Anyone? Anyone?

Travelin'Oma week 8, day 1 - the mysteries of blogging - feel free to give any answers you may have...

I’m 52 years old. I am an intelligent woman in many ways, but sometimes my moron persona comes to the front. I’m a moron in many practical matters of life.

Make-up for example. Most young teenage girls experiment with how to put on make-up with their girlfriends. I missed that boat completely. Did I have no friends? If I did, were they already savvy, and didn’t need to experiment? I don’t remember the details, but I do remember the fact: no help from friends in the make-up department. As a result I almost never wore make-up. I still don’t wear much. The obvious solution would be to go to a department store and ask for help. I did do that eventually, but was put off for a long time by make-up artists that looked like clowns. I did not want to have my make-up look like theirs. Finally one day in Nordstrom I found a woman working at the Clinique counter about my own age, who had make-up on that I felt looked tasteful. She was a big help. What took me so long??

I seem to go along in life not daring to make a change unless it is absolutely called for, or somehow falls in my lap. Sad but true.

Thus goes my life as a blogger. I blog for a few reasons.

1. It’s my avenue to review the books I read. I don’t give long, expert critical reviews. I just write what I like/don’t like about a book.

2. I write about my life and family –sort of a journal for me.

3. Once in a while I toss out some thoughts I have. Good or bad, there they are.

4. One time I was brave enough to take an online School Days course to help my writing.

What else do I know about blogging? Not much, but here are a few things:

1. I decided I wanted to blog for the above reasons (well, reasons 1, 2, and 3 – 4 came along later). I said to one daughter – how do I set it up? She helped me.

2. I see a blog I like and say to another daughter – can you make my blog look good? She says yes, and does (and a new look will be coming soon).

3. I venture forth and look at other blogs. It took me a long time to discover Google Reader. Longer to know that if I clicked on a reference in a blog it would take me to the reference.

Blogging is another one of those practical areas of life that I am a moron in. I would love a “Blogger’s Etiquette.” Even more, I’d like a “Blogger’s Basics.” I’ve looked online – most blogging helps are about writing, and how to write well. I want to know how to navigate a blog. Mine. The performance perfection can come later.

Here are some random questions that I would like answered in a basic tutorial:

1. Beginner’s technical manual – what options are available? How do I know which options I want? How do I get to where the options are to know what to choose (we’re talking basic here)?

2. Do bloggers really want comments from someone they don’t know at all? I know I like the comments, but am I normal (a question I ask myself often, but I digress…)?

3. How do I answer a comment if someone makes a comment on my blog? Do I respond in another comment, or is there a way to contact them so they don’t have to come back to see if I responded?

4. How do I make a link on my blog? (I’ve just learned how to do that. Sort of. In very specific situations.)

5. Just because I read someone’s blog, is it necessary to formally become a follower?

These questions are just the tip of the iceberg. I am sure there are questions I don’t even know that I need to ask about yet. I guess that means there may need to be an “Intermediate Blogger’s Guide” published in the future also. For people like me who need practical help.

New England and Canada Cruise, October 2009

Ray and I went on a cruise a couple of weeks ago along the coast of New England and Canada. It was wonderful. We traveled with the Porters and the Badgers--it's always great to be with good friends.

I'm going to chronicle the cruise a little bit over the next few days. Bear in mind that I always have grand intentions of taking lots of pictures. What inevitably happens is we take several pictures the first day, a few pictures the next day, and next to none for the remainder of the trip. This trip was no different, unfortunately. Marsha took lots of pictures, though, so I'll get some more from her.

On Friday October 2 we flew to Boston. It was an uneventful flight. I read the entire time, which is what I always do. Ray was in the aisle seat, and I was in the middle. It was a full flight, and I did not say more than ten words to the man next to me during the flight. That's about two words an hour. That might be a generous estimate of how much I said. (Sometime I'll have to blog about the difference in how Ray travels vs. me - he talks to everyone). As we got off the plane Ray struck up a conversation with the man, and they had a lively little conversation.

We stayed at the Embassy Suites right there at Logan airport. The Badgers had arrived a few days earlier and were out touring Boston with Tamara's sister and brother-in-law. The Porters arrived about an hour after we did. Cole, Marsha, Ray and I ate at the Embassy Suites, then we called it a night. The plan for the next day was to see some of Boston.

We got up and all met for breakfast Saturday morning. It was pouring rain, and absolutely miserable weather. We ditched our plans for seeing the town, called our shuttle to see if they could pick us up earlier to take us to the cruise ship, and settled in to spend the morning at the hotel. The men all went to their rooms and watched TV or napped (a preview of the activities of the week to come), and Tamara, Marsha and I played cards.

Ray and Diane leaving the hotel for the cruise ship.

The shuttle picked us up and we were dropped off at the cruise terminal. There we boarded the ms Maasdam (Holland America Line) and got settled in.

We decided to have an inside cabin this time around. It saved us quite a bit of money, and we thought with the cold weather we surely didn't need a balcony, and we probably could even do without a window just fine. Ray liked it. I didn't like it so much. I like to look out the window. I didn't know how much I like to be able to see outside. Now I know!

Sunday (Oct 4) we were in Bar Harbor, Maine. It was the only port we had to ride tenders into. It was cloudy and raining lightly the whole time we were there. That's no problem for all of us who have lived in Seattle so long. We went into town with the Badgers and Porters. We walked along the shore quite a ways. It was beautiful. I just love the water! As we walked along the shore we passed some beautiful, very large homes with gorgeous gardens.

Cole and Marsha riding in on the tender

Diane and Ray - with our cruise ship in the background

Diane and Marsha (our ship is the big one)

Here's a shot of the rocky shore. I love the ocean!

After we walked around town for a little while the men decided to go back to the ship. Marsha, Tamara, and I continued to walk around to see what we could see.

We found a good bakery, and a quilting fabric store (Fabri-cate if you happen to be in Bar Harbor any time soon). Then we happened into a fun shop with pretty scarves and fun jewelry. We purchased a few items and made our way back to the tenders so we could get to the ship.

Marsha trying to block diesel fumes while sitting on the tender.

On the tender we met a woman from Ellensburg, Washington. She was the ship doctor's wife. We chatted together and found out we knew some people in common. We found out later on the trip that Lynette's father and Tamara's father used to play golf together. It is truly a small world!

Sunday night was the first formal night on the ship. Ray wore his tux, and I dressed up a little bit too. The food on this ship was the best food I've had on a cruise so far.

Ray and Diane

My most influential teacher

Travelinoma week 7, day 5. This brought back some interesting memories. I need to write more about Mrs. Naus another time...

I remember elementary school fondly. I remember the names of all my teachers, and lots of my classmates. I’d like to share a brief encounter with my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Naus, which changed my life. But before I do that, I need to share an embarrassing story about myself in fourth grade.

My fourth grade teacher was Mrs. Guenther. My best friend Teresa and I were teacher’s pets. She gave us special projects to do all the time. We spent a lot of time in the school library doing those projects. As I look back now, I think she mostly gave us a lot of extra things to do to keep us busy and not talking and disrupting the class when we had all our work done. (I was a big talker even way back then.) So, my confidence in fourth grade was sky high.

The Wizard of Oz, June 1967

Dorothy (Teresa), Cowardly Lion, Tin Man, Scarecrow (me)

In the spring Mrs. Guenther decided to have the class do a play. We did The Wizard of Oz. My friend Teresa was Dorothy. I was the Scarecrow. All went well until the final performance. Mrs. Guenther had instructed the cast to repeat their lines if the audience laughed during the performance, so that everyone could hear the lines. At one point in the play one person in the audience laughed during Dorothy’s line. Picture now a heated conversation between Dorothy and the Scarecrow (Teresa and me) on stage in a very loud whisper:

Me: Repeat your line.

Teresa: Why?

Me: Someone laughed.

Teresa: No one laughed, everyone could hear. You say your line.

Me: No. You say yours.

The Great Standoff: Dorothy and the Scarecrow

This continued for what seemed like at least five minutes while the entire cast stood and waited for us to proceed. The mom who was prompting lines was practically shouting the next line. I would not say it. Teresa would not repeat her line. It was every teacher’s worst nightmare. Finally I saw our teacher walking up toward the stage from the audience. I whispered, “Here comes Mrs. Guenther. You better repeat your line.” She did. The show went on.

I didn’t think much about the whole thing until the next year. One day Mrs. Naus was talking about an upcoming class performance, and she looked me straight in the eye and said something to the effect of, “And this year we will have no one stubbornly holding up the show.” It was an eye-opener to me. Someone had noticed?? And remembered?? I was embarrassed, and made some loud comment about how it wasn’t really my fault that that had happened.

Sometime later in the school year Mrs. Naus asked me to stay after school one afternoon. She sat me down and said, “I need to talk to you about something very important.” I had no idea what was coming. Mrs. Naus very seriously told me that I needed to learn to accept criticism graciously. I was mortified, and protested loudly that I did not have a problem accepting criticism. She quietly talked to me for a long time. As I look back, I recall that she spoke to me like I was an adult, not talking down to me at all. She told me that I was mature and intelligent, and wonderful to be around, but that I did have one major fault, and that was that I did not do well with criticism. She told me that if I could learn to be gracious when criticized, not only would others look on me more positively, but I would feel much better about myself. I walked home alone after that conversation, burning with shame the whole way.

It was the best lesson any teacher ever taught me. Hard as it was, I struggled to be gracious when corrected. For years I thought of Mrs. Naus every time someone criticized me. Sometimes I still do. It was my first step in realizing the virtue of humility. Thank heavens she had the insight to see that fault in me, and cared enough about me to help me along a difficult path to overcome that weakness. I am a different, and I think better, person because of her.

She’s a great part of the reason I became a teacher myself.

Roberta Naus, 1967

Now I know where they got it.

Travelin'Oma week 7 day 4

My children have some amazing traits. In fact, Ray and I often look at one another and wonder, "Where did they get that?" They certainly didn't get all of their talents from two mediocre parents like us.

Last night when I had some delicious alone time, I decided to catch up on some of my family history filing. As I delved into the Orris line (my maiden name), I found a few treasures that have shed some light on where some of my children's traits come from.

October 1939

This is my dad's family - my dad is the boy in the middle, and he was 9 years old at the time this picture was taken

December 1901

James Ralston Orris (my grandfather) almost 5 years old

Here's an excerpt from The Mechanicsburg Daily (Mechanicsburg, PA), December 14, 1901 about my grandfather James Ralston Orris:

"To master the Westminster Shorter Catechism and repeat it perfectly from memory is no small achievement for many grown people of average intelligence, but when the feat of memorizing the one hundred and seven long, hard questions contained in this catechism and reciting them perfectly is accomplished by a child of less than five years who has not yet learned to read, it becomes truly remarkable."

Now, that is amazing, isn't it? I can honestly say that that gene is completely dormant in me, but I am sure that all of my children inherited it in full force. Audrey in particular has an unbelievable ability to memorize, but they all memorize things at the drop of a hat. I've been in awe of them for years. Now I know where they got it.

My dad (Victor) and his brothers, and their father

The Denver Post, April 23, 1956. The caption under the picture reads:

"A hypothetical problem in design of a hydroelectric plant occupies the four engineering men in the Orris family. James R. Orris (below right) gets some advice from sons (left to right) Paul, 27; Victor, 25; and Edward, 29, who are studying engineering at DU (University of Denver)."

My grandfather taught Engineering at DU. My dad and his brothers all received Engineering degrees from DU.

I have four children, three daughters and one son. Audrey has a BA and MA in Math Ed from BYU. Debra has a BS in Math and JD from BYU. Ray is currently majoring in Computer Science with a Math minor, and Beth will graduate with a BS in Math from BYU in April. I avoided taking math like the plague. Now I know where they got it.

Love Mercy by Earlene Fowler

Hmm. Truthfully, this book was a disappointment. Perhaps because I picked it up right after Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. Perhaps just because it isn't as good as the other Fowler books I've read.

I've really enjoyed the Benni Harper mystery series by Earlene Fowler.

I really liked The Saddlemaker's Wife (stand alone book also by Fowler).

I looked forward to this one, but it was lacking for me. It had some great potential for character development and story line development but I felt everyone and their stories were wrapped up a little too quickly and a little too pat. Too bad.

Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford

How has this book not shown up on my radar long before now??

My mother-in-law read it for a book group she's in, and she recommended it. Thank heavens.

I liked this book on so many levels.

-It takes place in Seattle (set in the International District both in 1942 and 1986)

-It is about WWII

-The writing is superb. How does the author toggle between two time periods, and two ages of a person, and manage so well to portray both so individually, yet at the same time we know it's the same person?

-I'm still thinking about this book a week after I read it - the true test of the worth of a book.

As I said, this book takes place in Seattle, both in 1942, and 1986. The main character Henry is a Chinese American boy who as a child is close friends with a Japanese American girl (Keiko). Henry's father has an intense cultural hatred for all things and people Japanese. Add to that the war, and Henry's life is in turmoil when the Japanese internment takes place and Keiko is forced to leave Seattle. I don't want to say anymore. Get it. Read it.

(I had previously read Weedflower by Cynthia Kadohata, a juvenile fiction book based on the internment of Japanese Americans during WWII. It was good background reading for this book. )

True Confession

Travelin'Oma week 7, day 3.

Halloween 1987 - Costumes by Grandma Orris

Audrey, Ray, Debra

I love many things about the month of October. I love the crisp feel to the air after a hot summer. I love the changing colors of the leaves. I love celebrating the birth of my mother and my father-in-law and several other extended family members. I love fall sports, which are usually in full swing by October. I love having the outdoor gardening season over, and turning to inside projects.

But I absolutely hate, without equivocation, Halloween. I have never liked it. I hate the pressure of having to come up with costumes (my children have my mother and neighbors to thank for any costumes they wore that they did not make themselves). One year I paid my children not to go trick-or-treating. I bought them any candy they wanted and rented any movie they wanted to watch. I hated coming up with ideas for costumes even as a child. I hate scary things, and never enjoyed haunted houses or any entertainment that had to do with Halloween. I don’t watch scary movies – or else I have nightmares for months. Scary books are out of the question. Remember my post about In Cold Blood? But, most of all: How can anyone like a holiday that reveres spiders in any way? I shudder to think of it.

You catch my drift.

The one redeeming factor of Halloween is that it is my father-in-law’s birthday (perhaps the worst day of the year to be born besides April Fool’s Day). So now that we live close to him, we get together and celebrate his birthday. The extended family gathers together, and we all contribute to a cozy meal. Then the children take off with various parental units and go trick-or-treating, singing Three Little Pumpkins at each house. Meanwhile I can stay inside and visit with the other adults, not having a Halloween care in the world. Added bonus: I don't have to pass out treats at my own house. How's that for a true Halloween Scrooge?

Twenties Girl by Sophie Kinsella

This was a light, fun book. I read Confessions of a Shopaholic several years ago. Kinsella has a way of putting her characters into uncomfortable situations that make me want to squirm. This was a little less awkward than Confessions, so it was a little easier on my anxiety levels when reading it.

I have come to the conclusion that the f-bomb is not as offensive to Brits as it is to Americans (well, namely me). It does occur a few times in this book, but somehow doesn't seem quite as bad as usual.

How's that for a mixed endorsement?