My graduating grandson, Talon, and I were talking this week about things we are unsure of during Covid 19:
1- How will we know if we have turned into procrastinators or were just that way to begin with?
2- Do we call our friends and ask them to go on a virtual walk to get some exercise?
3- Graduation gowns--all dressed up and nowhere to go.
4- What are they going to put in yearbooks, as far as the year's school activities? Will they give a refund if it's only half as thick as normal?
5- Do guys say to their potential dates, "Will you not go to the prom with me?"
6- This year in April I had a surprise birthday party. Surprise, NO PARTY.!
7- When will we know what day of the week it is so we can once again post Throwback Thursdays?
8- When will the lunch ladies ever get a vacation?
9- Will children grow taller since they aren't having to lug around heavy backpacks?
10-On the plus side, we no longer have to use the store app to know which aisles contain toilet paper and cleaners.
11-Moms no longer have to cry about sending their kindgarteners off on the bus...unless they want to.
12-No need for new clothes, school picture day, locker fees, PE uniforms.
13- Hugs will become even more important. It's not all bad.
Saturday, May 2, 2020
Saturday, November 16, 2019
Ping Pong
The summer I was 16 my parents let me drive by myself to Ten Sleep, Wyoming to visit Vernon and Doris Rice. Vernon was my dad's cousin; in fact, my dad was named after Vernon's dad, Edward. They had come to visit us the summer before and invited me out to visit them at their ranch in Ten Sleep (418.3 miles from Clifton). This was before the Ted Bundy days so getting lost was the biggest fear parents had.
Those who know me know that I'm a real homebody so this was quite the adventure. Things went quite well until I was somewhere near the Idaho-Wyoming border. The road wound through the tree-lined canyon. The problem with that is that there were tall trees lining the road and the sun was out so it gave an on and off again flickering effect. I can't even watch the water running in the bath and it gave me a really bad case of motion sickness. That's the only time I thought of turning around, but I'd promised them a visit and stubbornness is a Rice family trait.
After what seemed forever, I came across the Badlands. They are just as described. It was so wonderful to reach the pretty town of Lander, population about 7,000 which seemed like a major city. Ten Sleep is two and a half hours from Lander. The thing is it's like a mogul moonscape. You cannot see any sign of life, just dirt mogul after dirt mogul. Just when I was about to lose hope, right around the next group of moguls, there was nestled the cutest little town!
Ten Sleep was so named because the American Indians measured it as ten sleeps from Ft. Laramie, Yellowstone Park, and Stillwater, Montana. (That's how I used to tell the kids how long it was til Christmas, etc, so many more sleeps.)
Vern and Doris were salt-of-the-earth people, very welcoming. They were ranchers and far more important in the community than I realized, though they gave no indication. Food was homemade. Doris made beautiful quits and she gave me one.
Vern took me out on the ranch to check on the sheep. He had two sheepdogs, Ping and Pong. I had not ever seen, nor have since seen, anything like the work they did. He just whistled here and there and those dogs acted like kids turned loose in a candy shop. They must have run miles gathering up all the sheep and did it so fast they were like two little blurs. My recollection is that they were big collies, black and white.
One day they took me to Buffalo, a town you would expect they would film Lonesome Dove or Longmire. He bought me a beautiful yellow western scarf. It was a wonderful day and a wonderful trip. There are many wonderful people who bless our lives.
Those who know me know that I'm a real homebody so this was quite the adventure. Things went quite well until I was somewhere near the Idaho-Wyoming border. The road wound through the tree-lined canyon. The problem with that is that there were tall trees lining the road and the sun was out so it gave an on and off again flickering effect. I can't even watch the water running in the bath and it gave me a really bad case of motion sickness. That's the only time I thought of turning around, but I'd promised them a visit and stubbornness is a Rice family trait.
After what seemed forever, I came across the Badlands. They are just as described. It was so wonderful to reach the pretty town of Lander, population about 7,000 which seemed like a major city. Ten Sleep is two and a half hours from Lander. The thing is it's like a mogul moonscape. You cannot see any sign of life, just dirt mogul after dirt mogul. Just when I was about to lose hope, right around the next group of moguls, there was nestled the cutest little town!
Ten Sleep was so named because the American Indians measured it as ten sleeps from Ft. Laramie, Yellowstone Park, and Stillwater, Montana. (That's how I used to tell the kids how long it was til Christmas, etc, so many more sleeps.)
Vern and Doris were salt-of-the-earth people, very welcoming. They were ranchers and far more important in the community than I realized, though they gave no indication. Food was homemade. Doris made beautiful quits and she gave me one.
Vern took me out on the ranch to check on the sheep. He had two sheepdogs, Ping and Pong. I had not ever seen, nor have since seen, anything like the work they did. He just whistled here and there and those dogs acted like kids turned loose in a candy shop. They must have run miles gathering up all the sheep and did it so fast they were like two little blurs. My recollection is that they were big collies, black and white.
One day they took me to Buffalo, a town you would expect they would film Lonesome Dove or Longmire. He bought me a beautiful yellow western scarf. It was a wonderful day and a wonderful trip. There are many wonderful people who bless our lives.
Tuesday, November 5, 2019
"Mark"
Over the last several years, but more this year, I've been doing "indexing", which is looking at an old record that was handwritten and typing it so it's easier to read. Also, as the old images fade, they aren't lost.
The last few months I've been averaging around 2000 records a month, half an hour or so each day. The ones I'm doing now come in amounts of 5, but there are some that have had 10. You can select the types you want to do. The last census was actually fun; get me in a routine and stand back. The ones I'm reviewing right now are WWI draft registration cards from Pennsylvania, people born towards the end of the 1800's. Because of the time period, the names are all male.
(I had to give up on the death records because it made me too sad, infant mortality being so high.)
While typing the draft cards, I think of what their lives must have been like back then: clerks, teamsters, machinists, a doctor, so very very many listed as miners. In Oxford History, a book written by Oxford residents, Orthea Moser and Dee Boyce, there is an account of a miner family that was so tragic I still can barely think about it. We may think times are hard now, but we don't have any idea how rough it was back then.
I think of the mud in the streets, the women washing clothes on washboards or rocks, field work, open coal fires, no communication with loved ones far away, working with dangerous chemicals. It helps keep me appreciative of my blessings.
On the sort of humorous side, I kept noticing that on the signature lines, there was often an up arrow, fitting "Mark" in between first and last names. Who knows how many records I've messed up adding the middle name of Mark when it actually just meant someone was writing the name for the person who couldn't sign his name but was placing his "mark" on the line.
The last few months I've been averaging around 2000 records a month, half an hour or so each day. The ones I'm doing now come in amounts of 5, but there are some that have had 10. You can select the types you want to do. The last census was actually fun; get me in a routine and stand back. The ones I'm reviewing right now are WWI draft registration cards from Pennsylvania, people born towards the end of the 1800's. Because of the time period, the names are all male.
(I had to give up on the death records because it made me too sad, infant mortality being so high.)
While typing the draft cards, I think of what their lives must have been like back then: clerks, teamsters, machinists, a doctor, so very very many listed as miners. In Oxford History, a book written by Oxford residents, Orthea Moser and Dee Boyce, there is an account of a miner family that was so tragic I still can barely think about it. We may think times are hard now, but we don't have any idea how rough it was back then.
I think of the mud in the streets, the women washing clothes on washboards or rocks, field work, open coal fires, no communication with loved ones far away, working with dangerous chemicals. It helps keep me appreciative of my blessings.
On the sort of humorous side, I kept noticing that on the signature lines, there was often an up arrow, fitting "Mark" in between first and last names. Who knows how many records I've messed up adding the middle name of Mark when it actually just meant someone was writing the name for the person who couldn't sign his name but was placing his "mark" on the line.
Tuesday, May 7, 2019
The Party
Last year I traveled to 12 different diners/drug stores from Ephriam to Logan in search of the perfect ice cream malt. There were a few pretty good ones, and some that they should have been embarrassed to label "malts". It's been a fun journey, and I finally found the perfect malt, interestingly made right here at home.
For my birthday a couple of weeks ago, we threw a big party. Sherry was able to come down from Canada for a week, Nik got has Master's in Education, several other birthdays had just passed or were just coming up, plus next month we have another graduation. The rain has made the whole county beautiful, so why not have a soiree, not that we need a reason to party?
In preparation, I purchased six gallons of BYU ice cream. They know their business. I bought an 8-ft sandwich from Walmart and have to say it was pretty darn good. We had salads and chips and my sweet granddaughter, Taylor, age 12, spent an entire day making and decorating a 6-layer birthday cake. THANKS, TAY!
The weatherman had predicted rain for that Friday for ten days in a row. The night before, they changed that to rain/possibly hail. There were about 40 people coming and though we are used to being crammed together, this would be a stretch, but the night actually turned out beautiful. They were able to play Kubb. We brought out the patio heater and sat around like moths til 10:30 or so. What a wonderful night. The only negative is that some of us were pretty teary-eyed knowing Sherry and family would leave the next morning and who knows when we will see them again. I watched her hugging and snuggling those little granddaughters, sucking in the memories.
We still have 3 gallons of ice cream left over, so come on over.
For my birthday a couple of weeks ago, we threw a big party. Sherry was able to come down from Canada for a week, Nik got has Master's in Education, several other birthdays had just passed or were just coming up, plus next month we have another graduation. The rain has made the whole county beautiful, so why not have a soiree, not that we need a reason to party?
In preparation, I purchased six gallons of BYU ice cream. They know their business. I bought an 8-ft sandwich from Walmart and have to say it was pretty darn good. We had salads and chips and my sweet granddaughter, Taylor, age 12, spent an entire day making and decorating a 6-layer birthday cake. THANKS, TAY!
The weatherman had predicted rain for that Friday for ten days in a row. The night before, they changed that to rain/possibly hail. There were about 40 people coming and though we are used to being crammed together, this would be a stretch, but the night actually turned out beautiful. They were able to play Kubb. We brought out the patio heater and sat around like moths til 10:30 or so. What a wonderful night. The only negative is that some of us were pretty teary-eyed knowing Sherry and family would leave the next morning and who knows when we will see them again. I watched her hugging and snuggling those little granddaughters, sucking in the memories.
We still have 3 gallons of ice cream left over, so come on over.
Friday, December 28, 2018
Are We There Yet?
In 1985, we refinanced the house and decided to take a well-deserved family vacation, the first one ever. (And ever after.) We had four boys and one girl at the time, ages 4, 8, 9, 12, and 14. My parents had always talked about how beautiful their trip was to Lake Louise in Alberta, Canada. See us go.
We rented a 32-ft trailer for $300, an extreme splurge. Our truck had dual gas tanks plus one of those campers you put in the back of your truck. The truck had a sliding back window, but the camper window was set We could take one child at a time in the front seat so took along some paper and pencils for communication with the others. It's no doubt wildly unsafe and illegal now, but seat belts weren't even used back then, let alone mandatory. It is not unusual even now for drivers over 55 to throw their arms out in front of passengers (or even empty seats) to try to stop them from hitting their heads on the dash. I do it myself.
Even though there were no freeways along the route at this time, we decided to avoid the "traffic" in western Montana and take the back roads. We made it to Idaho Falls and stopped for lunch. The kids were messing around and Jared chipped a big hunk out of his front tooth on the propane tank. Luckily, it didn't seem to cause him pain, and we'd already paid for the trailer, you know, so on we went.
Montana is not overstating things when they call themselves "Big Sky Country". We finally had to pull over literally in the middle of nowhere to camp for the night. When we woke the next morning, we discovered that a big spider or bug of some kind had bitten Nik's face and his eye was almost swollen shut.
For some reason, I ended up doing most of the driving. We finally pulled into a town whose name I have forgotten, though the fields approaching the town were the most beautiful I'd ever seen. We ate, gassed up both tanks that were nearly empty, and were just pulling the convoy out of town when a tire blew. You ask how one can be grateful for a flat tire? It helps to remember that you have just driven for hours without seeing one single vehicle going or coming.
Meanwhile, back in the camper, notes were flying. "He's being mean to me!" "Sherry spilled her drink." "I need to go to the bathroom." We need to stop and fish." Jason had gotten ahold of some cherry bomb firecrackers and a lighter. I don't know how many times he scared us to death while promising it was the last one.
We naively thought that you could just pull over and camp anywhere in Yellowstone Park. Some trickster had put up barriers on the sides of the roads so you couldn't even stop at all until Old Faithful. We were surprised to see our neighbor's vehicle, though we didn't see them.
We had stopped somewhere in Wyoming to buy fireworks (not my idea). The guy at the border said we could either leave them with him and return that day or forfeit them and continue on our trip. He also mentioned that another vehicle from Vernal had just crossed, quite the coincidence.
No way would we forfeit the fireworks so left them temporarily and drove to Waterton Park, ate by St. Mary Lake, bought a plaque with an elk on it that said Waterton Park (stamped "Made in China" on the back as we discovered later), gave a wave in the direction of Lake Louise, and swung back to pick up our fireworks. After climbing to St. Mary Lake with the gas pedal all the way to the floor and feeling as if at any moment we might start sliding backwards, I was ready to head home anyway. It had begun to feel like Lucy & Ricky's "The Long Trailer".
A few days later our neighbors came over to tell us about their spontaneous trip to Canada. They had a great time. We totaled up the cost of our trip...$1200, probably about the same price as a trip to Hawaii, but oh, the memories we had, right?
Do you know how big your house can seem after spending a week in a trailer with five children? BIG. Home Sweet Home!
Trip of a lifetime...hopefully.
We rented a 32-ft trailer for $300, an extreme splurge. Our truck had dual gas tanks plus one of those campers you put in the back of your truck. The truck had a sliding back window, but the camper window was set We could take one child at a time in the front seat so took along some paper and pencils for communication with the others. It's no doubt wildly unsafe and illegal now, but seat belts weren't even used back then, let alone mandatory. It is not unusual even now for drivers over 55 to throw their arms out in front of passengers (or even empty seats) to try to stop them from hitting their heads on the dash. I do it myself.
Even though there were no freeways along the route at this time, we decided to avoid the "traffic" in western Montana and take the back roads. We made it to Idaho Falls and stopped for lunch. The kids were messing around and Jared chipped a big hunk out of his front tooth on the propane tank. Luckily, it didn't seem to cause him pain, and we'd already paid for the trailer, you know, so on we went.
Montana is not overstating things when they call themselves "Big Sky Country". We finally had to pull over literally in the middle of nowhere to camp for the night. When we woke the next morning, we discovered that a big spider or bug of some kind had bitten Nik's face and his eye was almost swollen shut.
For some reason, I ended up doing most of the driving. We finally pulled into a town whose name I have forgotten, though the fields approaching the town were the most beautiful I'd ever seen. We ate, gassed up both tanks that were nearly empty, and were just pulling the convoy out of town when a tire blew. You ask how one can be grateful for a flat tire? It helps to remember that you have just driven for hours without seeing one single vehicle going or coming.
Meanwhile, back in the camper, notes were flying. "He's being mean to me!" "Sherry spilled her drink." "I need to go to the bathroom." We need to stop and fish." Jason had gotten ahold of some cherry bomb firecrackers and a lighter. I don't know how many times he scared us to death while promising it was the last one.
We naively thought that you could just pull over and camp anywhere in Yellowstone Park. Some trickster had put up barriers on the sides of the roads so you couldn't even stop at all until Old Faithful. We were surprised to see our neighbor's vehicle, though we didn't see them.
We had stopped somewhere in Wyoming to buy fireworks (not my idea). The guy at the border said we could either leave them with him and return that day or forfeit them and continue on our trip. He also mentioned that another vehicle from Vernal had just crossed, quite the coincidence.
No way would we forfeit the fireworks so left them temporarily and drove to Waterton Park, ate by St. Mary Lake, bought a plaque with an elk on it that said Waterton Park (stamped "Made in China" on the back as we discovered later), gave a wave in the direction of Lake Louise, and swung back to pick up our fireworks. After climbing to St. Mary Lake with the gas pedal all the way to the floor and feeling as if at any moment we might start sliding backwards, I was ready to head home anyway. It had begun to feel like Lucy & Ricky's "The Long Trailer".
A few days later our neighbors came over to tell us about their spontaneous trip to Canada. They had a great time. We totaled up the cost of our trip...$1200, probably about the same price as a trip to Hawaii, but oh, the memories we had, right?
Do you know how big your house can seem after spending a week in a trailer with five children? BIG. Home Sweet Home!
Trip of a lifetime...hopefully.
Monday, November 26, 2018
In Reflection
In December of last year, a few weeks before I retired, I was sitting at the phone desk and happened to notice the tepees outside the window in the parking lot. Provo is always hosting some group or other so I thought maybe it was American Indian week, though they seemed to have appeared without much ado. Also, there wasn't any indication of what was going on in Tepeeville. How many tepees can you see?
It took me several minutes to figure out that there actually were no tepees. It was all an illusion with the light and darkness silhouetting the interior walls of the courthouse with reflections on the windows. The interesting thing is that only about half of the people I pointed this out to could see the tepees. The silent campground hung around for the last few weeks of December. I'm sure they've set up camp again this year. I miss them.
Hope you had a Happy Thanksgiving.
Tuesday, October 23, 2018
Missing...
Swirl is missing. Four days now. It's raining outside and getting colder and darker.
She's independent, wise, feisty, loving, loyal and a good mouser. She's also over 13 years old and has lived here for almost her whole life. Kyle named her because she has bobcat swirl hair in her ears.
We know she would be home if she could. We have checked all the local shelters and websites and Facebook and the neighborhood as well as the streets for blocks around.
Her long hair used to drive us crazy. Her wanting to sit on us every second felt annoying. Her loud meow when she brought a mouse into her family was rather gory. Her lounging on the back of the couch has made a cat-dent in the cushions.
Teddy & Huck have cried and the rest of us have intermittently teary eyes. We are leaving her bed and food and water dishes out, but she's never done this before, and I think she's gone for good.
Thanks, Swirl, for just being you.
She's independent, wise, feisty, loving, loyal and a good mouser. She's also over 13 years old and has lived here for almost her whole life. Kyle named her because she has bobcat swirl hair in her ears.
We know she would be home if she could. We have checked all the local shelters and websites and Facebook and the neighborhood as well as the streets for blocks around.
Her long hair used to drive us crazy. Her wanting to sit on us every second felt annoying. Her loud meow when she brought a mouse into her family was rather gory. Her lounging on the back of the couch has made a cat-dent in the cushions.
Teddy & Huck have cried and the rest of us have intermittently teary eyes. We are leaving her bed and food and water dishes out, but she's never done this before, and I think she's gone for good.
Thanks, Swirl, for just being you.
Thursday, January 25, 2018
She'll Be Coming Around the Mountain When She Comes...
She won't be riding six white horses, probably driving a silver Camry, but whatever works.
My non-professional goal, being the non-professional I am now since retiring recently from 29 years at the Court, is to find a malt just like the old-fashioned ones made by the malt/diner in Downey, Idaho well back into the last century. I am referring to the ones with real ice cream and malt mixed in those wonderful mixers like this:
My recollection is that the one in Downey was green and could mix two or three at a time. Part of the charm is they had to stop it mid-cycle to make sure the mix was doing well. Maybe that was just to build up our anticipation and delight. If that wasn't their reason for doing so, it worked that way anyway.
It used to be that a good malt was the norm. Somewhere along the line, someone decided to thicken the malt so it couldn't be drawn from a straw. Someone else had a thought on the other side of the spectrum and made malts so thin they were like a runny syrup. They also decided to half the malt flavoring, anything to save a few pennies.
Now a perfect malt, in my opinion, is one that you could drink with a straw or use the long spoon to dip in if you wanted a change of pace. The whole idea of a malt is to enjoy every sip. I have not found a malt in years where they fill up your glass (made of actual glass), hand you a straw and a malt spoon and lay the balance of the malt in the container where you can finish it off at your own pleasure.
I've taken a survey of friends and former coworkers as to possible malt places in Utah County or its surrounding counties. Here are the current contenders:
1-The Malt Shop in Ephraim
2-Stone Drug in Spanish Fork
3-Eli's in Payson
4-SOS Drug in Springville
5-The Trolley in Springville
6-Barry's in Spanish Fork
7-Glade's in Spanish Fork
8-Leatherby's in Draper
9-BYU Creamery
10-JCW's in Provo
11-Granny's in Heber City
12-Farr's (Orem & Ogden)
13-Peach City in Brigham City
14-Pace's Dairy Ann in Bountiful
15-Casper's in Richmond'
16-The Bluebird in Logan
17-Nielson Ice Cream in Bountiful
18-The Purple Turtle in Pleasant Grove
Nik made me an Instagram account called malt_maven just for the adventure. Neither he nor any of the rest of my family knew what a maven was (apparently not a word used these days) so I looked it up and found--
"A maven is a trusted expert in a particular field, who seeks to pass timely and relevant knowledge on to others in the respective field." I'm a NATURAL!
I'll be looking for the following: texture, taste, atmosphere, 3 points in each catagory, a 1 point bonus if it's served with a cup of water and a 1 point take-away if they put a cherry on top after I've requested they not do that.
Several people have said they'd like to go, too, but my grandson, Jesse, said, "Grandma, when do we go? I'll drive." SO, we are off to the Ephraim Malt Shop this Saturday. I will keep you posted. (By the way, Happy Birthday today, Jesse!)
malt_maven
My non-professional goal, being the non-professional I am now since retiring recently from 29 years at the Court, is to find a malt just like the old-fashioned ones made by the malt/diner in Downey, Idaho well back into the last century. I am referring to the ones with real ice cream and malt mixed in those wonderful mixers like this:
My recollection is that the one in Downey was green and could mix two or three at a time. Part of the charm is they had to stop it mid-cycle to make sure the mix was doing well. Maybe that was just to build up our anticipation and delight. If that wasn't their reason for doing so, it worked that way anyway.
It used to be that a good malt was the norm. Somewhere along the line, someone decided to thicken the malt so it couldn't be drawn from a straw. Someone else had a thought on the other side of the spectrum and made malts so thin they were like a runny syrup. They also decided to half the malt flavoring, anything to save a few pennies.
Now a perfect malt, in my opinion, is one that you could drink with a straw or use the long spoon to dip in if you wanted a change of pace. The whole idea of a malt is to enjoy every sip. I have not found a malt in years where they fill up your glass (made of actual glass), hand you a straw and a malt spoon and lay the balance of the malt in the container where you can finish it off at your own pleasure.
I've taken a survey of friends and former coworkers as to possible malt places in Utah County or its surrounding counties. Here are the current contenders:
1-The Malt Shop in Ephraim
2-Stone Drug in Spanish Fork
3-Eli's in Payson
4-SOS Drug in Springville
5-The Trolley in Springville
6-Barry's in Spanish Fork
7-Glade's in Spanish Fork
8-Leatherby's in Draper
9-BYU Creamery
10-JCW's in Provo
11-Granny's in Heber City
12-Farr's (Orem & Ogden)
13-Peach City in Brigham City
14-Pace's Dairy Ann in Bountiful
15-Casper's in Richmond'
16-The Bluebird in Logan
17-Nielson Ice Cream in Bountiful
18-The Purple Turtle in Pleasant Grove
Nik made me an Instagram account called malt_maven just for the adventure. Neither he nor any of the rest of my family knew what a maven was (apparently not a word used these days) so I looked it up and found--
"A maven is a trusted expert in a particular field, who seeks to pass timely and relevant knowledge on to others in the respective field." I'm a NATURAL!
I'll be looking for the following: texture, taste, atmosphere, 3 points in each catagory, a 1 point bonus if it's served with a cup of water and a 1 point take-away if they put a cherry on top after I've requested they not do that.
Several people have said they'd like to go, too, but my grandson, Jesse, said, "Grandma, when do we go? I'll drive." SO, we are off to the Ephraim Malt Shop this Saturday. I will keep you posted. (By the way, Happy Birthday today, Jesse!)
malt_maven
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
Life Is Like a Car Wash
Last year after our trip to Canada, my car (Simon) was buried in 2000 miles worth of bugs. It was more than the regular car wash could handle so I went to brand new the Fancy/Schmancy drive through car wash. A nice young lady took my money and directed me to drive around their sign...where she and another young lady wielded their wacky wands at full pressure. It felt as if they might blow off the front grill. It was a little shocking.
While bracing myself from such a frontal attack, I felt something grab Simon's left front tire and start to suck us forward. We had lost any control and into the vortex we went. I've never been in a drive-through car wash where you couldn't see the end as you went in the entrance, but this looked like a never-ending black hole.
We got sucked further and further through the cave and there were big things flying about everywhere. It made the wand girls seem tame. There was an assortment of huge flapping multi-colored brushes spewing multi-colored soaps. And the NOISE was incredible. Vertigo took over and I felt as if maybe we might crash into the ground somehow. Then motion sickness set in, and it was quite a terrifying few minutes.
Though I had never heard of a news report about anyone trapped inside a car wash, that thought did pass through my mind. Headline--"Elderly Woman Stranded in Wild Car Wash; Jaws of Life Needed".
Finally, the light appeared and the tsumani disappeared. With heart pounding like being chased by The Thing, I peeled out of there like a bat out of Clifton. It probably took five years off the life of my tires' warranty.
While bracing myself from such a frontal attack, I felt something grab Simon's left front tire and start to suck us forward. We had lost any control and into the vortex we went. I've never been in a drive-through car wash where you couldn't see the end as you went in the entrance, but this looked like a never-ending black hole.
We got sucked further and further through the cave and there were big things flying about everywhere. It made the wand girls seem tame. There was an assortment of huge flapping multi-colored brushes spewing multi-colored soaps. And the NOISE was incredible. Vertigo took over and I felt as if maybe we might crash into the ground somehow. Then motion sickness set in, and it was quite a terrifying few minutes.
Though I had never heard of a news report about anyone trapped inside a car wash, that thought did pass through my mind. Headline--"Elderly Woman Stranded in Wild Car Wash; Jaws of Life Needed".
Finally, the light appeared and the tsumani disappeared. With heart pounding like being chased by The Thing, I peeled out of there like a bat out of Clifton. It probably took five years off the life of my tires' warranty.
Wednesday, January 3, 2018
That's Who I Am?
Follow up to the Christmas DNA party:
First, we filled up on ham, scalloped potatoes, salads, and rolls. I tried to make individual chocolate cakes in ceramic mini-bread pans for the little people to decorate but they stuck to the pans and fell apart. I decided we all had plenty of treats recently so threw the failed cakes in the garbage. Maybe next year. We passed out the little owls to the young kids to decorate and gathered around the computer.
Nik's test was delayed and won't be here until mid-January so I had him pick names from cards as to the order viewed.. Jared went first. (He is the only kid who ever thought he was adopted which is kind of understandable since he has that nice olive skin the rest of us got denied.) He was 58.4% Scandinavian, 23.9 % Irish/Scottish/Welch, 8.4% Baltic, 7.2 % Iberian and 2.2 % Italian.
Next was Kyle. He is 48.8 % Scandinavian, 36.9 % English, 10.4% Iberian, 2.1% Irish/Scottish/Welch, and 1.8 East European.
Next was Jason's: He is 76% Scandinavian, 13.8% Northern and Eastern Europe; 8% Iberian, and 2.2 Western Asia.
My results showed: 53.9% Scandinavian, 30.5 Irish/Scottish/Welch, 7.4% Iberian, 5.4% Baltic and 2.6% Italian.
Also, it showed we are all related as mother and sons so, Jared, you can't escape now.
No surprises on the Scandinavian as my mother's grandparents were from Sweden. Also, my kid's father has Norwegian ancestors. The Irish-probably not Scottish-and Welch was not surprising as my grandmother Rice's grandmother was Irish and the Rice line has ancestors from Wales. Totally surprising was the Iberian, the Italian, and the Western Asian. Maybe the Western Asian came from their dad's side, but there must be someone we don't know about who jumped into the family from Iberia, the Baltics, and Italy.
If anybody knows who those strangers are, please feel free to chime in.
Also, I decided to throw a little packet together of ancestors, photos, and family histories on both sides of the kid's lineage back a few generations. What started out as a "little project" turned into a massive undertaking but it was wonderful to see those old photos from the early 1800s and to read some of the histories. If you think you have it hard now, be glad you didn't live back then.
First, we filled up on ham, scalloped potatoes, salads, and rolls. I tried to make individual chocolate cakes in ceramic mini-bread pans for the little people to decorate but they stuck to the pans and fell apart. I decided we all had plenty of treats recently so threw the failed cakes in the garbage. Maybe next year. We passed out the little owls to the young kids to decorate and gathered around the computer.
Nik's test was delayed and won't be here until mid-January so I had him pick names from cards as to the order viewed.. Jared went first. (He is the only kid who ever thought he was adopted which is kind of understandable since he has that nice olive skin the rest of us got denied.) He was 58.4% Scandinavian, 23.9 % Irish/Scottish/Welch, 8.4% Baltic, 7.2 % Iberian and 2.2 % Italian.
Next was Kyle. He is 48.8 % Scandinavian, 36.9 % English, 10.4% Iberian, 2.1% Irish/Scottish/Welch, and 1.8 East European.
Next was Jason's: He is 76% Scandinavian, 13.8% Northern and Eastern Europe; 8% Iberian, and 2.2 Western Asia.
My results showed: 53.9% Scandinavian, 30.5 Irish/Scottish/Welch, 7.4% Iberian, 5.4% Baltic and 2.6% Italian.
Also, it showed we are all related as mother and sons so, Jared, you can't escape now.
No surprises on the Scandinavian as my mother's grandparents were from Sweden. Also, my kid's father has Norwegian ancestors. The Irish-probably not Scottish-and Welch was not surprising as my grandmother Rice's grandmother was Irish and the Rice line has ancestors from Wales. Totally surprising was the Iberian, the Italian, and the Western Asian. Maybe the Western Asian came from their dad's side, but there must be someone we don't know about who jumped into the family from Iberia, the Baltics, and Italy.
If anybody knows who those strangers are, please feel free to chime in.
Also, I decided to throw a little packet together of ancestors, photos, and family histories on both sides of the kid's lineage back a few generations. What started out as a "little project" turned into a massive undertaking but it was wonderful to see those old photos from the early 1800s and to read some of the histories. If you think you have it hard now, be glad you didn't live back then.
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