Thursday Thinking—Birthday Bullets

• Today’s my 48th birthday. I love birthdays. I don’t even need to do anything special, it just feels good to know I was born, have another year in front of me and another one behind me.

• Ray called and left me a message yesterday that said, “Janey Payney, you are a very important person to me; therefore I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday tomorrow . . . I understand you are approaching 50, but you are not 50 yet . . . You are going to be like wine or cheese and get better with age. I sure love you and I can’t wait to see the aged Janey Payney.” Several hours later when I talked to him I asked, “Ray, what does old cheese look like?” He said, “Wrinkled. Hard. Moldy. Why?”

• Ty wrote me an e-mail this morning that said, “This is the only year where you will be twice as old as me. Before you were always more than that, and after, you will always be less. So in a way, it is like you are getting younger.” Now that’s certainly one way to look at it. He also included fifteen of his favorite memories.  Two of them were:  ~Meeting you for (general) conference my freshman year (at the academy). I stunk, you stunk, and everyone let us know that it was a problem. (Ty’s coat. My shoes. Pew. The memory is still odorous . . . and funny.)  ~I love that you used to read out loud to us. We loved hearing Mrs. Piggle Wiggle and other books like that. You encouraged us to read as well. I also fondly remember that you willingly listened to Ande and I read Harry Potter out loud to you even though you had no desire to listen to it. You knew it was important to us, so you made it important to you.

• On the kids’ birthdays Calvin always says, “Jane, tell them what it was like the day they were born” and we retell their birth day. The kids have heard those stories 27, 25, 24, and 21 times. One year on my birthday Calvin said, “Kids, I’m going to tell you what it was like when your mom was born.” And since he was raised in Arizona and I was born in Idaho, I don’t know where he got his information. “This is what it was like. It was a hot day because it was in the middle of the summer. She was born in the middle of the day. When she came out she took one look around, smiled at the doctor, and said, ‘Hi! My name is Jane! What can I do to help?’ And that’s the story of when she was born.” I had forgotten about it until Ray and Cali called this morning to wish me a happy birthday. Cali started laughing and said, “Ray, I have to tell you about the day my mom was born . . .”

• Grace asked me what she could cook for my birthday supper. I requested her manicotti, it tastes so good. She is making it as I type. She could be a food show host. She is wearing a long purple pregnancy shirt with an empire waistline and scooped neck, leggings, pretty jewelry, and has her hair fixed. All she needs is a microphone.

• Abe called to wish me a happy birthday. It is so funny to watch him on Skype. He fidgets the whole time. Grace mentioned to me the other day she finally figured out why their baby moves so much after watching Abe on the computer camera. The technicians are always telling the baby to please quit moving. (You should have seen the baby during the ultrasound when she had the hiccups the other day, it was pretty funny.)

• Back to Abe’s wiggling phone call . . . he is planning a family trip for Calvin’s and my 30th anniversary in a few years. He is one great event planner. It is a talent I never suspected in him. Which just goes to prove your mother doesn’t know everything.

• Ande has called me several times today and each time said, “It’s your BIRTHDAY!” punched full of enthusiasm. And that was all she called to say each time. She made sure one of the calls was at 2:19 p.m. so that I would know she was thinking of me the exact time I entered this world. She is a gift all in herself.

• I can’t tell you about Calvin’s gift. All I can say is it was funny. Very, very funny.

• Happy Birthday to me. It’s my birthday.

Homemaking Tip—Caramel and Crystal

Grace is serving in our church young women’s organization. For tonight's activity they met at our home so she could share one of her favorite desserts and an activity with the girls.

Grace chose brownies topped with ice cream, caramel sauce, and crushed Oreos. This caramel sauce recipe is an old stand-by. It’s really good and really easy - a prerequisite for stand-by.

Caramel Sauce

½ pound butter (no substitutes)

1 cup brown sugar

8 oz. heavy cream

Rum flavoring (optional)

Bring all ingredients to a boil. Let boil one minute and then cool. Serve over apple cake, ice cream, broccoli, mashed potatoes, roast, crackers, pizza, spaghetti, or just eat it by the spoonful. 





For a favorite activity they painted each other's toenails. Calvin and I went out for the evening, but Megan was still here when we came home so she was willing to pose.

Grace and Megan

thank you google images

The suggestion to own a glass crystal nail file is as great a tip as the caramel sauce recipe.  Ande gave me one several years ago and it is still working well.  I credit it with helping me to break a nasty nail biting habit.

Monday Memories—Alphabet Soup

We had the "fruit-room” of fruit-rooms growing up. I’ve mentioned our storage room before I think. It was like a mini-store in the basement and included cases of candy. There were also several different cases of canned soup on the shelf. When we kids were sick in the winter (measles, mumps, chicken pox) we went downstairs at noon and picked out a can of soup. I didn’t like being sick with my sister Janet because she always chose Campbell’s cream of mushroom. She didn’t like being sick with me because I always chose Campbell’s tomato. Some days, when we were sick but not mean and selfish, we compromised with Campbell’s alphabet soup. I still think of alphabet soup fondly, unlike how I feel about mushroom soup.

Here are some memories – alphabet soup style - from the last few weeks. This batch has no u’s or x’s.

Ray with the alpha rooster

         

Airplanes. The crop-dusters and roosters both wake up about 5:00 a.m. They are natural alarm clocks with no snooze button.

Junior, Travis, and Calvin serving at the ward party

Brisket. Calvin grilled 80 pounds of brisket for a ward party on Saturday. After he rubs the meat with spices and grills it, he puts it in roaster ovens to cook for 18 hours. It smells like we live in a restaurant when he slow roasts brisket - especially 80 pounds of it. It is wonderful for two hours of the day, but a tad overwhelming for 18. However, I don’t need to feed him when he’s cooking brisket, he samples all day long. That’s what comes from living in a restaurant I guess.

Checks and Balances. Calvin, Grace, and I attended a seminar on the Constitution where we learned about the checks and balances system of our government. I was taught a modified version in 11th grade history. I wonder if Mr. Wilson knows it wasn’t accurate. The presentation we went to was informative and gave ideas on how to be a better citizen.

Devotional. We had a family fireside on the Fourth. We gathered around the piano and sang patriotic songs. Then using the Book of Mormon and Doctrine and Covenants we talked about America, the constitution, and what is expected of us. It felt good. I like it when Christmas and the Fourth of July land on Sundays. It just fits.

Exercise. It is my friend - the friend that is sometimes rude and pushy and I don’t always like. One part of exercise that I love is when the girls go for walks with me. Grace and I go several times a week together. Once last week Ray joined Cali, Grace, and me. We answered two questions, "Who did you meet in the month of June that was interesting and why?" and "What is one thing you didn't do in June that you wished you would have?"

Fireworks. We watched two and a half shows this year. They were great. My favorite fireworks show was done by a friend of Abe's. He'd choreographed the blasts to music. The bursts were big and close enough we got spattered with sparks. My next favorite show was the half one. Ray and Calvin found a box of old, old, old fireworks in the shop. Ray set them off. Because of their age we weren't quite sure what to expect. The show wasn't in the colors; it was in watching Ray set them off.

Grace fixed my hair this week. Natural is not the best color for me. Grace knows just how to fix that.

Hot. I mentioned to Abe on Skype that it might hit 90 degrees one day. He said, “I don't have much sympathy for you.” I asked him how hot it has been there and he said, “Oh, it was about 120 degrees today.” I asked him what the hottest he'd ever experienced was and he said, "Well, with the heat factor included it was 148 degrees one day." I cannot imagine. I cannot imagine being in full gear in that heat. God bless the soldiers.

Inservice. I received some great training recently. I want to get better at asking good questions which promote great discussion. I learned what to do. Want to know how?

Just in case you were wondering, I'm missing a toenail.

Kids. Everybody is doing well.

Lybbert’s pond. Brenda called on the phone saying, “I’m hot. Do you want to meet me at Lybbert’s pond in ten minutes?” I reminded her, “But we don’t have any kids.” She said that didn’t matter. I told her I’d join her as soon as the last batch of cookies came out of the oven.

Lybbert’s pond is an irrigation pool surrounded by alfalfa fields. It has a big cottonwood tree, rope swing, diving board, raft, and grassy bank. Kids love to swim there. And so do women who get too hot. But I had never gone in the water, just sat on the bank and cheered the kids on. Peer pressure. It will get you every time. Brenda led the way and expected us to follow. The kids later said, “WHAT? You wouldn’t go in the water for us, but you went in the pond for Brenda?” Yes, kids. I did. I succumbed. BUT DON’T YOU give in to peer pressure.

Mcflurries. We got two this week: one for celebration and one for endurance.

Nematode. I discovered one in my character this week. Ick.

Oysters. Calvin grilled oysters last week over the Fourth. The chickens that have escaped the pen keep coming over to where the boys shucked the oysters and eat the shell shards. Sometimes we have to buy a bag of oyster shell to thicken the egg shells, but the hens found this shell pile all on their own and knew to eat it. That surprises me; I think I would only eat oyster shell if someone forced me to. The chickens also ate the lettuce in the garden. I don't like that, but I do love how they scratch and keep the bugs out. Chickens are such a good thing.

Peas & Politics. We sat and podded peas on the porch and visited about politics . . . and taxes. At one point the discussion became quite animated and Ande leaned over and whispered to me, “Are they arguing or agreeing? I can’t quite tell.”

Quote. I keep referring to this one: “We do not always receive inspiration or revelation when we request it. Sometimes we are delayed in the receipt of revelation, and sometimes we are left to our own judgment . . . Our life’s purpose to obtain experience and to develop faith would be frustrated if our Heavenly Father directed us in every act, even every important act. We must make decisions and experience the consequences in order to develop self-reliance and faith. . . Even in decisions we think very important, we sometimes receive no answer to our prayers. This does not mean that our prayers have not been heard. It means only that we have prayed about a decision that, for one reason or another, we should make without guidance by revelation. Perhaps we have asked for guidance in choosing between alternatives that are equally acceptable or equally unacceptable. Similarly the Spirit of the Lord is not likely to give us revelations on matters that are trivial. If a matter appears of little or no consequence, we should proceed on the basis of our own judgment. If the choice is important for reasons unknown to us, the Lord will intervene and give us guidance. When we are living in tune with the Spirit and seeking its guidance, we can be sure that we will receive the guidance we need to attain our goal. The Lord will not leave us unassisted when a choice is important to our eternal welfare.” Dallin H. Oaks (Sept 04 New Era)

Raspberry Picking. Our former home teacher takes really good care of his raspberry bushes. Such good care that they produce far more than they want so they offer them to others to go and pick. Pick one, eat one, pick one, eat one - that's my method. I took my iPod this time. A first. But I visited instead of listening to a biography of Alexander Hamilton. Pick one, eat one, make a comment. Pick one, eat one, make a comment. That was my method.

Spitting. Sometimes I look at the kids and think, “Where DID they come from?” And other times I know exactly where they came from. One night Junior and Maria brought us a bucket of cherries they had just picked. We were eating supper at the picnic table when they delivered them, and the minute the cherries hit the table we started eating them. And since we were outside, spitting pits soon followed. That’s when I knew exactly where the kids came from. No matter how many times I asked them to quit spitting pits at each other they wouldn’t. Not until a juicy red one from Calvin landed on Cali’s white cardigan. The cherries did not fall far from their tree.

Tent. Last weekend we had more company that we have beds. Whenever that happens in the summer we put up the tent. Calvin, Cali, Ray, Grace, and I slept in the tent. Oh ho. I'm so glad we did. The first night Ray said we should tell ghost stories and that I should go first. For three minutes I tried and tried to think of one, but couldn't remember the scary part. A ghost story is not a ghost story without a scary part. I told Ray that I gave up and he should go first. He was already asleep. I don't believe I've ever known someone who can fall asleep faster than me; I was never the life of the slumber party.  The next night I suggested grizzly stories. That never happened either. Calvin is the king of grizzly stories and he was too tired. We obviously need more nights in a tent.

Vacuum. There is a dealership in town that offers a car vacuum for free use. I needed it. It took me FIVE rounds to get the car clean. We have a Camry. Camry’s should not need five rounds. Free means I saved $5. I think I will buy a car from this dealership some day.

Worry. Some days more, some days less.

Yearling. Seemore is yearling, but I fear a perpetual puppy. He gets in trouble for being too eager and friendly. Grace and I were on the last half mile of our walk when we saw our neighbor Donna coming towards us with her two itty-bitty dogs on a leash in the distance. Grace said, “Aren’t you glad Seemore doesn’t fight with other dogs? That’s one good thing about him.”

A few minutes later we saw a puff of dust and Donna bent over trying to calm dogs, but the dogs were running circles around her yapping, lunging, and barking. Twice the dogs ran between her legs and at one point Donna was twirling a dog in the air by his leash. It was utter chaos. Seemore may not fight, but he doesn’t recognize the hint from the growls of itty-bitty dogs either.

Zzzzz. At night when we go to bed we hear thousands of these quarter-sized frogs. By themselves their croak isn’t much, but together they’re a force.   Like the crop-dusters and roosters, I like their sound.

Home of the Brave

I never much cared for history when I was a little girl. Probably for two reasons: one, I only had a few fairly uneventful years of my own to review; and two, I wasn’t exposed to many others’ history. I’ve changed my tune, glory, glory hallelujah, and I care for history very much now. Years of personal history and discovering its invaluable lessons, while also learning about the history of mankind has deepened my appreciation.

They say there are three ways in which people view history:

• Chaotic. Events happen randomly and by happenstance.

• Linear. Events of yesterday do not affect today or tomorrow.

• Cyclical. Events follow a pattern.

I’m a cyclical believer myself. I’ve lived enough seasons, seen enough moons, watched enough births and deaths to be convinced that there are patterns. One pattern in history that has me thinking is that of big American wars. The Revolutionary War was followed eighty years later by the Civil War. The Civil War was followed eighty years later by World War II. Eighty years after World War II is fast approaching and, well . . ., we seem to have a pattern going.

I appreciate the lessons from history and recognize my happiness that has come from the decisions made by our Founding Fathers and early patriots, those who fought to keep American united, and those who protected our country from tyranny. Because of others who have been willing to give their “lives, fortunes, and sacred honor” for freedom, I have learned.

Take Margaret Corbin for example. She was a patriot. Wives of the soldiers routinely cooked meals, laundered clothes, and nursed wounds, but they also watched the men do their drills and learned those drills from the sidelines. Margaret fought in the Revolutionary War next to her husband, John. In November 1776 they were stationed in New York fighting British troops. John was assisting a gunner until the gunner was killed, then he took charge of the cannon and Margaret became his assistant. Later, John was killed too, so Margaret continued loading and firing the cannon. She was wounded by grapeshot which tore her shoulder, mangled her chest, and cut her jaw. She was carried to the rear of the company where she received medical treatment, but she never regained the use of her arm. History and Margaret Corbin have taught me it is wise to prepare to do hard things if I want to maintain freedom.

Or what of Mary Lincoln? While her husband, Abe, was in office Mary frequently nursed the wounded men in the nearby hospital. She often took fruit or flowers to them too. Mary attended to all the soldiers, black and white, even though she came from a family that supported slavery and her brother fought for the South. Even those of the North did not approve of Mary’s presence in the hospital, and especially to the attention she gave to the black soldiers. History and Mary Lincoln have taught me that right is right whether it is popular or not and freedom isn’t always popular.

And then there was Audie Murphy. He was born in Texas, the sixth of twelve children. When his father deserted the family, Audie dropped out of fifth grade to help support them. He earned a dollar a day. He also became a skilled rifleman, knowing his family depended on his ability to hunt food. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, Audie tried to enlist but was rejected for being under-age. With the help of his sister, Corrine, he adjusted his birth certificate and tried again. The Marines rejected him for being too short (not quite 5’6”). The Navy rejected him for being too skinny (110 pounds). The Army said he was just right, but after he passed out on a drill they tried to send him to baking school. Audie insisted he wanted to be a combat soldier. He finally received his desire and became the most decorated American soldier of World War II, including being a Medal of Honor recipient. He is buried in Arlington National Cemetery, and while Medal of Honor recipients’ headstones are typically decorated in gold leaf, Audie Murphy requested his stone be plain and inconspicuous. History and Audie Murphy have taught me the definitions of perseverance, courage, and humility and that freedom requires all three.

History still has much to teach me. My hope is that those of the next eighty years can count on me to teach and do what it takes to preserve freedom like the ones before have, because there is a pattern . . . 

Happy Independence Day.

Monday Memories—I’m mostly brave, except . . .

. . . that time when I was babysitting Jodie. Jodie’s parents were married in the 70’s. Jodie’s parents had a green toadstool footrest, macramé plant hangers, and the house was decorated in olive green, burnt orange, and brown—even the linoleum. They also had two channels on their TV, but no remote of course. I was about twelve and the perfect age for babysitting.

This particular night I had just gotten six-month old Jodie to sleep and in her crib. I quietly closed her bedroom door and then changed the channel on the TV just in time to hear that a prisoner had escaped from the penitentiary. Our state penitentiary was 150 miles away. If he just barely escaped, I had at least three hours of safety. But I didn’t hear when he escaped (nor did I hear from where he escaped, it might have been from Wisconsin for all I knew). I should have felt safe, we lived thirty miles from our post office so how would he find me, but I didn’t. The longer I sat by that toadstool the more scared I got. But even when I’m not brave I can plan, so I carefully got Jodie out of her crib so as not to wake her and the two of us hid in the broom closet. The escaped convict never found us.

Nita and me on a 4th of July picnic.

We were much older in the story below.

. . . that time when Nita went with me to the cow camp. Our summer range was about 40 miles away. Every summer after the cows had been trailed up to the hills, my older sister Chris stayed in the trailer during the week to look after them. We slept in sleeping bags and got our water from the horse trough which had clean, cold spring water running into it (that is also where we brushed our teeth and washed our hair. Oh, the throb of sticking your head into that horse trough early in the morning).

My best friend and I had gone up to stay the week with Chris. One evening we were in the trailer all alone. Chris had gone ten or twelve miles over to a neighboring cow camp. It was starting to get dark and Nita and I had just climbed into our sleeping bags when we heard a motorcycle in the distance. It was pretty late to be hearing motorcycles, and besides we were miles and miles away from campgrounds or government property. The motorcycle sound continued and sometimes it sounded like it was even getting closer. We played the “you go look out the door and see if you can see someone” game for quite awhile. Nita finally lost and quietly crept out of her sleeping bag and opened the door. When she did, the sound quit. She jumped back into bed much faster than she got out. We hadn’t been quiet long when the noise started up again. Certain now that the motorcyclist was even aware of our moves, we were more afraid — every ghost story from every sleepover began its rerun. We wished Chris would come back home. We wished the motorcycle would go away. We wished we were anywhere but in the middle of the hills all by ourselves. But we weren’t. For over an hour we were all by ourselves with a fly buzzing on his back in the window well, and did you know it sounds the same as a thug on a motorcycle.

Snippets

1.  Work is a huge blessing. This morning I went jogging and then Grace and I went for a walk. Ande was giving some private swimming lessons at a friend’s pool and Calvin was mowing the lawn. We were late eating breakfast -cottage cheese pancakes (my, they are good—better than a crepe or pancake I think) –and Calvin dared grumble that there was no bacon. That fried me right ‘til we went outside and raked, hoed, weeded, hauled, burned, pitched, and picked. Sweat took the fight right out of me. Blessing one.

Joe and Ande brought tacos home from the farmer’s market, an unexpected and good surprise. After I showered, Calvin and I went to town for dog food, chicken feed, and ice cream. We picked gooseberries and rhubarb this morning so I made a gooseberry/rhubarb pie. Blessing two.

Any kind of fruit pie is edible if there is enough ice cream for the top. We sat out on the porch this evening rocking in the white rocking chairs eating pie. Weary. Happy.  Blessing three.

2.  My mother quit mothering when some of us were still young so I wasn’t quite sure what mothering young adults and adults would look like. I wasn’t certain if our kids would still need an active mother or for how long. Absurd. Mothering is like the sun. Just because you don’t see it for a day or two doesn’t mean you don’t need it, miss it, or want it. The sun and mothers nurture, warm, color, brighten, kiss, envelope, and strengthen and you need them be you 23 or 32. This week confirmed that wonderful discovery.

3.  Mr. Holland was a musician and he wanted to write an opus. Until he could earn enough money producing music, he taught it. He would carve out time to write a masterpiece, but things got in the way and the time was eaten by students, responsibility, family, life. Mr. Holland felt like a failure that he never composed a great piece. When he retired from teaching his former students came together to play the notes he had composed. The opus was in the people, not in the notes.

I had a Mr. Holland day this week:  I planned to work on a class. I need to finish my degree sooner rather than later. I sat down to study. A good friend stopped by and we visited for an hour or more. While we visited another friend called and wondered if I could babysit for a few hours while they took their baby to the doctor for an emergency visit. While my little friend and I made cupcakes for his family, another friend called and asked if we could take a last minute meal to a new mother that night. In the meantime, Calvin came home from work a couple of hours early so that he, Grace, and I could go to the temple. All the while, the class manual sat open near the couch.

As I climbed into bed, I wondered about the class.  Then I thought about my day. It was good. Very, very good. Far better and more meaningful than I had orchestrated.

4.  Twice Grace has solemnly said, “I didn’t hear from Abe this morning. Blackout.” I assumed blackout meant not enough power for the demand so the power was shut down temporarily. I didn’t understand until today (during a blackout) that it means all communication to the outside world is cut because there have been casualties and until the next of kin is notified, no one is allowed to communicate off post. Oh. Sobering. During those blackout hours spouses wonder if it is they who will receive the dreaded call. Though she feels an inner peace, it is still no wonder that Grace hates blackouts.

Homemaking Tip—Qat

thank you google images

We play a lot of Bananagrams around here. It’s fun, addictive, quick-paced, and not as big a commitment as Scrabble, that’s why. I won a game yesterday. I seldom win. It doesn’t matter. I still want to play.

Here’s my secret tip for the day: qat is a word that doesn’t need a ‘u’ nor is it foreign or proper. It’s a plant and it just may make a big difference in your game.

photo from Leigh Anne's post

And, should you decide to play Banangrams over the 4th of July, here’s a pretty, perfect recipe to eat while you play. In fact, I think you’ll find lots of pretty and perfect ideas on Leigh Anne's personal blog, too.

52 Blessings—Having Calvin as a co-parent

Once you’re married you find there are lots of ways to do things and think about things when you were certain there was only one correct way before. It makes for lots of learning . . . and discovery . . . and crying.

But, one thing I’m grateful for is that Calvin and I think and feel the same way about parenting. It’s been wonderful being a parent with him—truly a blessing.

Calvin is a great co-parent because the kids like him and want to be with him.

Trevor and Calvin at Grandpa Payne’s burial.  The family buries their loved ones themselves
at this cemetery, hence the casual dress and shovel in Trevor’s hand.

Trevor wanted to live with his dad in the worst way when he was a little boy so when he came to stay with us in the summers he was Calvin’s shadow. Every morning Calvin fed the steers and heifers in the feedlot about a mile from our home. He’d fill the feed truck with chopped hay and silage from the stack-yards, and then drive back by the house on the way up to the feedlot. One morning, Calvin tried to quietly sneak out of the house while the kids were still sleeping, but when the loaded truck rumbled back by the house Trevor heard it and jumped out of bed. He knew he’d been left.

I was taking care of the baby and didn’t even hear the screen door slam shut, but when Calvin turned the truck around to come get another load of feed he saw a little boy in over-sized irrigating boots about a half mile up the road running after him and the feed truck. Calvin never tried to sneak out of the house without Trevor again.

Calvin is a great co-parent because he knows the right thing to do at the right time.

Ty wanted to succeed in wrestling more than anything when he was in high school. He worked hard. He worked steady. He worked tirelessly. It was no secret he wanted to be a state contender.

His last high school match was disappointing. It could have turned out different, but it didn’t. It was sad and many felt the loss. Ty quietly went off the mat and walked towards the locker room after he’d congratulated the other wrestler. After several minutes, Calvin got up and followed him. He found Ty off in a corner of an unused room sitting against the wall with his head in his hands. Big tears ran down Ty’s face. Calvin sat down next to him, talked him through his wrestling experience, and then said a prayer with him. By the time Ty joined the crowd, he was subdued, but at peace.

Calvin is a great co-parent because he’s a great teacher.

One day when we were out working in the yard,
 Calvin found a couple of snakes over by the chicken coop.
He was excited to have one for him and Cali. No sharing.
(I was happy as could be there wasn’t three.)

When we lived on the ranch in Idaho, Calvin used to trap beavers, muskrats, and coyotes. Cali loved to go out to the barn when he skinned the animals and watch. She sat on a stool next to Calvin and he taught her all about the muscles and organs. Once, when it was too cold to work in the barn, he brought a big piece of plywood in and set it on the kitchen table and skinned a beaver right there in the dining room. Again, Cali sat next to him on a stool while he taught her about beaver habits. (This just reminded me of something else. Last year Cali, Ray, Calvin, and I went to see an IMAX movie on beavers. Calvin and Cali came out mocking it. They said it was green propaganda and they used beaver falsehoods to promote it. It was clear that beavers are Cali and Calvin’s friends and you don’t mess with them.)

Calvin is a great co-parent because he helps the kids see a bigger picture.

When Abe was little he couldn’t decide what he wanted to be when he grew up—Michael Jordan, a policeman, or a prophet. After a few years Calvin helped Abe to see he probably ought to plan on using his brain rather than his basketball skills for a career.

One Sunday morning when Abe was a sophomore in high school, Calvin sat down at the computer with him and started researching colleges on the internet. They looked at everything—MIT, Harvard, Princeton, Stanford, BYU, UW, Yale. Calvin suggested they take a look at the military academies also, so they looked at the Naval Academy, West Point, and the Air Force Academy. Abe showed honest interest, so Calvin took the boys to Colorado Springs a few weeks later to tour the Air Force Academy.

Calvin is a great co-parent because he expects a lot from the kids.

Ande had a huge toe. Abe had run over it in the pickup and then a boy jumped on it while they were dancing. It was very sore and infected, so Calvin operated on it. He told her to quit whimpering, toughen up, and bite on an arrow like the mountain men while he lanced it.

Calvin is a great co-parent because he is dependable.

Calvin’s dad was a good postman. After he retired from the post office, he delivered flowers for a part-time job. He knew all the streets.

Calvin is like his dad. When something needs to be delivered, you ask him. Like Grace. She needed to go to Georgia, so Calvin drove her. Before they left Grace asked if she could borrow my earphones. She whispered, “I might need them sometimes if he wants to listen to talk radio too much.” Later she said, “I didn’t need the earphones once. We just visited and looked at the country and listened to music. We had a really good time.”

Calvin is a great co-parent because he believes in the kids.

The other day Abe told Grace to ask his dad's advice on a matter. Calvin listened and then said, “I don’t know. Abe needs to talk to Ray. Ray would have a better answer and advice on that.”

Calvin is a great co-parent because he’s a lot like his dad.

Calvin's dad was a very good man.  I don't know of anyone thought more highly of than his dad.  Calvin's dad also teased a lot.  Posing as an insurance salesman, he sold me a bogus policy on our first telephone conversation.  Calvin has done likewise; Ande was three before she realized she wasn't hatched under the house with the dinosaurs.

Calvin is a great co-parent because he helps the kids be brave.

When the kids need someone to help them be brave they call their dad.  Once (not that many years ago) when Trent was having terrible dreams he called his dad and told him about them.  Calvin listened for a long time then talked to Trent and told him what he needed to do. 

Cali used to ride her bike to her job at the college bakery early in the morning while it was still dark.  She'd call and ask her dad to talk to her while she rode her bike through the scary parts, then she'd suddenly say, "Okay!  I'm here.  Thanks Dad!"

Calvin is a great co-parent because he lets the kids know he's proud of them. 

"STUPENDOUS!"

Calvin and Michelle (Trevor's wife)

Calvin doesn't hesitate to tell the kids that they're doing a good job—in their lives, with their families, in their schooling or careers, activities . . . even in their crafts. No one has to beg for their dad's approval of good things.  Stupendous is the word he most frequently uses in such cases.

Most definitely, having Calvin as a co-parent is a huge blessing.

Thursday Thinking Leads to Life in My World and Vice Versa

I planted sunflowers in the two front flower pots by the garage. I don’t know how they’ll look. In my head, they’re going to look unique, stately, admirable. But experience nags that there is probably a reason you don’t see sunflowers planted singly in large pots in front of people’s garages. It’s like casseroles and desserts. Every now and then I’ll create a new one with the combination of leftovers in the fridge and think, “I think I’m on the cusp of something great. People will want this recipe” only to later feed three-fourths of it to the chickens and understand why I’ve never seen a recipe like its kind before.

Even if those sunflowers do turn out unsightly, I’m still glad I planted them. Sunflowers forgive and obey. They are a living object lesson every time I walk by them. They were wilted and whipped when I planted them, but they are back to normal after a little water. And I purposely planted one with his back to the sun and he turned right around to follow it.

Sunflowers in pots by the garage. I just might be on the cusp of something great.

&%#!@*

I have discovered this week that swear words are less abrasive to read than they are to hear. I listened to a great audio book written from the perspective of a 15 year old boy with Asperger Syndrome this week. It got me through two trips to Spokane and ironing fifteen shirts.  Oh my, I’ve enjoyed it but I don’t think I should recommend it because the swearing is so bad (not the boy’s, but rather the adults who are around him). Which is really, really, really too bad on so many levels.

emeraldish waves of grain

Last night we went on a drive through the dry land farms. I love dry land farms. If ever my functional mind can fantasize, it is when we drive through the acres and acres and acres of wheat. Houses are miles apart. I imagine life with the big red barn or by the massive silos. The rolling fields look like ocean waves except they are green not blue.  They remind me of a line from Edna Ferber’s So Big—“There are two kinds of people in the world that really count. One kind’s wheat and the other kind’s emeralds.” And that may be true, but in the dry land country in the spring when the wheat is green, you can be both.

Clara continues to grow. The ultrasound technician thought Abe would enjoy this picture of her arm.

A couple of weeks ago Ty and his fellow cadets had to climb a lot of stairs to a building, temple, or something. Ty wanted to see if he could hop up all 374 stairs on one foot. He did. He said it killed his leg.

A week later they were at the Great Wall of China. Again, he was confronted with stairs. 454 of them.  He decided to see if his other leg could do it. He hopped up them as well.

Three days later I received this funny blog comment from Robyn: On Saturday I saw your son on the Great Wall of China! I didn’t know it was him. I watched as he hopped up an enormous set of stairs. He was so handsome and looked so familiar. My husband and I joked with them and as we walked away I kept thinking that I knew him. Michelle told me tonight that it was Ty! I nearly died. Oh how I wish I’d have asked where they were from, I would have figured it out and taken a picture. He is a handsome boy. And competitive. No one else hopped as far as him.

Blogs continue to make the world smaller, one comment at a time. Thank you Robyn for taking the time to write and tell me of a ty sighting.

I asked Ty why he hopped and he said, “I don’t know. If someone dared me I wouldn’t do it.”

Ty, I dare you to hop with both feet up 586 stairs.

Homemaking Tip—Company’s Coming

Ray and Cali showing us the boats at the Chittenden locks

Today’s tip actually comes from Cali. One day she asked me how to keep from stressing when company comes. I told her the secret is to not mop your floors or knock yourself out cleaning before they get there because you're the only one who knows the difference between extra-clean and clean in your home. Clean is clean enough because people come to see people; otherwise they stay in a motel. I reminded her that when company leaves they will take all the messes with them so not to try and pick up around them while they’re there because everything magically disappears with them. I encouraged her to just relax and enjoy the people and not worry about the stuff.   

Now mind you, this tip works well for Cali because she is tidy, tidy, tidy. They don’t wear shoes inside and she likes things really clean (she hovered over her own toilet and wore flip flops in her own shower for several months until they could gut and remodel their bathroom).

A few weeks ago an extra nine of us went to stay with Ray and Cali. They always have a comfortable bed for everyone, nice blankets, clean sheets, and a pantry full of cheese, crackers, salamis, trail mix, ice cream, etc.  They have good ideas of things to do and are willing to play lots of games.  In short, they are hosts extraordinaire. Cali called a few hours after we left and said, “You’re so right! I didn’t stress once. I didn’t mop the floors or clean extra and no one even noticed. (quick pause) Did you notice? (continuing without missing a beat) And when you guys left so did all the stuff. Having company is so easy now!”

Tuesdays with Ande

Poor Ande. The rest of our kids just got my preaching at home, but it has followed Ande. I was not only her moralizing mother, but also her primary teacher, primary president, Sunday school teacher, seminary teacher and now, her evening religion instructor. She is to be admired. She’s heard it all before—all of it, for years and years—but she smiles back at me, listens, includes those around her, and is still willing to add her two cents.

I have lots to learn from Ande:

1. Endurance.

2. Patience.

3. Wear red glasses—even if you have 20/20 eyesight—to mix things up a bit.

4. Use your deep guttural laugh often.

5. Sleep when you’re tired, eat when you’re hungry, work when you’re broke, play when you can, and spend some time alone every day so you don’t get cross.

6. Don’t be afraid to try new things, eat new foods, read new books, listen to new music, and develop new talents and interests.

I’m glad Ande and I have been side by side through lots of Tuesdays. She is a good teacher.

Monday Memories—Flagpole

Thanksgiving 1998

Calvin, Cousin Whitney

Cali, Abe, Uncle Hugh, Garth (Hugh’s brother)

Ande, Ty

And a Happy Flag Day to you. I was about fourteen or fifteen years old when my brother-in-law made a flagpole and gave it to my mom for Christmas. It was the first of its kind and I liked having a flagpole very much, but I was a wee bit embarrassed that a silver-painted toilet float was the knob at the top of the flagpole. Fourteen year olds worry about things like that. When my friend reassured me no one would ever know, I liked the flag pole even better.

Twenty years later when Calvin and I had a family of our own, we moved to Washington and that same brother-in-law made us a flagpole for our home. Instead of me worrying about the silver-painted-toilet-float-knob, our fifteen year old did. I reassured her just like my friend had me that no one would ever know. Still today that flag pole is one of the favorite things in our yard. And, long live the toilet float, it has long since fallen off and rolled away somewhere.

Tonight for family home evening we celebrated Flag Day. Even though we were just having meatloaf we set the table with white plates and napkins, blue and red cups, and a flag tray in the center.

  

After supper, we pulled out the crayons, markers, and coloring pencils and colored Betsy Ross, patriot, liberty, flag pictures. Yes, even Calvin colored a picture.  Ande wouldn’t let us take a picture of her because she hadn’t had a chance to shower after work.

Then we went outside, retired our tattered flag, replaced it with a new one and said the Pledge of Allegiance. It was a grand ol’ family night.

52 Blessings—Winning

This is a fairly familiar spring scene at our house: Calvin sitting at the computer watching Arizona State University play baseball. There are no people on the screen. There is no turf. There is no bubblegum. There isn’t even organ music. There is just a computerized baseball diamond with little orange dots representing players moving from base to base. I thought TV baseball was boring, but this takes boring to a whole new level. But not for Calvin, he loves it. For years he kept track of ASU scores through his dad. Each week when his dad called they’d discuss the week’s games. But his dad died and a year later he was able to start watching them on the computer. Abe has partially filled the ASU-conversation-void his dad left; just this morning I heard Grace ask Calvin, “Abe wants to know how ASU is doing.”

ASU is in the play-offs and last night their game was on TV. Calvin sat behind me on the couch while I sat at the computer. Out of nowhere, he hollered and hooped. Loudly. It scared me and Grace heard it all the way down the hall with the fan going full blast.  ASU tied the game.  Evidently that is a big deal.  After he cheered, Calvin relaxed back in the chair and quietly resumed watching the game for another hour or two without saying another word. ASU finally won in the 12th inning.  I fell asleep in the bottom of the ninth.

This morning I was thinking about how glad Calvin was that ASU won. And that’s when I thought about what a blessing winning can be. Through the years, there are many wins I’ve been grateful for—a football game win over Pasco, a wrestling match win against South Ridge, a state volleyball game, the last game of dominoes where the loser bought the milkshakes, not to mention the many battles and debates for freedom won.

Losing can be a blessing, too, but winning is a funner blessing.

Any wins you’re grateful for?

Life in My World—Random Is as Random Does

Our keyboard and mouse died—they’ve been sucking air for several months I just didn’t know how badly until we got new ones yesterday. The new mouse zips from corner to corner and the keyboard only needs one dainty, light touch—no more pounding on “t” twice. Enough about keyboards and mice, sufficeth me to say I can post again.

This has been our weather of late. My neighbor brought her grandsons over to gather eggs a couple of days ago and later I went to her house to hear her nine year old grandson play his fiddle/violin. He’s really quite incredible and it was a wonderful personal recital.  After he’d played a few songs he sat down on the piano bench and began a discussion about the “cumulous clouds we’ve been experiencing.” It was a delightful conversation. Our cloud displays really have been quite fascinating.

Trevor, Michelle, and the girls came and stayed several days. They stopped in Montana to pick up a new dog on the way. His name is Ryker and he likes to watch ants.

Head:  Ray

Nose:  Trevor, Cortney, Cali, Grace

Hand:  Joe, Ande, Calvin, Nikki, Michelle

While Trevor & Co. were here we went to Seattle to see Ray and Cali. Among many stops, one was to see the troll under the bridge. What a funny way to use your talents to make the world just a little bit better—put a troll under a bridge.

I braided a “faith, hope, charity” bracelet the other day. I need to wear it at least five more days. It’s driving me a bit batty, I don’t think I’ve worn one since grade-school, but the weight of cutting the threads of charity, hope, and faith before their time is heavier than wearing it.

Friday Grace and I attended my niece’s graduation ceremony. She received her master’s degree in social work. I am extremely proud of her. Though I didn’t think to take a picture of us, I did think to take a picture of the man shading his bald head with a handkerchief that sat across the aisle from us.

A friend gave us four gift certificates to Golden Corral. Each one was for $13.68.  How very thoughtful to include a drink.  We used them this week.  And then last night we came home from my niece's graduation to find fresh whipped cream and strawberries in the fridge and brown sugar cake on a plate on the counter from another friend.  Again, how very thoughtful. Some people just do the right things at the right times. I’m grateful for people like that. 

I dropped my breakfast this week. I have no idea how high the fiber count of gravel is when added to wheat and peanut butter, all I know is I had my camera in my hand so I took a picture.  It's not every day you eat gravel for breakfast.

One of my friends is running a marathon. Hands down this band-aid "God speed . . . " tag is one of the better ones I've ever made.

Okay.  I'm off.  It's Saturday and fast keyboard or not there is still a house to clean and a garden to weed and clothes to iron and more random to gather . . .