It's Great to Be Grandma and Grandpa

Here are some photos from a recent visit by our daughter's family as they traveled to and from Hawaii for a visit with his ohana there. We had a very fine time. Little P-Bibby never did warm up to the cat, but she is a very enthusiastic pool girl.

S-Boogie is also extremely enthusiastic about the pool. Grandpa has always called her The Minnow since she first came to the pool at age 3, but now he calls her The Shark, because she never stops moving in the water!

Everything about the swimming pool was just so delightful and hilarious and the more stuff she could collect, the more P-Bibby laughed.

  It was even fun out of the water on the patio, writing with sidewalk chalk and carrying around little plastic blocks with her sister and brother.

 Let's see, do we have every single pool toy that we could find in the shed out here yet??

Lil' Dude and S-Boogie had a game where they'd jump into the pool from the side, simultaneously.  Then, swim to the far side, touch it, turn and swim back to the steps, climb out, and jump back in again--as a team. Over and over and over and over....

Here is The Shark. She was simply tireless! She swam up and down the length of the pool without touching the side until she reached the end. She is getting really strong and capable with pretty good technique---face in and then out to breath and back in to swim--round and round.

We had fun inside the house, too. We made some butter with my grandma's butterchurn. My mom used it in the summers because she didn't like the taste of other people's cows' milk. Those farmers didn't erradicate a certain weed that she claimed to be able to taste in the butter from the creamery. So every summer--we made our own. Well, this butter we made was really tasty butter! I'm no longer a skeptic about her fussiness.

P-Bibby has one thing that she loves as much as the pool: a ball, or several balls at once!

And Grandma's house has a REALLY BIG BALL that she and Lil' Dude liked to pound on till it jumped.

It's Father's Day

CoolGuy spent yesterday and Friday in the pool with the visiting grandchildren. They have a great game that involves 1) jumping off the side into the pool as close to Grandpa as you can get, then 2) standing on Grandpa's hands and having him toss you into the air from the pool so that you land--kersplash!--back into the pool where you swim over to the side and [see #1]...We can do this for hours. Seriously. Too much fun!!

That is what you do with the big kids, but with the Amphibian Child (see photo) you just hang out in the pool and smile and laugh because being in the water is the BEST THING EVER!! Especially if you have a long foam tube to play with. She is a little fish and spent all her time in the pool laughing and smiling and splashing in the water. Fun times.

The kids sang some Father's Day songs in Sacrament meeting today and after the final kiss was blown, I recalled a rendition of "I'm So Glad When Daddy Comes Home" that our family performed years ago. I can't remember if I've written about this before.

In 1990 CoolGuy went off to Saudi Arabia with a group of Marines. He was a civilian at that time, but he was the person who kept their remote-control spy plane functioning, so when the 3rd RPV Company deployed, CoolGuy deployed, too. It was when Iraq had invaded Kuwait and so there was a big face-off in the Middle East which eventually ended up in what has become known as the First Gulf War. Anyway, when CoolGuy first got there, he was busy, but they weren't undergoing rocket attacks--that came later. We were living in SoCal, and a local television station offered to families of deployed people the chance to come to their studio and film a short video, and then they would pay for the tape to be mailed to your loved one.

At the time, our children ranged from 1st grade to freshman in high school. So, we made a plan that each person would choose something they'd like to demonstrate to Dad, or show him and talk about. The high school son played a selection on his clarinet he'd learned in band.  The next daughter read something she'd done for school. The other sister performed a cheer from her cheerleading gig for middle school. The third grade son did some karate moves, and the 1st grader was too shy to talk on camera, so I narrated what he was going to say about some new toy he'd gotten while he demonstrated it. Then we talked a little about something and, for our finale, we sang "I'll Be So Glad When Daddy Gets Home"--a slightly modified version of the original--more pertinent for the occasion, since we really didn't know when that was going to be.

When we finished singing, and the director called, "cut" to the cameraman,  (I think the whole tape was about 25 minutes long) we got a round of applause from the crew, and a few of them wiped their eyes, surreptitiously. They were effusive in their compliments for our "dear little program and adorable song." They'd taped a lot of people just sitting around chatting and umm-ing and ah--ing because 25 minutes is a long time to fill without a plan. But, I knew that, so we'd planned ahead.

The tape was a big hit for CoolGuy. He watched it several times there in the desert and his co-workers thought it was pretty cool, too. And of course, they marveled at how anyone could have five kids!! It was fun to do, and it made his day. He'd been gone for about three months when it arrived. So, whenever I hear or sing that daddy-getting-home song, I'm reminded how really, really glad we were that time that our Daddy came home, and he came home safe and sound. Lots of daddies don't make it out of that part of the world alive.

FrankenFeet Update

Ta Da! Two shoes! I made the switch on Wednesday, after all the paper work was completed between the doctor and the insurance to authorize me getting the brace, etc. etc. I will be wearing this ankle brace for a few months. It helps to keep my foot stable. But--it fits into a shoe. I think I'm going to be wearing these Nikes for most of that time, too. But, they are waaaaay better than the cast, so I'm pleased. The brace is made of fabric, with a couple of plastic inserts along the outside and inside of my foot. It only covers my heel and part of my foot, and laces up  like high tops. In fact, if I bought some high tops, then no one would even know it was there. When I wear long pants, you can't see it.

CoolGuy is planning some type of "Burn the Boot" ceremony here in the back yard. I think that would be an appropriate denouement (the outcome of a complex sequence of events [French]) for this whole long saga, n'est pas?  Sorry, about all the French, but sometimes other languages say it just right!

So, now, I'm still walking slowly, but now no one knows why! But, I concentrate on walking carefully, putting equal weight on each foot and using good posture. I'm so excited to be using both feet!!

Summer is Back

Summer has returned to Sin City. Yesterday was the first time it hit 100 degrees. As you can see from the truck thermometer, the official temperature at the airport of 101 is a little low compared to some parts of town. But, I have the cure:

I was in the pool just this morning, between 9:00 and 10:00. Right now, I have to type a response to a chapter in my "Designing Qualitative Research" textbook, then drive over to campus for the two classes, but when I return at 10:00 P.M., I'll go right back out there. In the morning: repeat.

Oh, what do you do in the summertime?  (play it with the words and music...)  Then, go fish in a stream or swim in a pool---That's what I do!

Monday, Monday, Can't Trust That Day

I had a doctor's appointment this morning. Been anticipating it for six weeks because it was the day I was to get the boot off. Except that I didn't get the boot off. That will happen in a few more days when the office gets the insurance authorization for an ankle brace. So, instead of a photo of me walking out of the doctor's office on two feet in shoes, we have no photo. Blah. And I still have the boot on.

But, they should be calling me in a few days, the doctor assured me. Then I'll go back in and get the brace, and also get my foot cast for a new orthotic to match the "new" foot--the old orthotic doesn't fit anymore. I'm to wear the brace (apparently it is an adjustable contraption that allows me to modify the support as I need less or more and can be worn with shoes) for several more months. So, I'm resigned to wearing sensible shoes for the rest of the summer, possibly the rest of this year. Maybe the rest of my life? Not borrowing trouble right now, thank you.

Weirdly, I also have developed tendonitis in my Achilles tendon. The last three days, I would get a sharp pain that stopped me from walking (and alarmed all the people around me at church and school!). But the pain diminished and went away again. He felt all over my ankle and identified it as tendonitis (pinching certain places causing me to leap half off of the examing table.). So, I get to ice it and rest it and use the brace. Good grief! I love how my body can invent these new ailments over nothing. 

So, all week I've had that dopey "Friday, Friday!" [actually not this exact version...]song in my head, only I switched the words to "Monday Monday!"

It's Monday, Monday
Gonna lose the boot on Monday
Lookin' forward to the weekday, weekday
Monday, Monday
Gonna lose the boot on Monday
Everybody lookin' forward to the weekday, weekday...

Thank you, thank you--I am pleased to be the person who has now inserted that horrible melody in your head. But, if you go back and read the title of this blog, and look up the lyrics for the Mamas and Papas tune, then you can eject the Rebecca Black tune and replace it with the geezer song. You're welcome.

Time Is On My Side

Isn't this lovely? I laid on a bench here this afternoon for about twenty minutes, just watching the hummingbirds flit around a large tree that was covered with tiny blossoms. There were always 4 or 5 of them hovering overhead, and occasionally one would pause on the slim twig attaching the drooping blossom cluster to the leave base. It was calm, pleasant, relaxing. I reveled in it. The air temperature was comfortable, a slight breeze wafted by now and then. Almost no one was on campus---this is on the main quad at UNLV.

Why was I there, lolling in the early evening air and blissfully watching birds?  I was between classes. I really, really needed this little natural respite because I've bitten off a huge chunk this week. It is the summer term. I've enrolled in two classes to try and catch  up for the semester off with Frankenfoot. The term is four weeks long--June 6--July 7.  I have class on MTWTh---4:00--10:00. And this week, compounding the craziness, it is the end of the term for the school district where I work.

Here's today:  up at 6:00, out of the house by 7:00. Stop at Walmart to get supplies for the traditional 4th grade Last Day of School Pancake Feast. Get to school by 7:30. Snatch up master copies and head up to the workroom to finish the Memory Book copies. Machines won't accept the card stock I need to use for the covers. Now machine won't acknowledge that I really asked it to make letter not ledger prints. Waste more card stock. Finally discover the one copier that won't screw up my cover pages. Finish making them all just in time to hurry upstairs for morning duty. Collect class--go downstairs and pledge/sing/announce...blah blah--drop them off at Art.  Rush back to my classroom to revise numbers on report card cover pages because I have too many days listed for this term.  Print off cover pages. Print off Parent Report Card pages. Start printing report cards. Half-way through the printer jams--repeatedly, again and again. Get all the jams cleared. Go get students from Art.  Spend a frenzied two hours, thirty minutes at a pop, with each class assembling the Memory Books. WE DID IT WITHOUT A HITCH. Probably because no technology other than a stapler was involved. Send every one out to recess. Print off more report cards. Stamp principal's name and sign my name on all of them. Throw some lunch down in 10 minutes. Pick up students from cafeteria. Have students read their contribution from Memory Books aloud. Go to Awards Assembly in the cafeteria at 2:00. Read off all my awards, have my picture taken repeatedly with smiling children by their terrific parents (really--such a great group this year.) Go back to rooms where we hold a 45 minute autograph session for all the 107 fourth graders milling between our rooms. Sign my name a zillion times. Clean up, stack up, bell rings. Realize that the baby shower for a co-worker is today and the gift is at home. Dash home to pick it up and drop it off. Sign in on my computer to upload my assignment for the 7:00 P.M. class to WebCampus because the instructor never facilitates this function until about 3:00 P.M. each day...arrgh.  Get back into the truck and drive across town to campus where I am about 40 minutes late for the 4:00 P.M. class. After it finishes...I go outside and lie down on the bench pictured above and breath slowly and watch hummingbirds.

Tomorrow is the last day of school. I got home at 10:20 tonight. But I'll survive---it's only one more day. Then, all I have to do in June is homework and go to class and then July will come and I won't have to do a thing besides swim and lay in the sun. Time is on my side.

Visitors

Look who came to see us this weekend!  Our daughter's family paid us a short visit. Seriously---less thatn 24 hours.  They were on their way to Hawaii (where her husband was born and raised) to visit with family members who still live there. Since we are conveniently located in a city where the air fares to Hawaii are not as expensive, we got to spend a day together while they were enroute. And when they return, we get to play for another couple of days before they head north for home.

 The most amusing event of the overnight stay was the reaction of the Littlest Sweetie to Kitty Cat--outrage, or something. We were seated at the table for supper and Kitty Cat strolled by. P. Bibby (her internet name) looked over from her booster seat to stare, and then looked at all of us, and burst into tears. She howled and it wasn't from fright--it was more like offense--what is this furry creature doing walking around?? Aren't stuffed animals supposed to just lay there???  We think she was a bit over-tired since she hadn't had a nap all day while traveling in the car. The next day, whenever she saw Kitty Cat, she just stare at her cautiously, but in a decidedly wary fashion. Hmmm...it'll be interesting to see what the return visit brings.

Power Toes

At physical therapy there are several different difficult things I am doing to regain strength in my re-built foot. I wear a 3lb. weight while I march in place, or balance on one foot, or do leg lifts. These all leave me quivering with fatigue. (3lbs.!!--what a baby) But the one special torture is the marble pick up. 

The aide dumps out a container of about 3 dozen glass shapes onto a towel. They are the approximate size and shape of curved ice cubes (like from a freezer dispenser).  My job is to pick them up with my toes, one by one, and place them back into the container. Yea, right. These are toes that no longer have a tendon going directly to them. That tendon was rerouted to the side of my foot to compensate for the shredded one that was removed. The doctor told me that I wouldn't be able to curl my toes and pick things up in them like regular feet can do. They'll curl a little, but they won't be like before.

And, of course, these toes have been encased in an ortho-boot for almost five months now, too. So, each day, I'd sit there and clench my hands on the seat while sending messages from my brain to my feet, "Pick up the marbles, Pick up the marbles---scrunch yourselves around the glass thingies."  The most I ever got was 8.

Yesterday---32!!!  I've been really giving my toes the business all this week. I've scrunched them hundreds of times a day inside the boot. I've carefully modified my walking to be sure I forced my foot to push off on my toes and not just stump around on the heel. At night, I did toe crunches by squishing a towel under my foot over and over while I watched "Jeopardy!" and while I sat at the computer. It paid off!  Toes can learn new stuff, even if their big tendon has moved away.

First Swim of the Season

I finally got home from work tonight about 7:30. I'd actually been home at 4:10 just long enough to change into something suitable to wear to physical therapy, and I so wished I'd had the time to go jump in the pool then. My clothes were stuck to my skin and I was so uncomfortable. Yes, theoretically, I have an air-conditioned classroom, but---don't get me started...

Anyway, it is finally warming up here. It's weird how this spring has been rather cool, even here in the desert. I was reading my blog last night from several years past in the May entries, and in each of them, early in the month, I mention how swimming season is on, and how much I love coming home from a sweaty day at school and jumping in to relax.  But the thermometer has only gotten up to 90 degrees or more a couple of days so far this year. Today--94.

Anyway, after PT, I had to jet back over to school to write lesson plans for tomorrow morning so I can be in a meeting till noon. It's a good meeting, and not at all a waste of time. But, finally, I could go home and I went straight in to change clothes and go to the pool. It isn't exactly warm yet--maybe 72, but that's warmer than the ocean. And if you just plunge right in, it feels FABULOUS.

I swam back and forth and back and forth and then I leaned on a step and just did kicks. My re-built foot was squeaking "Ooooh---watch it!" but not too loudly. And I was cleared by my doctor to swim as long as I didn't use swim-fins, so I just kept on kicking. It will really help get the strength back in my shriveled calf muscle to kick it across the pool for 20-30 minutes every night. YEA! for swimming! Yea for any activity for which I can ditch the ortho-boot!  Yea for summer!

It's May 23rd...

...so you know that we're going to talk about Trish!  Happy Birthday to her--this is 57 years since she was born. I decided to just post some photos I have of her as we were growing up. You'll notice that I am also in nearly every one of the pictures, because, hey, we were together nearly all of the time.

Trish is in the red dress and is almost four years old.

 

She called this photo the Hillbilly Shot, but you'll notice that everyone has combed hair.

Aren't we just adorable? Her gorgeous lips and white blonde hair were there from the beginning.

It must be Easter Sunday. That's newborn baby Scott on the left.

Here we are in the basement of the Smoot church at a Daddy-Daughter Date.  We're in front of our tall Dad just a little left of center.

You can see I grew tall sooner than she did. But she caught up finally. I love these groovy dresses. (for real!)

Okay, that's her on the front of the horse---what a patient horse Suzy was, too.

Same horse, same girl---a few years later.  Viva la difference!

Celebrating once again, my Almost-Twin sister, Patricia. AKA "Trish"  --I drive by this street sign every day so I get to remember regularly.

Golden Julibee

This year I've been playing the piano for 50 years. Wow. I should be a little better at it, don't you think?  Actually, I'm not bad at playing the hymns at church. It's become my only genre, mostly. Since 1989, each time we moved into a new ward, within a short time, I became the organist because there wasn't really anyone else who could do it. In one ward, I played for Sacrament meeting and then went in and played for Primary, too. For several months, I led the singing and played the piano for that Primary. There just weren't very many musical people in that ward. Luckily, more people moved in gradually and some of them could play and lead the singing.

I started playing in second grade. I remember my mother cautioning me not to talk so much during my lessons because I spent the time talking instead of playing. Then one day, we'd had an exciting adventure begin our school day, and I heeded her message to just shut up and play, and my mom then expressed her amazement that I didn't tell the piano teacher about the skunk in the school. I was trying to obey. ( Yes, yes, somehow a baby skunk was put into our tiny four room school---through a window into the cafeteria room. We arrived at school and the cook had already been there and found her furry guest, so she called a neighbor to come over and trap it --- gently --- and take it out without fouling the atmosphere with musk. He was successful and so we went on with our regular school day without having to hold class outside.)

I enjoyed piano lessons. It was a novelty. Each Friday, as my Dad drove the school bus through town on his way south to return all of the students to their homes, he'd let my sisters and I off the bus at one corner that was just a long block away from the piano teacher's home. We'd walked down to her house, let ourselves in, get comfortable on her fluffy couches with a comic book and wait for our turn in the alcove off her kitchen to play our simple songs.  I loved reading the comic books. There was a huge shelf of them, and since comic books were forbidden in my house, I devoured them. My favorite genre was the true stories of WW II. I learned about the Bataan Death March, the Dolittle Raid over Tokyo, Pearl Harbor and the battles for Guam from these magazines. No one ever addressed WW II in school. American history never got to the "modern" times, so this was my only information. I knew my dad had been a sailor in that war, but no one ever discussed it.

Then, after we were finished (when I went to school in town --instead of the tiny one--it was just one sister and I taking lessons) Mother would come by to pay and pick us up. She paid with two dozen eggs and two dollars. Then, we'd get in the car and be her egg deliverers around the town. She had a group of ladies who'd put their empty cartons on a shelf in their porch, or meet us at the door with them in hand, and we'd carefully carry that week's order to them and collect the money. (Elder Bednar's mother-in-law was one of our customers.) I'm digging in the deepest pockets of my brain to try and figure out how many cartons we delivered on Fridays, and I'm thinking that it could have been 25 or 30. Most people took 2 dozen each week. I don't know where she got the customers and I think she used the money for groceries because that was where we went last on our Friday town trips. We'd get home from piano lessons/grocery store/egg deliveries and then go out and milk. My dad usually had it started, because we'd get home about five or five-thirty--late for milking. 

We had to practice the piano every day, too. Mother had heard all these songs many times, and so, even though she didn't play, she could call out--"That's not right. Try again."  I learned the melodies to famous operas and I learned lots of themes to classical music through piano lessons. My favorite thing to do in high school, was to just sit at the piano and play songs and sing to myself when no one was home. I still like to do that.

I've written before how I developed skill at the hymns, and since musical genres are quite different from each other, I'll probably never get good at playing classical music in its original form because I don't practice it. Simple arrangements of songs are all I can handle. I do fine with "Home Means Nevada to Me" and I think I've talked here about discovering that my ELL kids were willing to sing in English even if they were too shy to read aloud in English, so I found a way to incorporate songs into many of my lessons.

Last night, we were talking about My Golden Jubilee, and how I still can't play the pedals on the organ. CoolGuy said, "Why don't you just play them?"  I asked him why he didn't just climb up on that wall, juggle six tennis balls and then start tap dancing.  That's what the organ pedals do for my brain. I'm good with playing different notes with each hand, keeping the beat and playing on. But my brain just cannot add that one more thing of the pedals. Maybe if I practice for another 50 years....

Hookie

So, my work day ended with me comforting an hysterical woman who was standing in our school office waiting for the police to arrive. She is the mother of one of my students. I marked him "absent" today, without really thinking about it, because he sometimes gets sick and doesn't come to school. No big deal. Except that this morning, on her way to work, his mom had dropped him and his bicycle off at a nearby friend's house so that the two boys could travel to school together at the correct time. I guess, after we got it all figured out, he did, indeed ride over to school with the friend, but then, he surreptitiously left the playground and rode away to another friend's house. There, three of our students played hookie:

A day in which liberty is taken upon oneself to exclude themself from school or work obligations while, most likely, pretending to be sick 



But, the plan went awry when his mom came home to find he wasn't there, and then he wouldn't answer his cell phone (yes, 10 year olds with cell phones...) and so she came by the school to see if he was at tutoring.

Nope.

We fourth grade teachers came up to the office in answer to the secretary's call, and mom was screaming and crying and shaking. She, of course, was sick that someone had kidnapped him. We, of course, didn't have any proof that this didn't happen. Except that when we all stood there in the office, we school people began to do a little addition...you know 2 + 2 = ???

As we came inside initially this morning to start school, I'd had an older student tell me a cryptic message about another student in my class. "If (boy's name) is absent today, I know something about him and (5th grade boy)."  Well, Ididn't reply, because I was immediately distracted by other events.  Then, later, as I contemplated the attendance roll, I realized that two of my students were absent and one of them was the boy referenced by the mysterious tattler. I called the office to see if  they knew anything, but she said the 5th grade boy's grandfather (with whom he lives) had called to say he was home sick.  I was still a little suspicious, so I called my student's house and left a message about his absence and that we were taking an important test, call me back, please, blah, blah. 

Well, after the grandpa left to run errands, a miraculous recovery occurred, and the two boys from my room had met up with the "sick" 5th grader and had apparently spent the day biking around, and dropping in on different houses when they could see that their various family members had left for work. There is a lot of shift work in Las Vegas, so it isn't a 9-to-5 town. Now, after school, I finally connected with my one student's parent on her cell phone at work, and this was the first she'd heard that her son had apparently skipped school two straight days. "Thanks," she said, "good information to know."  Well, good for her...not so good for him, me thinks. 

A friend of the hysterical mom finally called her to say that she'd seen the boys biking past her house and she'd run out and snagged the missing son. We heard Mom start in on him on the phone as she left the school with the police officer who needed her to help him finish his report---now that it was no longer a missing person.

All seven of us (secretaries, teachers from both grades, principal and nurse's helper) sat down in the office and took a deep breath.  I said to the principal as we looked at one another in amazement, "Well, if they survive the beatings, I'm guessing that they won't be part of tomorrow's Field Day, huh?"  "That's right, " she replied. "That's right."

The Marry Month of May

We got married today, 37 years ago. It was a Spring like they're having now in Wyoming. The day after we got married, it snowed three inches. It's probably snowing today there, too. Spring is a little late this year. Anyway, we got married and then drove back to San Diego where CoolGuy was stationed in the Navy and we lived happily ever after.

Well, we learned how to live happily ever after. We worked on it. It takes a lot of attention. Anyone who thinks they can just get married and then go on with their lives learns right away that there is a lot of negotiation and accomodation in being married. And there is a lot of wonderful stuff too!  You have babies! They turn into kids! You get to go out on dates! You get pets! You move to different cities!

You can say all of those things with little grumpy emoticons after them, too. You see---being married is the worst way to live, except for all the other ways that have been tried. (I stole and modified that from some *famous guy who said that democracy is the worst form of government except for all the others that have been tried.)

I guess what I'm saying is that being married is a lot of work and all of the work is worth it. At least in my life, I can say that. CoolGuy and I have many terrific memories, and we can laugh about other things, now that they are in the past. There are also many sad memories that bind us together. That is what life is about to me: sharing. So, today we congratulate each other for being willing and happy to have shared the last 37 years.

We went out to eat on Saturday at a favorite restaurant of ours in Washington D.C. that we were pleased to find had opened a place here in one of the new casinos. It was a fabulous and decadant meal that we enjoyed immensely up there on the third floor in the company of crowds of giggly, slightly drunk girls dressed in shiny little dresses and towering high heels. They were obviously bridal parties. There were families and couples and trios of young guys. The service was very attentive, no dirty dish was allowed to rest on our table; all beverage glasses were constantly refilled---all very unobtrusively and professional. You'll want to go with us when you come to visit. It's a fine place for celebrating.

So, today, when the secretary walked into my classroom about 11:00 A.M. with this:

I was puzzled for a moment, then astonished and delighted!  She walked across the room and I said, "Oh my gosh! That is outrageous!" and she replied, "That's exactly what we said in the office, too, when he brought them in!"  My husband, that is.  The students ooohed and ahhhhed, and then I read the card aloud to them:

37 roses for 37 years, I love you...

Everyone said, "Aaah....that's so nice."  They were also astonished that anyone could be married for 37 years. One boy exclaimed that he bet that must have cost $200! Another girl said that I must have the nicest husband ever (I concurred) and then we all went back to work, and at lunch I texted my thanks.

Tonight when I got home, I expressed my appreciation again, and told him how amazed I was, and all of my friends at work, too, because naturally I invited them in to check it out.  I mean---37 roses!!!  He said, "Well, I couldn't let a nine-year old boy show me up, could I?" 

*("Many forms of Government have been tried, and will be tried in this world of sin and woe. No one pretends that democracy is perfect or all-wise. Indeed, it has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all those other forms that have been tried from time to time." --- Sir Winston Churchill, Hansard, November 11, 1947  British politician (1874 - 1965)

"Hurry, Timmy is in the Well!" Meowed Lassie

This morning, as I lay savoring the last few moments of slumber, I was disturbed by a harsh "meow" just inches from my face. In fact, three or four of them previous to that one had finally pierced my conciousness just before the extra loud one emitted by a whiskered snout right next to my own nose.

I remember thinking, "GO AWAY! I'm not getting up until my alarm rings." Then, I tipped my head up and opened one eye to view my clock to see just exactly in how many more minutes that would be.  EEEK! It was already 6:30 A.M. Why hadn't my alarm clanged away at 6:15 A.M. like I'd programed it do last night...oh, wait.

The red "A.M." light was not on. I quickly hit the alarm "show" button and found that, yes, in my fatigued state, I'd moved my alarm from the Sunday morning time of 8:30 A.M. to 6:30 P.M. My alarm, therefore, had about 11 hours and 15 minutes more until it would ring. But, I needed to be to school in 45 minutes---A.M.

So, I suddenly changed my irritation with the loud alarm cat to grateful apologies for her deep concern with my oversleeping.  Or, her pressing need to go outside, which coincided with my pressing need to be awakened--whatever.  So now, I call her Lassie.

Thieves

Someone tried to steal CoolGuy's truck! Saturday, I went out to run errands. (YES!! I can drive again!!) A couple of hours into it, I pulled into Burger King to get a little snack, and as I unrolled the window to tell the disembodied voice what I'd like, I realized the window didn't roll down smoothly, and I heard a scraping sound. Well, I didn't need to roll down the window again the rest of my travels, so I forgot about it till later. We went out to eat that night, and because it had cooled off, and was a pleasant night, CoolGuy unrolled that same window and heard the same scraping sound. I told him I'd heard it, too, and we speculated what could be the cause....probably the fact the there was only a few months left until the truck is paid for--so it's time for things to break!

We came home from our date and he pulled the truck into the garage to diagnose the window problem. I heard him calling to me and when I went out he held up the door handle mechanism to show me where someone had used a hammer and a punch to attempt a break-in! The scraping sound was the door lock cylinder that had been pushed all the way through into the space where the window needed to move up and down.

Somehow, even though they'd punched in the lock, they didn't take the truck. Maybe something or someone scared them off. Maybe they still couldn't get the door open on their first attempt. CoolGuy was messing with it, and discovered that it took him two tries on the broken door handle before the electric lock system gave up with the lock punched out. Don't know why they left it after they'd tried. Don't care!  Just glad that they went away.

Today at church, I overheard some men discussing stolen trucks, and it turns out that in the last two weeks, three people at church have had a truck stolen out of their driveway.  Hmmm...our neighborhood was targeted, I guess. CoolGuy has ordered an additional security system that will holler and squeal if the truck gets touched again. In the meantime, he parked it inside the garage. My old, less-tempting car is in the driveway.

Personally, I'd love to just find a hiding place, and wait there until someone tries it again. Then, I'd jump up with a big stick and pound them till they'd be happy to see the police arrive to rescue them from the deranged old lady.

Two Feet Week

Well, I went from 0 to 60 on Monday morning this week. Whew...I'm dead tonight. (I see that it is after midnight, so blogger says it is Saturday, but for me it is still Friday.)  After laying around for six weeks, I just jumped back into the jet stream of school teaching and discovered I was out of shape. Not only was I physically flabby, I was a little slow mentally to leap back into the grind, also. But, I survived the first week.

Look what I got from one of my students the day I returned; it's a dozen, long-stemmed:



I also got many hugs and happy greetings: (think squeal) "IT'S MRS. [EarthSignMama]!! SHE'S BACK!! Seriously, teaching little kids is so gratifying because they really are happy to see you return when you've been out.

We adjusted to one another rather quickly, however, and I was giving the Teacher Stink Eye by early afternoon. I took over for the fifth grade teacher on Tuesday, because all of Fourth Grade went on a field trip, and I just knew that it would have been ridiculous for me to try that. Even former students were happy to have me back.

It's been no slack this whole week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday I had physical therapy. Tuesday evening was a Relief Society Visiting Teaching conference and I was the speaker. Then Wednesday night, I helped out with the MIA Maid class activity, and immediately afterward stayed for a one hour roadshow brainstorming meeting with two other sisters. We came up with a great idea and I'm to write the script so that we can submit it for approval on May 29th. ---I'm telling you: breathless. (Write the script--no problem; just don't ask me to create scenery or costumes.)

Actually, by Thursday night, I realized that my foot wasn't in much pain. It still swells up quite a bit each day, which I try to ameliorate by wearing compression stockings. But I felt fine walking on it Thursday afternoon, and that was unexpected. Of course, I'm walking really slowly, and I prop it up whenever possible. I'm faithful with my stretching and massaging in between PT visits. I'm eager to heal. When I go back on June 13th, I want the doctor to say, "Let's lose the boot, okay?"  By then, it will be almost six months of it, and, believe me, I'll be ready to lose it!

Here I am showing off my two feet, both touching the floor, with my weight evenly distributed. And, I'm not using any appliances to stand there, you'll notice.  Whooo-hoooo!!

Mother's Day Travels

We had a good weekend with a quick trip to Los Angeles. Our son, MusicMan, was going to be there. Since his home turf is Baltimore, MD, (a very long way from the desert) (in many ways) we were excited to go down and spend some time with him. It turned out to be a rather short time, but at least we were able to share a meal and watch him work.

He was hired by a concert promoter to run the sound board for a band whose record company had booked a tour. So for three weeks he hit the road with them. There were 18 shows in this schedule, that took them from NYC to LA, around the Northeast, Upper Midwest, three shows in Canada, and down the West Coast from Vancouver to L.A. Whew...yea. Lots of driving.

The brother in Seattle, and the sister in Portland went to the show and spent some time, and then we met up in LA. He was hoping for a little down time after the final show, so that he, and a couple of friends in the band, could hang out with us in Las Vegas for a day or two. But, they had to get all the gear and rental van back to Madison, WI, by Tuesday, so they just waved at the mountain and thought of us as they drove through Sin City. Actually, they probably got to Nevada long before we did.

We slept in on Mother's Day and then roamed around LA, moseying our way toward the ocean along Sunset Boulevard as we enjoyed the sights of eclectic SoCal with all the greenery. Living here in Xeroscape-ville, I tend to forget about ivy growing up the sides of buildings, and nasturtiums spilling down a hillside. The jacaranda trees were still mostly purple and bougainvillea vines were arranged in every possible configuration, from framing dooryards to cascading over a side fence and nearly covering the alley.

We ate brunch (heuvos rancheros for me, omelet for Coolguy) on a patio just off the beach and then we wandered around again on a scenic route through neighborhoods in Brentwood and Bel Air, and Glendale and Burbank on our way to the freeway that took us back up over the mountains to the Mojave.  But even there, the yuccas were showing off their huge flower-covered stalks, and the poppies and desert sunflowers were blazing away still, even though it was May. We had a wet winter and so the plants were thriving.

Here are  the magic hands of MusicMan as he manipulated the controls for the show.

Here's CoolGuy in the lobby of the concert place.

Here they are outside after the show.

We had a great time, and there is nothing like going to where your children work, and watching them in their element as competent adults, to make one realize that you are an old lady.

Standing in the Barn

On Monday, we went to the doctor and got cleared for walking on the foot--with crutches. And the crutches were to be eliminated by the end of the week. I'm still to wear the boot until I return on June 13th. The next day, I drove myself to the physical therapist!! YEA!! CoolGuy said, "Well, she's back in the saddle again." But I really, I'm just standing in the barn looking at the horses.  On Monday, I go back to work, so that's when I'll be back in saddle.

Just About There

There are only TWO more days of being one-legged!! I'll be leaving the doctor's office on crutches Monday morning. Although, it could be Out-of-the-Frying-Pan, and Into-the-Fire. We'll see.

I miss:
driving
walking into a room
standing up
toenail polish
stairs

Well, I don't really miss stairs, I just miss having the option. It is a real eye-opener to go around the town and realize how important it is to have handicapped access facilities--curb cuts, ramps, those wide doors on bathroom stalls. Anyway...this is almost the end of the first part. We'll see how long and difficult the next part is. Who knows how many parts this adventure has?

Maybe We Should Have Partied in Provo...

...because if one wants to have a meal at a restaurant (not fast food) in Las Vegas on a Thursday night after 10:30, then tough luck!  At least that was our experience this week when our son came to visit us for a couple of days. He'd been talking about the music from The Lion King and so I thought, "Hey, maybe I'll invite him down here for a couple of days and take him to see the production here." Plus, you know--I'm The Mom, and I like to have my kids visit, and I've been laying around here so long, and... and...

PianoMan (I'll call him) flew down here from Seattle and we ate dinner at home the first night, and then, no surprise, spent the evening talking about music, looking at music on television, listening to PianoMan play music (piano, clarinet, guitar---we only have three instruments at the house, so he was limited to this). Then, we planned the next day to go a couple of places.

His friends had encouraged him to go get a deep-fried Twinkie (their reaction to him coming here for a few days was predictable:  "VEGAS??? DUDE!!! So cool!! Your parents LIVE THERE???" And then of course he tells them that Mom teaches elementary school, Dad consults for the Navy; we live in an ordinary house; it's up by the mountain; etc. etc.  We don't live at the Mirage, nor go out partying every night; we don't have showgirls for neighbors.)  But, hey, it's still Vegas, Baby---and it's all within a 20 minute drive.

We had lunch at Hash House A Go-Go---really a fun place to visit---waaaay tooo much per serving, but always very delicious. We stopped off and picked up our tickets at the willcall desk. Then we went home and PianoMan went outside to read by the pool and get a badly needed Vitamin D infusion from the sun, which hasn't been seen in the Northwest for weeks.

Later that evening, the valet took the Silverado (we've learned, as adults of a certain age, that the free valet parking offered at Las Vegas casinos is totally worth the $10 tip.)  We worked our way through the Mandalay Bay casino toward the theater, which is a little complicated with the stupid cart, and were seated in our "accessible" area (pretty good seats, actually) and settled back for two and half hours of award winning entertainment. It was terrific---costumes, singing, sets---the whole thing is worthy of all its accolades.

By 10:10, when it finished, we were finally hungry. But, we were also completely done with the casino atmosphere. Loud, hyper, ding-dinging, flashing lights---I really hate being in a room filled with slot machines. So, we knew of a place we'd been a couple of times just a few blocks away. And, hey! It's Las Vegas, we were headed to a brew-pub, and it was before 10:30 P.M. No problem, right? 

Wrong---yes, people were in there eating, but--no, we couldn't join them. We could sit at the bar and drink, but the kitchen was done. So, we got back in the truck ( a 14 step process because of the cart....) and drove down the street to the Hard Rock Cafe---come on! Vegas! Let's eat! Except that this time, we were a little smarter. CoolGuy drove in through the drop-off, put it in "park" and went in to check before we did the whole little cart ceremony again. Nope...once again--you can drink, but you can't eat.

We went to Denny's.

And my point is, that if we wanted to go out for a meal at 10:30 P.M. in Provo, we wouldn't have driven to two different other places first. We'd have known that Denny's would be the only destination possible.

But---LAS VEGAS?? Sheesh.

Here we are waiting for our grub at the Hash House. See the paleness of the Man From Seattle?

They serve their food on platters. I mean it about the enormous servings.

It was a really great production. If you haven't seen it, come and visit us, and we'll go again.

Good grief, Mom, don't keep taking pictures, even if you do have a cool new phone...

Okay, but just one more. You need to show your friends that you took their advice and did something crazy in Las Vegas---deep fried Twinkie at Nathan's Hot Dogs in the Mermaid Cafe on Fremont Street. Hey, if you want to par-tay in Vegas, Baby, you might want to go with someone other than your middle-aged parents. 

Easter

We had a really wonderful program for Easter today at church. I knew it was going to be good because I'd been at many of the rehearsals as the pianist. Then, we had to go forward on the Frankenfoot episode, so someone else took over for me. I love to play the hymn, "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today" on the organ or piano. And it is mostly a once a year song...but, even though I didn't get to play it, I did get to sing it. Easter is a favorite of mine. Christmas is filled with tradition, and it feels so nice and it is a wonderful story and really a terrific religious holiday. (Yes, even though it has been nearly smothered over the years with froo-froo.) But, maybe that's why Easter is so great: it is pure and clean and has just one point:

HE IS RISEN. Imagine...death overcome.

It is so powerful. It really doesn't matter about the colored eggs (I love to make them), the jellybeans (I love to eat them) (ditto chocolate rabbits), or the Easter bunny or whatever extra little frilly things have been tossed in there over the years. The power of the story of the Atonement, the crucifixion, and the Resurrection is fully able to overcome all of that. When I sat there today in church and listened to the scriptures being read that told this account, and the songs chosen to illustrate it, I was bathed in the Spirit of God. It is a phenomenal, spectacular concept. It is almost incomprehensible, and yet the essence of Christianity. He lives, so will we, eternally, with Him.

Come, Saints, and drop a tear or two

For Him who groaned beneath your load;

He shed a thousand drops for you,

A thousand drops of precious blood.

Here's love and grief beyond degree;

The Lord of glory died for men.

But lo! What sudden joys were heard!

The Lord, though dead, revived again.

Isaac Watts 1764-1748

LDS Hymns #191 v. 2 & 3

I Don't Want A Pickle...

Do you know the Arlo Guthrie song?

2009 Pt. Mugu

2009 Pt. Mugu

1980 San Diego
1980 San Diego

2011 Las Vegas

2011 Las Vegas

It's 80 degrees, the sky is blue and the breeze is soft. There are no bugs in the air. The lake is beautiful and the sun doesn't set until 7:30. This stupid cart isn't highway certified. Blah.

Random Thoughts

Periodically, I think of things that would make part of a good blog, but not an entire one...so today, I think I'll just make a lot of little random thoughts into one entry.

Hey, we went to El Pollo Loco today for lunch and no one shot at us!

Do you ever wish you could just walk up to people's homes and ask if they'd take you on a tour of their house and yard, because it looks so interesting from the outside and you'd like to see the inside? I do.

I'm officially tired of being bad-mouth as a teacher by those who don't like the politics of teachers unions. Did you ever consider that some of us don't like our union's political positions on everything? But that we are members anyway because we need the power of our local organization to help us get a fair deal in our day-to-day dealings with the district?

Daffodils and California poppies are the ultimate harbingers of spring for me. Although, tulips are right up there. Ephemeral yet hardy: they grow when it isn't quite warm yet, can survive being snowed on and come back to glow another day.

I heard this in a talk once, and now I can't find my notes. But this is the essence: People get upset with church leaders and reject the whole church. Compare this to a bad experience you might have with a toaster or a lamp: would you reject electricity because you had a bad experience with an appliance? Then why would you reject the priesthood/gospel when you just had a bad experience with a priesthood appliance?

Why is it that when you have an ache or a pain, that it is multiplied many times and exaggerated when you're trying to go to sleep at night? I have had such a lot of trouble sleeping since I've had this surgery. I almost dread going to bed at night. I'll stay up so that I am drop-dead tired before I'll attempt getting into bed, just so I don't have to lie there and feel every little thing hurting or bothering me preventing sleep.

I'm really sorry that we didn't get another dog when our last dog died so long ago. It wasn't fair to our younger boys to have spent so long without a dog. Everyone needs a dog in their life while they live at home.

Is bacon just a great food or what?

But cheese is a pretty awesome food, too...

CSI: El Pollo Loco

Scene: casual Saturday afternoon, the first day of Spring Break. Three friends mosey on down to El Pollo Loco for lunch. After their tasty meal of grilled, seasoned chicken, they leisurely consider getting up to leave, when there seems to be some type of commotion in the parking lot. People in the restaurant get up out of their seats to look out the window, some people excitedly pull out their cell phones and dial 911. A man is walking around the parking lot gesturing vigorously to the police cars that pull up with their lights flashing. ----the title rolls and the music starts...

Actually, I've rarely watched CSI the original Las Vegas version. (But one year I had a student whose parent was an actual, real-life Las Vegas Police Department Crime Scene Investigator.) So, when we went to lunch on Saturday with my friend who was visiting us on her way back home to spend Spring Break in San Diego, we weren't even thinking of crime. We were thinking of delicious grilled chicken and pinto beans, and horchata.

And we enjoyed our lunch and were just finished eating when all the fuss broke out. We hadn't heard the gunshots; we'd only noticed all the people going to the windows, and then we saw the guy in the parking lot striding back and forth and gesturing to the cop cars that suddenly were filling the parking lot. We said to one another, "Hmmm...what's up? Maybe we ought to leave before they block our truck with another car..." TOOO LAATE....

The officers who'd been looking around the parking lot, talking to the agitated man who'd been striding around out there, were right then encircling, not just CoolGuy's truck with yellow "crime-scene--do not enter" tape, but they'd marked the entire parking lot. Yes, there we were---part of the drama.

I asked the people right behind us if they'd seen what had happened, because I'd heard them calling 911. Apparently, they heard the gunfire, and then they saw a man outside hurrying across the lot with a gun in his hand. They'd been told by the police operator that the situation was known to the cops, because the man they'd seen was a police officer who was responding to a threat and help was on the way. Well, the plot thickens.

A police officer came in and talked to most of us, asking us what anyone had seen. We had heard and seen nothing till everyone had started reacting around us. But that didn't let us off the hook. The detectives arrived, cops were spending a curious amount of time around CoolGuy's truck, and then an officer came in to ask if it was his vehicle. We were the obvious choice to ask, because the truck was parked in the handicapped space, and I was sitting there with my RoboCop boot propped on the scooter.

Soon, there was even more police tape cordoning off the Silverado. Even more attention was focused around the back of the truck. By now, the manager of the restaurant had sent out a worker with hand printed "closed" signs to attach to the doors. People who'd told the police officers that they'd seen nothing were calling friends to come and pick them up, since their cars were still wrapped inside the yellow tape. We went outside because it had gotten a little chilly sitting there in the air conditioned store. There were little groups of people standing around chatting about their versions of what was going down. I started to wheel around and take some more photos. There wasn't a dead body, there wasn't any bleeding people, or blood anywhere on the ground. There began to be little yellow plastic markers with numbers being set out around the back of where we'd parked. Then, the detectives really narrowed in on the truck.

Finally, the officer who'd initially come over to ask if we were the truck owners, came to tell CoolGuy that all the focus was on our truck because there was a bullet hole in our license plate. There wasn't any evidence that fuel was leaking on the ground, but the detectives were going to be spending a lot of time on this vehicle. In other words---lunch was over, but you can't go home. At least not in that truck.

We'd already been there ninety minutes past when our food had been consumed. We'd already been treated to an order of flan and some churros. CoolGuy had gone to order some dessert while we just hung out in the store, but the manager refused his money, and treated us. But, it was waaaaay past time to leave. I had missionaries coming to dinner in a couple of hours. So, I called a neighbor who was happy to come and pick up my friend and I. She loved my reason!! Bullet hole in your truck?? Crime scene tape trapping you in the parking lot?? Only you, my dear EarthSignMama, has such a lot of excitement in her life.

So, we left, CoolGuy hung out for three more hours (!!) and finally got home with the bullet hole. Seems, there is a steel strut right behind where the bullet went through, shattering it into fragments, most of which were in the spare tire, which is mounted under the truck, right behind the steel strut, right behind the license plate. So, the detectives got him to unlock the spare tire so they could lower it and collect all the fragments for their case.

It was rather interesting to hang around and watch it all. He and the guys who were with the off-duty school police officer who'd engaged the original shooters had an interesting time chatting. The three men (one was the officer) were driving home in a truck when they saw a man shoot another guy across the street from the restaurant. Then, the shooter ran across in front of them with his gun out, so these men pulled into the chicken store, and the off-duty police officer jumped out with his gun. He identified himself as a cop, and told the shooter to drop his gun. Instead, the gun was fired at the cop. Then the shooter got in a car that was on another street on a different side of the restaurant, and the cop shot back at the gun-holders in the car. (Later, two wounded young men turned up at a hospital and were arrested.) The detectives needed the bullet from CoolGuy's truck for their case against the wounded arrestees.

So, here's the hole in the license plate. Weird that this is the only injury to the truck---weird and good! Another view:
CoolGuy later called it a blessing that we had not gotten up to leave when we were first finished eating. We'd have walked into the parking lot just as the shooting started. One of us could have that hole in us, instead of the license plate. And none of us need that, I agree.

Credits roll...Special Guest Stars: Silverado, CoolGuy, license plate.

Not Really At Work--But Showing Up Anyway

Twice this week, I've been to a school event, even though I'm officially on long-term leave. We have some really terrific traditions at this school that are so fine that I didn't want to miss it. One is the Family Picnic. We usually hold it the week before Spring Break, or maybe it coincides with Reading Week, I don't really know...hmmm. Anyway, we divide our three lunch periods into two sections so that the grades 1 & 2 and the A.M. and P.M. Kindergartens have the first time. Then grades 3, 4, & 5 use the second section.

Families are invited to bring over whoever they want (grandma, grandpa, babies, aunts, uncles) and eat lunch with their students on our grass playground. We teachers join them, too, bringing out a blanket, so that if students don't have someone join them, then they'll at least have us to sit with them and enjoy a (usually) sunny day outdoors. If students always eat the school lunch, they just stop by the cafeteria and pick up a sack lunch provided for this day, and bring it up to the playground.

We get a huge turnout for this. Some families bring over fast food, or stop off for carry-out pizza. One of our families has many cousins who attend our school (one of the mothers is a teacher, too)and the grandparents come, with whichever of their children can get away from work, and all their grandchildren join them. The kids are in all the grade-levels, so the grandparents stay for both lunches. I guess they've been coming to the Family Picnic for about eight years, and I know there are some preschoolers who'll be joining them in years to come. It's such a great time.

So, CoolGuy drove me over so I'd be there when the fourth grade came out. He put up my lawn chair, and spread out my blanket. I'd told my co-workers that I'd come so that they could at least have the opportunity to go to the restroom during lunch that day. The lunch period is 45 minutes on this day, and the teachers are only asked to stay with their students for 15 minutes. (because it is in our contract that we get a 30 minute lunch--so the principal can't actually require any more time.) But I told them that I'd be there, so they could have someone to be there, if they needed to leave after the 15 minutes.

When I said I wanted to attend the Family Picnic, CoolGuy had a long meeting scheduled that day on the computer/phone, so I'd made a plan for a friend to drop me off, and then he would be free to pick me up at the end. But, the meeting ended early and so he was free. I'd only pack myself a lunch, so he drove over and picked up a sandwich and drink and came back to join us, at my invitation. I think he was a little surprised when I invited him. I said that he'd be a huge hit, if he actually showed up, because all my students had heard of him and were always agitating for him to come to school. And they were excited to meet him. He had a great time. And he again shook his head in wonderment that I can do that, all day, every day. He means the "on" business--teachers have to be "on" all the time.

If you're a teacher, you know this. Kids drifted by and some stayed, and every 22 seconds there was a new question or comment or request or dilemma to solve. Parents and grandparents would stop by to chat or be introduced by their student. Everyone was excited to see me, so I got a lot of greetings. But, it was pretty normal for school. He doesn't think he has the mental energy for the day-after-day effort that takes. Maybe not...but he was a fine picnic guest.

Then, Thursday night the fourth grade had scheduled a fund-raiser at McDonald's. We have an upcoming field trip and we need bus money. It was wildly successful. We made three times what we needed, so we'll probably share with some other grade level. But again, I went, and manned the raffle ticket table. The manager urged us to have a raffle with prizes that we invented (he gave us two $10 gift cards, too--nice guy) and so we gave out prizes like Lunch with your Teacher, 30 Minutes of Computer Play Time, School Snack Store Gift Certificates. Anyway, at one dollar per ticket, we made out!! I was busy all night, selling tickets, calling out the winners, chatting everyone up who came by to support us. We were there from 5 to 8 P.M. Yes, it was a lot of work, but it was easy work---just laughing and talking to kids and their parents. Between the two events I got completely exhausted, and napped the rest of each day.

This isn't really what my doctor meant, I'm guessing, when he said to take it easy and convalesce. But it's Spring Break now, so I'll just be relaxing at home.