Profiled

I stood in line patiently at Kohl's, awaiting my turn at the register. There began to be quite a group of us, so some other cashiers from different departments started calling customers over to them. I ended up at the fine jewelry counter. As I placed my items on her counter, I realized that anyone could probably figure out my profession.

#1-- new khaki pants made of tough, stretchy, washable material. They will survive wipe-off marker, pen swipes, the playground, multiple up-and-down to little desks without wrinkling or bagging (linen looks so elegant---for a minute.) Plus, they are a bit dressier than jeans.

#2-- Halloween jewelry...I just can't resist holiday jewelry. If I were an attorney, I'd never be able to wear jingle bell earrings or a necklace with candy corn pendants. So, here are my latest seasonal acquisitions:

 They're kind of hard to see here, but they say "Boo" and have sparkles on the two "o's."

And, I already own several pair of earrings that will go

nicely with any of the pendants on this necklace.

So, anyway....if you were the cashier, profiling people while you checked them out through your register, I would have been an easy "get"--duh--elementary school teacher.

Weekly Time Warp

It's happened again! We started school all fresh and reinvigorated from the weekend. But, by Tuesday afternoon, my co-workers and I were meeting in the hallway after dismissal and looking at one another, exhausted.

"Really? It's only Tuesday afternoon?? It feels like Monday and Tuesday lasted for a week! Sigh..." We shuffle back to our rooms to clean and straighten everything, and perhaps stay and correct some papers, or prepare something for Wednesday.

Actually, I stayed until 7:30. Yes, P.M. It was ridiculous, I know. But, see, on Monday, I'd had to leave right after school to go over to the church to help with the music for a memorial service. Someone's father died; the father wasn't affiliated with a church, but his son-in-law is, so yes, we sponsored the memorial in our building. It was very nice, and I'm glad I could help. However, right after that, I also drove over to a hospital to bring some supplies to a woman who was a patient there. She is a friend and a fellow teacher, and she'd been very sick last week. Then, she finally went to a quick-care clinic, they'd sent her to an ER, where they admitted her on Friday night. I found all this out on Sunday when talking to her fellow church goers (we meet in the same building, at different hours). So, I called her to see what I could do, and she was so relieved. I stopped off at her house to pick up a bag of things prepared by her daughter (an adult who doesn't drive), and then I went over to visit her. She was in isolation, so I could only stay a minute, and had to gown and mask before I could go in. But, she was so delighted to see someone and get her hair brush and phone charger. I got home at 8:00.

So, on Tuesday, knowing I had a two hour class I needed to attend on Wednesday, I stayed after school and did everything that I normally would have done on Monday and Wednesday. Whew....I'm glad I did, too, because Thursday, today, was simply nuts! We had our staff usual meeting before school, and then an impromptu meeting with my grade level team during planning. I'm so glad I was prepared for the rest of my day--thank you Tuesday.

Today, as we trudged back into the school after seeing off all of our students and locking the gates, my 5th grade teammate across the hall looked at me and we both started to laugh. "Remember how long it took for Tuesday afternoon to arrive? And now----zoooomm----it's Thursday night! This is a crazy life, huh?" Yes, time warp, it happens often in teacher land. I'll be ready for that nice Friday night, when I don't have to set my alarm. It's just around the corner!

The Anniversary

Today is the 68th anniversary of my parents' wedding. They were married in the Salt Lake City temple, and afterwards, I believe they were feted at a dinner by my grandparents in a restaurant there in Utah. My mom actually lived there in SLC for a few years, working as a secretary for the Sunday School office. They continued to reside in the city for the first six months of their marriage, and then returned to live in Wyoming where they both grew up. They lived in Wyoming the remainder of their lives.

 This is shortly after their wedding in 1946.

I realized today that I have been married longer than they were, because of my father's untimely death at age 61 from leukemia. CoolGuy and I have made it to our fortieth anniversary. They were only able to celebrate 38 years together on this earth. When our mother passed away eight years ago, we were pleased that they could be together again to enjoy one another's company, as they had in this life.

 

This is on their 25th anniversary when we "adult" girls chipped in to buy them a new recliner chair. We all turned up for church that day, as a surprise, and had a special dinner for them, too.

As a pair of farm kids, they were quite suited as a couple. Neither my mother nor my father ever shied from a hard job. They helped each other all the time with whatever needed done. My mother milked in the evenings so my dad could irrigate, or mow, or bale hay. My dad could, and did, brush out little girls' hair, and, apparently was quite skilled at making fudge. They didn't expect anyone to do for them. They had a lot of experience at working hard to provide for themselves, and were generous in sharing with others.

Every year on September 5th, I can't help but remember how old and unexciting I thought they were by the time I was in high school. I realized one year, when I was the mother of teens, that my mom and dad were both younger than my age currently at the time I was considering them "old." Ha! Ha!

It's simply not possible to appreciate your parents enough when you're a kid. Your life is the only life you've lived. It all seems to be "normal" and to be a given that your parents will be there, and that they will take care of you. Now that I have been a teacher for nearly two decades, I recognize what a marvelous childhood I had. I had two parents whose very existence was devoted to taking care of their children. They worked hard at making a living. They had high standards for our behavior and our education. They taught us skills, and manners, and compassion, and a love of God. They loved each other, and even though it wasn't all roses, they worked at being married, and maintained a sense of "sweetheart" with one another.

It was very sad when my dad was diagnosed with a terminal illness. He lived for many years beyond the expected because of my mother's care and devotion. He was seriously ill for the last couple of years, and she did all she could to bring him comfort and peace.

I'm happy that I have their example in my life. We, their offspring, have tried to pass on to our children, and our grandchildren, the pride and love that we were taught in our heritage as farmers, Westerners, and God loving people. I hope our parents are proud of us. We certainly admire them, and celebrate their choice to start this whole enterprise way back in 1946.

 This is 1977. We'd just started the grandchildren production with the first four married girls. We'd each had one boy; and one sister had produced #2 by then, also. The ultimate total was 33.

Timeless Lesson

I finally returned to yoga a couple of weeks ago. I'd given it up in April because of the Annual Foot Surgery, and so the fascia felt healed enough to go try. It was rugged. The usual Saturday teacher wasn't there and the substitute apparently felt that everyone was capable of a bit more than "beginner" status. Um...not me. I tried to keep up. I knew how to achieve the positions mentally, but the physical part was so out of practice that I really strained. I had sore muscles for days afterward. Then, the following Saturday, the regular teacher was back, and we took it a little easier. I don't know what got into my brain, though, because I kept checking my watch. Mistake.

One of the aspects of yoga is that it isn't just physical. The teacher is calmly reciting a series of directions as you work through the positions, but she is also reminding us to "be in the moment" and let "now" be the only thing we are involved with as you "send energy to your muscles so they can move just a little further."  That sort of thing is continually being mentioned. However, that week, I just felt impatient or something, and I kept looking at my watch and seeing how much more time we had left.

This week, I accidentally left my watch home. What a difference in my experience! When I realized I wasn't wearing it, I no longer even considered the time. I simply concentrated on the movements and, as she advised, let all my thoughts be "in the moment." First, the class zoomed by, and before I realized, we were lying there in the final relaxed stage, as she smoothed our brows with a scented oil and I felt how truly refreshed I was after an hour of very strenuous movement. I hadn't even considered time. I simply turned all  of my thoughts inward and really focused on each muscle we were moving, and extending my spine, and in lengthening my neck. It really was bliss...as advertised.

I realized how nice it would be if I tried to spend more of life "in the moment." For instance, I have a friend who never wears his watch to the temple. Good idea...When I'm having an especially good day in school, I'm always startled that the day has ended so quickly. (Recognizing that the clock is my task master in class...) But, I think it is going to be a goal of mine to avoid checking the time whenever I'm having an especially "present" moment, so that I can just be there, and be it, and not mess up a great part of my life by anticipating its end.

How to be the Perfect Teacher...

(The following is a letter written to my school from a woman who worked with us for three years in our Severely Learning Disabled class. She moved to a different building this year in order to be closer to home and their baby, avoiding the 45 minute commute. This letter was printed off and placed in our First Day Back packets from the principal. Our co-worker named names in this letter.)

Title:  How to be the Perfect Teacher

The first thing you need to be a wonderful teacher is tough love. You follow up student decisions (both good and bad) with consequences that were laid out in the beginning of the year. Your class will highly effective and efficient. For this, look to Ms. [5th reading grade teacher.]

You will need to know how to do 5 billion tasks at the same time while being organized. For this, see Ms. [4th grade math teacher.]

Teachers must always work with less than they need and still make student gains. To know how to do this, go talk with Ms. [4th grade reading teacher.]

A teacher must be kind to others and non-judgmental. Observe Ms. [3rd grade] and Ms. [2nd grade] to figure out how to be this person.

If you want to know what is going on with your students and be someone they trust, follow Mr. [3rd grade]'s example.

As a teacher, we must be knowledgeable in several different types of programs and strategies. Talk with Ms. [1st grade]. She is a wealth of knowledge.

On days that are bad and make you want to get even with your students, go see Ms. [2nd grade] and Ms. [2nd grade]. They will start practicing for the Students vs Teacher softball game early and tell you how hard the fifth graders cried last year when they lost.

To see how a teacher treats special education students the same as everyone else, observe Ms. [Librarian].

A teacher always wants to look his or her best. Give up on this now. Ms. [Counselor], Ms. [Learning Specialist], Ms. [Intervention leader] and Ms. [Principal] will always out-dress you. Always. This is a fact.

If you want to know how to be the kindest and most caring teacher, follow Ms. Kindergarten]'s lead.

If you want to secretly be one of the nicest teachers in the building, watch Mr. [Special Ed]. He doesn't like people knowing all the nice things he does, but he is pretty amazing when he thinks no one is looking.

For days you need a good laugh, and someone to joke with, go see Mr. [Special Ed].

If you want to be the most fun teacher in school, watch any of our specialists.

And last, but certainly not least, is Ms. [EarthSignMama]. She is not a teacher from 8:30 -3:30. She is a teacher every hour of the day. I will never forget her kindness to others. Especially the time she went and cleaned a student's lice infested house so they would stop missing school. This, my friends, is true love of a teacher; uncompromising love and loyalty for all others. You know, one of my favorite quotes says, "Students who are loved at home, come to school to learn, and students who are not, come to be loved." If this is who you want to be, see Ms.[EarthSignMama].

 So, then she ended her letter with an additional shout out to our principal for hiring a first year teacher and giving her a chance at a career that she loves. She loves us all, will miss us,--swears that we will miss her!!--and we will...

 I cried when I read it. I blushed and I cried. I've never had anyone lavish such unexpected praise on me, ever. She and I got along great! I'm sure she is young enough that I could have given birth to her, but she treated me like a peer and taught me many great skills, also. 

So, in the future, when I might be having a bad day at school, I'll pull out my letter and read again about how wonderful I am, and I'll stand up straight, and throw back my shoulders, and march right back into the storm. 

The Right Traveling Companions

I wanted to write one more thing about my journey to Yellowstone Park. This trip was accomplished due to the efforts of my dear friend. She is the one who looked up the accommodations, and she is the one who got me to commit to the trip. We have known one another since 1976. I moved into her neighborhood and we met at church. We just "clicked." I'm not sure why we have been able to maintain this friendship through this many years, especially since I have not lived in her neighborhood, nor even the same city with her for more than 27 years! I guess that is a sign of true friendship---it lasts. I tell her she's like another sister to me.

So, anyway, she and I made these preparations, and as I was packing the truck for the trip, CoolGuy remarked, "Those kids [the two grandchildren who accompanied us] have no idea what they're in for." He shook his head. I laughed! I knew exactly what he was referencing--my friend and I have awesome conversations. I wasn't even worried...as a little kid, one of my favorite things to do was sit quietly and listen to my mom and other grownup ladies talk. It was illuminating, entertaining, and a great way to figure out how to be a friend when you're an adult.

That morning, we pulled up to--[I'll call her New Sis] New Sis's house and, after we got all of our supplies carefully tarped and tied into the back of the truck, we said a prayer for safety in our travels and set off on the 300 miles north to West Yellowstone, MT. Now, New Sis raised seven children to my five. She has a group of grandchildren, too, so we're old pros at traveling with kids. Plus, my grandchildren are excellent travelers. It's good, too, because we spent a huge amount of time in the truck over the next four days. We tend to think alike--we brought lots of snacks; we both like to stop for random things; we are interested in just about everything. We had a blast!

For instance: along the freeway in Idaho, we all spied a sign announcing the upcoming Idaho Potato Museum. Of course we stopped! I mean, how could you resist? You're in Idaho! It's a potato museum!

It was an wonderful experience, too. We learned stuff, and we read lots of signs, and I found yet another group of horrible chores I'm so grateful I didn't have to do as a child.

When we got to our destination, we checked into our campsite, and then went into town to a performance at  the community theater that is staffed by talented and energetic college students. For the cast members, this a summer job. As they were introducing everyone, the grandchildren recognized a girl from their church, who had been in local theater performances with them at home! Again, a great experience we wouldn't have done without New Sis planning our agenda!

As we waited in the line with the other vehicles at the Park entrance that first morning, we realized that visitors to the Park had come from all over the country, according the cars we were seeing. New Sis casually asked the kids if they were interested in playing the license plate game. She had no idea what she was starting! These children are highly motivated to finish what they start and they are very observant. So, by the  third day, we'd found all but four of the 50 states, as well as six Canadian provinces and two states in Mexico. We were so close!!

We arrived at our main destination for that day, where we'd eat lunch and then start on the final loop of the park, and----there were two of last states, parked next to each other as we drove through the parking lot!! Excitement!! As we parked, there sat the third state we were missing!! ONE TO GO!! Despite the complete distraction of mostly looking at license plates, and the effort of walking up and down the parking lots at every place we visited the rest of that day, Rhode Island remained elusive...I guess no one from there decided to drive to Wyoming this summer. It was a big disappointment. But, we had a blast looking for it.

One day, when we women had been chattering away on one of the many wide-ranging topics on which we'd converse, I paused and turned to my granddaughter. "Grandpa said that he worried that you children would have no idea what you were in for, traveling with us two. Are you getting tired of us?"  She laughed, too, and explained that she loved listening to us! She knew exactly what her grandpa was referencing. But, she and her brother would often join in. They have opinions, too, about the school system, where ones gets the best ice cream, and why cats are such great pets. Once, they started the conversation by asking us to recall a memory from second grade, or fifth grade or to describe a fun birthday we remembered. We had a lovely time.

We were silly sometimes. There were moments of the normal sibling quarreling. Everyone got waaaay too tired everyday, and we had to remember to be kind and gentle with one another. We taught each other great facts about the nature we were viewing---I have extremely well-read grandchildren. We learned interesting and, sometimes sad, stories about our own childhoods. A trip to an amazing location was made even more enjoyable by going with agreeable companions. I guess you can't ask for more than that.

 Taking photos of taking photos.

 She decided to run away with the wolves. 

 We bought some souvenirs, but the cutest purchase was when they were looking everywhere to find something for their little sister, who didn't go on the trip. 

 It's one thing to go on a trip with one grandmother, but when two grandmothers are with you...! Except that she is as awesome as me, so we all had a lot of fun. 

 Just a little joke, Grandma! But...someday!

Here is a view of the whole campsite. This is located along the Madison River and so the view from the door of the tipi was river, backed up with forest, and behind that were mountains. Pretty awesome! Plus, another building housed real bathrooms--shower, toilet, sink, mirror. My kind of camping!

Weird Weather

Okay. It's August. It's the Mojave Desert. However...it is only 82 degrees outside. And last night it was the same....80 degrees at sunset. If you've never traveled through Nevada in the summer, you might now be wondering what is the fuss? Well, let me explain: it's August, it's Southern Nevada, it's 82 degrees.

Normally, the only thing that would be 82 degrees in August, in Las Vegas, is my bedroom in the late afternoon. The air conditioner, try as it might, can only cool that west facing room just so much as the blazing sun bakes the house, even with the shade of the chubby palm tree growing just outside the window. Plus, the power company would have forced my system into a 20 minute shut down because of Peak Hour Usage blah, blah, blah.

Yes, we're having weird weather here. Most of July and, so far, August, has been unusually cool. Well, perhaps "cool" is not the correct word. Maybe just unseasonably not-so-hot-as-normal. Many days we have not even broke 100. It's been cloudy and humid (for Nevada) and we've had so many thunderstorms. Very strange summer here.

My first August in Las Vegas was a test, I know. I actually had a lady at church say to me, "I always feel so sorry for people during their first August." I understand what she was talking about, having lived here now for nine years. Yes, it starts doing the 100's by the end of May most years. In June, it is regularly gets into the 101, 102, 103 category during the day at some point. Nights are not yet the oven that they become in July, however. By July, everyday is over 100 by 10:00 A.M., and frequently it will soar to 110, 112, 113. By midnight, it'll go back to 90.

But August...every single day in August is a blast furnace. It can be 110 by 11:00 A.M.  It is always over 110, every single afternoon. When darkness falls, you imagine that it will be cooler, just because you can no longer see the sun. Nope, not really. Okay, it doesn't feel quite as bad when there is no sun, but it is still incredibly hot. By dawn, it might be down to 96, maybe. But the moment Old Sol peaks up over the horizon, zoom----up goes the temperature and by 8:30 it's 100 again. August is a very impressive month. Swimming pool and air conditioning are your only hope.

Or renting a beach house in SoCal. Which is what many, many Las Vegans do. Or they go up north to visit relatives, or stay in the mountains in Southern Utah. It's just simply like living in Satan's back yard here in the Mojave.When the second week of September comes, you can tell a real difference.The angle of the sun is obviously slipped a little to the south. Autumn equinox is on the way, and everything is different. We can still see a few over-100 days, but night is cooler in the fall. Usually by October, the pool has gotten uncomfortably cool, and we no longer use it. It stays so warm all summer because the masonry and ground all around it never get a break from the heat.

So, this fall, I think my swimming season is going to come to a close even sooner. The pool water has only been "warm" a few days all summer. It doesn't take many days of 85 degrees to cool it right down. Weird...I'm lamenting cool weather! Just another way that Nevada warps your thinking.

Swimming pool weather is a good thing!

Shameless Cheerleading

As a Wyoming girl, I have always been inordinately proud that Yellowstone Park was largely situated within the borders of my home state. ...Even though I never managed to see it in person until I was an old lady. Nevertheless, I always actually thought of it as a Wyoming place, not specifically a national park. I'm not sure why...maybe it is because the parts of Wyoming with which I was familiar at that time were also stunningly beautiful.

Greys River, just to the east of Star Valley

 Or perhaps because geysers and hot springs are not confined to just the Park in Wyoming. My childhood swimming lessons were in a pool that was filled from a hot sulfur spring that bubbled up from underground in the owner's pasture. Sure, we smelled like rotten eggs all summer, but after an hour in that pool, the usual cuts and scrapes acquired during outdoor play would be healed up from the healing quality of the sulfur in the water. My dad especially liked to relax right where the water came into the pool to soothe his aching back with its heat. There were also hot springs sprinkled throughout the forest in random places. So, geologic wonders weren't all that unusual in my experience.

So, my affection and personal connection to Yellowstone Park were born of being very protective of what I considered to be a very special place in the world, my home of Wyoming. Now that I've actually been to Yellowstone, and watched other people as they also viewed its many wonders, I realize that this Park is waaaay more significant than I could have realized as a naive little native-born Western cheerleader.

First, it was recognized to be absolutely unique and magnificent so early in its discovery by the white people who came out West from the rest of the United States. The early explorers who'd traveled there were thought to be exaggerating when they described it. The native people, Shoshone-Bannock, knew all about it and treated it as a special place too. So deciding to set it aside as a national park, a brand new idea in 1872, was pretty spectacular, and I feel grateful for those who made that decision.

As we traveled through the Park last week, it was immediately apparent that this was a "destination" visit for many, many people. We heard many different languages being spoken. We saw license plates from (almost) all 50 states, [we never saw Rhode Island to make our list complete...arggghhh.] and 6 provinces of Canada, and two states of Mexico! And buses filled with people who didn't want to drive themselves. Go to Yellowstone! "Thank you, we will," replies the entire world. And it is worth their time and trouble, believe me.

There isn't a single photo that we took that can do justice to any of the scenery we saw. Again, I've seen beautiful nature---but I continually found myself exclaiming, over and over, about what met my eyes around every turn, or at the crest of each hill. Wildflowers bloomed everywhere. There were huge meadows with meandering rivers that twisted and turned, creating oxbows and marshes. The mountains went on and on, craggy peaks fading off into the distance. Birds of all kinds were everywhere; fish jumped in the streams; brave little chipmunks sneaked around the parking lots hoping to find some treat.

Then---we finally managed to see a bear! A group of cars were stopped along the road, so we did, too. Just inside the trees we saw a young grizzly, shuffling along, turning over logs, stopping to sniff for bugs or berries. We also saw elk, which I've seen many times in my life, but seeing them lolling around on the grassy median and grazing on the lawn of the visitor's center at Mammoth Hot Springs was a new experience. The biggest thrill was driving through the Hayden Valley on our last day. It's Bison-Land there! We saw hundreds. At first, we were pretty excited to see one walking along the roadside while were approaching the valley, still in the forest. But, as we drove down into the open spaces, we were treated to groups of them speckling the meadows that stretched to the horizon. We got to park (in a parking space...) and stand on the side of a hill and observe a small herd as they lay chewing their cuds, rolling in a dusty wallow, and just looking back at us humans. It was a classic scene---fumerols were spewing steam, the river was flowing along, the meadows were green and speckled with flowers, and bison were lounging. It was classic Yellowstone!

So, I'll stop now...but, if like me, you've procrastinated going to see the original national park, then you must start planning now for your inaugural visit. It's SO worth it! I'll be back next summer, with CoolGuy, on the motorcycle. That is also a popular way to see it, believe me; there were biker tourists everywhere.

The affection I felt for "our" national park, when I was a child, had only been enhanced by finally seeing it in person. And now I realize that it doesn't just belong to us Wyomingites, or even us Americans. It's a world treasure. I'm proud to share it with you all. Now, go plan! Get up there! Don't be like me and wait 50 years.

 

 Bison near the Firehole River

  

 Yes, elk, just hanging out like cattle. Ignoring all the people who were taking their photos.

Blessings, Large and Small

(Gosh, I've been having so much fun this summer, that I haven't taken time to discuss any of it here. But, I plan to write several posts in the next few days to describe some of the good times. Stay tuned.)

In the Book of Mormon, there is a passage where a trouble maker is preaching to the people that there is no God and they are foolish to think He exists. Ultimately, he and the local religious leader have a discussion about God, and the teachings this man is attempting to discredit. The man declares again that there is no way  the leader can prove that there is a God. The chief priest replies to the unbeliever that, in fact, his own statements are unprovable, and points out that, "... all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it..."

I spent last week surrounded by this evidence of our Creator. My long-time friend invited me, and two of my grandchildren, to go to Yellowstone National Park with her.  I've never been, and she really wanted to be my guide for the first visit. She's a veteran Park visitor, and was delighted to accompany me on my initial trip.

 Wow. Just WOW. As you may know, from previous posts, that I am a native of a most beautiful environment, in Wyoming. So, I'm completely familiar with the wonders of nature in the Rocky Mountains. I appreciated that beauty when I lived there; I still appreciate it now. And I've visited many other spectacular natural environments in the world. I'm just partial to the Rocky Mountains because they are part of my DNA, sort of. However, Yellowstone completely blows "beautiful" "stunning nature" and "gorgeous scenery" totally out of the water. (Often with a loud, exploding geyser, if you know what I mean.)

Seriously, I was in complete awe the entire time. Every curve you drive around, every vista, every bubbling mud pot, every wild animal, every river, mountain, wildflower, and cloud was over the top of my experience with the beauty of the natural world. If  "all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it," then probably His vacation home is Yellowstone Park.

I'll go into more detail about the large blessing of that world in another post, but to conclude this post, I need to explain one of the small blessings I experienced while on my trip. I left home and drove the 365 miles north to my daughter's house and slept over night. Then, two of her children and I packed up and drove north about 50 miles to pick up my friend. After carefully securing all of our belongings in a large tarp, and fastening it with a variety of tie-downs in the back of CoolGuy's truck, we set off for another 300 + miles to the north. While in the park, we drove probably 50-100 miles each day, for three days. Then, we loaded up the gear, drove the 300 miles back south. After a couple of days to recover, I got in the truck and started on the final leg of the long journey.

Now, before I set out on this extravaganza, I'd taken the truck in for a tire rotation, air check, etc. etc. I felt confident that everything would be fine--the truck runs well. As I drove back toward our desert home, I was strongly impressed to stop at particular highway off-ramp that I don't normally use. Then, I just decided that I needed to back the truck into the parking space to avoid facing the sun. After I returned from the restroom break, and stretched my legs a little, I approached the truck from the passenger side, which I would not normally do, as the driver. The rear tire caught my eye. It really didn't look right--too low. I thought I'd drive under the freeway, and find a garage in the town, but as I rounded the corner of the gas station, there was a tire place right there. If this had been the next town on I-15, I'd have really hesitated. But, these guys were just sitting in their work bay, chatting with one another, not out there hustling gas customers and trying to drum up bogus business.

I pulled up and asked one fellow if he'd please check the inflation because I didn't like the looks of my back tire. It had all of 8 lbs of pressure (out of the needed 40). EEK! It was flat. He jacked up the truck, took it off, sprayed it down with soapy water and found the leak. A nail was extracted, a plug pushed into place, and the tire remounted. He checked all my other tires--everything was fine. I paid him the pittance he charged for essentially saving me a ruined tire, a possible wreck, and being stranded in the middle of nowhere. All done in less than 20 minutes, and I was treated respectfully.

So, as I continued my drive south toward home, I spent a great deal of that time praying silently, and sometimes aloud, thanking Heavenly Father for hearing my prayers that I offered each leg of my trip. I always petitioned for a safe journey, no accidents, no car trouble. Wow, I certainly got a loud and clear answer. "Stop here. Park like this. Look at that tire."

Blessings:  large as Yellowstone Park, and small as an urge to stop and do a tire check.

The falls in the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River. Pictures are SO inadequate.

Happy Birthday Wyoming

Today is the 124th birthday of my home state, Wyoming. Even though I have not lived there since I graduated from high school, I still feel very attached to it emotionally. I  realize that the introduction of my blog extolls the wonderful sameness of California's lovely weather. I also have a soft spot for Maryland, after living there for ten years. I probably won't ever feel love for Nevada, but I tolerate it because I live here. Plus, it has several fine Western qualities of independence and cussedness. But, Wyoming will always have a special place in my heart.

When we were in the sixth grade, Wyoming celebrated 75 years of statehood. We staged a grand pageant in its honor. Most of the other students were like me---parents and grandparents had spent all of the their lives in our little valley in the Rocky Mountains, there on the western edge of Wyoming. I even wore a dress that was hand sewn by one of my grandmothers when she was a teen. (full disclosure...technically, she grew up on the Idaho side of the highway in her little town in the northern end of our valley...but she went to church and school in Wyoming!) Anyway, CoolGuy dressed in his cowboy hat, fringed jacket, and boots. Plus, he brought a neat old rifle to complement his outfit. Yes, he brought a fully functional gun (unloaded) to school for our program. Several boys did. It was a different time. Plus--it was Wyoming.

(I've had to crop it a little to make the people big enough to see.)
 You can see CoolGuy with his fake mustache in the center, rifle balanced on his legs. I'm seated on the second row, about four girls over to the right. I'm dressed in a blue gingham dress with a large white lace collar. You can see a couple of other boys holding or wearing their guns, if you look closely. It was an awesome pageant. I was part of a group of singers who performed "Springtime in the Rockies."

 Here is the state flower: Indian paintbrush. My fourth grade teacher taught us a song about it. I think she composed the tune to go along with a poem she knew.

 "A strange little flower with a sunkissed nose; without any perfume, yet red as a rose..."

 Here is an excellent example of the Wyoming state tree: the cottonwood. This one used to tower over our house when I was the little girl in between the two big sisters toward the back of this patient horse. It was actually two trees growing from one base and it loomed over the yard and provided shade, autumn leaves and a pretty cool climbing trunk. Unfortunately, its roots were pushing at our house's foundation and wrecking the basement walls, so it was cut down when I was about ten years old. 

State mammal: the American bison. No, it is not a buffalo. It is a bison. I know, I know, it is often called a buffalo. I mean, there's a city in Wyoming named for Buffalo Bill---Cody, Wyo. And there is another city--Buffalo, Wyo.  However, the actual name of this formidable beast is American bison. They're very cool and very crotchety---don't try to pet a wild one.

The state bird is the Western meadowlark. The warbling call of this bird still evokes my childhood. Their bright yellow breast, with the black chevron, made it easily visible as they perched on a fence post and called out, "[EarthSignMama] is a pretty little girl." Well, that's what my mom said it was saying. Turns out CoolGuy's mother told him the same story---not my name, but his name was being whistled loudly as a "good little boy."

The nickname is "Equality State" for giving women the right to vote before any other state did that. But it is also known as the Cowboy state, and the car license plates all display this bucking horse symbol, along with the number identifying which county you hail from. Bucking horses always mean Wyoming to me. 

Here we have the fabulous flag of the 44th state. I've always been glad that the designers chose something graphic and really distinctive for our fabric symbol. There's no mistaking what this represents. We share the colors with Old Glory, but that bison makes it ours. 

Here is a very typical Wyoming view from my part of the state in winter--lots of snow and mountains. 

(P.S. When I took this photo, it was in the afternoon, and it was 3 degrees.)

And here is a really great representation of a summer evening in June. 

But, lest you think I am romanticizing the place, or have my youthful memories clouded by the dimming abilities of age, I present you--

Spring Time on the Farm

It's melting snow mixed with...bovine effluent. It's slippery, it's smelly, it's on everything. Under this ankle-deep goo is a surface of melting ice, which adds to the treacherous footing, and keeps the sliminess working for weeks. It's warm and sometimes rainy during the days, and goes back to really cold at night. Summer is a fleeting event in my beloved home state---spring is erratic and temperamental and endless.

However, I'll still sing a chorus of Happy Birthday, and raise a glass of milk in her honor---Wyoming, Land of my Youth; state that I love; place that I try to visit only in the summer!

It's So Quiet

It's pretty quiet here now. The floors are clean. The bathroom is neat and tidy. The cat is lying calmly on her special bed, without any competition for the space. The pigeons are relaxing near the hot tub in between baths and drinks. Sigh.

You see, last week, it was all quite different! We had the extra beds set up. The cool Space Robot plates were used for every meal. We had the Ninja Turtle bowls out for breakfast cereal, and again for ice cream after dinner. My Little Pony World was spread across the living room along the front of the couch, and Lego Land took up all the bare carpet space along the other wall.

It was definitely NOT quiet outside in the pool! There was barely a moment for pigeon Happy Hour, because that was the best time of day to don your goggles and see how far you could leap into the pool and get a rating from Grandpa CoolGuy on the angle of your turn. 90 degrees? 45 degrees? Let me try that again, and this time I'm going for 180!

It was Grandma Camp time at the Mojave Desert Resort! (aka--our house.) We got our photos in the green shirts at the Shark Reef. By wearing green shirts, you see, we are just floating heads in the big fish tank! (It's a tradition.) We stayed up late and watched movies. We did "night swimming" wherein the lights are turned on underwater, as well as the atmosphere-y little yard lights. We drove out to the desert to look at the night sky and name constellations. We had a blast, in other words.

Our daughter had a library conference to attend here, so she drove everyone down and dropped them off. Then, we had three days without her, and then three days with her. On her third day, our oldest son came down to spend the holiday weekend, and to celebrate his birthday. (His family is visiting their other grandma in another country.) We swam and ate and laughed and talked and watched funny stuff on TV.  A good time was had by all!

The swimming is always the highlight, though. One just cannot get enough swimming time when there are three excited adventurers out there, too. Every flotation device we own must be employed, or at least dragged out of the shed and put in the water. We invested in goggles with snorkel tubes a couple of years ago because they add a lot of fun to the water gun fights. Then, it was discovered how much fun swimming underwater is, and how nice it is to jump off the side without having water injected into your nose. Seriously, hours and hours of water time is the best part of Grandma Camp.

But, now it's over. Everyone went home. I'm sure they were happy to be back at their own place and with their own rooms. I've recovered now...that much fun is quite a lot of work and I'm not as young and vigorous as I once was. But, wow, it's so quiet. We haven't even gone back out to the pool yet. It would be so boring. Well, and it has been raining off and on...But seriously, it's so much fun with the grandchildren! We look forward to their visits, and I know that we all get together as much as we can. In the meantime, we have some great memories and some pretty great photos.

Sharks swim overhead at this aquarium.

 And you can pet the rays and horseshoe crabs.

Actually, you have your Grandpa pet them for you.

 

He is even COOLER, in this get-up.

 

We discovered how fun it was to be floating heads one summer when one of our party wore just the right color of green shirt. So, we went out and bought a set of green shirts for this photo opportunity each summer.

 

See, the Legos at our house were purchased about 25 years ago, at least. So, they are "classic" Legos, and therefore are pretty awesome to play with.

 

This is the sedate first night. After this calm episode, it was pretty much non-stop jumping into the pool. And lots of underwater swimming by the big brother and sister. 

  

If it floats, we use it! So much fun!!

 

  

See how much fun it is to watch what you're swimming through? 

 

  

There was a lot of leaping off the side into the water. 

 

  

Sometimes, it was more sedate...

but mostly it looked like this: 

 

Every Grandma Camp has to end, and it's a pretty glum day when they pack up and leave. We don't get to spend every minute with a face like this one. Grandpa is going through withdrawal.

Birthday, Birthday, Birthday

 (Arrgghh---I started this on July 1st, but I guess it was after midnight when it published.)

JULY 1st, 2014

Today we honor the Great Number One. Our first child was born today right, a pretty long time ago, now that I count up the years. So why is the memory of that event so vivid?? Probably because it was so momentous. We were young and probably a little dumb about all the ramifications, but we were excited to entering the world of parenthood. It seemed like the right thing to do just then. It was, turns out!

He was a great first effort, too. He's always been a calm and cheerful person. He was a joy to raise. He's probably the exact person you'd want for the oldest kid in your family. He was helpful and kind and just teased his sisters a little bit...

Now he's a really fine adult and a great dad and uncle. Here are a few photos from the life of a good man.

 

Wearing Daddy's boots

 

 

Playing in the yard in San Diego

 His daddy rides a Harley

 Ocean lover, swimmer, surfer

 

Soccer player

 

Hiking in the California coastal mountains

Wedding Day

  Fooling around with his Mini-Me son

 A good uncle to have around on baptism day

(with his sister and nieces and nephew)