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.
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Whooo Are You?
That's the theme of my family Christmas party which I had to move from Saturday to Christmas night. It isn't that I'm inviting random people off the streets to see who they are. If any owls stop by, we might invite them in, but the ones I have are made of paper and look like these:
The Who-Are-You theme came about when I decided to get the boys DNA text kits for Christmas. I would have done Sherry but we can barely get a card across the border, let alone DNA samples. The DNA kits came in time to swab the kids at our last party, October's Emergency Preparedness activity. Vince didn't want to do it, so I used his kit and sent them all off in the same envelope on Oct 24th.
After three and a half weeks, I got the results for everybody but Nik. After multiple email exchanges, and waiting the obligatory month before they would send a replacement kit, they finally said Nik's sample had not arrived at the lab but they would be oh-so-nice and send another one free of charge. Since they were all mailed in the same package, I said that the mailman must have opened the envelope, taken out Nik's sample, sealed the envelope back up, and sent it on its way, but thank you for being so kind as to send a replacement. We just got his new kit last week and send it to the lab (with a tracking #); it should be there this week so he will have to wait until January to see if he is related to any of us.
The results show a mother/son relationship, so no big surprise there. I've been studying all sorts of YouTube videos to understand what the results mean and have a tiny grasp of the basics. It was interesting to find out that there are third-party sites where you can download your raw DNA info from one of several testing places so there is a broader base of results.
I'm pretty excited to see how it goes and will be back with an update.
The Who-Are-You theme came about when I decided to get the boys DNA text kits for Christmas. I would have done Sherry but we can barely get a card across the border, let alone DNA samples. The DNA kits came in time to swab the kids at our last party, October's Emergency Preparedness activity. Vince didn't want to do it, so I used his kit and sent them all off in the same envelope on Oct 24th.
After three and a half weeks, I got the results for everybody but Nik. After multiple email exchanges, and waiting the obligatory month before they would send a replacement kit, they finally said Nik's sample had not arrived at the lab but they would be oh-so-nice and send another one free of charge. Since they were all mailed in the same package, I said that the mailman must have opened the envelope, taken out Nik's sample, sealed the envelope back up, and sent it on its way, but thank you for being so kind as to send a replacement. We just got his new kit last week and send it to the lab (with a tracking #); it should be there this week so he will have to wait until January to see if he is related to any of us.
The results show a mother/son relationship, so no big surprise there. I've been studying all sorts of YouTube videos to understand what the results mean and have a tiny grasp of the basics. It was interesting to find out that there are third-party sites where you can download your raw DNA info from one of several testing places so there is a broader base of results.
I'm pretty excited to see how it goes and will be back with an update.
Monday, October 9, 2017
100 Years
One hundred years ago today, my mother was born on the farm in the outskirts of Preston, Idaho. It got me reminiscing about all the things my mother's hands did over the years
I'm sure she helped her parents on the farm. She mentioned how far she used to walk to school and back as a child, something like a mile and a half each way, in a dress. She didn't say whether or not it was uphill both ways.
Just jotted down a few thoughts last night:
Cared for 4 newborns, sleeping on the couch
hauled hay
did laundry in a wringer washer, hung clothes on the clothesline outside even during winter
ironed on Tuesdays (including pillowcases, handkerchiefs and levis, in between cooking and working on farm chores
stoked up the coal stove after she got to sleep in until 6:00 a.m.
cooked about 6700 homemade meals
sewed doll clothes and new Christmas pajamas with flat-felled seams
canned fruits, vegetables, bread and butter pickles, and jam
ran errands for Dad and us
visited her mother once a week
bought all the groceries
made ringlets sometimes and curled our hair with pincurls on Saturday nights
made wonderful fudge...about this time of year
played solitaire
grew a big garden
rode thousands of miles on her bicycle with Dad each summer
made mush every morning, had to double the batch when my kids were there
made meat loaf (without onions though she liked them) because we whined so much about it
made the best ice cream with her Junket recipe
tended us when sick, probably even when she was sick
had the most beautiful handwriting of anybody I know except my sister, Pauline.
I'm sure she helped her parents on the farm. She mentioned how far she used to walk to school and back as a child, something like a mile and a half each way, in a dress. She didn't say whether or not it was uphill both ways.
Just jotted down a few thoughts last night:
Cared for 4 newborns, sleeping on the couch
hauled hay
did laundry in a wringer washer, hung clothes on the clothesline outside even during winter
ironed on Tuesdays (including pillowcases, handkerchiefs and levis, in between cooking and working on farm chores
stoked up the coal stove after she got to sleep in until 6:00 a.m.
cooked about 6700 homemade meals
sewed doll clothes and new Christmas pajamas with flat-felled seams
canned fruits, vegetables, bread and butter pickles, and jam
ran errands for Dad and us
visited her mother once a week
bought all the groceries
made ringlets sometimes and curled our hair with pincurls on Saturday nights
made wonderful fudge...about this time of year
played solitaire
grew a big garden
rode thousands of miles on her bicycle with Dad each summer
made mush every morning, had to double the batch when my kids were there
made meat loaf (without onions though she liked them) because we whined so much about it
made the best ice cream with her Junket recipe
tended us when sick, probably even when she was sick
had the most beautiful handwriting of anybody I know except my sister, Pauline.
Saturday, June 10, 2017
On a Dark But Not Stormy Night...
Recently two of my son's wives were gone for a week and I thought they might be feeling a little lonely so I decided to throw a "Boys Night In Party". What a great decision!
Between 6:00 and 6:30, Jared manned the grill to cook the meat. I put Nik in charge of the games. Jordan and Talon helped me move the wonderful metal statue Dad made to a better spot around back and Jordan hung up some lights that Vince had given me on the pergola. About 6:30 Kyle came over. After eating and resting a few minutes, four of them started playing basketball. They discovered that even sons age and tire quickly.
Next was Nik's favorite lawn game, Kubb, which I will probably never understand but enjoy watching anyway, at least when my family is playing. It involves trying to knock over wooden blocks, team against team. After that, they played horseshoes until it got too dark to even see each other let alone the stakes.
We meandered back to the pergola which by now was glowing in the dark, very inviting. Jason swung by about 9 and we sat around chatting. Kyle, Jordan and Jason set up the patio heat lamp I bought recently on KSL. It put out just the right amount of heat as the night chilled. Talk turned to films, actors etc. and then somebody started in with the puns and riddles, Chuck Norris, all sorts of things. We are probably better than average as a family at this stuff. "What do you do with a sick boat? You take it to the dock". My favorite one of the night was Jared's quote: "Wanna hear a word I just made up? Plagarism." I smile even typing that.
It was my dad's 100th birthday, so we ate mint chocolate ice cream and wished him Happy Birthday! I was noticing the time occasionally, 10:30, 11:00, 11:30...but no way was I going to be the one to shut this party down. At the end, we were gathered around the heater like smart moths to a flame, warming but not getting consumed. Finally, Jared said, "Oh, man, it's midnight. We had better go."
I will treasure that memory forever.
Between 6:00 and 6:30, Jared manned the grill to cook the meat. I put Nik in charge of the games. Jordan and Talon helped me move the wonderful metal statue Dad made to a better spot around back and Jordan hung up some lights that Vince had given me on the pergola. About 6:30 Kyle came over. After eating and resting a few minutes, four of them started playing basketball. They discovered that even sons age and tire quickly.
Next was Nik's favorite lawn game, Kubb, which I will probably never understand but enjoy watching anyway, at least when my family is playing. It involves trying to knock over wooden blocks, team against team. After that, they played horseshoes until it got too dark to even see each other let alone the stakes.
We meandered back to the pergola which by now was glowing in the dark, very inviting. Jason swung by about 9 and we sat around chatting. Kyle, Jordan and Jason set up the patio heat lamp I bought recently on KSL. It put out just the right amount of heat as the night chilled. Talk turned to films, actors etc. and then somebody started in with the puns and riddles, Chuck Norris, all sorts of things. We are probably better than average as a family at this stuff. "What do you do with a sick boat? You take it to the dock". My favorite one of the night was Jared's quote: "Wanna hear a word I just made up? Plagarism." I smile even typing that.
It was my dad's 100th birthday, so we ate mint chocolate ice cream and wished him Happy Birthday! I was noticing the time occasionally, 10:30, 11:00, 11:30...but no way was I going to be the one to shut this party down. At the end, we were gathered around the heater like smart moths to a flame, warming but not getting consumed. Finally, Jared said, "Oh, man, it's midnight. We had better go."
I will treasure that memory forever.
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
A Slow Burn
'Tis Spring. Late Spring but there technically.
There are some things I miss about Spring on the farm. The first one would be watching my dad in the field on his red tractor with the plow churning up the fresh dirt. It required absolutely no work for me which may contribute to the "funness" of the memory. Overhead flew dozens of seagulls which had appeared from seemingly nowhere. I liked watching them but it was only a drop in the bucket of the joyful feelings the pioneers in the SLC valley must have felt when they saw the flocks of seagulls swooping down to eat all the crickets that had been eating their meager crops.
The newly-turned clods were big and full of worms and if you stepped on a clod, it would disintegrate under your shoe, kind of a fun feeling. Once my dad brought a baby rabbit home for us to tend. The mother rabbit had met her demise from the equipment. We watched the baby rabbit all afternoon but Dad took it back to the field before nightfall. I think he was quite mad at himself for disturbing nature but mostly because he knew it would probably not survive and that would be even more tragic.
Another memory I like is the burning of the canals. I'm not talking about any fire that got out of control or were started in fields or on the mountains. This was the kind that was tended and was set to defeat the weeds that would have clogged up the water to the fields had they been allowed to grow as they wished. I hate weeds though I don't spend anywhere as much time killing them as did my parents but when it had to do with our livelihood, as so many things did, it was instinctual to fight them to the death.
I loved to see the fields with their rows and rows of potatoes or corn or grain or really anything in those straight lines that went on as far as the eye could see...
There are some things I miss about Spring on the farm. The first one would be watching my dad in the field on his red tractor with the plow churning up the fresh dirt. It required absolutely no work for me which may contribute to the "funness" of the memory. Overhead flew dozens of seagulls which had appeared from seemingly nowhere. I liked watching them but it was only a drop in the bucket of the joyful feelings the pioneers in the SLC valley must have felt when they saw the flocks of seagulls swooping down to eat all the crickets that had been eating their meager crops.
The newly-turned clods were big and full of worms and if you stepped on a clod, it would disintegrate under your shoe, kind of a fun feeling. Once my dad brought a baby rabbit home for us to tend. The mother rabbit had met her demise from the equipment. We watched the baby rabbit all afternoon but Dad took it back to the field before nightfall. I think he was quite mad at himself for disturbing nature but mostly because he knew it would probably not survive and that would be even more tragic.
Another memory I like is the burning of the canals. I'm not talking about any fire that got out of control or were started in fields or on the mountains. This was the kind that was tended and was set to defeat the weeds that would have clogged up the water to the fields had they been allowed to grow as they wished. I hate weeds though I don't spend anywhere as much time killing them as did my parents but when it had to do with our livelihood, as so many things did, it was instinctual to fight them to the death.
I loved to see the fields with their rows and rows of potatoes or corn or grain or really anything in those straight lines that went on as far as the eye could see...
Friday, March 24, 2017
Just an Idaho Farm Girl
Saturday I went to Lowe's to get some peat moss and play sand. My goal was to make a spot out back where the boys can play for hours.
There is already a swing set out there and I've ordered a playhouse that should be here in a week or so. Both boys are currently into everything dinosaurs, so I recycled an old wooden bed frame into a dinosaur pit. It is a good size for two budding paleontologists.
My remembrance was that peat moss is pretty lightweight, like straw. Wrong! I expected to throw a few of them on the cart and proceed to checkout but couldn't even slide one bag across another, let alone drag them onto the cart. Luckily, an on-the-ball employee noticed and asked if I needed help. I told her, yes please.
She loaded up four bags of peat moss and three bags of sand like they were bags of cookies. The sand sacks had holes in them so she grabbed some plastic bags, threw in the bags of sand, and tied the tops. Then she cheerfully grabbed the cart and took it to the checkout. She didn't leave me there, either. She took it to my car, filled up the trunk and ran back in the store for a big bag to cover my seat so it didn't get dirty and did it all with a smile.
I said, "Your mother taught you well." Her reply was, "I'm from Idaho and was raised on a farm, so it's easy."
That made me nostalgic, a little happy and a little sad. It is what it is.
There is already a swing set out there and I've ordered a playhouse that should be here in a week or so. Both boys are currently into everything dinosaurs, so I recycled an old wooden bed frame into a dinosaur pit. It is a good size for two budding paleontologists.
My remembrance was that peat moss is pretty lightweight, like straw. Wrong! I expected to throw a few of them on the cart and proceed to checkout but couldn't even slide one bag across another, let alone drag them onto the cart. Luckily, an on-the-ball employee noticed and asked if I needed help. I told her, yes please.
She loaded up four bags of peat moss and three bags of sand like they were bags of cookies. The sand sacks had holes in them so she grabbed some plastic bags, threw in the bags of sand, and tied the tops. Then she cheerfully grabbed the cart and took it to the checkout. She didn't leave me there, either. She took it to my car, filled up the trunk and ran back in the store for a big bag to cover my seat so it didn't get dirty and did it all with a smile.
I said, "Your mother taught you well." Her reply was, "I'm from Idaho and was raised on a farm, so it's easy."
That made me nostalgic, a little happy and a little sad. It is what it is.
Friday, December 30, 2016
I See You. Can You See Me?
For surely more than a decade, my parents used to get a wonderful calendar the end of each year. My recollection is that it was from a meat-packing place in Preston. It runs in my mind that it was Hubbard's Meat Packing Plant but no research--including Pauline Who Remembers Almost Everything--lead me to any examples of it.
What use is an old calendar, right? I'd pay good money for one of those old calendars right now. Trying to find anything on Google lead me to articles like "Raising a child with optic nerve hypoplasia" and "Chinese women's eyes after surgery" and "6 eye issues after 40".
The calendar always hung in the kitchen. Each month had a different scene of an old cowboy either getting thrown off his horse, being denied at the bank, truck broken down, etc. There was a whole action-packed story spoken by each picture and hidden in each one was a little pair of hidden eye balls, sort of a"Where's Waldo" precursor.
Sometimes you'd find the little eyes in a horse hoof, under a saddle, in the radiator, under the chair, but they were always there. Whoever drew those pictures was a true artist indeed, as well as an entertainer. He should be world famous.
Thank you, Sir, whoever you are for all those years of joy!
What use is an old calendar, right? I'd pay good money for one of those old calendars right now. Trying to find anything on Google lead me to articles like "Raising a child with optic nerve hypoplasia" and "Chinese women's eyes after surgery" and "6 eye issues after 40".
The calendar always hung in the kitchen. Each month had a different scene of an old cowboy either getting thrown off his horse, being denied at the bank, truck broken down, etc. There was a whole action-packed story spoken by each picture and hidden in each one was a little pair of hidden eye balls, sort of a"Where's Waldo" precursor.
Sometimes you'd find the little eyes in a horse hoof, under a saddle, in the radiator, under the chair, but they were always there. Whoever drew those pictures was a true artist indeed, as well as an entertainer. He should be world famous.
Thank you, Sir, whoever you are for all those years of joy!
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Hankerings
Sometimes I just get a craving for it. It doesn't matter if it's morning, noon, or night. When I want it, I want it. Bread and milk in a bowl.
There are different qualities of the cuisine. The best is with homemade bread, or at least homemade-like. We eat cereal in milk. Cereal is made out of the same stuff as bread, right?
I read an article that said when there is a big storm coming, people flock to the store and buy bread and milk. I'm sure they buy nails, visquine, and boards, too, but that's just to make a shelter in which to eat bread and milk.
There are people who put salt on their watermelon, so I know how objectionable thinking about certain food combinations can be. You can also get bread that's so poor in quality that it ruins the dish and turns it into a soggy mess.
And, bread and milk can be turned into toast and hot cocoa for dipping. There was a time when I dipped fresh bread into cold chocolate milk (thanks to those old Nestle commercials), but that doesn't sound very appealing now.
It think it's time I made a batch of bread...
There are different qualities of the cuisine. The best is with homemade bread, or at least homemade-like. We eat cereal in milk. Cereal is made out of the same stuff as bread, right?
I read an article that said when there is a big storm coming, people flock to the store and buy bread and milk. I'm sure they buy nails, visquine, and boards, too, but that's just to make a shelter in which to eat bread and milk.
There are people who put salt on their watermelon, so I know how objectionable thinking about certain food combinations can be. You can also get bread that's so poor in quality that it ruins the dish and turns it into a soggy mess.
And, bread and milk can be turned into toast and hot cocoa for dipping. There was a time when I dipped fresh bread into cold chocolate milk (thanks to those old Nestle commercials), but that doesn't sound very appealing now.
It think it's time I made a batch of bread...
Monday, March 14, 2016
Unsweetened
I think I know what made my parents so tough, or maybe they were so tough they could suck on these gems (allegedly sweet, but that's an outright lie):
Mother always carried around a little container of Sen-Sens in her purse. They are touted as breath fresheners--not even 7th cousins once removed from a breath mint. I added that second part. They were deceiving little buggers because they looked like little pieces of black licorice which I like. (Nik and I specifically like this time of year because of the availability of black jelly beans. The beauty is that nobody else around here likes them, so THEY ARE ALL OURS, YEAH!)
The given Sen-Sen ingredients listed are: licorice, gum arabic, maltodextrin, sugar, natural and artificial flavors. Maltodextrin is listed as a type of fairly-tasteless glucose. Gum Arabic doesn't sound like the culprit, so I'm guessing it's in the "artificial" flavors, the ones that taste like asphalt.
Sen-Sens came in a little cardboard box that had another little cardbox inside of it. You slid the inner box out (like a match box), revealing a little hole. Once you shook the box, a Sen-Sen or two popped out. Wouldn't want any of those falling out on the asphalt. They later came in individual rip-open packets and were finally discontinued. I won't grieve about that. No matter how many times Mother shared them with me, they never got one whit better. Bye bye, Sen-Sens.
Speaking of asphalt-tasting candies, Dad used to suck on horehound "candy". I’d rather lick an all-day sucker made out of road than a horehound lozenge. It comes with a "distinct bittersweet taste". The flavor truly is distinct; I'll give them that. Being rolled in sugar only makes them worse somehow. Cracker Barrel still carries horehound candy. My guess is that's how they test the toughness of some of their customers. There are actually online recipes for making your own horehound candy but I won't include a link.
Dad used to keep a stash of all kinds of candy, rewards after a long day's work. By his couch he had a little container of white peppermint candies, then later pink ones like these:
Now those I really liked. He later had to give them up after he developed an allergy to them. As far as I know, he never gave up Altoids.
Mother always carried around a little container of Sen-Sens in her purse. They are touted as breath fresheners--not even 7th cousins once removed from a breath mint. I added that second part. They were deceiving little buggers because they looked like little pieces of black licorice which I like. (Nik and I specifically like this time of year because of the availability of black jelly beans. The beauty is that nobody else around here likes them, so THEY ARE ALL OURS, YEAH!)
The given Sen-Sen ingredients listed are: licorice, gum arabic, maltodextrin, sugar, natural and artificial flavors. Maltodextrin is listed as a type of fairly-tasteless glucose. Gum Arabic doesn't sound like the culprit, so I'm guessing it's in the "artificial" flavors, the ones that taste like asphalt.
Sen-Sens came in a little cardboard box that had another little cardbox inside of it. You slid the inner box out (like a match box), revealing a little hole. Once you shook the box, a Sen-Sen or two popped out. Wouldn't want any of those falling out on the asphalt. They later came in individual rip-open packets and were finally discontinued. I won't grieve about that. No matter how many times Mother shared them with me, they never got one whit better. Bye bye, Sen-Sens.
Speaking of asphalt-tasting candies, Dad used to suck on horehound "candy". I’d rather lick an all-day sucker made out of road than a horehound lozenge. It comes with a "distinct bittersweet taste". The flavor truly is distinct; I'll give them that. Being rolled in sugar only makes them worse somehow. Cracker Barrel still carries horehound candy. My guess is that's how they test the toughness of some of their customers. There are actually online recipes for making your own horehound candy but I won't include a link.
Dad used to keep a stash of all kinds of candy, rewards after a long day's work. By his couch he had a little container of white peppermint candies, then later pink ones like these:
Now those I really liked. He later had to give them up after he developed an allergy to them. As far as I know, he never gave up Altoids.
Monday, January 18, 2016
WID
I say this to Nik and Sarah several times a week. Write it down. If you don't, you will never remember exactly how it went because the wording is what made it so cute in the first place.
For example, here are some Teddisms from the past year:
I was eating some jello with whipped cream on it. He had two bites of it without the whipped cream and came back for another bite. I offered him some with whipped cream. He put up his hand in a "hold off" position and said, "No, I need it clean!"
I just playing. Playing is fun.
Watching Frozen. Anna is left in a cold room. Teddy looked at me and said, "That's a problem."
Papa, can we eat a pupcake?
Teddy, lie down and have a nap. "I don't want to turn my eyes off."
While watching the bug zapper: "Watch that sound!"
Flying his toy satellite into the air, "See ya later, Earf."
Playing the Star-Warry parent game, Nik said: "This is my boy. I am his father." Teddy replied: "Excuse me. We can all share this boy."
The washer beeps over and over when the cycle ends. We removed the clothes but it kept beeping. Teddy said, "We already taked it out, Washer!"
Where is your airplane going to sleep? "He won't sleep. Pointing to it eyes, he said, "These are just stickers."
I'm playing hide and go seek. Where's me?
Teddy, did you take a nap? "Almost."
Sliding across the floor, "Excuse me, but my socks are very slipperdy."
Cottage cheese is disgusting for my mouth.
Nik was talking to Teddy about the real meaning of Christmas. He asked him, "Do you know who the real King of the world is?" And Teddy didn't miss a beat yelling, "Captain America!"
Mama went into the bathroom. Teddy said, "You locked the door? But you're leaving me behind!"
For example, here are some Teddisms from the past year:
I was eating some jello with whipped cream on it. He had two bites of it without the whipped cream and came back for another bite. I offered him some with whipped cream. He put up his hand in a "hold off" position and said, "No, I need it clean!"
I just playing. Playing is fun.
Watching Frozen. Anna is left in a cold room. Teddy looked at me and said, "That's a problem."
Papa, can we eat a pupcake?
Teddy, lie down and have a nap. "I don't want to turn my eyes off."
While watching the bug zapper: "Watch that sound!"
Flying his toy satellite into the air, "See ya later, Earf."
Playing the Star-Warry parent game, Nik said: "This is my boy. I am his father." Teddy replied: "Excuse me. We can all share this boy."
The washer beeps over and over when the cycle ends. We removed the clothes but it kept beeping. Teddy said, "We already taked it out, Washer!"
Where is your airplane going to sleep? "He won't sleep. Pointing to it eyes, he said, "These are just stickers."
I'm playing hide and go seek. Where's me?
Teddy, did you take a nap? "Almost."
Sliding across the floor, "Excuse me, but my socks are very slipperdy."
Cottage cheese is disgusting for my mouth.
Nik was talking to Teddy about the real meaning of Christmas. He asked him, "Do you know who the real King of the world is?" And Teddy didn't miss a beat yelling, "Captain America!"
Mama went into the bathroom. Teddy said, "You locked the door? But you're leaving me behind!"
Friday, January 15, 2016
Part 2
My sisters were better gift idea people.
Pauline gave my dad the gift-to-end-all-gifts once, a Polaroid land camera! It was about the size of a bread box and weighed a good 5 pounds. The magical thing about it was that it would develop a black and white photo in only 60 seconds, almost as unbelievable as a vehicle ever going 40 miles per hour. I cannot find a good picture of it, but this gives you the idea:
It took something like five or six steps from start to finish. A roll of film took 8 pictures and ran something like $1.00 a photo, a shocking price even in these days. Hopefully that camera is in a museum somewhere. It was an amazing gift and could have been used as a dandy weapon if needed.
Another very nice gift Pauline gave my parents was a complete set of Cutco knives, circa 1960-ish. They were used several times a week for decades and looked as good as new after my parents passed. I hope Pauline inherited them. They came in a dark brown color and were encased in a nice wooden case. Pauline knew how to buy good stuff and I think she was as happy about giving as the recipient was about getting, maybe even more.
Lorraine was more the artist giver. She even painted a picture of Old Blue that hung in the "orange" bedroom for years. My parents treasured a neat glass bird window hanging she gave them that shined beautifully in the sun on the west window. It was very appropriate as that window was the one by the birdhouse my dad tended so faithfully.
Betty was the unique gift giver. I can't imagine how many hours she spent searching for near-one-of-a-kind gifts like the sand art in oil that gently followed gravity into an endless array of swishes. It was as mesmerizing as watching a cobra dance, maybe more because there was no fear of dying painfully and immediately.
Another gift she gave them was an aqua-colored thing that had some aqua-colored oil essence in it. You turned it upside down and big blue aqua bubbles dropped from the top, bubbles getting smaller and smaller and smaller as it shifted to the bottom. We probably spent 100 hours of our lives studying that thing.
On the table in the living room sat the piece de resistance, a temperature thing with more bubbles inside...kind of like this, only much fancier in recollection:
I bought them a clock once, a white ship perched on the top, with an entire day's wages from substituting kindergarten. As far as I know, none of us had ever been on a ship, but it had a wistfulness about it. The only other ship thing in the house was a puzzle of a ship I put together that my parents framed and hung in their room. This from a girl who kept her eyes shut the entire time during the Perfect Storm movie and still had to stop on the way home to throw up.
The dumbest gift I probably ever gave them was a holstein cow toy. You put in some batteries under its stomach (yes, I know there are actually 4 stomachs in a cow and you would not believe how many times that has come up in trivia situations over the years), the cow would take four steps, stop, raise its head and MOO. I can only imagine how excited my dad must have been to get a cow toy that actually talked. I mean, seriously, he probably had tears in his eyes.
(The cow now sits in my curio but hasn't moo'd since the batteries died in the late 20th century.)
Pauline gave my dad the gift-to-end-all-gifts once, a Polaroid land camera! It was about the size of a bread box and weighed a good 5 pounds. The magical thing about it was that it would develop a black and white photo in only 60 seconds, almost as unbelievable as a vehicle ever going 40 miles per hour. I cannot find a good picture of it, but this gives you the idea:
It took something like five or six steps from start to finish. A roll of film took 8 pictures and ran something like $1.00 a photo, a shocking price even in these days. Hopefully that camera is in a museum somewhere. It was an amazing gift and could have been used as a dandy weapon if needed.
Another very nice gift Pauline gave my parents was a complete set of Cutco knives, circa 1960-ish. They were used several times a week for decades and looked as good as new after my parents passed. I hope Pauline inherited them. They came in a dark brown color and were encased in a nice wooden case. Pauline knew how to buy good stuff and I think she was as happy about giving as the recipient was about getting, maybe even more.
Lorraine was more the artist giver. She even painted a picture of Old Blue that hung in the "orange" bedroom for years. My parents treasured a neat glass bird window hanging she gave them that shined beautifully in the sun on the west window. It was very appropriate as that window was the one by the birdhouse my dad tended so faithfully.
Betty was the unique gift giver. I can't imagine how many hours she spent searching for near-one-of-a-kind gifts like the sand art in oil that gently followed gravity into an endless array of swishes. It was as mesmerizing as watching a cobra dance, maybe more because there was no fear of dying painfully and immediately.
Another gift she gave them was an aqua-colored thing that had some aqua-colored oil essence in it. You turned it upside down and big blue aqua bubbles dropped from the top, bubbles getting smaller and smaller and smaller as it shifted to the bottom. We probably spent 100 hours of our lives studying that thing.
On the table in the living room sat the piece de resistance, a temperature thing with more bubbles inside...kind of like this, only much fancier in recollection:
I bought them a clock once, a white ship perched on the top, with an entire day's wages from substituting kindergarten. As far as I know, none of us had ever been on a ship, but it had a wistfulness about it. The only other ship thing in the house was a puzzle of a ship I put together that my parents framed and hung in their room. This from a girl who kept her eyes shut the entire time during the Perfect Storm movie and still had to stop on the way home to throw up.
The dumbest gift I probably ever gave them was a holstein cow toy. You put in some batteries under its stomach (yes, I know there are actually 4 stomachs in a cow and you would not believe how many times that has come up in trivia situations over the years), the cow would take four steps, stop, raise its head and MOO. I can only imagine how excited my dad must have been to get a cow toy that actually talked. I mean, seriously, he probably had tears in his eyes.
(The cow now sits in my curio but hasn't moo'd since the batteries died in the late 20th century.)
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