Water, Water, Everywhere

I finally felt well enough to go to work yesterday, got up when the alarm went off, and swung my feet to the floor...the wet floor.  At first I thought the humidifier had leaked in the night but nope, too much water for that.  On my way to the bathroom, I found the hallway was filled with a whole lot of water.  Then I heard it, what sounded like a shower running full blast.  In my mind, I could envision a tub filled to overflowing, water running amok.

There is just an indescribable feeling you get when you wake up on a snowy morning and see that there is water in every room and massive amounts of it flowing from your ceiling. I moved pretty fast for a senior citizen, summoning both Kyle & Teelay who came and stared at it with me. I sent Kyle out to turn off the water to the house.  He had no clue what that was about but called Jason who gave some direction. Teelay and I started grabbing about two dozen towels and throwing them everywhere.  Since we didn't have any water, we just put them sopping wet into the washer on spin cycle and dried them as fast as possible for new duty.

I had to wait an hour before the insurance company opened, but they gave me a phone number for some cleanup people they recommend.  By eleven, two handy guys showed up.  I mainly tried to stay out of their way.  Interestingly enough, the one in charge was named Jason and his assistant was named Jared.  After about an hour and a half, this Jason came out to say it wasn't a frozen water pipe as we had all supposed but was from a broken PLASTIC water valve that supplies water to the toilet.  We hadn't noticed that it was shooting up in all the falling down and by the time we had any senses about us, the water had been turned off.  I wouldn't have thought we had such water pressure anywhere in the house anyway.

They could only do so much since they had to send the flooring and a ceiling sample out to the lab for any asbestos and mold analysis.  They will have those results tomorrow.  My Jason came over after work; we went to Lowe's and bought a whole new valve replacement for less than $5.  The plumber said he could do it for $98.  I gave Jason $10 and everybody was happy but the plumber.

What they did accomplish was tearing up all the floors in two bedrooms, the bathroom, the hallway and the living room.  Those will all have to be replaced, along with possibly two walls, one ceiling, and for sure the vanity which got waterlogged.  They left me with 8 horrendously LOUD gigantic fans, one gigantic dehumidifier and a promise to get in touch me tomorrow with some totals.  Thankfully, the insurance deductible is $500 so I am pretty happy, if inconvenienced.  It will take 2-3 weeks (actually took about six months because we all but rebuilt half the house) but will be worth it when it's done.  Right now we are dealing with the smell of wet but are glad to be warm and safe and have running water in the house (not from the house) again, one of life's finest pleasures!

I do not like it, Sam I Am.
I do not like it with a pan.
I do not like it with a fan.
I do not like it, Sam I Am.
I do not like the cold, wet floor
That reaches almost to the door.
I'm in a pickle,
In a jam.
I do not like it, Sam I Am!

Are They All Crazy?

Sarah was here with the boys today.

Teddy likes fruit, so I cut an apple into small pieces for him and put it in a little silver bowl he likes.  He started munching on the tidbits, walked over and gave me some, went over to his mother and gave her some and went over to the walker where his brother, Huck, was sitting and put some in the little tray of the walker.

We smiled and said, "Thank you, Teddy" when he gave us our apples but as soon as he shared with his brother, he was told "No."  Sarah grabbed the morsels out of Huck's reach, so what did Teddy do?  He just got some more pieces out of his bowl and put more in the little tray of the walker. It was such a sweet thing to do, but I wondered how many times he must think we're all crazy.

He's such a good little worker, loves to help put the soap in the dishwasher and close the door, helps move clothes from the washer to the dryer and learned that we push those buttons.  That's where he runs into the "No" word.  I can see him wondering why it's ok sometimes and not others and why would we try to curtail him when he's only doing what we do.

Kids are so neat!

What Was That Stuff?

Grandma Rice always made some raisin-like cake for Christmas and she topped it with some truly disgusting white sugary syrup.  Maybe the raisins were actually figs.  Maybe what she made was actually Figgie Pudding.  It wasn't the kind made with flaming brandy as one Wiki article says.  At least I never saw any flames or brandy.  All I knew is that I wouldn't even be in the same room with the stuff.

Also, you wouldn't believe the effort that goes into making real figgie pudding:

• 1/2 cup butter
• 1/2 cup vegetable shortening
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 3 large egg yolks
• 1 cup milk
• 2 tablespoons rum extract (or flavored extract of your choice)
• 2 apples, peeled and cored and finely chopped
• 2 pounds dried figs, ground or finely chopped
• Grated peel of 1 lemon and 1 orange
• 1 cup chopped nuts
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 1/2 cups dried bread crumbs
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 3 large egg whites, stiffly beaten
• 1 strip of bacon, finely crushed (optional - New England variant)
• 1 teaspoon of hot sauce, for drizzling

Procedure[edit]

1. Preheat oven to 325 °F. Generously grease an oven-proof 2-quart bowl or mold; set aside.
2. Cream together butter and shortening.
3. Gradually add sugar, egg yolks, milk, extract, apple, figs, lemon and orange peel.
4. Add next 6 ingredients, mixing well. Fold stiffly beaten egg whites into mixture.
5. Pour into prepared bowl or mold and place into large shallow pan and place on middle rack in oven.
6. Fill the shallow pan half-full with boiling water and slowly steam pudding in oven at 325 °F for 4 hours, replacing water as needed.

Feel free to try it if you like to cook and have all the time in the world. Please don't worry about me.  I'll be fine without any.

Know Your Veggies, Etc.

If any of these aren't right, it's my fault rather than Teelay's.  When she got hired at a local grocery store, she was surprised that many of the vegetable/fruit codes were the same as they are in Canadian grocery stores.

She was telling me one day about things they say, like:

1-"You drive me 4011!"  (bananas) though it could be 4386 (nuts)
2-How do they remember the code for cantaloupe, 4050?  "You can't elope til you're 40 or 50."
3-You are the 4133 of my eye.
4-3107 you glad this isn't a knock knock joke?
5-"4816 pie and shut my eye"
6-Doesn't that 4081 all?
7-Do you 4576 all about me?
8-4062 pray
9-I had to call the 4040-er about my backed-up sink
10-Where ya 4066?
11-She's a hot 4664!
12-Who lives in a 4032 under the sea?  Sponge Bob Square Pants!
13-Someone from Australia is called a 4030.
14-Key 4048 pie
15-That car I bought is a real 4053!
16-They're a cute 4409.

How fun :o)

p.s.  If a code begins with the number 9, you know it's organic.Also, an 8 at the front means it's been genetically-modified.  Interestingly enough, berries are sold per unit rather than by code.  The stuff you didn't know you didn't know, eh?

Walmart?

I'm not making any suggestions but this article had some interesting things about funerals in  it that I had never heard about and decided to pass it along just for the heck of it:

http://ldsmag.com/article/1/13299

Go Go, Grandma

That's the name of the family activity I've planned for ages that never quite came to fruition until today.

At 4:30 p.m. people should be arriving.  We are going to check all the fluid levels and tire pressure, plus clean out the cars (original plan was to wash all the cars but that became a little too intimidating).  That way we aren't all calling Jason when the first cold snap hits and our cars have issues.

After that we are going to have a wiener roast in the portable fire pit by the back door that sends smoke into the house, but there's no place to put it that's any better.  What's for dinner, you ask?  Well...at the "Pit Stop" we have:

1-Hot Rods (hot dogs)
2-Garages (buns)
3-Wheels (cookies)
4-Dip sticks (fruit, etc on a skewer)
5-Waving flag (wavy potato chips
6-gas (pork and beans, what else)
7-stick shifts (carrots)
8-Turtle Wax (Ranch dip)
9-Steering wheels (pickles)
10-Pick your fluid (oil/root beer float, anti freeze/orange float, tranny/grape float)  Last party we had the same floats but named them after animals.  (What can I say, we have good parties!)

After dinner we will have a couple of games.  One is a version of Pictionary where we draw and guess models of cars ie. Mustang Cobra, Jetta, Dodge Ram, Elantra, Pontiac, Ford Taurus, etc.  The other game I've come up with is sort of like Mad Gab, one of our favorite games, only this will be guess what those personalized license plates are; for instance:

1BUG2C

On a 1967 Volkswagen Bug

2N2R4

On the car of a math teacher

B4DKCME

Before decay, see me, on a dentist's truck.

EIEIO

On the old Ford FARM pick-up truck.

HIHO AG

Hi ho silver!

I12BNZC

I want to be in zee Sea, a diver.

After that, we'll watch cars and chill.  Sounds fun, huh?

Vroom! Vroom!

 

Betty Lou

I remember the year my parents brought her home, the white Apache Chevy truck.  It was the spring of 1965.  On a frugal farm budget, this was a momentous event, so momentous in fact that my dad almost let me go with them to pick her up.  At the last minute, he couldn't quite justify letting a kid sluff school, even if grades were excellent and morale was high. It was quite a let-down, but I didn't question it.  No doubt he thought if he started coming up with reasons to miss class, it might get out of hand.

They did, however, time their return to coincide with the closing bell of school so I could ride the rest of the way home with them.  It's one of those moments when you imagine angels singing as you lead the parade.

Betty Lou was a good worker.  She hauled those dams I mentioned yesterday, along with countless tons of hay.  She also took us up the canyon for cookouts.  Her long bed accommodated someone lying down, whereas Old Blue, her predecessor was too short for that.  I remember that because once I rode that way on a rare trip to SLC.  The thought of letting a kid lie in the back of an open truck now boggles the mind, but back then it wasn't a concern.  There weren't any freeways back then so maybe the speeds didn't get so high.  Ten years ago, Dad gave his old Chevy to my son, Nik.  The only caveat he made to Nik was that if he ever fixed it up to sell, he would have to give his grandpa half the money.

My recollection is that my dad told me he named the truck Betty, after Betty Boop.  It was after it came into Nik's hands that it became Betty Lou.  He even has her name stenciled in white across the windshield. Betty Lou is still a good worker.  She saved the day when Nik didn't have another transportation.  It's hauled household goods during many moves and made endless trips to the dump.  Her doors don't lock automatically and you have to lock the driver's door or it will come open on a turn and almost literally throw you out.  Nik found this out the hard way.

Betty Lou doesn't have air conditioning, other than those little windows you can tip towards yourself to divert any breeze caused as you drive along. The front seat is big enough to accommodate four people easily.  She doesn't have seat belts, which I find quite unnerving.

All this came to mind as Nik and I went to SLC Saturday to pick up some bed toppers.  We had been working and painting and looked rather disheveled I'm sure.  He had a handkerchief wrapped around his head, do-rag fashion and with his goatee and growing mustache, looked a bit like a biker in an old truck. Windows down, tearing along at freeway speeds with both windows open, I looked a bit like the spawn of Richard Simmons and Winonna Judd. He turned up the radio and sang along.  I don't know what he was singing because the noise was unbelievable.  I had no idea cars flying along on the freeway could be so noisy.  He kept saying stuff but I couldn't catch the words so finally said, "Now I know why Dad lost his hearing!"

I'll admit that there was about 10% of me (the part that wasn't terrified) that could appreciate what a good time we were having, creatures from a current time pretending we lived in a kinder world.

Miss Betty Loud, you keep on truckin, Girl!

The Scoutmaster

One summer when we lived in Vernal (and we lived there many summers), Jared went camping with the scouts.  There were two leaders and several scouts.  

Everyone was sitting around the campfire chatting when the discussion lead to bears and the scoutmaster reminded the boys to make sure they didn't leave any food out to tempt the wildlife in the night.  After all, they were in the High Uintas.   The scouts turned in and were soon asleep.

Sometime later, Jared was wakened by a noise, something brushing against the tent, making a rustling sound.  He waited, and it happened again.  He poked and prodded the other boys awake, speaking in a soft whisper.  Then they heard a growl and really started to panic...inwards.  

The bear brushed the tent again, harder this time.  The scouts were frantically trying to remember if they had left any food out or, worse yet, had any food in the tent with them.  

Just when they were ab0ut to blow, they heard laughing, the muffled laughing of the scoutmasters.  It was a camp they will always remember :o)  

The Gift

A few Sundays ago, I said hello to a little girl who just happens to be the daughter of one of Kyle's friends.  She's a pretty little thing, probably about 4 years old.  Her name is Maya and her family came from Central America.

Maya was carrying a dandelion and I told her what a pretty flower she had.  She smiled and reached out to hand it to me.  For about two seconds I was in a quandary.  Take her only flower or politely try to refuse it? When you're dealing with a child who willing shares, you are dealing with a very tender thing so I thanked her sincerely and held it properly for the hour and a half. Maya just happened to walk by after the meeting and checked to see if I was still holding it.  Which I was.

We are now friends :o)

2 x 4

We walked to the parade the other day and I didn't think to take a chair, but will next time.

I could have used one of my dad's milking stools.  Those were easier than pie to make (trust me) and extremely useful. I have made more than one in my day and could do it again.  Of course, I'd have to make it about two feet higher in order to get up off it and I'd probably want to install some of that gel topper foam, too, maybe a little spring on the bottom, handles on the sides...  

Dad used his stool probably 50 times a day while milking the cows.  I do wonder what people did before buckets and stools came along.  Rocks come to mind, but that doesn't sound portable enough and kinda dangerous as well.  Dad's stool was simply one 12-inch 2x4 nailed to the middle of another one, making a T.    It took some body-balancing and some caution to avoid slivers, but farmers are tough enough to work with that...and so are farmer's daughters.

It resembled this one, but the pieces were equal in dimension and more rustic.   
I did on rare occasion see him pop a reluctant-to-move cow with one.  She tended to become less reluctant.
Necessity being the Mother of invention, Dad was a good Mother.