August 1.

Payday.  

Bill day. 

Barnes and Noble day. 

Mi Ranchito day. 

New one: fill car day.

What Does This Mean?

Visited my classroom today. Quiet. Clean. Rather lonely. The deal is that after the cleaning this summer there are 18 desks instead of the usual 30. Hmmm. I wonder if this means I will have 18 students. Not 30. People, please slap me. I am daydreaming on the job. Slap. Slap. Slap.

Go Towards the Light!

That was  my mantra last evening and today shouted to the pesky fly dive-bombing my food, my hair, and my face. A roll of paper towels traveled with me for two days. I whisked off quilted squares to cover my drink, my food, my utensils, and my face (when I snoozed during Bill O'Reilly - you gotta heart O'Reilly!) Anyways, late this afternoon as the laundry room was drowning in the Western sun, Mr. Pesky Fly flew under the wood blinds  towards the light in said room. I slammed those blinds closed faster than you can say "white on rice!" Then I slammed the laundry room's door. For celebration of peace of mind, I drove to Barnes and Noble for a browsation. When I returned, no Mr. Pesky Fly for the rest of the day and evening. He found the Light and I found how handy paper towels really can be. 

Real Life.

I count my blessings, but the truth is is that I struggle. As I browse and read blogs (not a good way to spend time, I conclude), my life and parenting and family seemingly fall so short of everyone else's. I have no way of knowing the real life struggles of others because the blogs I read are celebrating the goodness of life. This entry, then, is real life - my real life has hurts, roads best left untraveled, children who stray, words falling short, words that are short, financial struggles, physical struggles, spiritual yearnings, my real life is real . . . ly hard some of the time. How is your real life? Really.

Blessings Beyond Joy.

Eliza Paige given a name and blessing by her father. 

Gavin ordained a High Priest by his father-in-law. 

Nothing.

and no one is more important than your own family. Life's lessons have taught me thus. Let it be written. Let it be known.

Flight.

Gavin arrived from New York late this afternoon. I was browsing Target with Paige and Eliza when I received his phone call. Such a long day for Gavin and Jamie - both of them waiting. Gavin called Jamie from New York - Long Island airport - informing her that Southwest had received a bomb threat. His flight was cancelled and the airport shut down. The next phone call informed Jamie that a flight to Chicago may or may not allow Gavin to meet his conncection to Salt Lake International. What happened is that Gavin got to Chicago and missed Las Vegas. A later flight to Las Vegas was met and Gavin arrived early evening. The miracle of flight. Compare the men who tried and at last succeeded in flight to the person who phoned the bomb threat. What propels good and bad in people? While I don't believe PASSION is the do all end all, I do believe that children, men and women who find their passions and pursue their passions, contribute to society. I tell my students to find their bliss and to live their bliss. Of course, being responsible citizens and family members must be integral to the bliss - otherwise, all his selfish. If one notices the news, most of the protesters in whatever country, are youthful. Many are in countries where employment is low, education is not important. In their desires to belong, they join gangs, protesters, out laws.  They make bomb threats at 4:30 a.m. on a summer morning.

Pioneers.

To be quite honest here - there are many men and women I want to meet in the afterlife. Writers, statesmen, Father Adam, Mother Eve, my Savior, my Heavenly Father, and the Pioneers. I have questions for them and about them just as I have questions for the others, too. I will thank them for their fortitude and commitment to preserve the truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ for me. I remember when I worked at the State Capitol Building that I would peer out among the avenues from the 4th floor windows. Trees. So many trees. I would think of the Pioneers planting those trees. The trees were my roots to the Pioneers of 1847. 

My Bad.

Let It Be Written. Let It Be Known.

Chili's Chocolate Molten Lava.

UNDERWEAR CREATIVITY.

Enough Said.

Gardendale, Alabama, Walmart while she was going to the Flea market.

Early American Art Show (kind of).

Okay. Let's talk eating extra fiber toast while doing this. People, let's talk Bringing Home Baby on The Learning Channel mornings: 9 a. m. 


Today's show was about bringing home the baby of a single mom visiting from Africa. The fact she lives right now with her mother and a single sister who lives in said house with her boyfriend (said single sister has twin four year olds not fathered by boyfriend) did not put me off at all. No. The family's genealogy did not stump me. But I am watching Bringing Home Baby and I had to do a double take because those four year old twins had scribbled with black crayon ON EVERY WALL IN THAT HOUSE. I quit focusing on the Baby Brought Home. My eyes fused to the early American artwork covering every room's walls. 


Up, down, sideways, circles, dots, squares, a mishmash of black. Did I do wrong with my five kids? Did my Baby Brought Home lack for crayoned wall art? Did my kids lack for creative development because a whack on the bottom was their just dues for scribbling Early American art on the walls? 

All right. When these reality shows enter the homes of Americans - homes like yours, homes like mine - there is a sneaky interest in the home's decor, a sneaky interest in household pets (kicked off family bed because now it is about the BABY), and sneaky interest in foods consumed. Today's show had it all, folks: a gold fish as a dining table center piece (WAIT! maybe not, maybe that was HOUSE HUNTERS INTERNATIONAL,) but the chopping, steaming of vegetables did propel my not shrinking too fast self to grab a handful of M and M's. 


H. o. w. e. v. e. r. it is the twin's Early American wall art that sucked my eyeballs like the credit union's money tubes. Good grief, every wall. Every. single. wall. 

Blessed.

I never imagined grandchildren. In the rush and times of raising my own five, other than praying for good mates for my sons and daughters, I never imagined grandchildren. I am seriously blessed! Ivy is resting on my couch right now, "Grammy, your house is soft!" I am not sure what she means. I think maybe she is thinking about my heart - soft with love and thanksgiving for my grandchildren. For their mothers. I am Blessed. Truly. Seriously. Thanks for listenin'!

Playing Zimbo with Braden.

Great organizational thinking for a six year old!

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you!

Sweet Miss Ellie. 

I AM SO BLESSED!

Being. Committed. 

I like married couples that  keep commitments. I admire men and women who "sail" through all kinds of weather in their marriages. On some level, within their psyche, these married couples respect one another and support one another. Commitment sheaves many components: honor, loyalty, and knowledge. I am thinking this evening about knowledge. Having an innate understanding of each other's talents is paramount in relationships. Of course, commitment gives wings to a mate's talents. Beyond encouraging talents to flourish, wise companionship and commitment are copilots, too. I enjoy observing couples - particularly - young married couples make financial decisions. 

Early in my married life, I observed, from a distance, friends of ours make financial decisions. They, too, were attending medical school. They purchased a house in a working class part of Washington, D.C. I didn't like their house at all. My friend told me tales of mice and roaches invading their attic, kitchen, and bathroom. I was shocked when this young wife and mother invited my husband and I to a party asking me to bring our card table. The card table's legs, she explained, could be placed in pans of water so the cockroaches couldn't climb into the food dishes! Within six months, they had a new kitchen, a new bathroom, and cleared the attic of mice. The cockroaches were cleared out, too. (Before we graduated from medical school, Shauna and Val's house tripled in worth because the Metro was expanded within a block of their property. They were told this would happen and they were willing to make the sacrifice to reap the financial reward.) In the second year of med school, they called us drooling with excitement because they had purchased a "new" car, we invited them over to share their purchase. The car was really a junker of sorts but newer than their "old" car. Shauna raved to me, "It's new to us!"

Our journey was one of pride. We purchased a townhouse in a new housing division. The year of medical school graduation we purchased a new car - make and model for that year. We sold our townhouse for a little less than our purchase. We made our car payments just fine. Throughout our marriage, we were always car poor. Add to that - house poor. My husband had the ability to make a fine living but we did not utilize our financial knowledge or make commitments regarding our financial success. 

Shauna and Val retired with a secure financial future. They helped eight children through college, missions, and marriages. They have family vacations - I am talking cruises, camping, Disney World, and any other vacation a family could dream. They have no financial debt. Their financial knowledge and commitment to their future sanctified their marriage vows. Fortunately, they both not only read from the same financial page but followed the same drummer. 

I knew we were making unwise financial decisions. I had knowledge of how to  build a secure financial future. I did not pursue conversations and planning that revealed my commitment to my husband. Commitment is a verb - an action verb. Marriages - happy and successful marriages - take financial actions for their future lives together. Having a husband with innate earning ability is not enough. Patience and fugalness are the true components of financial commitment in a marriage. Marriages without this type of commitment  bite off more than they can eventually pay. They rob themselves - denying to one another - the journey of working for a secure financial future . . . together. 


I signed off and decided to sign back on. I think I want my friends to know and to have faith that there is a future. In the daily rumble, please, please do not loose sight of a future. The future is made of stars, the moon, and the sun, but you and your companion will live the seconds, minutes, and hours - however you commit - together.

Confession.

I know why Americans have a problem with gaining weight: Rachael Ray, Take Home Chef, Martha Stewart, etc., etc., etc. These cooking shows drive me bananas. No. Wait. Excuse me. NOT bananas! I am talking steak with salmon. I am talking creme la chocolat mousse. I am talking food I cannot pronounce but my stomach wants to meet. Watching these shows is anything but passive for me. I can hardly contain my hunger. I have to, have to, have to wander into my kitchen to see what is available during commercials. Like popcorn topped with M & M's. 

I have to confess that I fantasize Take Home Chef meeting up with me in Macy's:  in the cereal isle. I wouldn't admit I shop the cereal isle because, well, sometimes cereal is the MAIN DISH-A-ROO at our house. No. No. I would just act coy. I would tell him I was shopping for a romantic dinner for my boyfriend and me. Take Home Chef will make the most scrupdelicious meal ever! When it comes time for my boyfriend to show up, I'll just tell the Chef that said boyfriend came down with the chicken pox and sends his sincere regrets. Take Home Chef says, "No problem!" Then he sits with me. To eat. To talk. To make yet another meal date! Oh, how I dare to dream.

Anyway, back to reality. I swear I gain weight watching these shows. Physically eating doesn't even have to happen. Those darn cooking shows. I wonder if I could lose weight watching those exercise shows. Sitting on my couch. Eating popcorn sprinkled with M and M's. I wonder.

Freeway Driving.

zoom. zoom. zoom.

Hats Off to Utah State Department of Education

Our conference room was warmer today - MUCH warmer, thank you for asking. Fortunately, my friend, Jill, and I sat by a fan. If not for the fan, I would have stripped to my undies and dove into the Sheraton pool at each break. Today we complained about the heat and yesterday about the cold. Fickle teachers! 

The Literacy Coach training has been helpful, well-presented. The Utah State Department of Education offers fantastic training for Utah's teachers. I have been a part of Reading First training for five years now. The Office of Education stays in the know and in the now for what is current best practice and researched-base success for students and teachers. I have amazing teacher friends from every county in the State of Utah as a result of our training. We arrive from different cities, different schools, different backgrounds but we all have the commonality of loving what we do - teaching students and training teachers. We laugh. We cry. We complain. We rejoice. We support. We grow. 

Another tidbit about our training this week has been the Sheraton luncheons - mama mea! Yummy! Yesterday was chicken with rice and fresh asparagus. Oh, HUGE chocolate pie. Today was steak salad with HUGE lemon pie. The rolls are to die for. Jill and I hope our table isn't full so we can eat the extra rolls. So far, so good!

Timely training. Delicious food. Wonderful friends. The room temperature needs a little regulating but when you sit in a room of females with average ages between 45 - 65, one should expect wacky temperatures - if you get what I mean. 

Deep Freeze Coaching

The literacy coaching institute in Salt Lake is excellent, my friends. There is one draw back, however. The conference room at the Sheraton is cooled to a deep freeze temperature. The complaints about the cold room commenced before the trainer spoke her first words. The person in charge commented that she always dresses warm for conferences because of the air conditioning. Shortly after her announcement, a lady at our table went to her car. She came back bulked up by three HUGE quilts. The quilts were heavy duty. I elected to listen from the hallway. My finger tips were so cold I could no longer take notes. Another person in charge tried to convince me that the right side of the room was actually warmer than the left side where my table sat. Lunch wasn't iceberg lettuce but they served lunch in another conference room that was warmer. Then I sat in my 130 degree car for about 30 minutes. The warmth of that car never felt so good. Normal temperature people would succumb to death in that car. When I emerged my new found freezer friends informed me my face was flushed. The hotel management turned the cooler down for the afternoon training. With my brain unnumbed I had a flashback to my summer of being 14 when I worked at the Dipsy Doodle. My friend, Valerie, and I created whopping hot fudge Sundays and stood in the deep freeze to indulge ourselves. We quit doing that when the owner found us one day - a wee bit huffed that Mr. Cohen owner was. We repented fast. We indulged ourselves in the kitchen where loyal, responsible workers should indulge anyway. 

Courtney Studies Blood Drawing While I Study Journalism, 

Hobos, and the Great Depression.

Courtney took a class to learn how to draw blood in Salt Lake from 4 p.m. to 10 p.m. I drove her up to Salt Lake.  I decided to take in a movie, Kitt Kittredge. This is a well-produced film. I learned about journalism, hobos during the Great Depression, and the effects the Great Depression had on people - physically, mentally, socially, and spiritually. The film has humor, drama, and life lessons. Rated G. After the movie, I dropped into a Barnes and Noble. I found a perfect book for my 3rd grade geography lessons! Thanks, Court! I had a great 6 hours in Salt Lake City. I found a gas station that had gas for $4.05 compared to the $4.15 in other stations. Steal. The downer is that it is now about 11 p.m. and I drive up to Salt Lake for a Literacy Coaching class at 8:00 a.m. Bummer.  : (

Getting to Know You . . . Getting to Know All About You . . . 

Ellie 

b. January, 2008

Long Island, New York

I dwell in Possibility - 

A fairer House than Prose - 

More numerous of Windows - 

Superior - for Doors -

Of Chambers as the Cedars - 

Impregnable of Eye - 

And for an Everlasting Roof 

The Gambrels of the Sky -

Of Visitors - the fairest - 

For Occupation - This - 

The spreading wide my narrow Hands 

To gather Paradise -

                                  E. Dickinson

      I seldom do this.     

Seldom? I have never done this before. For those reading my blog, I urge you - in a quiet, peaceful moment - to read this blog - http://adailyscoop.blogspot.com. I am touched by the tragedy, the faith, and the beauty of Camille's life and Stephanie's journey. 

Love, Mom.
dearest daughter, 
To day I walked with you through difficult decisions. I admire you, I respect you, I am proud of your mental and spiritual sensitivity. Through the seemingly cloud of choices, you portrayed a wife, a mother, and a daughter of God. This tulip is for you!

The Joy of Cousins

Summer Driving.
A young father was plowed down by a truck in Orem earlier this week. The obituary states that he had three young daughters. He survived cancer in his twenties and he was like 34 years old. The truck ran a red light. The young father was on a motorcycle. With gas prices high and sunny weather, the advent of more motorcyclists, more skate boarders, more roller blades, more bicyclists, and more walkers is apparent. I grow nervous driving. Six young bicyclists cut across my driving path tonight - on a busy four lane highway. I caution myself to drive slower, drive aware, and with a prayer.

Motorcycle accident claims Orem man

Janice Peterson - DAILY HERALD

An Orem man was killed in an early morning collision with a tractor-trailer Wednesday. According to a press release, the driver of a tractor-trailer ran a red light at 1200 West and 800 North in Orem at approximately 8 a.m. According to police reports, one witness saw the truck moving west on 800 North, too quickly to stop for the light. David Lant, 34, did not see the approaching truck and was hit while riding his motorcycle through the intersection. Orem police Lt. Doug Edwards said charges are pending against the 25-year-old truck driver from Lindon, whose name has not been released. The speed of the truck as it entered the intersection and other details of the accident are still under investigation. Edwards said Lant was transported to Timpanogos Regional Hospital in Orem, where he was pronounced dead. Edwards said he personally knew Lant through church. "He was a devoted husband and father and will be missed by all who knew him," Edwards said in a release. Robert Cluff, Lant's boss at Minuteman Press in Orem, said Lant was a hard worker and very close to Cluff. Cluff said he came upon the scene of the accident minutes after it occurred and did not realize who had been involved. "Something caught my eye that I recognized that motorcycle," he said. As Cluff pulled over and approached the scene, he said he realized Lant had not been in to work, and he tried to call his cell phone. When no one answered, Cluff said he began to realize his friend may have been hurt. "I didn't even notice (he wasn't at work) until I saw the accident, and I put two and two together," he said. Officers at the scene told Cluff where the victim was transported, and Cluff said he called Lant's wife to meet him at the hospital. Cluff said it is a tough time for the family, who has asked him to be their spokesman. Lant, a father of three girls, was always there when he was needed. "The shock of not having him there is frankly what we're all trying to cope with," Cluff said.

Hmmm.
Moving is not fun. Growing up, by the time I graduated from high school, I had lived in 18 houses. My parents would build a home, sell a home, rent a home to live in while building another home, and live in that home, sell that home. The home I lived in during high school bordered a smooth running creek. When my parents put out the FOR SALE BY OWNER sign, my older brother pulled the sign from the earth, walked the sign to the creek. With a heave and ho, flung the sign into the creek. My brother walked back home. Told my parents what he had done. They did not sell the home until I had graduated from high school. 

Post Script: One home my parents rented had the nastiest, dirtiest tub. I did not bathe for the six months we lived in that home. I would shower in the locker room at school. As much as I hated showering at school, I hated that tub worse. My brothers slept in the basement of that home. One night they were aroused from sleep by a drunk Native American from the nearby reservation. My brother threw a tennis shoe at the drunk. The guy stumbled into the coal room and crashed. In the morning, he took off. So much for rental homes of the cheap variety!

Random.
la Cockaroacha in WALL.E   I could be well mistaken but after having lived in the Deep South (waaaay Deep), the Washington, D.C. area, and in the St. Louis area, well, my understanding is that la Cockaroacha(s) live in groups, CAN''T BE ERADICATED,HUGE, ENORMOUS, (MAMA la Cockaroacha MATES ONCE FOR A LIFETIME OF IMPREGNATION), EVER PRO-CREATING groups. So, people, how is it that WALL.E's la cockaroacha friend is single, all alone, sans her other trillions of hundreds of thousands millions family members? Huh?
ANTS in My Pant(s)try are no more. Mr. Exterminator came to blast 10 gallons of I don't-know-what-and-don't-frankly-care to eradicate said ants. I feel some relief that ants are not squishing between my toes or please excuse me here - I don't have to sit on the toileta and watch said scout ants hunt around my tile floors for who knows what they eat off a tile floor. I guess I would like to think of myself as a true nature person: live and let live. But, after all, I pay for my house and ants cannot, repeat, cannot house here, sleep, and frolic in my home for free! No, siree! I am no sucker. (I am a wee bit worried about ants eating my body in my casket. Don't they put the casket in a cement vault before going in the ground? Would a cement vault to fit my casket cost more?) I'm going to eat some chocolate right now. 
CURVES. Okay. No weight lost - actually a 1/2 pound gain BUT, WOW! like my trainer, Kristy, was so impressed that my measurements have shrunk in buttocks (dumb word), thighs, and stomach. To celebrate she rang the dinner bell even. Of course, at 5:30 a.m. no one was in the building. I did not have the heart after Kristy's burst of happiness to mention that when you are a beached whale and begin to exercise (even a wee small bit) that it might stand to reason that said whale would shrink in buttocks, thighs, and stomach. This morning was a difficult work-out so to reward my self for shrinking in buttocks, thighs, and stomach I did eat a handful of M and M's. Just a handful. A large handful. My hand was wide, wide open and my other hand had to make sure to catch the M and M's slipping from wide-open hand so free-loading ants could not breakfast on M and M's slipping to tile floor. I refused to offer them a last meal. Freeloaders!

Making Right Choices in a Hard Choice World.

Gavin phoned yesterday. I know he is lonely with Jamie and the three children vacationing in Utah for the month of July. Gavin will join them for the last week of July. Jamie has missed her family and from experience, I know that the humid, hot summer climate of the New York coast is not fun with three small children in tow everywhere. A year ago, after graduation from dental school in Arizona, Gavin, Jamie, Braden and Abby moved to Long Island, New York. Gavin is doing a dental residency in pediatrics at Stony Brook University Medical Center. This past year has meant hard journeys for both Gavin and Jamie. Long hours apart. Long hours organizing daily family life in an unfamiliar environment from Phoenix, Arizona. Long hours of preparing and adjusting to their baby's arrival in January. To me, Gavin and Jamie have and are progressing through difficult times with amazing agility of faith, stamina, and joy. Gavin's phone call. He has been called to the Bishopric in their Long Island ward. This calling is a culmination of Gavin and Jamie making right choices in a hard choice world. 
God Bless.

Ants in My Pant(s)ry

Ants are interesting! Did you know ants have special soldiers that are larger than all the workers but which don't seem to do much, and a lot of workers go out foraging and take a hitching minima worker with them that rides on the piece of leaf they bring back to the nest with them? Is this ant taxi service? I would recommend to anybody to have a closer look at these amazing creatures. I have had a closer look. Hosing off our patio I looked down at my toes to observe 1, 000, 000 ants climbing towards my knees. Tomorrow, I am moving to Antarctica. Wait! ANTarctica?

WE NOW HAVE A CAT . . . sort of.

People we now have a CAT. Roams our back patio area. This CAT requires no immediate or urgent care ever! No litter box. No high protein CAT food. Nothing. Nada. This CAT does not shed a multitude of hairs, either.  Amazingly I haven't even observed CAT (heaven forbid!) trying to sneak into our house. CAT is not friendly. CAT likes her/his own space. Believe me, people, CAT CAN HAVE OWN SPACE. (Please scroll down for recent picture.)

CAT FACE SPIDER.  

Ivy's 4th of July Piggies!

Freedom Rings!

"Once you learn to read, you will be forever free."

                                       — Frederick Douglass

My wonderful daughter-in-law, Jamie, reading to her daughter, five months old - Ellie. I am grateful my grandchildren love to read and to have books read to them. I am grateful my grandchildren's parents take the time to read to them. Forever Free!

Hurry Fast. Drive Safely.
Before the month of July is past - a month of celebrating Freedom, Liberty, Men Among Men, Women Among Women - hurry fast! drive safely! - borrow or purchase HBO's John Adams. 
I do humbly declare.

Nightmare Before Christmas in July.

Ivy is visiting her Grammi this afternoon. We played My Pretty Ponies. We had a tea party of chocolate milk and red licorice. Then Ivy was tuckered out so she requested The Nightmare Before Christmas while she rests on the couch eating popcorn mixed with M&M's. Uncle John commented on Ivy's choice of movie - oh, well - I have heard of Christmas in July sales. Ivy has in mind Christmas in July movies. Oh, I have the bestest and brightest grandchildren on the planet.

I do.

Change Stations Now.

367. That's the number of calories the fancy-Curves-Smarty-Aleck-computer tells me I burned today. Let me share with you that my exercising is noisy. I grunt and groan, and pass gas, too. I go early. A wee bit earlier than the official opening time. I go early because I just can't enjoy socializing while grunting, groaning, and whiffing belches southward. I can't philosophize about teaching, children, grandchildren, eggplant casserole, weather, jillions of ants I observed in billions of star formations plastered to our sidewalk yesterday (my neighbor informed me they were feeding.) I can only think about how many more machines before the workout is finis. Who, by the way, wrote that the journey is as important as the destination? Shoot me.