How do we get there from here?

This post is true. I used to wonder if this is just how I remembered it, but my siblings agree with my memory. We all laugh when we talk of it. I still think my parents have no clue...

Thanks to Travelin'Oma for the sparking the fun memory.

My husband gives directions by landmarks. For example: Go north on A street about a mile or so, then turn left at the yellow house. When you get to the McDonalds, turn right, it’s a blue house about halfway down the street.

I give directions by street names, and I like to have everything very clear. For example: Go north on A street about a mile. Turn left onto X Street. Turn right on Y Street (there’s a McDonalds on the NW corner). It’s a blue house, about halfway down the street, number 123 Y Street.

I think my obsession for clear driving directions comes from my childhood. My parents, who have superior intellects in every way, somehow fell into a directional abyss when they were trying to drive someplace.

A sample conversation while driving to a relative’s house for the first time, holding written directions from the homeowner, might go something like this:

Dad: Which way do the directions say to go?

Mom: Left at this corner, but it just doesn’t feel right to me.

Dad: But it says to go left.

Mom: Let’s go a little farther and see what to do then.

—driving—

Dad: Now we need to go right.

Mom: That’s not what the directions say. You need to do what the directions say.

—at this point my siblings and I are scrunched as low in our seats as we can go – no one dares to say a word, because we know what’s coming—

Dad: (insert swear words here) We’re lost! Now we have to go all the way back and start over.

Mom: if only they’d written clear directions!

—another argument ensues about how to get back to the starting point of where they went wrong—then another argument about following the original directions, etc, etc. It's a wonder we ever arrived anywhere--

(If you remember the scene in The Incredibles when the parents are driving to get back to save the world from the bad guy, well, I think someone listened in on one of our family car rides and wrote it into the movie script.)

This conversation could be repeated with either parent taking either position. These arguments and refusal to follow the actual directions given happened every time we went to a new place, and every time we went back for a following visit.

When I was in high school, my sister and I went to visit some family friends a couple of hours away from home. My dad wrote directions on how to get there, and explained how very confusing that freeway exit was, as well as the drive to their house. We knew it was confusing! We’d sat through many an argument my parents had had about how to get to that house. My sister and I felt very brave as we took off. Much to our amazement, we drove straight to the friend’s house without a single wrong turn. The directions were perfect, so when we actually followed the directions, we got to where we were going!

Imagine that.

A deeper view of love

We're starting a new week of assignments from Travelin'Oma. This was a great assignment to start the week with.

There’s a scene in the movie Patch Adams, where Patch reads the start of a poem to a girl he is in love with. It caught my breath when I heard it. Then later in the movie when the girl dies, Patch stands at her casket and reads the entire poem. I knew I had to find out what the name of the poem was. It was not in the credits. When the movie came out in video form I rented it so that I could try to figure out what poem it was.

It’s been such a long time now that I don’t remember all the details of my detective work. What I do recall is looking at the cover of the book and trying to decipher what it said. I also remembered that the sonnet had the number 7 in roman numerals in it. I finally figured it out – Pablo Neruda’s 100 Love Sonnets. Sonnet XVII.

I found the book – it’s the same edition and translation used in the movie. There are other translations, but I love this one. Maybe because it’s the first one I heard, and the first one to grip my soul. I typed up the poem and put it on our bathroom mirror for years. I could read it often, and there it was in black and white to express a little more clearly to my husband how I really feel about him.

I express often that I love my husband, and I sure do my best to show him how I feel, but I feel there are deeper thoughts and words that lurk deep inside me that I have a harder time expressing. I was so happy when I found that Pablo Neruda had described it perfectly for me.

The sonnet progresses in emotional depth. The first stanza begins the expression of love, but my favorite is the final stanza. Over all I love the image of holding love deep within, and that it is something the world does not see nor grasp the depth of. So intimate that only the two who share it can truly feel what it is for them.

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain, solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

10 good things

This was a great assignment from Travelin'Oma for me to do today.

I found out some hard news yesterday. I thought I handled it pretty well, matter-of-fact, and calm. But the truth often comes out for me in the wee small hours of the morning when I can’t sleep. So at five in the morning when I still couldn’t get back to sleep, I wandered downstairs to see if perhaps my schoolwork assignment for today was available yet. I thought it might help divert my thoughts, and I would have some quiet time to think about the assignment.

Make a list of ten little things that improved your happiness today.

What could be a more inspired assignment? Thanks, Oma. I needed this. So at 5:15 a.m., my thoughts have indeed been diverted, and I will look for the small delights all day that will lift my spirits.

4:45 p.m. Here are ten little things that didn’t seem so little, that improved my happiness today.

1. I went to an institute class, and the opening hymn happened to be one of my favorite hymns. The words gave me particular comfort today. Almost as if I were reading them for the first time.

2. I went hunting for a particular fabric that I needed, and found it!

3. I paid for a purchase using a $2 bill I was trying to get rid of. The cashier said, “Oh! I’ll have to buy this. I give them to my grandchildren.”

4. Another store employee smiled at me and said, “I hope you have a wonderful day.”

5. Matthew came and sat on my lap, putting his warm two- year-old back up against me, and hooked his feet around my legs.

6. Austin found the red whistle he wanted in my drawer. Then he went outside and blew it over and over again. He was so delighted!

7. Austin brought me a bottle of water and some fruit snacks while I was sewing. “G’ma, I will bring you strawberry snacks. You will love them!”

8. I bought some things for my upcoming trip. The anticipation is building!

9. I found an old picture of my mom that I was looking for. In the very first place I looked!

10. I arrived home from running errands, came down to my computer, and there was a note from Audrey (written and left there at 5:30 a.m. – we just barely missed each other). Here’s what it said:

Mom—

I can tell you are worried about something right now and I want you to know that I have been praying for you. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your life easier.

I love you,

Audrey

Who needs more than that to improve their happiness? Not me.

PS – I guess I wasn’t as calm and unruffled as I thought…

Making Memories

Travelin'Oma has an excellent post on traditions here. She took the words right out of my mouth.

When I was a girl, Christmas morning never varied. I woke up long before dawn, squirming in anticipation in my room until 7:00 a.m. when my siblings and I were allowed to wake up our parents. Then we waited while my parents got the coffee started. I think those were the longest ten minutes of every year for me. After that interminable wait, we were allowed to open our stockings and see what Santa left us.

After we went through our stockings, we had more hurry-up-and-wait time. My parents made a big breakfast: eggs, bacon, toast, and a very special pastry that my mom made every year. We sat down to eat – being admonished not to rush. Then, finally, when it felt like it must be at least midnight and every child in the world had already finished with Christmas, we began opening gifts. We opened them one at a time, all of us ooh-ing and ah-ing over each other’s gifts. If a neighbor stopped by to wish us a Merry Christmas the process was put on hold until they left. Oh wait! I forgot—when we were young we took time out before or during the gift opening to go to Christmas mass. Later, when my youngest brother was considered old enough, we went to mass on Christmas Eve instead. That made Christmas morning move along a little bit faster. We didn’t usually finish until at least noon.

I love Christmas, and all things Christmas. I could listen to Christmas music all year long. I love the spirit of giving, and the concentration of time spent with loved ones. I can’t remember a time I didn’t feel that way about Christmas. But I never loved this long, drawn out part of Christmas morning, and I determined when I was young that I would only keep the parts of it I liked when I had a home of my own.

So, that’s what we’ve done in our family. Much to my children’s chagrin, we did keep the part about not waking the parents until 7:00 a.m. Then we open the stockings. After the stockings: breakfast. But here’s where we differ. I’m no longer Catholic, so we don’t go to church on Christmas morning unless Christmas falls on a Sunday. I have a breakfast casserole cooking from the time we all get up. I also have caramel pecan pull-aparts cooking. After the stocking time we set out the food, and everyone can fill their own dish, and eat when they want. That way no one goes hungry, but the gift opening process gets to move right along. We still open gifts one at a time (usually in reverse age order). But we end up with lots of time the rest of the day for playing games together, reading and relaxing, and just being together as a family.

Now three of my four children are married and have children of their own. I’m sure they will glean the traditions they want to keep, and add their own to the mix. This is my idea of what a great tradition is: making fabulous memories together. If it means changing a few (or a lot) of details along the way, that’s okay. Then a new tradition is started!

(Now I’ll have to jot down on my “to-write” list some of the other traditions in our family that have evolved over the years…)

World War II reading

I love these assignments from Travelin'Oma where I remember books I've read.

What is it that draws me to books about World War II? I wonder if it is the fascination with how people who lived through the war survived it. Did they handle it with grace, did they plug along, living day to day? Was it hard never knowing when it would all end? Would I be one who hung on, and did all I could to get through? Would I have looked at the worth of others, and risked my own life to save them, like so many did with the Jews? Do I have the inner strength to do what so many people did, or would I give up? Maybe by reading all these stories and accounts I hope I can somehow glean some of the survival characteristics I would need in time of war, and then those same qualities can help me live better day to day in the world I am in right now.

As you can see, I do love to read about World War II. Here is a list of some of the books I’ve read and enjoyed, in no particular order.

Juvenile/Young Adult:

North to Freedom by Anne Holm (recently retitled I am David)

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.

Number the Stars by Lois Lowry.

Yellow Star by Jennifer Roy.

The Diary of Anne Frank

Weedflower by Cynthia Kadohata

Good Night, Mr. Tom by Michelle Magorian

Adult:

Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Berniere

QB VII by Leon Uris

Mila 18 by Leon Uris

Armageddon by Leon Uris

The Eagle Has Landed by Jack Higgins

No Ordinary Time by Doris Kearns Goodwin – this is about FDR, and most of it is during WWII.

While Still We Live by Helen MacInnes

And There Was Light by Jacques Lusseyran (a French blind man who helped the resistance—autobiography)

The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher

Coming Home by Rosamunde Pilcher

A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer

The Winds of War by Herman Wouk

War and Remembrance by Herman Wouk

The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom

That’s all I could think of off the top of my head.

Surprise!

Travelin'Oma week 4!

When I was in college, I lived with mostly the same girls the whole time I was there. Our second year at BYU, six of us ended up in an apartment together. With just a couple of exceptions, we all lived in that same apartment together until we either graduated or got married. Even the “replacement” roommates stayed there most of the time they were at BYU.

I was still living there the first year I taught school. That main group of roommates were still together then. I got engaged at Thanksgiving, and was getting married in February. My fiancé’s family had a bridal shower for me just a couple of weeks before the wedding. They asked me who to invite. Of course I included my roommates. Not one of my roommates came to the shower. I was devastated. We had been through a lot together, and it was a real blow to me that they did not care enough to come. It almost ruined the whole party for me.

Ray was driving me home after the shower and asked how it was. I burst into tears and cried, “Not one of my roommates even cared enough to come.” I went on and on. How could they be so unfeeling? I knew for a fact that none of them had anything better to do that day. I was just crushed.

Finally Ray said, “Okay!! Stop crying! Your roommates are having a surprise shower for you next week.” Then he looked at me and said, “Don’t you dare tell them I told you!” Needless to say, that helped.

I thought about it later – if they had just come to the first shower, they could have skipped giving a gift. I knew that money was tight, and in fact never expected any gift from them. And I would never have suspected that they had another shower planned for me. I just wanted them to share in my happiness. As it is, the whole memory of the first shower is still wrapped up in the fact that they didn’t show, even though it all ended up okay.

So fast forward to today—our family does not do surprise parties. My husband in particular does not like them because he worries about hurting someone’s feelings if he doesn’t react properly. I look at it this way: I love the anticipation and planning of a party, I love the party itself, and I love the memory of the party. I get to enjoy the party three times as much.

Grace (Eventually) Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott

I can't think of another person who is more different than I am than Anne Lamott. She's very liberal, I'm not. She uses the word I hate most in the world. I do not. Although she no longer uses drugs or alcohol, in her past she freely used them, and let's just put it this way: she was pretty free in her relationships with men. I do not have a past like that. She was a single parent by choice. I chose the more traditional route of marriage and family.

However, we obviously have some molecule of similarity, because I am drawn to her books. Her writing is exquisite. Her use of description and vocabulary bring everything to life for me. I feel as though I have been through her hard times and sat and observed in her home and church. Sometimes when she describes her thoughts and feelings, I think, "That could be me." I feel that way about her fiction as well.

This book is not fiction. It is her thoughts on faith. There is something about learning about other peoples' journey to and through faith that is fascinating to me, even though, or perhaps because, they do not practice the same religion as I do. I think it helps me to realize that faith in and of itself transcends religion. Faith is available to all who desire it, and can govern each of us in such as way as to make each of us a better person in our own way and in our own sphere of life and influence.

100 Questions & Answers About Parkinson Disease by Abraham Lieberman, MD

One of my dearest friends was diagnosed with Parkinson Disease about a year ago. Unfortunately, she lives in Washington, and it's been hard to be so far away while she's been coming to grips physically and mentally with her condition. One day she mentioned that she had a book that was pretty good for general information, and that she hoped her family members would read it.

I got the book, and read it. I also hope her family members will read it! It was very interesting to me. It is formatted so that you can open to different sections and just read about specific things you want to know, if you that's what you prefer. I chose to read it cover to cover. I feel much more informed than I was two weeks ago. Parts of it were scary to learn about (it will never go away, only get worse), and parts of it were reassuring (they've made a lot of progress for treatments, and quality of life is much better for a much longer period of time). It's good information for the person with PD, and good information for family and friends as well.

They have these books for almost any disease or condition you can imagine.

Foster's Freeze is still standing

I posted about my home town here. My brother-in-law happened to be passing through, and took this photo for me. It is the very Foster's Freeze I was talking about. Did you stop and get a chocolate dipped cone, Mike?

A sense of style

Travelin'Oma assignment.

I love clothes. I have a lot that have accumulated over the years; but find myself wearing the same few outfits over and over again. There is a woman at church that always looks amazing, and classy. I often wonder if she would be willing to be my personal shopper – buy all her same clothes, but in my size, for me. Several weeks ago I saw a woman on Wheel of Fortune who was wearing a shirt just like one of mine. (I posted it here.) I kept thinking she was wearing such a great shirt – and finally realized I already had that shirt!

How many times do we do that with our personality style? We watch certain people, and desire to be like them. I frequently say, “I want to grow up to be just like... (insert name of fabulous person here)”. There are a lot of people I’d like to emulate. Unfortunately, we can’t just go to a store and buy characteristics, but we can nurture and develop qualities and attributes that we desire to have. The trick is to pick a positive style that still fits with our own nature and true personality – “to your own self be true.” I think that’s the best way to be the best we can be. Then one day we might spend time with someone we think is fabulous, and realize Wow! I have that trait also!

Just the facts, please

Travelin'Oma's assignment today:

As a young parent there were two things I thought I would handle with ease when my children grew older: teaching them to drive, and teaching them about sex. It turns out I was a little overconfident in myself. I failed miserably at both.

We are a very open family. We are very matter of fact. Why then, when it came time to talk to my oldest daughter about the facts of life, did I freeze? I was so worried about being calm, cool, and collected that I worked myself into a frenzy. Finally my husband looked at me and said, “I’ll do it.” Then he walked into her room and had a very calm discussion. He was exactly how I thought I would be, but wasn’t.

We had debated how to do it. Finally what we ended up doing was checking out several books that seemed age appropriate from the library. In my frenzy I wasn’t able to decide which book was best. When Ray went in to talk to Audrey, he took a few of the books, and asked her to review them, and see which one she thought was the best one to explain the facts. If she had any questions, he said, we’d be happy to answer them.

She read them all, and actually chose the one we liked the best. Then we just used that book when explaining things to our other three children.

Here it is: “Where Did I Come From?” by Peter Mayle. (It's also available on DVD)

Coincidentally, this is the same Peter Mayle who wrote A Year in Provence, Hotel Pastis, Chasing Cezanne, and several other delightful books.

Some of my favorite Children's books

I don't think there's anything I like to talk about more than books. It was hard to rein myself in on this assignment. I'll do more later. So, here's my work, inspired by Travelin'Oma.

My son loves to read almost as much as I do. It was a joy to recommend books to him and have him devour them just as I had when I was his age. Until The Yearling by Rawlings. I don't know why in the world I recommended it. I didn't even like it myself when my mom recommended it to me. Maybe I thought it was more of a boy book than a girl book (although that never made much difference to me). He hated The Yearling. After that I had to convince and plead with him to read books I recommended, even though he liked all the others. To this day (he's 23), he sometimes gives me the look: will I really like it??

That said, I’m going to put myself out on a limb here, and tell you about some of the children’s books I loved as a girl, and have enjoyed also as an adult. Like the mystery series I recommended before, take these or leave them. I like them, and you don’t have to. But, if you’re looking for yourself, or your children, you might want to give some of these a try. Be careful how you do it; you don’t want to end up with The Yearling situation in your own family!

I’ll list them alphabetically by author. I found most of these in the Salt Lake County library system. A few are out of print, but might be worth hunting down if you can get a good price on them.
Alcott, Louisa May – I actually like all her books. In addition to my Little Women addiction, I especially like Eight Cousins, Rose in Bloom (read those two in that order), and An Old Fashioned Girl.
Caudill, Rebecca – Did You Carry the Flag Today, Charley?
Choldenka, Gennifer – Al Capone Does My Shirts. This is a recent Newbery honor book. I hear there’s a sequel out now.
Cleary, Beverly – Beezus and Ramona, Ellen Tebbits, when I was young I never met a Cleary book I didn’t like.
Cresswell, Helen – Ordinary Jack, all the rest of the Bagthorpe series. I laughed until I cried.
DeJong, Meindert – The Wheel on the School, House of Sixty Fathers

Enright, Elizabeth – The Saturdays, Four Story Mistake.

Gray, Elizabeth Janet – Jane Hope – in the top five books I read when young (over and over). Unfortunately, it’s out of print. If you find it, read it.

Hunt, Irene – Up a Road Slowly. Another that I read several times.
Jacques, Brian – the Redwall series.
Lord, Bette – In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson

MacLachlan, Patricia – Sarah, Plain and Tall, The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt
Speare, Elizabeth – The Witch of Blackbird Pond. I have read this almost as many times as Little Women!
Walden, Amelia Elizabeth – To Catch a Spy, Race the Wild Wind, My Sister Mike. My mom said, “I think you’ll like this author”. I loved her books!
Wilder, Laura Ingalls – The Little House series. It begins with Little House in the Big Woods. My grandsons (age 4 and 2 ½) are loving having this read aloud to them right now. This is another series I have devoured over and over again. Especially the last few books, as I got older.
Worth, Katherine – They Loved to Laugh. I think this is out of print also.
Wrede, Patricia – Dealing with Dragons, any of her books.

Whew! That’s enough for now. Happy reading – by yourself, or with your children.

Taking off with a moment's notice

Today's assignment from Travelin'Oma. She has some great advice!

Years ago my husband told me to get my dop kit prepared so that if he wanted to whisk me away some night as a surprise, he could grab it, and I’d have everything I need. That’s a man for you, isn’t it? No worries about a change of underclothing or outer clothing. But he was right – it was good to be prepared, and I would have happily gone along anytime he wanted to have a night away.

When my sister and her family were stationed in Germany over 20 years ago, we got passports for ourselves and all our children. We wanted to be able to go see her if the opportunity or need arose. Since then our entire family has always had a current passport.

So, my passport is handy, my dop kit is stocked, except for medicines. But since reading Travelin’Oma’s post about being prepared to travel at a moment’s notice, I realize I’m not as ready as I’d like to be. Yes, I would be willing and able to leave on a vacation with just a couple of hours to get ready and go, but it would be easier to do it with a lot more of it stocked and all ready to go.

I love being organized. In fact, I’m leaving on a trip in two and a half weeks. I can hardly wait to get my travel gear in order. So, with that in mind, no more writing for today. I’m off to gather the things I need to be truly ready to leave with a moment’s notice. I can’t wait!

I want to write, don't I?

My Travelin'Oma assignment for today:

People tell me all the time that I should write a book, because I like to read so much. I laugh and wonder what they are thinking! Just because I like music certainly does not mean I can be a composer. If I stop to think what I would write about, the plot of the latest novel I’ve read comes to mind. If I think harder, then perhaps the plot of the book before that comes to mind – if I can even remember what that is.

I do not have characters living in my brain waiting to burst forth on the written page. I do not have myriad plots floating around waiting to be grasped and put on paper. I must say I’m a good editor – I catch spelling and context mistakes easily. I can tell if a story flows well. But write a book? Not yet. In the meantime I enjoy writing in my blog, and I’d like to get better at that, and more comfortable putting my thoughts out where others can read them. With that in mind I’ve taken the Challenge (the capital C is on purpose) that Oma has issued. (Side note: I thought the course was two weeks- then I read the post more carefully – 12 weeks! Time to get new glasses. But I’m glad it is longer. I’ll have more time to grow and learn).

I think and create best when I’m alone and things are quiet. At this stage in my life, I thought that would be all the time. Ha! I usually have wonderful grandchildren running around, making all their wondrous noises. And they love to talk to me. Now I’ve learned I can write about them and how clever and witty they are. Or how endearing or maddening they are. Sometimes those characteristics fly at me mere seconds apart from one another.

My ideas come fast and furious when I’m out in the yard working, weeding. It keeps me from cursing so much at the variety and abundance of weeds that there are, and how large my yard is. I try to remember those ideas once I come inside – it is very hard to keep a notepad and pencil handy when I’m out there working. But ideas also come in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep, or sometimes when I’m in the car. I will take Oma’s advice and get some pads of paper and pencils to put in those places. I will try to be conscious of ideas I get or clever things the kids say and do, and jot them down when they come to me.

Over the years I’ve found that I put off doing things I want to do until mundane chores are done – sort of like keeping dessert until last. One thing I’ve found is that if I do the fun things first, the other stuff usually gets done anyway. At least the stuff that really needs to get done. Now I just need to remember all that, and I’ll get more writing, reading, and quilting done. Hope springs eternal!

Austin, sporting my special weeding hat (July 2008)

Outlook

This is my assignment from Travelin'Oma.

I see the world as lemonade, but I examine each lemon carefully in the process of making the lemonade. Let me put it another way: I am a worst case scenario person who looks on the bright side of life.

I have an imagination that runs rampant when it comes to worrying, and thinking about what could go wrong in life, and in individual situations in life. Let me give an example. If my husband is late coming home, these are the thoughts that might (and have) run through my head:

• Will they call me, or show up at the door to tell me he’s dead?
• Who do I call first?
• Okay, I’ll call Trish, and she can help me be organized on who to call, and she can man the phone to let calls through, or defer them until later if necessary.
• I don’t want to call the kids (they were away at college), I want someone to tell them in person.
• Who should I call to tell the kids?
• The kids shouldn’t drive themselves to the airport, they’ll be too emotionally wrought.
• Okay, then who should I ask to drive the kids to the airport?
• Who do I call first in the extended family – who will be reliable to call everyone else and pass on the information immediately?
• I better have my sister tell my parents.
• I better call the bishop to start the funeral process.
• Which hymns shall we sing?
• Who will speak?
• Who in the world will I ask to make fresh sushi for the meal after the funeral (my husband wants a meal that is unforgettable, and anyone who cares enough to come to the funeral is invited to stay and enjoy the meal).

These are actual thoughts which have run through my mind, with some variation depending on the exact situation. It takes about a minute to think these things (I am a pro by now).

The other thing I do when faced with scary or new situations is think of everything that might go wrong. Then when I’ve mentally taken care of that, I head out, prepared. You might think that I go through life worrying about everything. In a way, that’s true. But once I’ve spent those few seconds worrying, I’m done. Most of my worrying is over “what might happen”. When reality hits, I am in the trenches, now thinking, “how can we make this work out for the best?” And in real life, that’s how I am.

When I reflect on my life, I pretty much only remember that I’ve had a great life. When I examine the detailed memories more closely, I realize that in actuality there have been some very, very hard times. In fact in the middle of some of those times I thought they would never end. But I think because of my ability to see the blessings that come from trials, the memories of the trials are very faded.

Scoreboard: Boys 2, Girls 4

That's right, Debra's having a girl! We are excited for our sixth grandchild to arrive in early February. This is one lucky baby, to have Debra and Randy as parents.

2009 Block of the Month Quilt

I just finished my block of the month quilt. I take a class at a local quilt store (Quilts, Quilts, Quilts). You go once a month and get the material and pattern to make a block. By the end of the year, you have twelve blocks. I got mine all made up, then I quilted it yesterday. I love how crisp it looks. Plus, it's red.

Size: approx. 75 X 87
Completed: Sept 8, 2009

"Build Yourself a Book Nest to Forget the World Without"--Abraham Cowley

My favorite assignments from Travelin'Oma are the book assignments.

In my new house I have a room which serves as my library. It’s something I’ve always wanted, and I love that room. It is full of books. When I have friends ask for a book recommendation we go in there and browse. I ask them what kind of books they like, and then we pick out a few.

That’s my public library. My private library is in my bedroom. Most of it is in a compartment of my headboard behind my pillows. A little of it is on a shelf in the cupboard beside my bed. These are books I do not loan out. Almost all of them are duplicates of ones in the “public library.” These books are the ones I own so they are handy when I need them.

The books on my Desert Island List *(books I would want to have with me if I were stranded on a desert island) are on these shelves, plus a few others. I have a couple of books there that are out of print, and I’ve paid a pretty price for a used copy of them (they were worth it). A few of the books are just fun books that strike my fancy every once in a while. Most of these books remain in these special locations, but there is a little moving in and out as a new book gains favor, or perhaps an old one really does start to seem old and worn out.

My private library is where I turn for reading when I need comfort and reassurance and I know I can get it from one of those books. They provide a reading safety net for me that I don’t often need, but when I do, they are good to have around.

*A few of the books I have on hand: Little Women by Alcott, Mrs. Mike by Freedman, Jane Hope by Gray, Pride and Prejudice by Austen, And Still We Live by MacInnes, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Shaffer, Anna Karenina by Tolstoy, This is All I Ask by Kurland, Two-Part Invention by L’Engle, These Is My Words by Turner

My home town

More homework from Travelin'Oma. This one is late (due yesterday) so I'm still hoping for partial credit. :)

(My hometown has changed so much since I left, that I don’t know if what I would recommend for people to see would still be there – so I’m going to pretend it is still mostly like it was when I left 34 years ago.)

Port Hueneme (pronounced why-nee-mee), California is a very small town. The biggest thing it has going for it is that it is the location of the Pacific Seabee Base, a branch of the navy that is a mobile construction battalion. It is also a natural deep sea port. Port Hueneme is about a ten minute drive from end to end, so there are just a few things to see, and if you don’t look sharp you’ll miss it all.

If you want to eat while you are there, I recommend Foster’s Freeze. Their fries are excellent, and they make a great burger. In fact, it is the first place I ever ate a hamburger that had more than catsup and mustard on it. They are known for their soft-serve ice cream cones, and you can get one dipped in chocolate – the kind that hardens around the outside of the ice cream, and chips off as you try to eat it. If you don’t feel like an ice cream, just across the parking lot is Terry’s donuts. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a better donut than at Terry’s. If you prefer fresh seafood, you can go down to the wharf and buy it fresh off the boats there. You might be able to pick up some swordfish, or even a lobster or two.

Hueneme has beach that is unusual because it is located on a curve of land so that the beach runs from east to west instead of north to south. You can do some surfing there, as well as body surfing or just playing in the water. There is a pier you can walk out on and just enjoy the weather and being near the ocean. Because it is the Pacific Ocean, the water is not very warm most of the year. Occasionally by August it gets pretty warm, but then you have to watch out for all the jelly-fish. If the grunion are running, make sure you do that one night.

The locals are very friendly. Ask them what they like, and they can point you in that direction. Good luck!

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

Whew! This is another fasten-your-seatbelt, hold-on-to-your-hat book - just like The Hunger Games. Collins gets five stars for her storytelling. Both of these books had me dreaming about them at night as I was reading them.

I do have two negatives on the book. One is that because I had to wait so long for the sequel, I had forgotten some things. Collins did not do a great job of filling in some of that information. If I'd reread The Hunger Games, I would have been fine. But I didn't have time to do that. There are other books out there I want to get read. Lots of writers manage to fill in just enough details on sequels to keep us refreshed on the previous book(s).

Spoiler alert: don't read farther if you haven't read this book yet.

I give Collins one star for leaving me hanging again. If she does it again on the next book, I'm done with the series. A book can feel complete and still manage to make you want to wait in line at midnight for the sequel. (Harry Potter and the Twilight series come to mind).

Thursday addendum - I just read that this is a trilogy. That makes it just a tiny bit better. I was ready to be upset about it dragging on and on. Now I won't have to be...

Working hard, or hardly working?

Week 2 for Travelin'Oma's school. Here's today's assignment.

We counseled our daughters: there are two qualities to look for in a potential husband. One, that he adores you and thinks you are too good for him, and two, that he is a hard worker. When we were at an activity and the cleanup process started, my husband would point to all the young men who were helping without being asked, and told whichever daughter was at hand that any of those boys were husband candidates. The boys who continued to play around or had to be coerced to help were not possibilities.

Lucky me, my husband fills both of those qualifications, without a doubt. I’m not sure he got so lucky. I certainly pass the adoration test, but quite frankly I am innately lazy. As a consequence, I have to work hard at being a hard worker. I sincerely believe that in life hard work is the only thing that gets you through some of the tough times. I think that the ability to power through and get the job done breeds success—on many levels. We need to work hard, not just on the physical side of life, but also the intellectual and spiritual sides.

I’ve tried hard to overcome my laziness. Most of the time I hide it pretty well, but deep down I know it’s lurking, just waiting to burst forth. In the meantime I savor every time my husband says to me, “Wow, you are amazing. You are such a hard worker.”

The real me

Here's my assignment from Travelin'Oma. She's making us dig deep inside. Sometimes it's easier to skim off the top!

How did I become who I am? There are so many factors that it’s hard to narrow it down. I feel like every experience in life molds us. Even passing through certain airwaves can make a difference.

We moved to the Salt Lake area a few years ago after having lived in the Seattle area for over 20 years. It was very scary, and I was missing my sense of self a little bit. I remarked once to a friend that I felt overwhelmed, and wondered if I could fit in here. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Don’t you dare sell yourself short! You are every bit as wonderful as you ever were, and you have an enormous amount to offer to any place you go.” It was just what I needed to hear.

My parents somehow made me feel like there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do or be. I just had to decide, get to work, and it was possible. They weren’t overly lavish in their praise, but I certainly knew they thought I was capable of anything. It was the perfect way to build my confidence. For eighteen years I was very self-assured.

Then in the middle of my senior year of high school, a horrifically embarrassing thing happened to me. I almost can’t even write about it. It makes me squirm in my chair to think of it. I’ve only shared it with a handful of people that I trusted explicitly. It is never something I would want to be reminded of, or have thrown back in my face. It still makes me cry the few times I’ve told it. I think to myself – logically things like this happen to people all the time and they simply laugh it off, and never think of it again. For some reason that wasn’t so for me. Thirty-four years later it is still painful.

That event took a toll on my self-esteem. Not a huge toll, but it did effect how I feel about myself. Most of the time it’s negligible, but sometimes it rears its ugly head. I wonder how one hour of my life can put that big a dent in the wonderful, building, eighteen year foundation my parents built along with the fabulous experiences I have had since then. I look at that experience as my foundation for the “what will people think of me” part of myself.

Mostly I don’t worry about what others think. But perhaps there is a positive aspect of the “what will other people think of me” mentality. We do need to be conscious of those around us in our way of living. And if what they think of me helps to build me and make me stronger, then that is a good thing. But if I diminish myself in the process of trying to prove myself to others, it is not positive. Knowing the difference is what makes the difference in my life.

Partial retraction

I stand corrected. For now. Two of my daughters have expressed indignantly that I have spoken on their behalf unfairly. They claim they don't dislike Little Women. One tried when she was too young, and hasn't read it since, and one hasn't finished it yet (how many years now?).

Hmm, they've heard all their lives how much I love it. They haven't even tried it once. I'll believe them. For now.

But no full retraction is coming until I get a full endorsement of the book.

Time will tell.

Meanwhile I may consider adding nieces and nephews to the will (sparse though it is) if they can endorse Little Women. (Consider being the operative word. )

Mirror, mirror

Today's assignment from Travelin'Oma (all caught up!).

Once in a while I walk by a mirror and am shocked by what I see. In my mind’s eye I still look like I did when I was eighteen—without wrinkles, gray hair peeping through the brown, or the extra pounds I’ve accumulated since then. So when my real eyes see what’s looking back in the mirror, it’s easy to be surprised. I actually don’t mind the look of aging because I feel it shows what I’ve accomplished so far in my life.

To complete today’s assignment, I have made a list of my unique abilities and qualities, and things I like about my body. Now I will concentrate on noticing good things when I look in the mirror. I will appreciate all the great things life has given to my 52 years of living.

Conversation

I just love having these conversations with my grandchildren. Audrey, Matthew, and Elizabeth are asleep. It's just me and Austin. Here is how it went:

Austin said, "G'ma, I need some lip stuff. My lips are dry and bleeding."

I examine his lips. They are dry. Not bleeding. I think to myself - I don't really want to go all the way upstairs to get the lip stuff. I tell him to go look in the drawer in the kitchen and get the lip stuff by himself.

He just came downstairs with his hands holding the outside of his pants pocket. He says, "G'ma, I have something for tomorrow. A treat for tomorrow."

I'm instantly suspicious. I smile beguilingly and say, "Show me!

From inside his pants (not his pocket) he pulls out a popsicle. "It's for tomorrow," he says. He slides it back down in his pants.

I very carefully refrain from laughing. Instead I say, "It won't be very good by tomorrow." Then when his face falls, I say, "so, you'd better eat it right now."

Isn't that what it means to be a grandma?

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Assignment 3 from Travelinoma. You can bet I liked this one!

One day my daughter Beth came home from high school and said, “Mr. Miller was talking about the book Little Women in class today and I told him you’ve read it a hundred times. He said that must be a gross exaggeration.” I laughed and told Beth she should go back and tell Mr. Miller that it was only a very slight exaggeration. Then I tried to figure out how many times I’ve actually read that book. I first read it when I was eleven years old. Then I read it over and over again – probably five or six times a year for several years. I still love to pick it up and read it now. I even have the first line memorized: “’Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents’, grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.”

The first time I read the book I missed a few things, like the fact that Beth died. My mom asked me how I felt when Beth died. I said, “Beth died??” My mother then remarked that maybe I wasn’t mature enough to understand the book. That stung, and I started it all over again right then, determined not to miss a thing.

I wanted to be brave and outspoken like Jo. I wanted to wear long dresses, and put my long hair up in a net, just like the illustrations in my book. At first I was sad that Jo and Laurie did not get married, but as I got older and reread the book so many times, I knew it was right that they were just friends. It was a world I loved getting lost in. Or rather, a world I love finding myself in.

I own seven physical copies of Little Women and one copy on my Kindle– all of them treasures. One sadness in my life is that none of my three daughters likes the book at all. Where did I go wrong?

Honeymoon? or shelter scramble?

Here's assignment number 2 from Travelinoma. This one was more challenging for me.

February 14, 1980

We were married on Valentine’s Day, in Los Angeles, in a torrential downpour with high winds. Only a few pictures were taken outside – our coats blowing, and hair flying. Valentine’s Day was a Thursday. The reception was Friday night.

The plan was to go to Big Bear on Friday for our honeymoon. My father-in-law had a friend that graciously offered the use of his cabin for the few days we had. Because of the weather, Big Bear was snowed in, and we couldn’t make it there. We were poorer than church mice, so this put a severe damper on our weekend.

Luckily Ray’s aunt had paid for the hotel for our wedding night. It was at the Ventura Holiday Inn, right on the beach. We were thrilled. We checked in about 1:00 p.m. At six we were starving. We wracked our brains. Where could we go? Ray remembered that his dad had a running tab at a pizza place about twenty minutes away. We showed up at the pizza place, ate dinner, and unashamedly put the bill on Dad’s account. The next morning we checked out of the hotel, and discovered our car had been broken into sometime during the night. The driver wing window (remember those?) of our VW was broken, but nothing else was damaged – just ransacked.

That night was our reception at my parents’ home. We traveled between Ray’s parents and my parents that day for meals, “coincidentally” showing up right when they were ready to eat. Big Bear was still closed so we stayed our second night at the Motel 6 in Camarillo. We thought we’d just drive back to BYU the next day, but the roads were closed because of flooding. Now we were in a real quandary – no money to pay for a place to stay and we didn’t really want to ask either of our parents to stay at their home. Another blessing came along. Ray’s grandparents went out of town and we were invited to stay at their house.

The next day my mom called to tell us the roads were temporarily open to get through to Utah, so we scampered around, packed up the car, and took off. Our car was a VW bug. It was packed to the gills. We even had a lampshade between us in the front seats. Ray is over six feet tall and the seats were both pushed up as far as they would go. It was going to be a long twelve hours on the road!

About midnight we stopped in Cedar City. We were so tired that we thought we’d pull over and sleep for a while. Not a chance in that cramped little car. We got back on the road. It began to rain. That’s when we discovered the windshield wipers were no longer working. It poured rain and sleeted once in a while. For a large portion of the remainder of the trip Ray had to hang his head out the window to see where he was going. We were so happy to pull up to our little apartment and climb in bed.

Fiasco? Perhaps. Great memory? Positively.

Why do I blog?

For many, many years I've dreamed of going back to school. An opportunity has come up for me to do so! Travelinoma, one of my favorite bloggers, is offering a course in writing. So, I've put on my brave persona and I'm going to give it a try. I just got back from Seattle so I'm a little behind on assignments. I'll be posting three in a row today, and hopefully another one later.

Assignment 1:

Why do I have a blog?

For a long time I’ve kept a journal of the books I’ve read. Unfortunately, that’s about it for my keeping a journal. I thought if I kept a blog, I could record the books I read, and add a few more fun things to it as I go along—thus expanding my journal keeping.

I blog the books I read, and the quilts I make. I like to have pictures and stories of my family in there also. Occasionally I put in thoughts I have, which sound a little more distinguished if I call them musings. Mostly they’re just thoughts. One of my goals for this year is to scan the pictures I have of me growing up. I’d like to post a few, and write some memories those pictures invoke. (I should have done homework option one, and planned that out, but I felt myself going into shock at the idea.)

I write the blog for me, for my family, and any friends that want to drop in and visit the blog. It’s not a public forum where I hope the world will see what I have to offer. Mostly it’s therapy for me, and a boost to get myself doing a little writing and recording of my life.

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

I found this book while I was meandering through Barnes & Noble. I took it along with me on my trip to Seattle last week (more on that later).

This book is set in Jackson, Mississippi in the early 1960's. It is the story of black maids/white employers relationships. I liked the book a lot. The premise is good, and Stockett is a fine storyteller. I was sucked into the book from the very first paragraph, and didn't want to put the book down. Stockett manages to unfold the characters and their history continuously and seamlessly throughout.

Patterns in the Sand by Sally Goldenbaum

Another fun mystery by Sally Goldenbaum. I'll enjoy following this series.