SPT - Blue, Bleu, Baloo

We are living the life of Baloo this week and just taking care of the simple bare necessities.  Like picking blueberries.  We picked seven pounds today at $1.50 a pound.  We had blueberry wheat pancakes for supper.  Best I’ve ever had. 

This is the skyscape from Cali and Ray’s home.  On any given night you can see nine shades of bleu, even the evergreens are blue in the evening.  It is bleutiful.

Last year I showed Ray a beautiful hydrangea plant down by the Sound.  He remembered how much I liked it and gave me one for my birthday.  Today it is pink trimmed with blue.  Who knows what color it will be after I plant it at home.  

Cali and I passed three Scottish terriers trotting smartly next to their master on the jogging path.  By the time we’d turned around and jogged back past them the man was dragging all three dogs.  Another man walks ten steps ahead of his wife on the path.  They keep the exact same pace, but don’t walk together.  I have conjectured all kinds of possible scenarios about the situation.  The dogs, master, and couple all walk along the blue water. 

Tricky Tuesday—Something to Smile About

Today’s suggested topic was to post a joke or something funny. As you know, comedy is all about timing and I’m terrible with time. But, I can laugh and smile easily so I’ll share some things that recently made me smile:

We live on a gravel road that makes a mile loop. One day last week Grace, my niece Rachel, and I went on a walk. After two miles I asked Grace, who still throws up on occasion, if she wanted to go one more lap or call it good. She said, “How about if we start walking and then we can turn around when we get tired and come back if we need to?” Rachel and I agreed that was a good idea and started back around for the last mile. When we got nearly half way Grace said, “How about we hit the half way point and then turn back around again?”

I laughed and said, “That’s sounds good . . . or we could just finish it out since we’ll be half way home.”

Grace hit her forehead like she always does when she says something funny or is a bit embarrassed, then laughed that infectious laugh of hers and said, “Oh geeze, that reminds me of a blonde joke my dad always used to tell me. He always tells me blonde jokes.”

For the next hundred yards Grace entertained me and Rachel with her dad's jokes. I thoroughly enjoyed it for I have only one joke in my repertoire and Grace's were all new.

Self Portrait Tuesday’s Topic is “How’s the Weather?”

We had misty weather today. It was perfect for jogging—cold enough I had to keep moving and a light cooling mist when I did get going. Whenever conditions are near perfect, like today for instance, I can’t help but attach a monetary value to it: “I’ll bet they have to pay big money to have misters like this in important races," I thought, "But today, for me, it’s FREE! I get to experience it for free without being in an important race. I’m so lucky.”

This afternoon I stopped at the grocery store to get a couple of gallons of milk. As I was loading our groceries into the trunk, a lady who was parked near me came by with a bouquet of yellow roses and her groceries. She appeared to be a simple, older woman with thinning teeth and long hair. The back of her pick-up was loaded with neatly boxed and strapped belongings. She smiled a great big warm smile and, pulling a rose from her bouquet, said, “Here. I’d like to give you one.”

I said, “Really? For me? I’d love one!" I expected her to ask for a donation, but she didn't. She just insisted I take it.

I thanked her again and told her how much I appreciated it and then asked her again if she was sure she wanted to give me one.

She said, "Yes. It's for you."

I smiled, and she smiled again then leaned a bit closer and said, “Pass it on someday.”

And then she climbed in her pickup with the rest of her groceries and bouquet. As she pulled away she smiled and called out the window, “I hope you have a happy day.”

I did.

SPT—ESFJ

Ty, Ande, Abe, Grace, me, Calvin, Cali, Ray

Each Christmas Eve we have a family program where each member brings a part to share. This year Calvin told each of us why he loved and admired us (sniff), then for my part everyone took a turn telling each person in the family one thing they appreciated about them (sniff. sniff). Ande quoted Shakespeare, Ty did a memory game, Cali quoted the Gettysburg Address, Grace did a card trick, and Abe taught us a Filipino song. Ray had had each of us take a personality assessment earlier in the day and bring our computer print out with us to the family program. He prefaced his part by saying, “Our family is growing and changing and I thought it would be beneficial to all of us if we better understood what makes each other tick.” We all identified our print-out results (I’m an ESFJ) and he read the characteristics that are frequently associated with each of our types. As he read, there was much nodding of the heads, laughing, and outbursts. It was fascinating, more accurate and helpful than other personality quizzes we’d taken, informative, and fun. It helped us to see

1. Where we prefer to focus our attention and energy (extraversion or introversion)
2. The way we prefer to take in information (sensing or intuition)
3. The way we prefer to make decisions (thinking or feeling)
4. How we orient ourselves to the external world—with a judging process or a perceiving process

It felt good to be validated by hearing the assessment. It was even better understanding why members in our family do what they do. But the very best part was realizing/trusting that keeping a family functioning is not just Calvin and my responsibility anymore, that the kids claim ownership in improving and helping our family to succeed. Now that is a gift.

SPT—Christmas Past-Present-Future Meme

This week’s self-portrait is painted with words.

• Which relative were you most excited to go and see or have come and visit your home during the holidays?

Grandma Chadwick came a few weeks early and visited and played games of Scrabble with us. I liked her conversational manner. However, Grandma Hoops’ arrival meant Christmas Eve afternoon had come. I appreciated the personal interest she took in us kids. But when my cousin Casey and his family came it meant the party could begin, so I was probably most excited for his family to come. Sometimes they brought cases of bottled pop which was a big deal to me. Casey, my brother, Tim, and I used to get rug burns on our stomachs from sliding down the stairs while we waited for our Christmas Eve supper.

• What is your earliest Christmas memory?

My sister, Lila, drew my name and gave me a Barbie doll (a short haired one that wore tennis shoes). Someone told me that night that I had better hang on tight to it as Santa Claus might take it and give it to another little girl. I was mortified he would steal from one to give to another and slept with her and the plastic case she came in. I was always a bit suspicious of Santa after that.

• Do you still swap gifts with childhood friends?

Nope. Sadly I’ve lost communication with all of them.

• What is a traditional act of service you do or remember doing at Christmas?

I don't know if this memory counts as tradition or not, but Grandma Hoops always brought fudge when she came. By the time Christmas Eve had come, we were pretty tired of homemade candy and ready for the store-bought stuff in our stockings. I noticed Grandma watched the plate to see if anybody ate her fudge. It killed me to see her so disappointed, so when she wasn’t looking I took several pieces and put them on a plate and hid them under my bed until after she went home.

• What is the most romantic Christmas gift you have received?

The year before Calvin and I got married he drew me a picture. I was too embarrassed to open it in front of the family (I feared he wasn’t very good). I should not have worried. It was wonderful. I mean really good. He hasn’t drawn anything since and I cherish that picture.

• What is the worst gift you’ve ever given?

Oh gee. I do my best to forget these. I have given more than one. One was to Cali. She hated to cook when she was a little girl and I was determined to help her like it. Santa (as her main gift) gave her a box of cake mixes, spatula, an apron, etc. . . . not cute little girl, easy-bake ones, but practical, store brand, mother ones. Hmmmm. She never used them, so I finally absorbed them into the kitchen. There is a reason she doesn’t trust my surprises.

• Does Santa wrap presents or just set them under the tree?

He wraps them. His elf sends one, too, for the whole family. Oh ho. I can hardly wait for the kids to see what Calvin has configured up for the elf’s gift this year. It is so Calvin.

• What is your favorite homemade Christmas candy?

Caramel or peanut brittle. Or toffee. Or peanut clusters. Or cashew clusters.

• What is your favorite holiday dish?

This is a tough one. Not only do I like lots of foods, but our holiday meal changes every year. I’ll go with some kind of dip or cheese ball since we seldom have them any other time of year.

• When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?

Randy M. told me on the boys’ stairs at the school when I was in first grade. I never much cared for him after that. The two of us were just sitting there watching the kids play on the playground when he said, “You know Santa Claus isn’t real don’t you.” Even though I questioned Santa’s ethics, I still would have liked to have believed another year or two.

• Can you ice skate?

I can. Not well, but I can. We had a pond about a half mile from our home and sometimes the neighbor boys and I would walk down to it and ice skate. Though I can’t go backwards, or gracefully glide with one foot straight out behind me, I can go forward.

• What is your own true sentimental Christmas story?

Cali hates Christmas stories. She runs and hides if we pull out the book. She says they are all designed to make us feel guilty and she is not going to feel guilty at Christmas. (I should confess it’s my own fault. I read a traumatizing one when the kids were little, one that made us all cry even Calvin, and she’s never felt kindly towards a Christmas story since [besides the real one]). But this story is true and sweet. It’s about my sister, Rachel, and her son Cache. If I replaced all of our other questionable-authenticity stories with ones like this Cali would no longer have to leave the room when we read them.

Dear Jane,
One great thing about Christmas was a gift that Cache (12) got me. We drew names a couple of weeks ago and Cache finagled it until he got mine. We took turns opening them and it finally got to me. I opened the bag and there was a scout shirt on top. Cache hadn't had time to wrap. In fact, we had to wait on him while he found something to put my present in. I thought the scout shirt was just to cover what was inside. I pulled it out and found another scout shirt underneath, and another one under that, and two sashes below that. It dawned on me about the third shirt—Cache had taken everybody’s scout shirts and all of the badges he could find, and hand sewn each and every one of them in the place that they should go. I didn't even have the troop number sewn on them. (At one time I stapled one on, but it fell off.) I started to tear up. It was just the sweetest, most thoughtful thing. I kept telling the kids I would sew the badges on. I knew it was important to them, I just couldn't seem to find any extra time, but I told them I would do it the whole week after Christmas. Justin (14) said that every night Bert and I went on a date; Cache would sneak the scout shirts and badges out while we were gone and work and work on them. This has gone on for over three months. Cache would get so frustrated he would throw them up and say, "I give up". Justin said, "everybody would always tell him how good he was doing, and not to give up. Sometimes Jesse (10) would help him rip them out to start again." Cache finally got all but one sash done and he wrapped them up for me for Christmas. I tell you, I should write my OWN TEAR JERKER CHRISTMAS BOOK. What a kid. What a great kid. What great kids to cheer him on. And not one whisper of it to me. Even when he couldn't find the one and only needle in the house for two weeks! Amazing. And very, very humbling.
Love,
Rachel

• A picture from a past Christmas.

Well, this isn't Christmas, but it is Christmastime and the night of the school play. Our mothers always painted our lips with red lipstick before the play. I always felt a bit ridiculous in it as my lips were big enough with out painting them barn red. I already mentioned in a previous post that the Christmas play was a big night in our community, but in this picture please note the candy house and tree that Aunt Jean built for our family. It was my favorite Christmas decoration and it lived for years, thanks to hard-as-a-rock frosting that wouldn't let a piece of candy loose for anything.

• What do you look most forward to in future Christmases?

More of the same, and yet new memories as our family expands. Last year Ray brought little gadgets, gizmos, magic tricks, etc. for everyone’s stockings. He put an Abraham Lincoln sucker in mine. Santa has always had a far-too-practical bent in our house (remember the cake mixes) so it was fun having Ray's enthusiasm, ideas, personality, and traditions added. I look forward to many more Christmases.

Feel free to grab this meme for your own blog.

Which relative were you most excited to go and see or have come and visit your home during the holidays?
What is your earliest Christmas memory?
Do you still swap gifts with childhood friends?
What is an act of service you do or remember doing at Christmas?
What is the most romantic Christmas gift you have received?
What is the worst gift you’ve ever given?
Does Santa wrap presents or just set them under the tree?
What is your favorite homemade Christmas candy?
What is your favorite holiday dish?
When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
Can you ice skate?
What is your own true sentimental Christmas story?

A picture from a past Christmas.
What do you look most forward to in future Christmases?

SPT—Melanie & Me

Melanie is moving to Big Town. Melanie has cut my hair for years and years—even before there was a Milo, Katherine, Nathan, Dane or Reed. Melanie soothed my feelings when I lost a bowl-sized spot of hair to a hot blow-dryer, and helped me develop the comb-over ‘til it grew back six months later. Melanie calls when she knows I have a big event coming and says, “When works best for you to get your hair done?” Melanie makes me feel funnier, skinnier, smarter and prettier than I am. I will miss knowing Melanie is in town. I know we will still keep in contact (thank you blogging) but the security of proximity has my feathers a bit ruffled. I love, admire and appreciate you, Melanie. Thank you.

Is your hair stylist loveable?

SPT--I See Myself

I see myself in this video. I, too, am thankful for my health, dog, lunch, breakfast, dinner, muffins, donuts, a bed, good weather, simple intelligent conversation, home, Fiddler on the Roof, love, macaroni & cheese, future opportunities, job, family, friends, adversities, blessings through adversities, transportation, my husband, anniversaries . . . I am a rich (wo)man and I am thankful.

Self Portrait Tuesday--Garb

I hope these two coats never wear out. I’ve had the red one long enough it should be coming back into style any day now. The two of them together make walking in the fall just perfect.

SPT—Next Year

I tend to think of gardens in pairs—strawberries and spinach, followed by beans and zucchini, followed by tomatoes and peppers, ending with squash and apples. I enjoy each thing while it’s producing but also look forward to the next thing. Except for winter squash. I look forward to it from the very beginning.

This summer I planted the squash too close to everything. When they started to take over the raspberries I ignored them. When they started to take over the beans I ignored them. When they started to take over the peppers and tomatoes I tried to contain them. They out-willed me and I gave in. Since we haven’t had a good crop of squash for a few years, like an indulging mother, I let them go and go and go and trample everything. I’ve been waiting for the first frost to nip and set their sugars. Last weekend while we were gone the first frost came. It wasn’t mild, it was a killer below 20. All those squash that I let have complete run of the garden were ruined.

Not to be completely outdone by a frost, we bought a few at a vegetable stand. They were pretty. They were lovely. They were colorful. They rode safely in the back of the pickup through Idaho and Utah and back through Idaho. But, they did not ride safely through Montana. It was near zero temperatures and those squash froze as badly in the back of the pick up as the ones did in the garden.

Next year I won’t pamper the squash and let it run the garden. Next year I’ll put the squash in the front of the pick-up. Next year . . .

SPT—Tree of Life

Last weekend we spent the night at a friend’s cabin in Northern Idaho. We went on an early morning hike and ended it by picking apples from the lone fruit tree. Even though it is late in the season for them, I'll bet they are translucent apples—crisp, sour, sweet. I’m not an organic girl, I like the bugs dead from pesticides and the food fleshy from fertilizer, but these dwarfed apples didn’t have one worm in them and so for the day, I was happily organic.

This photo of that lone apple tree reminds me of the Tree of Life. Many cultures and religions celebrate a tree of life, but the specific tree I’m referring to is found in The Book of Mormon.

Lehi dreamed he saw “a tree, whose fruit was desirable to make one happy.” (1 Nephi 8:10) A few verses later we read that the fruit of the tree represents the love of God. Literally and figuratively, I love the fruit of this tree.

SPT—House-itosis Be Gone

my self-portrait is mirrored on the juicer (please note the halo over my head :)

I liked to think in the first home we owned it was because the previous owners had poodles. I liked to think in the second home we owned that it was because a previous owner occasionally kept sick calves in his basement. I liked to think in this home it was because the former owner was on canine patrol and the German Shepherds spent time in the kitchen. Yes, I’d rather think it was them and not us.

But there are a few days every year that house-itosis be gone—Thanksgiving and grape-juice-making-day. No unpleasant odor can overpower the beautiful smell of steaming concord grapes. I do believe they could even conquer the odor of the primate house at the zoo.

Who/what do you blame your house-itosis on?

SPT--My Other Half

Calvin's home; he safely delivered Grace to Abe and flew home late last night.

I missed him. Badly.

I slept on his side of the bed when he was gone to feel braver, but now I'm perfectly content returning to my cowardly self.

SPT—How I Spent My Summer Vacation

We had a merry-go-round on our school playground. It was a fast one and when a sixth grade boy pushed, it was downright thrilling. The toes of your shoes would get holes in just a couple of days if you dragged your feet to slow it down. It didn’t take long to learn to keep your feet up.

There are no merry go rounds in this town, but if there were that is where I would have taken today’s Self Portrait Challenge: “How I spent my summer vacation.” For me, this summer was like the big boys were pushing—it was fast and exciting. It included:

a trip to Washington D.C.—going to West Point graduation—having Ande home from college—taking Grace to the temple—welcoming Ty home from his mission—celebrating Abe and Grace’s wedding—sending Ty back to the Academy—spending a week in Seattle with Cali and Ray— serving jury duty—attending Laurie’s funeral—taking two online classes—gardening the garden—having family visit (nieces, nephews, brother, sisters, sister-in-law, brother-in-law)—and living regular life . . . with the added bonus of the kids being home more often.

A time or two I wanted to slow it all down, but that wouldn’t have done any good; there was so much momentum it was just smarter to run faster and try to keep up. What a great vacation—very little rest, but very rejuvenating.

SPT—Itchy Feet

Remember when Pa would get itchy feet and want to go west in Little House on the Prairie? Each fall I suffer the same malady, except I’m about as far west as I can go so they must be itching to go another direction.

This morning the girls and I were out walking and we were talking about fall fashions and shopping, and what lies ahead of them, and pretty soon my feet started remembering how fun it was to get to where I am . . . and wondering where they have yet to go. Fall makes my feet itch. Especially when I wear shoes.

Which season makes your feet itch?

SPT--Grace & Me

Three weeks after Abe and Grace married, Abe left for training down South. Grace has been staying with us until the Army lets her join him. Though they can't wait and we're excited for them to be back together, we sure love having her with us.

I set up the scrapbook table today and we plan to get lots done in the next few weeks. I can't wait to do this picture.

SPT--Farewell

Army/Navy Game last December

Along the Oregon trail and beside the Snake River there is a place called Farewell Bend. After enjoying plenty of food and water while traveling by the river, pioneers would rest a few days at Farewell Bend before leaving their security to go overland. We drive by Farwell Bend a couple of times a year and tonight I feel like I'm at Farewell Bend . . .

My friend, Laurie, died of cancer yesterday. She leaves her husband and three sons in the military, one son in the Mission Training Center preparing to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a fifth son in high school and a newly pregnant daughter-in-law. Laurie was a respite--she provided fun, love and enthusiasm to her family and friends. I shall miss Laurie very much and count myself blessed to have shared life together. I just wish the bend could have been a little further down the road.

SPT—Summer Food

I do love summer food and what with the grain, dairy and fruit group covered in blackberry, raspberry, peach or apple pie and ice cream it’s even easy to eat healthy.

Here are a half dozen of my favorite summer garden foods:

creamed peas and red potatoes
raspberries
corn on the cob
fresh salsa (made from tomatoes, peppers, onions and cilantro)
summer squash
cucumber and tomato sandwiches

What summer foods do you like best?

SPT—People Seldom Notice a Double Chin if . . .

. . . you give them a big enough smile. Smiles are secret weapons when it comes to photography. But that’s not all . . .

You’ve heard it said, “A smile is the universal language.”—anon But did you know that even dogs can speak it? At least our dog, Blue, could. With her twisted mouth, her smile looked almost rabid, but she made you feel like a million bucks once you knew what she was doing. Recently I stopped by a friend’s home and her dog greeted me with that familiar-looking, twisted mouth. My friend met me at the door saying, “Don’t mind the dog, he’s just smiling.” That makes at least two dogs that can speak it.

Maybe you’ve heard it said, “A laugh is a smile that bursts.”—Mary H. Waldrip But did you know that a smile increases the production of the happy hormone, serotonin, and sometimes the lips can’t hold it all in? A good belly laugh (which starts with a smile) exercises the diaphragm, abdomen, lungs, face, leg and back muscles. With all of the miserable, sweat-inducing, boring workouts on the market today a good laugh is a fun and painless way to burn calories.

Perhaps you’ve seen someone with: “A smile (that) appeared upon her face as if she'd taken it directly from her handbag and pinned it there.” —Loma Chandler But did you know that smiling is so important that even a fake one has benefits? Scientists have discovered that your body doesn’t know the difference between a fake or a real smile and will respond to your happy face as if it’s the actual thing.

It’s true that “The ultimate in shapely curves is found in a smile”—anon Because a study conducted by UC-Berkeley found that women who smiled in their college yearbook photos led happier lives, had happier marriages, and had had fewer personal setbacks in the following 30 years.

You already knew that “A smile is a light in the window of the soul indicating that the heart is home.”—anon But did you know that a smile from a good joke also means the brain is turned on? It takes the whole brain to get a joke—the left side analyzes it, the right side makes meaning of it, the frontal lobe controls the emotional response you give to it, and the visual images of the joke are developed in the back.

Thanks to KnB-photography and Sara Rae Photography for catching my smile.

SPT-Study

I’m taking an on-line World Civilization History Class. I eat popcorn to stay awake while I read, but every now and then I find a paragraph that baits me to read the next one, popcorn or no.

“Mesopotamian gods lived their lives much as human beings lived theirs . . . they could be irritable, vindictive, and irresponsible . . . the motives of the gods were not always clear . . . the best way to honor the gods was to make the shrine as grand and as impressive as possible, for gods who had a splendid temple might think twice about sending floods to destroy the city.”

Argh. Can you imagine trusting a fickle god or trying to please a spoiled one? If nothing else, this class has increased my appreciation for twenty-first century worship . . . and popcorn.

SPT— Dirty Jobs

I have one daily chore I don’t enjoy in the summer. It’s stealing the eggs from under our one hen that likes to set. I don’t mind that she pecks my hand; I don’t mind that I have to put my hand under her warm bottom to find the eggs; what I do mind is that after I rob her eggs she continues to sit there, day after day, waiting and waiting for her chicks to hatch and each day I know that I’m the one that steals her dream.

Tonight Calvin and I carried some beet tops and spinach that had gone to seed from the garden to give to the chickens. As I was robbing the nest, Calvin said, “Awwwww, just leave her a few eggs. It won’t hurt anything.” Starting tomorrow that hen gets her dream and it appears to be a win, win . . . until four weeks from now when I have to throw out the ones that didn’t hatch, and getting rid of rotten eggs is as just as bad as stealing a hen’s dreams.

SPT—Fun Correspondence

This is my Self-Portrait Tuesday post even though I'm behind the camera instead of in front of it.

I mentioned a week or two ago that I had taken this picture of two veterans. This was my correspondence with George, the man on the right . . .

Dear George,

I took this picture of you a couple of weeks ago at the WW II memorial. I just love it. Every time I see it, it makes me smile. Thank you for letting me take it and thank you for serving all of us in the military.

Best wishes to you always,

Jane Payne




Dear Jane:You made me a winner..As soon as you took our photo, my friend said:"you will never get that picture". I told him I was positive I will get that picture. so,I am going to send him a copy and I am certain there will be some grovelling on his part.Thank you. I am sorry we are a continent apart; I would love to take you to dinner. You are a different breed!With gratitude, George Brown




Dear George,

Oh ho! I’m so glad I could make you the winner. I’m only sorry it took me so long to get it to you so that he thought he won.

Seeing you veterans at the WWII memorial was the thing that made it so great. I dread the day when there are no more vets, so please live as long as you can.

I wish we weren’t a continent apart, too. I’d love dinner and to learn about your life.

Thanks for being a friend,

Jane

Wouldn't you love to go to dinner with George? I'll bet he likes steak.