other jobs that don't require one to write about the motivation of the characters in a book written by a lonely English woman two hundred years ago.

I don't mean to disparage literature--I love it. But we need to find a solution to the thousands of students in our cities that drop out of our traditional schools because they see no point to the education we are forcing on them. There must be another way to help these students gain a skill with which they can support themselves. There is a lot of effort put into building self-esteem, but true self-esteem comes directly from being competent and knowing you can do things for yourself. Here's a link to an article my daughter sent me that articulates this much better than I do. I hope that we can retool our education system and really help our students to gain more from their public education than a sense of frustration and failure.

Techno Mama

Wow, I achieved a level of technological independence last night that is unprecedented. I needed to take the photos off my camera. I can do that. But...I wanted them onto my i-Pod--the Christmas gift from Cool Guy so my gramma-cam photos could be carried around conveniently. Well, when he gave it to me in December, he'd put several groups of photos on it already. But these were recent pictures of both sets of grandchildren from Spring Break. Since I'm headed up to a family wedding this weekend, I wanted to take the pictures on the i-Pod to show off.

Cool Guy is out of town. I was reduced to managing my own technology. Uh-oh. But, guess what? I DID IT! He'd shown me what to do, and I remember it seemed really easy and intuitive. Just, click, click, select, load, sync, wait. Except that when I went to actually do it last night, several days after he'd shown me how...rot-roh. I googled directions. They seemed relatively easy. I followed them. It worked. I could load up a particular folder of photos. But--it removed all the other folders already there. I could put another folder on, but every time it removed the current folders.

So, I tried again, and again. I read some more directions. Then, finally I found a folder labeled "i-Pod" in my pictures folder and YES--this time I realized it was the folder that Cool Guy had directed me to initially. I clicked, clicked, selected, loaded, synced and waited and...and...and...

I have cute pictures to carry with me and show off to my sisters! Yeah! I didn't get upset, I didn't give up, I just kept clicking here and there and looking at folders and voila! Success!

(This whole post is for Cool Guy--he'll be excited that I've done something successful while clicking all over and looking for blue bars.)

Music Day

A couple of weeks ago, our bishop held an unusual Sacrament meeting program. He'd asked me the day before at a Scout function if I'd be okay with the format he wanted to use, and I assured him I could do it. He borrowed this idea from a previous bishop, and it was wildly successful.

Instead of speakers, we held a version of testimony meeting, only--the testimony had to be about a hymn that was meaningful to you for some reason. Then, after your introduction, the congregation would sing the hymn. It was actually really fun! We had an interesting variety of people, from old to young, a mix of men and women, and their choices were just as random.

We sang some old familiar standards. We sang a couple of the Primary songs that are now in the hymnbook. When someone announced a song I knew I could not manage on the organ, I just walked over to the piano to accompany everyone. One person chose a song that neither I nor the conductor knew, so she asked him to stand at the microphone, please, and help us. It was a lovely song, and since it was in classic hymn format, not that hard to play after all. It was arranged by Ralph Vaughn Williams whose arrangements are highly loved by choral groups.

I recommend this activity to any of you as an interesting way to really wake up your ward and have a great, spiritual meeting. It's good to do no more often than once a year. We had so many who wanted to tell about a song, that ultimately we were forced to sing just one verse of their hymn. Sometimes, they requested a particular verse, not just the first.

My choice for the meeting was "Though Deepening Trials" which you can listen to if you click the play button at the link. However, I prefer to play and sing it at a faster tempo that this version. It is an optimistic song. The words are written by one of my favorites, Eliza R. Snow, and it tells us to be cheerful and happy because Christ is Lord and He watches over us all. My favorite thing is to sit and play and sing it when no one is listening. It is a terrific hymn. Here is verse 3:

Lift up your hearts in praise to God;

Let your rejoicings never cease.

Though tribulations rage abroad,

Christ says "In me, ye shall have peace."

Christ says, "In me, ye shall have peace."

Thirty Five Years

To keep your marriage brimming,

with love in the wedding cup,

whenever you're wrong, admit it;

whenever you're right, shut up."
Ogden Nash

Today is the thirty-fifth anniversary of the grand experiment of the CoolGuy/Earthsignmama connection. According to the data, the partnership should have been easy. We grew up in homes seven miles apart, in the same cultural, religious, and educational institutions.

However, we could hardly be more different in temperament. We have managed to work with these differences and raise five excellent children. We have worked hard to stay married, and forgive and forget when necessary. We've come to realize that each of us have been greatly improved by the need to grow and accommodate the other. We are better friends now than we have ever been. We know that we really need each other, and that this need isn't a failing, but is essential to a happy marriage. When you recognize that need, then you can relax and be in love. Love is why we've stayed married through all the exciting adventures and misadventures.

So, Happy Anniversary! Here's to many, many more.

Carpenter Cool Guy

I have a new closet. It was formerly the hall coat closet, but now it is a very useful pantry. Our house has many fine qualities. But storage space in the kitchen is not really one of them. The kitchen area is small and open to the dining room/family room area, and therefore entirely lacking one wall on which to put more cupboards. So we got the idea to transform the coat closet, just around the corner, into a pantry closet. It turned out great!

Cool Guy, as you know, is very clever with tools. He is a master mechanic, can fix computers, plumbing, electrical stuff, the pool equipment...lots of things. But I just didn't realize he was such a carpenter, too! I'd looked at different closet systems in home improvement stores and on-line, but I wasn't satisfied with any of them. Well, he got some heavy-duty plywood and his electronic leveler and his measuring tape and you can see the fabulous results! He put in deep shelves on the diagonal so that the narrow door didn't prevent him from using all the interior space. I still have room for my winter coats (which I use occasionally, but usually just for visiting up north) and the ironing board. But I have loads of room for food storage, all my big bottles of various liquids and spices, my vast cookie cutter selection, and waaaaay up high--out of reach--some ant spray. I'm just delighted. I told him that my carpenter Grandpa would be pleased as anyone at this delightful and professional transformation. Now he's inspired to start in the bedrooms! Neato! See the diagonal shelves? I will be able to get more storage items now that I have an adequate place. One cannot have too many cans of olives for the coming Apocalypse.

Remembering Mother Day

It will soon be three years since my mother died. She was anxious to leave, by the end. My dad had died 21 years before, and she never stopped missing him. I understand. She'd been doing okay, not great, but then she suddenly went into decline, and less than three months later was gone. We honored her well at her funeral, we all rejoiced that she was finally free from the decades of pain she'd hid so well from the world, and we know that she and our dad had a wonderful reunion.

But, it doesn't matter how old you are when you become an orphan, it still feels bad. I haven't erased her phone number from my cell phone. Her address is still in my contacts. Every year I make Mother's Day cards with my students in which we write a cinquain poem about their mother. I show them the sample card I made about my mom (it is about 8 years old) and they always ask if I'm going to mail it to her. They get very quiet when I tell them she isn't alive anymore, but then I say that she was really old, and she is in heaven with my dad, and it breaks the tension. I would love to mail her a card. I compulsively call my sisters in a rotation because I used to call my mom just to chat about the latest trivia concerning my children, and even after three years I still miss having her to tell it to.

I remember when her mother died. I was 19. Grandma had been extremely ill for a couple of years. She'd lived with my aunt and was bedridden, and mostly out of it for a year. She was quite old, too. So, I blithely came home from college for the funeral thinking it was routine. My aunts and mom were up half the night in the kitchen talking, laughing, crying. My grandpa looked lost. He sorted photos at the table. It dawned on me that more than just a little old sick lady had gone. She was the Mother. It was only four years after the tragic death of their youngest brother, an Air Force test pilot, so the sisters were still heart-bruised from that. So, even though their mother was relieved of her burdens, I now know how they felt. Mother is Mother. It's never a good time for her to go.

But, she left me a good legacy of working hard, being cheerful, being kind and generous, and of always keeping family ties strong and active. So, this Mother's Day I will think of her fondly and hope that some far off day* my own children will miss me as much as I miss her.

*(from my lips to God's ear..."far-off day")

Appreciation

It was Teacher Appreciation Week. I was appreciated in many, lovely ways. My personal cocinera (I hope that's how you spell "cook" in Spanish) brought lunch 3 times!! Our PTA gave each of us two movie tickets. Plus, many of my students came bearing gifts.

• brownies
• cookies
• notepads
• potted plant
• flower
• cards
• an adorable framed drawing

This year for the first time, we elected a student council from the 4th and 5th grades. It was partly done to capitalize on the election hyper-awareness in the fall, and partly because the counselor thought the students would benefit from the leadership experience. It has been very successful. There are a number of officers and they have executed their duties well. As an example, the environmental officer is in charge of emptying our recycling bins every Friday. He recruited a group of students who go to each classroom during their recess and get the bins and return them. It's marvelous, because the custodians don't do recycling. Formerly, each teacher had to get that bin emptied somehow.

Well, one of our council members lives next door to a fellow who owns a franchise of coffee/smoothie trucks. So on Friday morning we each received a coupon to go out to our parking lot for a free specialty coffee or fruit smoothie....umm...mango. Then, we returned to the teacher's lounge where our night custodian was cooking omlets made to order. His day job is breakfast chef at a large casino. Every year our administration hires him to serve us for Teacher Appreciation week. There were also outrageously delicious biscuits to accompany the omlets.

So, it was a very appreciation-filled week. I appreciate being a teacher. You get to see students grow and learn. It sounds like such a cliche, but it's true! When you see a child really internalize some difficult concept and then use it correctly in another area it is really exciting! We got our standardized test scores back last week--the BIG test, the one the district and the world judges us with--and our fourth graders did fantastically. There was huge growth and we were very excited for them.

It's nice to have a special week, and it's fun to get treats, but seriously, I appreciate my job everyday and I feel appreciated everyday, too, because children are pretty basic and they don't hold back. They don't fake it. So, I am aware daily, hourly, and sometimes minute-to-minute if I'm appreciated or not.

It's BACK!!

Swimming season, I mean. I sit here typing with water dripping down my back from the ponytail that just came out of the pool. Ahhhhh. Swimming is good. The water is 78 degrees because each day for almost a week the air temp has been creeping up and holding around 90 and (equally importantly) at night it has only dipped back down into the 60's. So...the masonry around the pool is absorbing heat and not releasing it back into the black void of space every night. That means...I can swim again! Yeah!! It's just the best thing ever to dive into the pool after a long day and float around a bit. Then, laps back and forth, the knees don't mind a bit and there's no sweating. I know I've extolled this form of activity every year (probably several times a year) but I can't praise it enough. I just love swimming.

The Birthday of Faye

I don't remember why I nicknamed my first daughter "Faye". I've tried and tried to remember how it came about, but I am unable to recall the origins of this. But it is a name I've called her for years and years. It'd be a good blog if I could remember how it came to be.

But, since I can't remember, I'll just tell some stories about her. Today she is 31. Wow, that's amazing since I'm just 39. (No, really, I feel that way in my head, but my knees...79) Anyway, she was an experiment. Not her conception--that was by design. But we realized about halfway into the pregnancy that we would not be going back to the Boot-Camp atmosphere of the Naval Hospital to deliver her. Cool Guy had read an article about homebirth, and the more I read about the options available, the more I wanted to exercise those options. (NO options were offered at the NRMC--unofficial motto: You Do As We Say, Lady). Today, of course, most of the reasons we opted for the living room over the delivery room are moot because labor and delivery in a hospital are much more pleasant.

So, she was born and we were started on an adventure with Will Power. First, I have to declare that this personality trait enabled her stick it out through three years of beginning swimming lessons so that she could learn, finally, how to swim. She is today a highly educated woman with no student loan debt because she worked diligently (using an above-average intellect) to be good at all her schoolwork from the first day of Kindergarten to the last day of her master's degree, and colleges reward that kind of single-minded devotion to a goal with lavish scholarships. We have many souvenirs of her illustrious education career, including piles of honor roll certificates, academic award plaques, and a very lovely plaster of Paris naked mole rat from a first grade diorama project on mammals.

She is an excellent pianist. I wasn't sure how this was going to turn out, however, the day she came to me explaining that she didn't want to take piano lessons anymore. I was stricken. She'd only been taking them for about two years, and she was pretty good. I, the mother, loved playing the piano. I wanted to pass on this opportunity for music appreciation to my offspring. Oh, keep listening Mom...she just wanted to quit lessons, not the piano--she didn't like having someone tell her what to do; she wanted to learn it on her own. If she got stuck, she could go back and ask the teacher or me. She really liked playing and wanted to get better--but on her own terms. And she did, and she taught herself through more advanced lesson books than I'd made it through. Good thing I didn't get all tyrannical on her, insisting on My Way or The Highway on piano lessons.

I'd already tried tyranny. It didn't work. It didn't work when she was TWO YEARS OLD. The only reason I won some of those wars was because I was bigger and could force her to go places, or whatever, through physical might. I did not EVER win the battle of minds. I did finally learn, however, to readjust my thinking. "Is this really that big of a deal?" "Is this necessary or just what I prefer?" "Who cares, really?" Such as, give away the clothing I couldn't bear to see walk out of the house where anyone else could see her wearing it. Cut her hair really short so it didn't matter if I wasn't being permitted to comb it and she wasn't capable of it yet. Little bitty things---no you don't have to go to sleep, but you do have to stay in bed quietly with a book. It took me a few years to learn that very few things needed me to be the ultimate boss, but they were important things, so I'd better save my cooperation capital for them.

As I said, will power is fabulous, finally. She started baking cookies in elementary school because "Sometimes I wanted cookies, but you didn't have time to bake them. I didn't want to always have to wait for you." She read cookbooks and followed directions and is now an accomplished cook. A self-directed child is a thing of beauty. Faye has always been very self-directed. I didn't always appreciate this, but ultimately it has worked out. Parenting is a school, some of us are slow learners.

Happy Birthday!! Feliz Cumpleanos!! Bake yourself a really awesome cake!!

National Poetry Month

Heh...it is the second to the last day of National Poetry Month and I really meant to post some poetry. But I've taken all my poetry books to school and I kept forgetting to bring them home.

Here's a poem:

Enter October

Wrapped in the feather boa of
The Season’s Premier Snowstorm,
October makes her entrance.
But, after the introduction,
She drops the frozen front and
Gleams gold so bright
That wild geese echo the musical applause
Long after the last curtain call
That cuts into November’s icy act.

by Judy Kay Welch
New Era, Oct 1974

Here's another poem:

On A Night of Snow

Cat, if you go outdoors, you must walk in the snow.
You will come back with little white shoes on your feet,
little white shoes of snow that have heels of sleet.
Stay by the fire, my Cat. Lie still, do not go.
See how the flames are leaping and hissing low,
I will bring you a saucer of milk like a marguerite,
so white and so smooth, so spherical and so sweet -
stay with me, Cat. Outdoors the wild winds blow.

Outdoors the wild winds blow, Mistress, and dark is the night,
strange voices cry in the trees, intoning strange lore,
and more than cats move, lit by our eyes green light,
on silent feet where the meadow grasses hang hoar -
Mistress, there are portents abroad of magic and might,
and things that are yet to be done. Open the door!

-- Elizabeth Coatsworth

So, now you must find a poem, or write a poem, to celebrate the waning days of April.

Down the Musical Memory Lane

Cool Guy and I were talking tonight about music and, of course I was saying things like, "You know that one song...those guys you saw every week in Overton Park in Memphis..." because my brain often doesn't work well with specifics like names these days. So I went to the internet because EVERYTHING is there. I don't need to have it on the tip of my tongue anymore since I can just google it all now. But...I digress. And I digressed for about an hour on youtube looking up songs I loved way back in the day. Here's one for instance:



I loved these guys--The Allman Brothers band. Don't you wish your hair was as pretty as Greg's? Don't you wish you could play the guitar like Dicky Betts and Duane Allman?

Here's another one that I can listen to nine gazillion times and never tire of it. Whenever I hear it I have to stop and listen to the whole thing and sing along (if I'm alone). It's just the best harmony ever.



Don't you want to hit play again? And again? Just one of those beautiful, awesome songs that I love to hear.

Also both of them remind me of a time of life when my knees didn't hurt and my hair was as pretty as Greg Allman's. It was a great time of life and I am always astonished that we are this many years removed from it. It is good to have music to be a vivid and instant time travel device.
P.S. The initial song I went looking for was "Heard It In a Love Song" by Marshall Tucker Band, a local group that played free in Overton Park in Memphis the summer of 1973 when Cool Guy was going to Navy A school. It was before the band had a huge hit. Then we got together in February 1974 and listened to them over and over on their new album.
P.P.S. Cool Guy pointed out to me that the second guitarist on the first clip is not Duane Allman. Duane was killed in a motorcycle accident early in their career. I don't know who the other player is, but here is Duane.

Car Lust

Cool Guy rents cars quite often because he travels for work. He's rented enough cars in the last few years that he is at the top of the Preferred Renters list, or whatever they call it, at the company he usually uses. So he never knows what will be awaiting him when he goes in to pick up a car. (And he's like the people on the commercials who just walk right into the garage and the car is waiting there in a space with his name posted over it...) Once he got a Mustang convertible. Once it was a Lincoln Continental. I was with him on that trip and we really felt like a couple of geezers in that land yacht. He always reserves the same model, an Impala, but they just give him what they've got at the time, if one of those isn't available. And they give him an upgrade if they don't have his first choice. So...

Last week he picked up the car to go on a trip and it was a Mercedes C-Class. He came by my school to say good bye. (I had just finished after-school tutoring.) I was dutifully impressed. It had a sunroof, nice leather seats. It was awesome. He laughing said it took him 10minutes to figure out how to turn on the radio. He said it drove like a dream---German engineering. So, off he went for a relatively short journey to a base in a neighboring state for some meetings.

He returned a couple of days later and walked in the door that evening. He strode into the living room and declared:
"I've never been upset with you for not winning the million dollars. But now I am. I want a Mercedes Benz!!" And then he laughed!! This from the person who always bought old used cars because he could rebuild the motors and we wouldn't have car payments. It enabled me to be a stay-home mom for eighteen years.

Really, it's okay about the money---but WOW---would he love one of those cars. So, if you ever get to upgrade to Mercedes...be careful. It'll ruin you.

That's More Like It

Do you know that on Tuesday night Las Vegas established a new record lowest high temperature for that date? It was very cold--cold enough for several new inches of snow to fall on the highest mountain here, the road over the west mountains to be closed due to snowfall, and even in the neighborhoods of the valley at the foot of those mountains to have snow. Bah. It is April, people.

Yes, yes---two feet of snow closed eastern Wyoming and Colorado. Northern Utah, including halfway down the state got lots of new snow...yeah, yeah. But I am living here in the desert and it is April and we are supposed to be having Spring with its lovely balmy days in the 70's. We will be having the 100's by the end of May and this is our reward time of year.

It has been a very cold winter. We have had incredible winds and very cold weather for almost the whole month of April. I'm ready for some nice weather. Wah.

So, finally today we have some. That's good. It's about time. That is all.

Teacher Perks?

A strange thing has been happening the last few weeks at school. A mom is bringing me lunch. This all got started because I drooled over the lunches she regularly brought to her son. She'd cook him these sensational looking soups and enchiladas and tacos and things. It would be freshly made, and she'd be waiting in the foyer as we walked the students up to the cafeteria at 12:10. She and her daughter, a toddler, would go in and give her son the Tupperware container that was full of the delicious looking homemade Mexican food. I'd walk past him to drop off my lunch ticket envelope and I couldn't help but notice the awesome looking lunches. So, I'd make a little joke about wanting her to be my mom, or wouldn't he please share...He'd laugh and she'd smile.

Well, about three weeks ago, I walked the students up the hall, and there is Mama and she walked up to me with the Tupperware bowl. I took it and turned to look for her son, but she gestured and said, with a strong accent, "No--you eat." Just then her boy came up and explained in English for his mother, "She brought it for you today!" OH MY GOODNESS. I was embarrassed. They were so happy to give it to me, so I thanked her and took it.

It was FABULOUSLY delicious. It was empanadas and spanish rice and some vegetables. It was so much that I sat down in the lounge and shared it with another 4th grade teacher (since we all share this student.) We sucked it down like THAT. YUM, YUM, YUM.

So I e-mailed my daughter and had her translate a thank you for me on the double to give to the boy with the plate that afternoon.

Next week, here's mom again with the covered plate! This time it was chiles rellenoes con pollo with spanish rice and some more empanadas. Cool Guy got some of the left-overs because we couldn't eat it all. He agrees: terrific, delicious. Again, yesterday! I get a lunch. I'm so embarrassed.

Today, after school, they stopped by where I do crossing guard duty and the boy asked me, for his mom who was driving, if I liked the lunch. I definitely did, and said that, really, she didn't have to do that, honest. But she smiled and he explained that she loved to do, no problem!

So I told my fellow crossing guard all about what was going on, and he just laughed and told me that with so few perks coming our way as teachers, I should just say Thank you very much, and gobble up the food and thank my lucky stars. So, I guess I will.

It's still embarrassing.

Easter Greetings

Easter is one of my favorite celebrations. Partly because it occurs in Spring, which means Winter is on the way out. As a child this was important because Winter was always so interminable. We often had snow on the ground for Easter...more than once a blizzard raged. But the later occurring Easters (like the year my younger brother was born) was sunny and warm and we'd raked all the old grass off the lawns.

Of course, we always got new dresses. Sometimes they were merely new to us, our sisters having worn them a few years before. But it still counted. I had a hat for several years in a row, too. And since we had so many chickens, we definitely dyed eggs. On Easter morning we got to hunt for these hidden eggs throughout the living room--never outside, because of the snow. And there was some candy, also.

But my favorite part of Easter, even when I was little, was church. It is all centered around the reality of the Resurrection. Christmas is sweet and sentimental. But there is an undercurrent of melancholy. The parents are far from home, they have inadequate accommodations, they have a little fear when the Wise Men and Herod enter into the narrative.

But Easter! It's all about triumph! It's all about Christ turning the horrible circumstance of His trial, His humiliation and His crucifixion upside down and being more powerful than all of it.

He is Risen! Imagine the exhilaration of Mary when she runs off to tell the apostles that what Jesus had been teaching them wasn't allegorical---He really did return to life!

I realize that I've lived my whole life with this as a fact, not just a belief. I've always known with surety that Christ is Lord and He lives and the Resurrection is certain. There are many things I wonder about, some doctrinal concepts I puzzle over. But the Living Christ isn't one of them. I am always grateful for this gift of knowing that life is eternal, and we're just in one phase of our existence here on earth. Hosanna and Hallelujah!

Grandma Land

This afternoon we just returned from visiting our two grandchildren who live in California, and later tonight our grandson will arrive for part of his spring break. He can only stay a couple of days, because he has a soccer game to play on Saturday, but two days will be great! We enjoy all the time we can get when it comes to being the grandparents.

In California we went for a walk, played in the sandbox, were served delicious sand icecream cones, read books, played Go Fish and made some Easter crafts together. Another day we toured the Jelly Belly Factory and went to a terrific planetarium where we saw a dinosaur movie and a movie called the "The Secret of the Cardboard Spaceship" in which we explored the universe in animation. We ate out and we visited the Oakland temple visitor's center, and just completely used up one day. We really had a great old time.

Tomorrow we plan to plant tomatoes, take the little gas-car out to the desert for some off-roading remote-control driving, and of course, swimming in the little pool (since the big pool is a little too chilly yet.) Then on Friday, it's Bunny Bread time! We'll probably go see a cool museum too.

Grandma-time is the best way to spend Spring Break--believe me!

Happy Birthday Joe

Actually, the main birthday celebrated in our family today is for the second brother. He was born 26 years ago and was a Kindergarten class project--sort of. I was pregnant with him during the year of our oldest child's first school experience, and I spent time there each week being the music lady with a friend of mine. As the year progressed, my belly grew bigger, and so the students were excited to have me come and visit at the end of April with the new baby brother. He was very popular and annointed the "cutest one!" He was then, and still today manages to be very, very cute. And very talented and very nice. And very intelligent and very creative.

Which brings us to Joe's birthday. Well, I don't really remember Joe's birthday. It could be today, but without today, April 2, we wouldn't have had Joe...so. Mr. Cool (as I will herein refer to the Birthday Boy) taught himself to read when he was just about four. One of his favorite things to read was the atlas, and any map, anywhere. We had a map of the United States on the wall in his room and it got thoroughly studied. One day, we were introduced to Joe.

Joe was from Shafter, Texas. His grandmother lived in Alpine, Texas. Joe liked the color green, and his mom had died, I think. There were some tragic undertones to Joe's life. But Joe lived with us for a year or more. When we had baths in the evening, I had to also help Joe out of the tub and dry him off. At night, Joe was tucked into bed, too. He had a place to join us on the couch for bedtime reading. He went to the store with us. One night at dinner, Mr. Cool was just fiddling with his soup and not really eating much. I pointed out that we had ice cream for dessert, but that the soup needed to be finished first. Oh, no problem, Joe was going to eat the soup. So, I replied, "Then I'll give Joe the ice cream." He shot right back angrily, "Joe HATES ice cream!"

We moved to another state during the year of Joe. A big moving van pulled up outside of our house, everything boxed up and stashed inside. Then the truck was weighed and we signed the bill. But when it arrived in Idaho after a few days on the road, the new weight was 300 pounds heavier than that which we loaded in California. Mysterious? We looked at one another and Cool Guy just shrugged, "Joe's stuff." Of course.

One day, we just didn't hear about Joe anymore. He was a good friend, and we all enjoyed him while he lived with us. I hope he's having a happy birthday, too. Mr. Cool--you, too!