Here’s What I’m Thinking About Life in My World

There’s a man running for a local office in the upcoming election. He has used his name and his opponent’s in his ads. Summed up they say, “We’ve been BERND before, now it’s time to choose a BAKER.” I drive by one of the big signs everyday and it’s like a tag on my collar. It rubs. At first I thought it was a clever pun. A day later I thought it was a poor pun. For the next three weeks I couldn’t figure out why the one-liner bugged me. I finally figured it out: I don’t like it because it reminds me of grade school teasing. Pity the soul that had a last name that could be twisted or punned in grade school. I had Chadwick. Not as bad as some, worse than others. I hated, hated, hated hearing Jane Chatterbox or Chadwitch chanted on the playground. The man’s sign is hardly dirty politics and, though I know neither man, as far as I can tell one is as good as the other; therefore I’m choosing Bernd. Just for his name’s sake.  You just shouldn't mess with someone's name.

Remember the fall house cleaning Cali helped us start a few weeks ago? I had a goal to finish it by the time Cali and Ray came for General Conference weekend. One of my jobs this week was to purge the videos. The video I was saddest to see go was Pete’s Dragon. Remembering the Gogans call, “Petey, oh Petey” almost made me save it. For what I don’t know since we don’t even have a VCR machine anymore.

Yesterday was Grace’s due date. We were prepared for it. We woke up calling out, “Happy Due Date, Clara!” and repeated it several times during the day. We also went to lunch – Grace had a Chinese chicken salad, I had a vegetable sandwich, and we split a seven-layer bar for dessert. Calvin had to work in the lab and missed out. Then we took fresh flowers to the cemetery. The bouquet was an autumn bouquet with red sunflowers and filled in with orange, yellow, and deep green. It was very pretty. We forgot water so we dipped some from the nearby ditch. As we sat on her grave visiting I said, “I wonder if coming early was part of Clara’s personality. I can just see her saying, ‘I was fast! I went down, got my body, and came back before I was even supposed to be there!” Grace said she could just see Clara throwing her arms out wide declaring, “I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!” when she died. Happy day after your due date, Clara.

Cali and Ray came for the weekend. It’s always good to have them come home. Always. One of the things I most enjoy about Cali and Ray is seeing how much they enjoy us and each other. Grace had filled the cookie jar and had made up her bed for them. There was a new welcome mat at the kitchen door, the bathrooms sparkled, the autumn bowl was filled with orange peach rings, and Calvin had ribs on the grill when they came in the door. Cali squealed with each thing she discovered. She said, “I keep finding surprises. It just feels so good to come home.” Peach rings, supper, cookies, clean sheets, a welcome mat – it doesn’t take much to make Cali feel good. Cali, Grace, and I went jogging and walking early this morning while Ray and Calvin went calling coyotes. 

I’ve enjoyed conference immensely today. I always do, I enjoy each talk. I also enjoyed President Monson’s talk to the women of the Relief Society last week. He talked to us about criticizing each other – a universal fault of women. As he was reproving us I thought, “Amazing how a scolding can feel so good when it comes from a prophet of God.” I know the genders seem to have natural failings, criticizing others and ourselves being one of us females'. I’ve seen it in our chicken coop. Those hens will find one hen, single her out, and peck at her until she bleeds. Often, if we don’t step in and remove her for a day or two they’ll pick at her until she dies. When you think about it, it’s quite a burden lifted to know we don’t have to pick at each other’s faults and declare them to the world.  I never wanted to be a chicken in the first place.

Cali, Grace, and I are dipping caramel apples tonight while Calvin and Ray are attending Priesthood meeting. It’s time to start the caramel . . .