Visiting the Past

On our first day of vacation we headed to Colorado Springs. I was born there, but my family moved when I was four and I have never returned. We left pretty close to on time, punched the address into the navi and trusted it would get there the fastest way. I am not sure it was the fastest way, but it was a beautiful drive! We drove through all sorts of small towns and the scenery through Colorado was breathtaking! We even got to see a black bear running through an opening in the trees somewhere between the Continental Divide and Colorado Springs. The drive took two more house than we thought, so we missed getting into the cemetery. See the reason we took our route through C.S. was so that I could visit my little sister's grave. She was born 18 months after I was, but only lived three months. We got up a bit earlier the next day, and found her grave marker with very little difficulty, considering it was a huge cemetery. Her name, carved in Granite, Melissa Ruppel, was tucked up against a large tree, but was a little overgrown. I dug around it, and Wonder collected stray flowers, while Potential snapped photos. It was a lovely experience, topped off by Tradition feeding Fruit Loops to a Fox who posed with great dignity for out camera.

Day two was 16 hours in the car! Again, we trusted the navi, which someone inthe back named "Delores", and she took us through beautiful stretches of the Mid West on the way to Nauvoo, Illinois. We own a building there, one built by dragging the original stones that had once belonged to the original Nauvoo Temple just up Mulholland. Along the way I read "Remembering Isaac" to the three girls in the back, finding ourselves increasingly enraptured with the town of Niederbipp. The highlight of the day was as we wandered down some delightfully verdant back road, we almost missed a sign that read "Adam Ondi Ahman, 4 Miles. I had no idead that was on the route, as we had left all those decisions up to Delores. We screeched to a halt and backed up. We made it through the gates just as the sun set, but the sky was still full of pinks and oranges. As we tumbled out of the van in the deserted parking lot, we were instantly aware of the completely different feeling that the paths and fields there evoked. I wish I could write how we felt, but words just don't begin to capture the sunset, rolling hills, quiet, potential and fireflies! Oh the fireflies!

Day three was a warm one in Nauvoo, there on the banks of the Mississippi;, they told us later it was 110 counting some index. Undaunted, we walked from our hotel to our store. Each visit finds us more enthralled with the bits and pieces of the temple that clearly mark the hand work of some pioneer who chiseled and carved at the stones with such devotion. We wandered up and down main street and then it was finally time for lunch at our favorite place, the Nauvoo Mill and Bakery. We ate all of our meals there, squirreling away bits for snacking later. In the evening we went to see the pageant that told the history of Nauvoo. We have ancestors who lived and died there, so we feel connected besides our building.

Day four, on the way out of town we finally caved and stopped at the darling quilt store, which used to be housed in our building, but hard times hit everywhere, and the quilt shop is now part of another gift shop. I bought some lovely pieces to make an apron, my favorite is a fat quarter covered with speckled eggs for the pockets. Potential caught amazing photos along the way, our favorite ones were Amish clothes out to dry on a line. We used great self discipline not to take photos of the darling amish girl who waited on us at the little grocery stand, run without electricity. Again, Delores took us down long country back roads and past amazing old churches, schools and barns. At last, we arrived in Terre Haute to see Childhood and her thriving family.

No time for edits and fine combing, there are three little grandsons waiting to show their Grammy how well they can jump into the water from the side of the pool!

Spinning

As the four and a half of you who follow my blog know, I have to post once a week or I have to do Potential's laundry. Potential hasn't used the washing machine in weeks, so I am very motivated to stay as far away from her bulging laundry basket as possible. Now here I sit exploring all sorts of morsels I could potentially write about as they pop into my head.

The problem, is that I have been trying to give up complaining. I don't just mean not whining about stuff, I mean completely getting away from saying anything that is not constructive. That means giving up saying things like, "It sure is hot" and "I gotta get new shoes, my feet are killing me", both of which I think I said this week anyway. I am trying to get away from saying anything that doesn't take the conversation somewhere better. I am trying to say things like, "Let's cool off and go get a frozen yogurt" or "According to my calculations, these shoes have walked about 1,500 miles in the last 3 years, aren't they awesome?"

Not complaining is surprisingly boring, which is not a complaint, but totally a statement of fact. The not complaining conversation goes like this:
"How has your day gone?"
"Great, how has your day gone?"
"Great!"
"The wife and kids, how are they?"
"Great, thanks for asking. How about that new car you got?"
"Humms right along, no problem at all."

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Now notice, that I switched to a conversation as if it might be between two men? That is because years ago, the first time I started thinking about not complaining all the time, I called a friend and asked her what she thought it might sound like if the two of us gave up complaining, what would our conversation be like? She thought for a minute and said, "We would sound like men." I'm not going to elaborate, just putting that out there.

So as I searched my wee brain for current events, I found I had to eliminate them or figure out how to put a positive spin on them. For example, I took the car in to be looked at and came home with a bill twice as big as the current blue book value, not exaggerating. If I were trying to put a constructive spin on that particular morsel, I could say this, "Hooray, what a wonderful time we live in. There are so many options available when disaster strikes. We can dip into the kid's tuition fund, sell a kidney, or just simply learn to do without, blessing our lives with additional patience and understanding. Think of how many more miles my wonderful shoes could go if we didn't have a car!"

I'm going out now for a frozen yogurt. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the car made it there and back?

the big and small of it

"I'm sorry you had to step in, there is just so much time I can spend with one mortal at any given moment. So what did I miss?"
"Pretty much the usual wallowing. She's sure she has missed too many opportunities, missed too many chances to develop talents, personality is too difficult, has no potential, yadda-yadda. Today the big deal is she remembers feeling that she was supposed to do something big with her life and thinks she blew it."
" Well what did she expect when all her elementary teachers were hippies who went and got teaching certificates? That decade has been driving us nuts ever since they were told they could be anything they wanted, even be the President of the United States."
"And you can see..."
"Let's stick to the mortal at hand, shall we?"
"Sorry. Got any ideas?"
"What did we do last time?"
"Sent all those hymns to rattle around in her head. Woulda worked, too, if she hadn't had the sound track from "Glee" turned up so loud."
"Let's send Jane."
"Brilliant! That is why I love working with you"
So the two of them watched as the floundering mortal walked down the hall of the church to wait for her next meeting. Along the way the mortal bantered with a young father about the candy dripping down his two year old's face, and laughed about what it would do to her fancy Sunday Dress, and then turned to the approaching Jane. Jane stopped in front of her, in all her five year old glory, arms straight out, face lit up with a huge smile. The mortal wasn't sure if Jane was gesturing for a hug or a compliment, so she gave her both. Jane asked, "When are you coming to teach us again?" The mortal replied with delight and commitment, "the minute someone calls me and asks me too. I love to sing in Primary with you." Jane gave one more twirl, in case the mortal had missed any of the splendor of her Sunday best, and skipped off after her retreating family.
"Did she get it"
"Hang on, let me listen a second...Yep, there it is. For the moment the mortal remembers it is a big deal to teach someone something good, even if it is just a small child."
"We will just remind her, for the umpteenth time, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass."

Contestants

"Get In Here, NOW", I yelled from the 5 year old's bedroom. I was trying to get as many small humans into bed as possible at one time, and Tradition* was not making this easy. I was tossing clothes in the hamper and giving the 3 year old, Wonder, the evil eye as she began to hop back out of her pajamas. Fed up waiting for Tradition, I started to count to five and stomped down the hall. I rounded the corner as I hit "FOUR AND A HALF", and found her sitting cross legged on the bathroom countertop, staring at herself, nose less than an inch away from the mirror, barely breathing. I may have mentioned this before, but in those days I was trying to practice the advice "Always listen first at least as long as you plan to talk". So I took a deep breath and through gritted said, "Alright, missy, what are you doing?" Still in her frozen state, eyes beginning to turn red, she said, somewhat petulantly, "I am in a staring contest."

Now, why is it we don't eat our young?

"With yourself?" I asked in exasperation. She refused to even dignify that question with a response. I raised both hands to physically remove her from the contest, when I heard Peace, then 8 years old, call out in a voice full of far more sarcasm than any 8 year old had any business commanding,

"Oh, ya, whose winning." Ba-dum ching.

I told the kids I forgot to take my vitamins and fled before they saw me cave.

*names have been changed to protect the innocent

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

Because we have spent most of the last 23 years living out of state, we have had few opportunities to visit her grave. Besides, my thoughts have always been quite clear on the subject. She is not there, only the body that made life both possible and miserable is there. Yet, our family has visited the cemetery on Memorial Day since we moved back to the area recently, because it just seemed like the right thing to do.

This year I had planned on writing about our trip to the cemetery as we got into the car to leave, and asked one of my daughters to grab her camera, thinking I might finally be able to make the jump to adding photos to my blog. When we got home from the cemetery, my daughter downloaded all the photos and I watched over her shoulder as she ran through them. I looked at my face in the photos, and saw it again.

Our daughter was four and a half years old when she passed away, 23 years ago. Her life expectancy was 6 months, so we did pretty well, I think. Her life was short, but not all that sweet. In fact, she had a really hard time. My husband, the most diplomatic person I have ever met, the kind that ALWAYS tells me I do not look fat in my jeans, would look at me after a long and difficult evening while she was still alive, and say, quietly and with concern, “You look old”. I doubt I looked as old as I felt.

She was buried on a cold windy February day, just a short graveside service. Two days earlier I had sat in the office of a very kind man while making a ridiculous amount of necessary decisions that follow death. I remember being handed a book of grave markers and he wanted to know if I wanted any additional engravings on it. At first I was going to say no, but a butterfly caught my attention. A voice inside my head said, “You think butterflies are silly, childish, highly tacky, and have always been quite snobbish about their use”. And my mouth said firmly, “I’d like this butterfly, please. Her body was like a cocoon, and now she is free.”

When I looked over my daughter’s shoulder at the photos she had just taken, I saw the echo of those days still in my face. Whereas my thoughts on visits to her grave may have been clear in my head, what was in my heart was clear on my face. When I visit that place, I visit the hard stuff.

All that happened a long time ago, it feels longer than twenty three years, sometimes, it feels like it happened to someone else, and I just carry the story. I once made a list of the top ten hardest things that had every happened to me, and her life and death were not the first on the list, but the fact that I made it through her life and death, gave me the hope and will to move through the whole list. The benefits have far out weighed the difficulties. I am a more tender person than I would have been and I rejoice more in the children who are still here with me and thriving. I like thinking that she watches over us and is waiting until we are through goofing around down here and get to be with her, and I think those lovely thoughts every day.

Except maybe, for a moment, if a camera catches up with me thinking more about cocoons than butterflies.

Mighty Fine

I believe that I have discovered the most versatile word in the English language. Now, this not just some sudden burst, I have been thinking about this for years. In my spare time, of course. Are you ready?

Fine.

Not, “Fine, here we go”, but indeed the word “fine”. See this simple word can be used in a surprisingly diverse manner of ways, because it’s use is more often based on the tone of voice of the user. In fact, I believe that no one really thinks about the dictionary definition of this word any more, unless you are into fine dining or paying of fines or Fine, a French Brandy, it is simply a communication vehicle for the attitude of the moment.

Let me give you some examples…

When asked, “How are you feeling today?”

“Fine, How are you?” This use is very basic and said as if one is checking off something on a TO DO List.

Or, when asked, “How are you feeling today?” and the word is conveyed with a hint of suffering, “Oh, fine, I suppose.” That one is loaded; only ask for further information if you are saintly, otherwise, run.

Or the “fine” you use when your kids ask you if they can do something like borrow the car, and you say, slowly, “Fine”, usually beginning on a low note, sliding your voice up several notes and following with a slightly louder, “ BUT…” which means that there is about to follow a list of things that will make the request possible once completed.

Now I believe that teenagers have a way of making this word into a compliment, like “Girl, you are looking mighty fine today.” Alas, in my old age, that just makes me wince. Teenagers can also use this poor unsuspecting word so as to propel it straight to the list of Forbidden Four Letter Words in a single bound. This usually happens at the conclusion of an argument, once sentencing has been pronounced, and the offender is leaving, using this poor unsuspecting word along with a combination of stomping and slamming.

My own personal favorite is the fine said as the last word. Like when you are having an argument with your spouse and you realize there is just no winning and you concede with “fine”. That one means “I’m done talking but you better hide all the sharp objects and stay out of my line of vision for at least the next 6 hours.”

This list is not as thorough as the 19 links provided on Wikipedia, where it is actually discussed with some intelligence. This will do just fine for now.

Crybaby Cookies

Several weeks ago I had a request from one of the 3 people who check in on my blog for the cookies that “make people cry like a baby they are so good.”

See, the deal is, it is as much the process as the ingredients. Some of the process I can include here, but a bit is just my own personal magic. I will try my best.

On Wednesday evening, after you have cleaned up the dinner mess, pull out your mixer. It is a good idea to listen to James Taylor in the back ground, but Anita Baker is a good second choice. Here are the ingredients:

Crybaby Cookies

2 c butter
2 c peanut butter, smooth or chunky
2 c sugar
2 c brown sugar
4 eggs
3 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
3 tsp vanilla
2 c oatmeal
4 c flour
1 2lb bag Guittard Real Milk Chocolate Chips

Place butter and peanut butter in mixer and turn mixer on to lowest setting. Add ingredients to mixer in the order listed, allowing the mixer to continue on low. Once the chips are just blended in, turn off mixer and place walnut size scoops on a heavy, light colored, ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 for 12 minutes or until they just start to turn brown. Do not over cook.

It is important that this be done in time to watch “The Middle”, so check TVGuide to see when it is on, or, do what I do and make sure you have a series recording. Once one dozen cookies have been baked, take a towel, the mixer bowl, small spoon and a cookie sheet and go sit on the couch in front of the tv. You have made a double batch, so this next step this will probably take the full time it takes you to watch one episode. Place the towel over your lap, place the bowl on the towel with the cookie sheet next to you. Using the spoon or your best guess, take chunks of dough the size of a walnut or a bit bigger, and roll the dough into balls and place them close together on the cookie sheet next to you. If the show is pre-recorded, it is a good idea to get an assistant to help fast forward through the commercials, so you don’t get cookie dough down in between the buttons on the remote. I haven't had much luck getting a new remote for free once they discover all the cookie dough.

Now, this is the important part, don’t get too caught up on Frankie’s mothering skills or the expression on Axel’s face. You need to closely inspect the quality of the milk chocolate chips. If there are any poorly formed chips, then you need to eat them, right then and there, with any dough attached of course. Quality control, people, quality control. Once you are done, immediately place the cookie sheet with the carefully formed and inspected cookie dough balls in the freezer overnight. The next day separate the frozen dough balls into two separate large baggies and leave in the freezer.

I usually only bake cookies one dozen at a time, as I tend to eat as many as I bake, and most of the real magic in the cookies is in having the chocolate chips all warm and melty. They bake up just fine without being thawed, so I just pop a dozen frozen dough balls on a pan and stick it in the oven the second it is hot enough, usually for the same 12 minutes as above. So far in-house testing has shown the dough is good for up to two weeks. It probably would be fine longer than that, it’s just that we usually eat them, baked or as is frozen, by the end of two weeks.

Oh, and always buy two bags of Guittard Real Milk Chocolate Chips, one per batch of cookies, one for eating straight out of the bag.