Down on the farm

Houseguests

2012-01-22T14:01:00.008-07:00

Even after I fed our houseguests this,

they refused to leave. I had noticed one out of the corner of my eye a few weeks back. Proper hostess that I am, I fed them more bait! Then yesterday, I found these three guys hunkered down in a bucket of birdseed in the garage. What to do? More bait? Invite a cat over as well? A quick call to Paco. He suggested a relocation plan which involved slapping a lid on, picking up the "hotel", and dumping meeces, seeds, and all outside FAR FAR away. Ewww. I took their picture. The flash woke them up, and they looked like they wanted to scurry. I scurried instead. Perhaps I can muster Project Relocation tomorrow. Dumping guests has never been an option. We enjoy most guests, and those which we WOULD like to dump have usually cleared out sooner or late. But THESE guys??? Perhaps if I threaten them with the guestbook..

"Just call me Love-Love"

2011-12-14T10:06:00.004-07:00

Contrary to popular opinion, I am NOT dead. I may look grayish, my breath may be undetectable even on a mirror, and my life appear unattended. Nevertheless, I live on. I have a plethora of things to blog about, and I even admit that sometimes I write blogs subconsciously. Good good stuff too! Stay tuned. But I AM interrupting my silence with a snippet from ordinary life. Yesterday I was sitting in the temple when I overheard an elderly man addressing his wife as she sat down beside him: "Ah, you made it, Love-Love." I want a name like that! When Paco and I got married we just began calling each other by our given Christian names. The "Paco" had seeds in our engagement, so it stuck. But no endearing terms emerged. Nary a one. If I could turn the clock back, I think I would have stuck in a few "Honey's" or "Darling's" or maybe a stray "Dear" or two. Now they just sound sort of awkward and embarrassing to use. Do you know what I mean? We also got into the habit of using "J" and "M" because we signed emails that way for 14 months while we conducted our transcontinental China to Idaho courtship. I don't know. Maybe we've passed the point of no return. I have good friends in NJ who refer to each other as "Lovey". Other than that, I think most people reserve their exchange of terms of endearment for private times. Any thoughts out there on this? Oooh, I had a wrestle with a bug yesterday! It was nasty! Even hearing someone on TV mention "spoon" made me gag! I slept an extra 6 hours too! That train wreck arrived at exactly 11:14 A.M. On the button. Weird.

Knit Knote

2011-11-12T21:04:00.017-07:00

WARNING: This blog contains both the words "shan't" and "daresn't". The surgeon general has determined that these words should be used only under a doctor's care.)

My good mother Martha always said, "Sometimes you have to get into a mess to get out of a mess." My mess in its early stages resembled something akin to post tornado destruction. Getting into the mess required much rousting about, walking with mincing step, and ruthless tossing. Getting out gobbled up about 11 hours of my life.

This sheep is the silent (save occasional snide remarks) observer of all that transpires up here. He does sometimes render opinions (taken for what they're worth). I picked him up...wait for it....wait for it...in a....(you're going to like this)...truck stop in Wyoming!! I know!!!!

Some unusual things are dropping off my knitting needles these days. You would never never guess what. I did a bit of organizing (as evidenced in the pre state pictured above) in my knitting loft (What? You say you DON'T have an entire room of your house devoted exclusively to yarn???), gave in to my inner anal, and labeled all my pending projects. PP1 (Priority Project 1) through PP30 something and CP1 (Christmas Project 1) through CPTeen something. It is a long-established truism that any good knitter worth her salt has not only an infinite stash of yarn and patterns BUT also unfinished projects. I prefer to call them "opus/opi?" much like unfinished symphonies. Recently I made a list of 32 projects in one stage or another of doneness which I was going to complete and exhibit at Thursday Night Knitting in the next few weeks. Some of these projects will be under Christmas trees this year, so I daresn't elaborate only to say that I AM ROCKING THEM OUT!! (insert high karate kick and Braveheart victory whoop). Sometimes I even take projects to bed with me knowing full well that I run the risk of skewering myself nicely in the night if I fall asleep knitting. I could write long and hard about knitting. I shan't tonight, but be forewarned that it is coming...
I knitted 50% of the hats in this picture of one of my favorite daughters-in-law, Season, and another great thing about my son (his baby daughter, Clara). Hint: think stripes.

Amen to This!!!

2011-11-11T11:54:00.001-07:00

This an absolute testament to what a teacher unhampered by standardized tests could accomplish...

Paradigms Schmaradigms

2011-11-08T05:49:00.007-07:00

It most recently came to my attention (in the shower yesterday, in fact) that a major contributor towards my angst of late is the fact that not only are my planets not aligning, but the vast majority of the inalienable paradigms of life have shifted. This is unsettling. I direct your attention to Exhibit A (a list of former paradigms):
a. money socked away for retirement is nice and cozy in American banks waiting patiently for your hair to gray whereupon it will provide you a kooshy retirement enabling you to get early diner discounts courtesy of the thriving American dollar on the national and international stock market scenes
b. the United States government has your back at all times so sleep well
c. American schools will educate your children in a warm non-hostile environment
d. your food will nourish you and provide adequate cell rejuvenation
e. your superior status as an American globally is intact so hold your head up proudly
f. as ye sow so shall ye reap
g. the lazy bums will get theirs
h. cheaters never prosper
i. what goes around comes around
j. noble souls who choose to teach in the American school systems will never make a huge living, but the job is rewarding and the community, state, and nation will respect the title of teacher
k. children eventually DO grow up
l. all that is good and decent will prevail
m. a home is a good sound investment
n. husbands and wives live together
o. the planet is a large friendly safe ecosystem
p. a college education is good insurance and guarantees your survival
q. work hard and your investments will pay off
r. parents teach their children to be good contributing citizens
s. be loyal to your boss and company and they'll take care of you
t. honesty is the best policy

And the list goes on and on. The disconcerting part (at least to Paco and myself as per our post shower conversation) is that we're all skating on bacon grease wondering what the future holds! What ARE the next paradigms? How long will THEY last? It's a grab bag! A crap shoot! Russian roulette! Anybody's guess! Stay tuned! Keep reading! Not so quick! Hold on! Maybe so, mabe not!

The only paradigms that haven't shifted are the ones I've been taught by my parents and in church for the last 58 years. I don't foresee them changing. That gives me comfort. In a world of shifting idealogical tectonic plates, the simple truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ give me comfort. Sleep well.

"Paddle Faster!! I Hear Banjoes!!"

2011-11-06T19:07:00.018-07:00

What follows is a pictoral documentation of a trip down the San Juan River in southern Utah which I took with three friends--Bruce, Lana, and Corinne--in mid September. Bruce is a veteran River Rat and graciously invited us to join him. He also served as chef, paddler, and guide extraordinaire. We girls pitched in as sub rats and became semi-handy by the end of the trip. I personally was transported back to September of 1974 when I traipsed over much the same territory with my fellow survivalists from BYU's Youth Leadership 480--an experience from which I have never fully recuperated, thank heavens...The particulars of this trip are quite simple: 3 days and nights on a river, rapids and whitewater on occasion, campfires, tents, quicksand, mud, limited other lifeforms, 54 miles, some pushing and pulling the raft over sand dunes, swimming in pools, hiking up canyons, conversations about every BODY and every THING and every BOOK and every MOVIE and every EXPERIENCE, a few truth games, a little singing, and much much much raucous laughter which reverberated off the narrow canyon walls. Oh, and (because you'd never think to ask about this) we had to carry out all our solid human wastes in an old ammo can. That alone pretty much separates the men from the boys as to who could actually REALLY enjoy such a trip as this! Leaving the river was much much more difficult than embarking, once again proving that going from complex to simple is much easier than going from simple to complex. Lights! Enjoy.

Blogger Sloth Plays Catch-Up

2011-11-05T18:42:00.015-06:00

Rosie Rae was the big news of the summer. She was ordered with all the extras (even though it cost a little more) and took to being Belle of the Ball quite naturally.

We spent a great day in Baltimore at the Art Museum of Baltimore, Little Italy, and Inner Harbor.

Rosie got a private tour of the museum with her own personal "aht teachah". You can't imagine how long it took to line that nude statue up right over her head. We're sticklers for artistic details like that.

And this over-the-top-one-of-a-kind-aht-teachah-Eric Carle quilt!!!! I say if you are gonna have friends, choose classy ones...I excel at it.

What this picture DOESN'T show is the extra savois faire exuded by my two friends, Cathie and Eileen, who had just returned from the Mediterranean.

These guys...oh, THESE guys...

Pete is a professional 2 year old. Do not, I repeat DO NOT attempt what he does in your own home. Remember--he is a professional.

Slacker bloggers have to play catch-up--not because any readers are wondering what happened to vast amounts of time in the blogger's life when no posts appeared, but because bloggers use this medium for their own selfish purposes a.k.a. journal/photo album/memory jogger. So nanner nanner. Be forewarned that tomorrow I'm going to plaster this thing with pictures from my river trip in September. I'm not hoping to win any literary awards--just catching up. That's all.

The Ravine

2011-11-04T07:48:00.003-06:00

My annual Halloween tradition doesn't involve pumpkins or cookies or costumes. But it DOES involve complete darkness, kids sitting on the floor, and a spooky audiorecording of Ray Bradbury's "The Ravine" taken out of my favorite book of his Dandelion Wine. This year I went in search of THE darkest room in the school which I found underneath the auditorium, just right of the boiler room, down a long dark cement passage with a few unexpected steps, past two foot thick doors, and be sure to duck your head because the pipes are low-hanging AND keep on the lookout for spiders who have NEVER seen the light of day!!! On the board where I write the day's agenda and learning outcomes, I wrote merely: ?????
You can imagine this if you try. We've all been there--wanting to be scared, begging for it, not wanting to lose face with our peers, so we settle into our terror and just wait it out. When we got into the room, we turned off the lights. Complete pitch blackness. I threatened them all with "project abortion" if heart-stopping silence wasn't maintained. Three minutes into the audio someone alerted me to the emotional state of a boy up against the wall. On come the lights and the invitation to go back to the classroom. Five kids clung to each other and made their way back down the cement alley and back to the real world and their reading books. I said a silent prayer to the patron saint who protects teachers against lawsuits and cowboyed on. It was ever so spine-tingling and fun. I repeated this with over 60 students. Multiply that by 10 years or so and we're talking some serious Halloween anxiety. Mwaaaaahhhh...

All the Pirates I've Ever Met Have Been Named Cynthia

2011-11-02T06:06:00.003-06:00

I struck pay dirt on a flight home from Tulsa last week. You can imagine my delight when my seatmate in the pink tanktop turned out to be a charming, talkative, very open, living, breathing, walking, talking...(wait for it).....PIRATE! Of course she didn't divulge this information immediately. She veiled her true identity behind her day job (Oregon state investigator for Medicaid fraud--OH MY GOODNESS! The tales!! Stings in Texas! Stings in a vet office!), her marriage story (Rick was four seats up. Large gorilla of a guy she met in Home Depot where he was most helpful AS SHE REBUILT A HOME BY HERSELF!), her overseas (Macedonia, Slovenia, Bulgaria) exploits involving humanitarian work where her marriage ultimately caved, and the woes of a beloved stepchild turning away from her. Cynthia poured out her heart over the death of her marriage. I detected another woman in the story. We both teared up. Probably somewhere over Denver the conversation turned to life on their sailboat/home in Portland, plans to sail the world, and then she ever so casually mentioned that Rick and she belonged to the Portland Pirate Association...AARGH!! That's where the conversation veered sharply. I was immediately transported into THAT world! AHOY OH BOY!!! Treasure hunts, swashbuckling, "hangings" from trees, large bonfires, gangplanks, bustiers, eye patches (I could picture Rick as a very LARGE imposing pirate!), and a sort of comradery with other pirates that might resemble much the same one I have with my knitters. I received a personal invitation to "Come up!" which I shall entertain most seriously and perhaps combine with the ukulele festival I'm investigating. So we landed, we hugged, I was introduced to Rick, she handed me a cool business card with a picture of their sailboat home on it, and I mozied back home. Bending minds didn't seem all that exciting, after all. Life in my classroom oftentimes resembles a mutiny, I DO swashbuckle on occasion, my students are probably only a few steps removed from true barbarism, and I DO have a sword that drips fake blood in the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet which we use as a prop when the need arises. I most likely will never sail around the world, nor will I don a bustier. I'll probably retire as a dowdy English teacher (minus the bun). Ho hum...how do I stand myself?

Going Back to the Start

2011-09-18T08:18:00.001-06:00

Easing back into the blogosphere. Can you hear me stretching my fingers and cracking my knuckles? You haven't missed much by not being able to peer into the "underwear drawer" of my life via a blog. Just the usual--fly slaughterhouse time of year here,but I promise to keep that dialogue to a minimum except for this just in tonight!!! As I left to go to my neighbors I was horrified at the vast array of dead maniacs on the garage floor BECAUSE I HAD BOMBED AND VACCED just yesterday for likkety heck's sake!!! When I returned, a cat ran out of the garage, and would you believe that the flies were gone???? Insert Rod Steiger music. I also cruised down a semi muddy river in Utah, so I need to post about that! And I've taken up the ukulele! In bed!! Oh and I need to post about my crazy wacky students juggling with the beanbags I sewed for them--35 sets!!! We'd best get this ol' blog cranked back up.

In Counting

2011-09-06T20:52:00.002-06:00

How many days before whatever has been scratching scratching gives up the ghost???? It's been well over two weeks. Last year Paco had to extract a bird from our dryer vent. I have blocked out the status of that bird when he took it out. This intruder just keeps scratching scratching.

Mugsy is at large. I hope he comes home. He got spooked off by a storm this afternoon. Oh, how I hope he comes home...

Yesterday I helped my 92 year old aunt sift through some clothes in her closet in the name of de-junking. She held up a beautiful white blouse, commented that she'd just washed it, and then concluded by saying we could bury her in it!! Bury???? Who said anything about dying???? Am I the only one there who isn't designating burial clothes??????

Scratching scratching...Tonight it feels kind of like it's under my feet a ways down. Could that be?

Not Asleep

2011-08-11T02:48:00.004-06:00

Looking for my happy place. Thinking I might find it where it has lurked before. Finding kind of a dark place. Hoping the light starts seeping in. Feeling crinkly. Looking for my happy place.

Wondering if all my turns have been used up. Pondering deficits. Entertaining thoughts of bad karma. Gaping at holes and holes and holes. Squeezing the dark out of my brain. Wondering if all my turns have been used up.

Counting days and nights and days. Calculating steps and turns and bends. Reaching up. Estimating distances. Turning around and around and around. Counting days and nights and days.

Following my feet. Squaring my shoulders and following my feet. Waiting for the music to start. Tapping my toes. Turning towards the phonograph. Following my feet.

Horror of Horrors

2011-08-04T12:07:00.004-06:00

I heard a scratching scratching coming from the stove today. Not making this up--Mugsy heard it too!!! A few days ago I came down to breakfast, and a white mouse was lying dead in front of the stove. When I returned from the other world to which I had immediately fled (the ultimate HAPPY PLACE RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!) I knew that I had no choice but to sweep it into a dustpan (I did the whole thing with my eyes shut) like the big big girl that I try to be...sometimes, for the most part--oh, I'm so NOT a big girl when it comes to mice. But just WHO was I going to call? Not even a cat around. But today's matter!!!!!!! What to do?????????? Part of me wants to set fire to the entire house and never look back! What scratches?? What can get into an oven? Can it get out unaided??? I WILL NEVER AGAIN OPEN THE OVEN DOOR!! We will have to liquify all food that needs baking from here on out and insert it into the oven with a hypodermic! I guess I just really feel the need to go public with this matter today because should you not hear from me, please come and investigate. And be prepared to find conditions indescribable perhaps. I'm just saying--Mugsy may survive a direct encounter, but Madhadder will not. That's all.

Staycation

2011-08-02T14:36:00.003-06:00

I've had such an enjoyable time puttering around during the time I've been home this summer, that I've decided to foredeclare next summer officially as my Staycation! If you want to come and visit, I will greet you with open arms! If what you have planned for the day sounds fun, I might come along (if invited). Brrrrrrr Lake has textbook perfect summers. I'm not just saying that--it's a well-documented fact. Never gets too hot. You can stay outside ALL day long if you keep hydrated! The night cools off perfectly. Temperatures descend sufficiently in the middle of the night that you can just pull a quilt up and whoever complained about the feel of a quilt around them????!!!! Not me! I made a mental list of staycation ideas: garden, weed, water, mow, plant, read books, sew, knit, scrapbook a little, hike in the mountains, take the e-car into town for a taco, borrow horses to ride, daytrips to the Tetons, build a treehouse, refurbish the playhouse, spin alpaca wool, make mudpies, swing on a tree rope, collect rocks, swim at the lake, go to Raspberry Days, jump on the trampoline, run through the sprinklers, sell lemonade, open a table at the farmer's market, watch entire full seasons of Lost, The Office, Gilmore Girls, Cagney & Lacey, and grill something different every day! If any of this sets your Jell-o, come on out! I know none of this has anything to do with the Marx brothers, but aren't they pure delight!!???

Life is Grand in the Tetons!

2011-07-22T18:50:00.009-06:00

Somewhere deep inside every man lives a beautiful place. My beautiful inside place looks exactly like the Grand Tetons.

Sometimes you just have to pack up the mules and head out.

But when you get there, you realize that your beautiful place is getting better and better and better every time you go there.
And the magic just never stops--around every corner, something majestic or maybe just a moose cooling his belly in a stream. Or a smudge of a black bear up on the side of the mountain turning over a log in search of bugs.Let's come again...

Reunions Rock or Rocky Reunions

2011-07-20T21:12:00.007-06:00

The John and Martha Taggart reunion only rolls around every other year. This year's event included a day in the woods and a night (if you were up to it). We painted rocks and ate out of ovens--Dutch style, even though there's not a Dutch gene in sight. My sisters and myself.
My nephew Jack and his clone clown!
Thomas tries his hand at a camouflage rock. Cool.
My over the top sister-in-law, Marilyn did THIS with acrylics, bad bad brushes, and a rock. Oh and some foamy stuff she found lying around. Extraordinaire! No?
Nephew Jack's wife seems to have married into the right family!

You Know You've Arrived When...

2011-07-19T13:13:00.005-06:00

You have an account here?

Au contraire! We here at Provident Heritage Farm, Inc. prefer to appear on the local landfill rosters!

Apparently we're "regulars" because when we pulled in this morning, Paco merely paused to be weighed and then headed on in! It felt so posh! Apparently our vehicle is allowed to bring in 4 tons a year! Let's see 4 tons times 7 billion...put down the one and carry the...sheesh. Mugsy and I could NOT resist making up a "Going to the Dump-pa-da-dump!" song! I remember going to the dump with my dad. He'd back up dangerously close to the edge, and I'd squeal! And then in the winter, the dump road was our favorite sledding hill. My friend Denny had an old refrigerator door we'd all hop on! Somebody's dad would haul us up the road, and down we'd barrel! Chili and hot chocolate at somebody's afterwards...do kids still do this???? I had a missionary friend--he became an attorney I think--who had a job at the dump in Salt Lake City before his mission. Oh, the stories he'd tell. I'll bet he had more fun there than he's having as a lawyer. I'm thinking my grandkids would love a trip to the dump some time! I know I'm going back again! "Where everybody knows your name! And they're always glad you came!"

Paco's Home!

2011-07-18T12:42:00.005-06:00

and singing this song. On our desk here sits a picture of Paco--arms widespread (maybe he's telling a fishing story) to a group of diminuative Hispanic first graders. And thus began and ended the first chapter of Teach For America--Paco-style.

I heard a large-framed bearded dude tell the clerk at Maverik this morning, "I don't use pennies. I save them. I'm the reason there's a shortage, but that's how I paid for my Harley!"

Speaking of Maverik, the Maverik cat was found!! And you didn't even know he was gone. I'm thinking of interviewing him--he being so notorious and all.

I'm reading The Sociopath Next Door, and now everyone I meet is suspect. 1 in 25 of us is devoid of conscience, you know.

Headed for Harry Potter tonight. Even sleepy little Mt. Potato Peeler gets those movies here fresh from Hollywood! Paco is delighted more than Madhadder.

My high school classmates are showing up here for a bonfire next month. Rocking good time.

Mugsy had a "sex change" a few weeks ago. I got up early and just took the scissors to his top notch. He's easier to pet now, and I think his manhood has been boosted.

I dropped into 17 Miracles on Saturday. Have you seen it? I got a little drowsy and woke up at one point with a big old SNORT!! So demoralizing. LIKED the movie!!! Travis, my nephew, is a Star in it!! I love the scene in which the wolves drag him off to a hollow log. It's bordering on Monty Python-esque!!!! "I almost poked his eye out!"

Our alpacas,The Philosophers (Aristotle--"Ari"; Thoreau--"Hank"; and Emerson--"Ralphie"), have been displaced for a few days while the weed spray does its magic out there in their field. Paco rigged up a bit of a Cat's Cradle to keep them penned into our "sideyard". They jumped the fence and took to the high road! But they're such gentle souls that they willingly let us herd them back in. Here I would have inserted pictures of such, but I left the memory card in the printer! Why doesn't my camera SCREAM or SHAKE or at least clear its throat when the memory card isn't in it???????????

Just Plumb Worn Out

2011-07-15T17:39:00.006-06:00

Say howdy,
We'll ignore my complete disregard for this blog. I wouldn't exactly say I'm lazy. In my garden and the proximal regions you will find 13 (I counted them!) waist high mounds of weeds. I know I tend toward the boring when I harangue about flies and weeds. "ENOUGH ALREADY WITH THOSE!!!" I hear you shout. I'm just defending my work ethic. I have some interesting (yawn) pictures to post to fill in the cracks in the past almost month. In the meantime, I'm pausing reverently today to pay homage to my all-time favorite movie, "You've Got Mail" and to entreat you to join with me in putting this video to rest. Today I popped it in, settled down on the couch with a sweater I'm knitting, grabbed a handful of Jelly Bellies, and adjusted the dog at my side. But alas and alack, the tape is apparently just worn out. WHAT? Youmeanthesetapesdon'thavea10,000milesguarantee? I tried adjusting the tracking, cleaning the heads (I realize these are all antiquated terms now) with a head cleaning videocassette, and I even rigged up a Q-tip dipped in alcohol device which I attached to a pair of bamboo tongs in an attempt to clean the heads. Then the sound got slower and slower until Tom Hanks sounded drugged out of his mind! I tested the VCR with a Christmas with Mr. Bill video. Clear and clean. I admit defeat. Out to pasture it goes. This movie came out the year Paco and I got married. It has many elements of our courtship and early marriage--internet, anonymmity, children's books, NYC, and I dearly dearly love it. From the first time we saw it at the Ben Franklin Outlet Mall I was a die hard fan. I remember insisting it be the first movie Shelly watched when she returned from missionary work in Japan. I imagine I've watched it nearly 30 times--sometimes back to back. The only movie that can even come close is When Harry Met Sally--a blogpost for another day. A Meg Ryan and Nora Ephron junkie I admit I am. I'd better hoof it over to amazon.com and peruse replacements. Anybody else out there worn out a movie???
Update: $4.69!!!!! Brand new deluxe anniversary dvd edition delivered in two days. Ahhhh...

The Bane of My Existence and a Song For Paco

2011-06-25T10:39:00.006-06:00

To say that something or someone is "the bane of my existence" means
that the person or thing is a constant irritant or source of misery.
As a cliché, "bane of my existence" has lost its edge to a large
degree over the years, and today is most often applied to something
that may profoundly annoy us but is certainly bearable... "Bane of my
existence" is now almost always used in a semi-jocular, "what are you
gonna do?" sense.

But "bane" was once a very serious word. The Old English "bana" meant
literally "slayer" in the sense we now use "killer" or "murderer."
Early on, the English "bane" was also used in the more general sense
of "cause of death," and by the 14th century "bane" was used in the
specialized sense of "poison," a sense which lives on in the names of
various poisonous plants such as "henbane" and "wolfbane."

From this very literal "something that kills you" usage, "bane" by the
16th century had broadened into its modern meaning of "something that
makes life unpleasant, a curse." (Google)

Yea, verily, this is true. I have spent the last three hours digging henbane out of our "garden" (we loosely define garden here at Weed Nursery Acres as an enclosed place which starts out as mostly dirt and rocks and ends up as weeds and rocks). This henbane reared its ugly head last summer out in the then llama pasture. A little research told us it was an opium of sorts and would result in hallucinations if smoked. We refrained from smoking it, but we also refrained from doing anything else to it. My thinking (which is hazy at best) was that the henbane was the result of a very very very wet spring. Temporary. End of discussion. Enter Spring 2011. Wettest, coldest, L-O-N-G-E-S-T spring in the history of modern civilization. When spring finally arrived last WEEK for cotton pickin's sake!!!!!!!!!! the henbane had literally taken over our world!!!! I fully expected to find it growing out of Mugsy's ears!! Yesterday I put in an emergency call to the Brrrrrr Lake Weed Control Commission (whom I had heard rumored at my knitting group would prescribe treatment or better still make a house/farm call!!!). But as I am so wont to do, I got up at the crack this morning and took shovel in hand. Knowing full well that my morning's activity could very well land me in a body brace, I tackled the task nevertheless.

Yesterday I crawled over the fence into the alpaca pasture. Now, this is where the bane has pulled out ALL stops. It grows in sort of a swirl pattern--thick thick thick. But then it sends out runners (missionaries, if you will) to test the soil elsewhere--thus the garden infestation. I found one plant about the size of a fifth grader growing by the water trough. Oh, that I had a video of THAT effort...From what I could best deduce after 30 minutes of digging under the trough, the root on that BEAST is somewhere out in Bennington!!!!! I never did find it. All I could do was leave a mangled and aptly cursed fifth grader-sized plant lying on its side--root still entact. Henbane-10, Madhadder-0.
Oh, by the way Happy 13th Wedding Anniversary to Madhadder and Paco. Paco is keeping cool in Tempe's 110 HELLHOLE today writing lesson plans for pint-sized summer school captives, and I am cleaning the sty I call home and gearing up for girls' camp. Do you think they'd send me home from girls' camp if I brought along some henbane to try out???

Farm Report--April 15, 2007

2011-06-10T15:12:00.007-06:00

A visitor yesterday reminded me of this, so I thought I'd post it for old time's sake. I should have been more diligent in keeping a chronicle of the metamorphosis out here. So much of it I wanted to forget! Oddly enough the date I wrote this appears to be my birthday! I hope some celebrating was going on as well.

Hello Friends,
Many of you have written with inquiries about our farm. In the interest of saving time, I'm sending out a "report". Almost ten months ago Jerry and I signed papers on an 8 acre farm about four miles south of where I teach school in Montpelier, Idaho. One would think our combined intelligence would have stopped us, but nevertheless we went willy nilly forward! My worst case scenario was that the remodeling (kitchen, family room, master suite, library, powder room) efforts would be completed by Halloween, and now my best case scenario is perhaps the 4th of July!!! Finding workmen has taken effort, and the ones we've found have had a decided Green Acres/Petticoat Junction flair! Our first carpenter fizzled out once hunting season opened. When he Would show up, we followed him around admiringly like intoxicated puppies just Pleased that he was here! He made some ghastly errors in judgment for which we have had to pay, but who can expect a guy to keep his mind on work when the hills are alive with elk?? At Christmas (during a blizzard) we made the move over from Paris where we'd been "camping" for 18 months, The outlook on daily living here has been grim. We're sleeping in the old part of the 1924 farmhouse, and because we're also storing everything in the house we only have a narrow walkway. Nowhere really to sit except the bed. We've been eating in our bathroom. Eating isn't exactly a correct term either because we haven't had a stove or refrigerator for 4 months. We've pieced, as my mother would say. Meanwhile the winter has raged outside and then petered out into spring and vast mountains of mud and construction debris! Giant piles of old cupboards, sheetrock scraps, nails, old wallpaper,lath and plaster, all mixed in with mud! Once the snow melted, the sewage system ceased working and we had a real down-and-dirty week of absolutely no water--which meant, of course, running a quarter mile down to the neighbor's to use the bathroom, showering (I used two buckets and Jerry went down the road to the neighbor's house), and brushing our teeth out on the lawn under the moonlight (which was actually the highlight of the week! It's pitch black out here. No streetlights for several miles). We went the entire month of February with absolutely no one (except the electrician who has showed up nearly every day for nearly nine months--more on him later) appearing to do anything. Now at long last we are ready to paint. The painter we were recommended is an alcoholic--great painter but he doesn't want anyone around, AND he wants to be paid up front. Huh??? And he'll do WHAT with the money?? Meanwhile Jerry has become Mr. GreenJeans! I can barely pry him off the tractor! Who'd have ever thunk that????!!! He moves stuff and digs and is really quite content. Cathartic I guess. Everyone who visits us walks away murmuring "Hail Mary's" under their breath! I'm not sure if they're praying in our behalf or giving thanks that they're not in our boots! If there were a "White Trash Report" column in the local paper, they'd want us to write it. As I mentioned we've had quite a cast of characters show up for work here. Lots of them were students of mine that I couldn't pound English into no matter how hard I tried. I remember one of them handed me back the copy of Fahrenheit 451 I'd given him to read and said, "I'd rather not." So now he's hammering out in our addition and I'm still teaching English! Art the plumber/handyman is a character straight out of Red Duke and really worth the trip here to experience. But without a doubt, the "star" of the show has been Rodney the electrician. I go way back with him to my teen years as the babysitter of his five kids. Rodney had a brush with death a while ago. The good news is that he has incredible zest for living now, but the bad news is his memory was impaired and I think he doesn't honestly know what he's done around here! We've not received his bill yet because he's undergoing colonic treatments over in Preston which are supposedly going to improve his memory!!!! So there you go. No bill because of a big intestinal CLOG! I guess he and We are hoping it will all come "out in the end!" In the meantime we get a daily update on his progress on the cleansing!! Mugsy thinks Rodney is one of the family. I only hope we're paying by the job and not the hour. That's about it. Writing about this has made me feel a little better. If you have suggestions or comments send them along. We here at the Funny Farm are looking towards the green grasses of summer. Maybe a few chickens will ease the winter memories. Perhaps the llamas everyone wants to give us will salve our weary hearts. So if you come to visit and you find us sitting in the bathroom, respectively on the tub and john, chowing down some canned spaghetti RIGHT OUT OF THE CAN, try to be gentle. We're fragile here at Happy Acres. Love, Marilyn

Something Awesome and a Quiz

2011-06-09T17:42:00.003-06:00

1. What did Madhadder pass in the canyon on the way to Logan this morning? a. a moose b. a hitchhiker with a dog c. the snowplow d. a policeman giving a ticket.

2. Which primal urge did Madhadder give into today? a. the Beatles on her car cd player b. an audio of Charlotte's web c. sushi d. complete silence.

3. What did Madhadder eat today that was completely hollow? a. licorice b. a Bugle c. a soft ice cream cone d. a canolli

4. What did a complete stranger give Madhadder in the Deseret Industries today? a. $3 b. a dirty look from a woman when Madhadder hit her cart with hers c. his history of a recent car accident d. a request to watch her baby for a minute.

5. What did Madhadder buy 94 of at a cost of 8 cents apiece? a. used soccer socks for puppet making b. red 1/2" binders that say "Vitals" on the front c. National Geographic magazines d. knitting needles.

6. What movie did Paco watch with his Teach For America compadres as they ate pizza last night? a. Lean on Me b. Waiting For Superman c. Stand and Deliver d. Dead Poets' Society

7. Who ran through puddles with reckless abandon this morning? a. the mailman b. Madhadder c. Mugsy d. No one. There are no puddles.

8. What does Madhadder miss most? a. Paris b. London c. Paco d. 7th graders e. all of the above.

This quiz contest ends on Sunday evening at 9 P.M. The first one who guesses the most correct questions will receive some French perfume available only at the perfume factory in Paris!

The Parisian in Us All...

2011-06-08T07:15:00.019-06:00

I found myself subconsciously singing this gorgeous Judy Collins song as I tripped my way through this exquisite city. Enjoy this from the Smothers Brothers Show, no less.

There's a magic tile in the sidewalk situated in front of Notre Dame Cathedral. My first time there we were instructed by Denis (pronounced DEN-EEE), our courier, to twirl on the tile which would ensure our return another time to Paris. This was my FIFTH trip to Paris! Am I a BELIEVER??? OUI..oh, so very oui. This city is beautiful beyond description. Magic and breath-takingly beautiful.

We found this puppeteer on a Seine bridge behind Notre Dame. His marrionette was made from a bicycle tire!

These guys were a bachelor party! I smelled them from afar--not booze surprisingly, but just plain musky body odor! That indicated the longevity of their party! We also saw a wedding party at the base of the Eiffel Tower as the tour bus breezed by--one groom and TWO brides! A nice Utah touch...ha ha.

A pleasant park beneath the apartment where Victor Hugo gave us Les Miserables.

Yes, this is a mole emerging from a mound of dirt! Art? Oh, YES!!

We watched a priest play with these children just outside of Sacre Coeur where we listened to mass. They were playing "BACON!"!!!! I play that game all the time with my students, and my daughter-in-law and I have designs on marketing the thing!

Andrea and I arose early one morning to walk to this cemetery just minutes from our hotel at Montparnasse.

The windmill at the Moulin Rouge on a walking tour we took. From here we walked through the most extensive and exotic "Red Light District", I'm sorry to report.

I wanted to pack this carousel home as well as the fresh orange juice machine in our hotel!

Highlights of Paris: perfume factory tour, authentic crepes wrapped around a raw egg, the 4 minutes of twinkly lights they've added to the Eiffel Tower which come on on the hour after dark, a very very informative guide at Versailles, the newly-redone Orangerie which houses Monet's water lilies and a plethora of other impressionists, people watching on the Champs Elysses, Rodin's The Thinker and ice cream in that museum's spectacular garden, and as usual, the French children. Unfortunately I had a Paco-sized hole I carried around the whole time. Not only did I miss Paco my best friend and romantic partner and Paco the Speaker of French, but I completely mourned for Paco the Travel Maximizer. No one does it like he does...no one.
And now for the wrap-up and a couple of observations: Traveling around is an art and not a science. A trip takes you. No matter how much you plan and prepare, traveling is still one of the last great frontier adventures! One's paradigms are challenged, and our ego and ethnocentricities get a good rattling. I love to watch the people and imagine their lives in great detail--even people in the subways. I can quickly craft a whole persona and world for people at a glance. Great fun. London repeatedly gets called the World's Greatest City. I've always held out that New York is, but this time I think I'm jumping on the bandwagon. Paris, on the other hand, is just the essential embodiment of mankind's best efforts to live beautifully--the food, the way people dress, how they greet each other, the art, the fountains, the statuary, the language, the lights, the parks, the churches, and the ambience. Say what you will about the French, their culture is exquisite. I may feel like a water buffalo dressed in gunny sacks when I visit, but I am not baffoon enough to not recognize a truly artistic way of life. Chapeaus off to them.
And a personal note: where do you want to go? Let's figure out a way for you to get there. I twirled on that tile on behalf of everyone I know...

On Holiday

2011-06-07T17:54:00.013-06:00

"Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat where have you been?"
"I've been to London to visit the queen."

"Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat what did you there?"
"I frightened a little mouse under her chair!"

We knocked and knocked on the gate at Buckingham Palace, but her Majesty apparently wasn't expecting us. Hoping to get an invite to one of her two summer garden teas. With 4,000 invitations going out to each tea, chances are good wouldn't you say?

We came across this bra-ed all male biking group at the Tower of London. No questions asked, but I'm guessing the equivalent of a cancer walk? Or maybe just touring offbeats.

No visit to England is complete without the changing of the guard at Windsor Castle with all its pomp and pageantry. This royal band assembled as part of that. I was expecting full British formality to burst forth in music. You can imagine my utter surprise when they broke out into.....wait for it......wait for it.....a medley of Glee songs!!!!

This is a pleasant little garden at the base of Windsor Castle where the queen and her family spend weekends. The last time I was at Windsor a fire had prevented tourists from any viewing, but this time we got to romp through several of the state rooms as well as see the dollhouses! I know I was royalty in another life because it feels so at home when I am allowed a glimpse into opulence. Commoner? I think not.

Fish and chips and mmmmmmmm...the green stuff was "mashed peas". That tradition must date back to medieval torture days.
Highlights: 3 West End plays (Wicked, Dreamboats and Petticoats, and Wizard of Oz!); 3 Wallace and Gromit finds at Hamley's; Wallace and Gromit Christmas stamps at the Post; Italian Renaissance art at the National Gallery; Cadbury chocolates; and just a titch of English rain!
Tomorrow, a little splash of Paris, observations and conclusions, and the wrap-up.

"Everything's Coming up Rosie's!"

2011-05-29T08:32:00.003-06:00

Rosalie Rae Myers of California, MD. Rumor has it she has hairy little ears. Ohhhhh.... Welcome Rosie! We're organizing tea parties! On a different note, we here woke up to a bed of snow. Our furry philosophers (Aristotle, Thoreau, and Emerson) were kooshed down in it out in the field. I'm headed off for the European leg of my summer. See you in a few!

Endings

2011-05-27T20:25:00.002-06:00

Such a final sounding word. The chorus swells, the orchestra crescendoes, the curtain falls, and the applause begins. If you're lucky you get an encore, but even as that plays you know the end has come Again. Today was the last day of school--better than Christmas, you say? Well, I'd say! This spring has been so very bitterly cold; today was no exception. Spoils some of the fun. Water balloons and shaving cream were noticably absent. Not that many kids rode their bikes to school--a long-standing last day tradition. I have a couple of beefs (beeves?) with the last days of school. The most obvious is that once the academic routine is broken, adolescent kids become nonrecognizable. In short, non likeable. Due to their developmental immaturity, they don't have the skills to navigate the delirium of the festivities. I just figured this out a couple of years ago. I couldn't understand why the aura I had worked so hard to achieve in my classroom (the comraderie, the intimacy etc.) didn't extend to the class fieldtrip to Lava Hot Springs, or why the good behavior we had worked on all year erupted into jungle fever during the less-structured last days! But now I get it. And I came up with an antidote. Three days before the end I seat my classes in desks in a large circle. We pass a paper with our name on it around the circle. Each student writes something positive and personal about that person, signs his name, and then passes it to the next person. At the end of the activity ALL have a personal affirmation of their worth and merit in the eyes of their teacher and classmates. They grab on to these papers like rare war bonds; their intensity is palpable. "I'm going to keep mine forever." "You thought THAT about me?" I keep mine to read long after the last bus pulls away. It seems trivial. It isn't a bonus check. It doesn't shine well in a trophy case. But it's very very personal to me and eases some of the pain of each year's ending.

Two Plus One

2011-05-25T21:04:00.006-06:00

A baby sister is about to rock this boat--in two days. She's Rosie.

I was completely unaware how much I would love these little people.
They bend my heart.
And make me tingle.

"Festive? Hmmm....Not Overly, but Classic? Oh yeah, Baby"

2011-05-24T20:08:00.005-06:00

Happy Birthday Paco!! You drug yourself up from whatever made you barf on the side of the road walking Mugsy yesterday and celebrated the big SIX OH hunkered down under a blanket reading yet another manual designed to catapult you into teaching history next month!! When most people your age might be fixating on retirement, you are gearing up for adventures the likes of which would put hair on the chests of 20 somethings!!! My hat is off to you today! Your birthday gifts could have been golf clubs, cruise brochures, polyester pants, or Grecian Formula! Oh no--your gift mound was a collection of the dandiest teacher accoutrements! Let's hear it for THAT!! No talk of 401K's around OUR kitchen table, no sir!!! Tonight we talked about Teach For America chemistry teachers in Rocky Mt., NC who start class by saying, "God help you if you're not in class because you'll need it!" Thank you for raising the level of MY teaching. Teach For America is assuredly influencing our lives. May you begin this new decade with the vim, vip, and vigor you've exhibited today! Carpe Diem, love of my life...

Altercations

2011-05-18T05:34:00.005-06:00

I've had a perilous last couple of days--non-performing students seemingly destined to never rise above a failing grade and the resultant parental response. Fortunately I can count my "parent encounters" on four fingers. Once in NJ my job teetered (not really) on the fact that I'd shown a Reading Rainbow video entitled "On the Day You Were Born" to a group of kindergarten kids--we'd been focusing for a couple of weeks on birthdays which as you know is probably THE biggest thing in a kid's life. I was called to the office to encounter a mother who was somewhat fraught over her wee daughter's reaction to the birth depicted in the video. "I'M NEVER GOING TO DO THAT!" ba-dump-dump You can imagine the mileage my fellow teachers got out of that episode. Losing a job over Reading Rainbow? Really?... another time a man stormed into my classroom and made vile threats directed to the school board, superintendant, and myself--once again prompted by his low-performing daughter. And then this week...a couple of parents, accusations, true confessions I really DIDN'T need to hear ("I told ______'s dad that his new wife must be carrying his male parts around in her purse!" "I've been having depression.") These sessions obviously call upon my fine-tuned (yeah, right) counseling skills I offer tissues and feeble advice. Simple solution: kid hands in homework; kid passes class; everybody skips off into the sunset.
Then yesterday I had what might be termed my first "Meltdown". Some of the kids wanted to sneakily study for their social studies test. Silly me wanted to discuss "Dead Poets Society". So I stomped back to my desk and granted them that time. "Obviously THAT is more important than ANYTHING I would ever teach!!!!!!!" I was ticked. We sat in silence. Then a sweet little girl walks back and hands me a note: Could some of us go out in the hall and discuss "Dead Poets Society"? So we did--about 12 of us--on the floor. They're awesome. Later I found a teeny little piece of paper on the floor which said: If we keep talking about the movie it might make Mrs. Hadd feel better. Aren't they cute? Some of them, some of the time.
This time of year becomes a badly-run marathon. Low tolerance levels. Poor poor work ethic. I'm rising Phoenix-like above it all today and flying away to Denver to tweak cheeks. A coward's way out you ask? Ah...most assuredly...

Remnants of the Week--Obama Gone-a

2011-05-15T19:37:00.010-06:00

"Well, Obama Llama, you're gone. We saw them chase you around the corral like the villain that you are. They pushed you into that trailer, and I said to myself, 'That's one push I'd like to have a part in!' You're going to Utah! Sucka!!! And those little boys you drove off with--Sage Safari? Is that even a name for a kid????? Llama rescue, they say. Hmmph. I'd like to see you spit on THEM--chase THEM around--corner THEM in their living room--bite THEM in parts better left alone. All's I can say is you live by the sword; you die by the sword..."
Sounds like Aristotle had a lot to get off his chest. He's lived under llama tyranny for several weeks now. I, for one, will miss Obama and the girls. I found Obama always pleasantly curious. He had a spring in his step and a look of folly in his eye. Dalai was the typical wife of the 50's--not prone to complain about the antics of her mate, unable to go it on her own, so she put up with a lot. MaryJane was the baby born here at Heave-Ho-And-Out-You-Go Acres--grew up unshackled by memories of Peru, wild and free. She put up an hour fight getting into the horse trailer. Paco and the llama picker upper and his son ran and ran and ran and tried to lasso and ran and ran and ran. I admire that in a woman. Was it my imagination or did she purposely lead them through dung heap after dung heap?

I found this in the cellar when I was cleaning last week. Does it look like a bucket of maggots to you too??? As it turned out it was sauerkraut of the most supreme variety. Paco canned it right away for a rainy day!Mugsy made a new friend last week during the guest visits.
Using our electric car to do yardwork!

And last but not least. I couldn't find this picture on May 5th, but here it is now--a stunning 5 year old Shelly in Austin, TX celebrating Cinco de Mayo in all her Scandinavian/Scottish/Welsh glory for all she's worth!

Name That Movie!!

2011-05-11T06:34:00.012-06:00

I've shown Dead Poet's Society to an estimated 600 students over the years--probably viewed the movie well over 2 dozen times. It NEVER fails to touch me on a very deep level. This particular class had the most amazing discussion at the conclusion today and then couldn't resist hopping up on desktops. I don't flatter myself that they were paying me the homage Mr. Keating's students were paying him. They just wanted the novelty of doing something "forbidden". Carpe Diem! In other news, we bring you haircuts!
And Visitors! My annual Tour de Biblioteque (home library). We usually do that in the autumn when temperatures are balmy and perfect. This year's tour featured much shivering.

And on a more somber note--Into each life some bully must fall...Here's Obama caught in the act of terrorizing Emerson. Obama spends a good portion of his day chasing, nipping, and menacingly confining the alpacas to a corner of the corral. As a result he is covered in much warranted green spit polka dots, but a bully is what he remains.

Spring??? Yeah, right...

2011-05-06T19:42:00.005-06:00

I realized today that in just less than a month I'll be within whistling distance of Wallace and Gromit's home! That put me immediately on the path to my friend Karen for locating some merchandise stores. She has a kid living there. I just got an email direct from that kid in London informing me that the stuff is scarce. Come again???? And that I'd have a better chance on Ebay. Not really. Really??? Remind me to report on that in case I forget. I'd just as soon have had this day pass by me. I spent it cleaning out the garage--something I dislike worse than even cleaning out the cellar WHICH I ALSO DID. This day, therefore, had almost no redeeming merits at all. The highlight I guess was taking a tour of Tulip Acres (NOT) and seeing what survived the winter. It's always iff-y every spring. We don't take ANYTHING coming up out of the ground here for granted! On the camelid scene, "Houston, we have a bully." Obama has taken to tackling the alpacas, herding them all into a corner of the field, and snapping at their... ahem...male parts! I KNOW!!! A heck of a lot of noise coming from out there! I need to post some pictures of everyone in their skivvies, but I don't think my numb cold fingers could actually navigate the button on the camera! Paco has morphed from homemaker extraordinaire to diligent nose-in-a-book teacher in training. We've been focusing our reading on poverty, failed schools turning around, and best teaching practices. What an adventure!! And this guy's turning 60 in a matter of days!!! Don't you think he's just sooooooo brave!????? Teach For America has been very forthcoming with all manner of bumper stickers, pep talk emails, boxes of books to read, and phone conversations! I-M-P-R-E-S-S-I-V-E...I'm going to make sure he writes a blog. I found an extra laminator in the garage--you mean you don't have spares in YOUR garage? He glomped right onto it. Don't tell anyone but I'm putting together a dandy teacher box for his birthday--"TEACHER" pencils, a cool finger pointer, a kitchen timer, and a very nifty device with about thirty buttons that emit belches, bedsprings, screaming, car crashes etc. Can you think of anything else I should put in the box? Maybe a lunchbox???

How do you tell a girl chromosome from a boy chromosome?

Pull down their GENES!!!!

The Urge to Purge

2011-05-04T18:52:00.002-06:00

All of a sudden I'm stifled here. So much I want to post about, but in the back of my head I wonder, "What if someone is lurking here and is just waiting for the moment to grind my bones in a limb shredder?" You're thinking, "Outlandish, Mad. No one even reads your blog let alone has stalking tendences." But just what if a looney drops randomly into this blog one night--say some twisted knitter who gets directed here by typing in, say, "purl two"-- puts a few of my "puzzle pieces" together, buys a plane ticket,dons a trench coat, and turns me into a CSI statistic? IT COULD HAPPEN! I'd feel awfully sheepish with all my pieces blowing in the wind and wish I'd been more discrete. Time to go private, so I can show journalistic integrity? Time to batten down the hatches and draw the shades? Any opinions on this? In other news--Paco was asked to head an educational task force of sorts in our school district. This necessitates attendance at the board meetings/circuses, and last night he was at the computer until nearly 2 A.M. carrying on "committee business." According to eyewitness accounts today at lunch he was "impressive and did a great Richard Nixon imitation!" I'm hoping to get the lowdown on that at dinner. I just held a three week old cocker spaniel puppy at a home visit earlier tonight. His eyes were open and he cuddled right in and went to sleep. Ohhh... It was so cold this morning that I did one of those backward-facing-way-from-the-wind walks that we did as kids. See! Every part of me wants to write about stuff on this blog, but I daresn't!!! Any ideas?

Dayton's Legs

2011-05-01T10:42:00.001-06:00

Getting a jump on Mother's Day

2011-05-01T08:56:00.001-06:00

This doesn't just Ring of truth, it is a Big Ben out and out KNOLL...

Perspective

2011-04-14T06:10:00.002-06:00

But I might add...she needed a comma before the conjunction separating her two independent clauses. I'm just saying...

Navigating, Negotiating, and Nonsense

2011-04-13T19:51:00.006-06:00

Maybe I'll just stop with the title. I took a blog break--not planned or connived. I usually have all manner of enthusiasm for blogging--I find it refreshing, creative, and a heck of a great place to sprinkle my seemingly limitless dashes. Has anyone noticed that I am a dash-aholic???? I am--I find them the most fulfilling punctuation mark (marks?) by a landslide. Lately here we've been wooing spring--two steps forward, one back; three forward, EIGHTY FREAKING EIGHT back!!! And so on. I'm thinking by noon each day that perhaps we can roust out the electric car; then by 4 the clouds are billowing in, and snow once again rules.

We groomed Mugsy a while ago. A letter came from the Mastadon Associates that we did, indeed, need to either return Mugsy to Shih Tzu status or register him officially with them. In the process the groomer was forced to expose little piggy ears because of excessive ear matting. Who knew that Mugsy has little pig ears???

We've also been wrestling with future plans here. Paco is studying for the elementary PRAXIS test he'll need to pass prior to striding into the next chapter of his life in the inner bowels of Tulsa. He's ever so excited. The scene is not totally set yet--will update.

Today the track meet in Malad reduced my afternoon classes' attendance by 75%. So what are ya gonna do? We pushed the desks back, laid out my brand new Dollar Store baseball bases, found a foam dice, turned a roll of paper towels into a bat, and had a rousing game of baseball. I hit several home runs, thank you very much.

I didn't win the Kindle at the library. I DID read 49 books. I DID win a grandiose bottle of intoxicating body lotion

Can you see why I haven't been blogging? I'm boring myself half to death here.
But in the broader world, my darling blog friend in New Zealand has birthed yet another beautiful baby. My newly-pronounced atheist blog "friend" has gone beyond testy, and I'm tapering off there with her. I got into it a few times with her--so not worth it. But her chicken whispering sister is still one of my favorites. (The wind is howiling. If I see a cow blowing past, I will exit and stop mid-sentence. Just so you know.) The one blog I've been following for three years took an interesting turn. This gal has 7 kids, writes columns in all manner of women's magazines, is funny most of the time, and seems to find no problem with all 6 of her boys having hair clear down nearly to their waists! She recently announced that her marriage was over. I didn't see it coming.
.
I've started a whole new tower of reading on my nightstand. It stretches nearly up to the floating bookshelf on the wall. I've decided I'm never truly happy until I have at least 15 books percolating, another couple in-flight winging their way to I-DEEEE-HO from amazon, and more kid-reviewed ones basking on my desk at school. The concept of

Did I scare you? Did you think I'd seen a cow?????? The concept of one book at a time is foreign to me.

Flies. Oh my ever home-baked goodness, yes. They're sucky. Low low lifeforms. We have TWO hand vacs now, so I never have to have one minute of down time in my vigil.

And last but not least, never ever assume that the glimpse bloggers give into their lives of rosy perfection in any way resembles mine. I sometimes toss and turn in the night with a mind heavy as I review the losses of others, the inanity of the world at large, the general decline of so much around me, and an ever-emerging feeling that could perhaps be interpreted as gloomy foreboding. Just didn't want to give the false impression that we here at Everlasting Acres have it together--for very long--about most things--lest you think you're all alone. I fear sometimes we DO think we're all alone. Not so.

Take a Comic Break

2011-04-08T11:05:00.002-06:00

This is the ONLY thing I find to laugh about today as I look out on yet another endless white ocean of snow...but I'll keep looking and keep my humor antennae up. You too.

Paco is OK

2011-04-07T06:20:00.002-06:00

And apparently edged out 35,000 other applicants. Check out this video about Teach For America, and then picture Paco in Tulsa, OK in an elementary classroom! I KNOW!! An interesting turn of events here at "Give Us Your Tired, Your Weary, Your Poor" Acres...

A Giggler

2011-03-25T21:02:00.000-06:00

Not ONE Not TWO But THREE!

2011-03-25T13:11:00.009-06:00

My local library (which I've haunted off and on for nearly 50 years now) is sponsoring a simple reading contest which ends on April 1st. Fool that I am, I've put myself into reading mode--up late reading, up early reading, grabbing minutes throughout the day, carrying a book any and everywhere I go. I'll post my list of favorites once this is finished, AND hopefully I'll win the Kindle! So far...mmmmmmmm...it's all been deliciousl.

I spent a few days recently in Chicago visiting a lab high school. I've been involved in an academy at BYU for nearly two years which seeks to educate principals in best practices for school leadership--specifically Professional Learning Communities. That all led me to Chicago. I ought to post about my time at Adlai Stevenson High School. Perhaps. But on the lighter side of that trip...I witnessed something in Chicago's Midway Airport that I have NEVER seen!!!! And I saw it NOT ONCE, NOT TWICE, BUT THREE times!! I saw THREE different people at THREE different times on THREE different moving walkways FALL!!! Flat on their faces as they stepped off! Yikes... I ran right over to the first portly older woman. She got up and brushed herself off--assured us she was OK. The next gal limped a little. The third man moved to the wall and stood while his wife pulled up his pantleg and checked for injuries. My strategy is to stop the last few yards and coast before I get off.

From an email of one of my adorable students: i love animals it doesn't really matter what kind i just love helping them. once i was riding my bike home from school and i saw a pigeon on the side of the rode. it couldn't fly so i picked it up and carried it six miles (all the way home) i gave it pieces of bread and water, and in the next two days it flew away.

"Allelujah...Never Knew Ya" This in from Bruce. It came from Ben's school.

Farm Report: We just received word that Margarita (our adopted alpaca who still lives in Oregon awaiting her pick-up) gave birth to a handsome male cria last week!! Our camelid herd is growing! Their spirits don't seem to be dampened by yet more snow as I write this. We've been hosting deer in our perimeter all winter--their choice not ours. At the same time we've kept our eyes peeled for a wandering moose who stomped my friend Annette's poodle to death!! I KNOW!

Some of my genetic extensions have been whooping it up in Florida. I guess that could be called balance.

Last night my knitting group unraveled a bit. Some were out of town, some opted to view the BYU wake. The Arctic Circle was designated for leftover knitters. None of those but myself as it turned out, but I did meet up with my goat cheese friend and her daughter. Remember her 10-year-old son Trey in your prayers and mediations. Trey is severely cerebral palsied and had his leg broken in the push and shove of school last week. He's off to Primary Children's Hospital today because of his obvious pain. She told me Trey's job at school each day is to "check" the writing of the pre-schoolers and give them a thumbs up or down. To say that they love him is an understatement of epic porportions.

Paco is on a run today to scope out supplies. We're putting together plans for a dog hotel/kennel. Hopefully we'll attract a few Denver-like dogs.

On a sunny free morning during my Chicago trip, I hastened to the Lincoln Park Zoo. As I was standing with a group at the hippo lair, I said casually to a woman and young girl next to me, "I wonder if these hippos are social." The woman responded, (a little snippily for my comfort) "Perhaps one of the zoo docents can impart that information to you." Impart indeed...

And with that, I'm back to my books.

"Mid-Winter" Blues

2011-03-23T05:08:00.001-06:00

"Don't Forget Your Mittens!"

2011-03-10T04:48:00.003-07:00

We're still in the midst of winter here. In fact, I'm postulating that winter has JUST BEGUN! I, on the other hand, subscribe to the Dark Ages theory that in addition to having a limited number of sneezes, hiccups, and breaths per lifetime, we also have a limited number of days per year to wear winter coats. And my number has apparently run out. No more coats for me. Ever. Not even. Again. Until next year.

2:35 A.M.

2011-03-08T02:35:00.010-07:00

For all my sadistic readers who just love it when I'm up in the night, sleep eluded, sneaking biscotti and apple juice, pondering the apocolyptic fast-approaching end of life as we knew it, hunched by the space heater, peaking through etsy.com, and rubbing my finger over all the dust on this desk. Picture me giggling at this video too. The female bird painter is a dead ringer for Christina in my knitting group!!! And she's from Portland too!!!! Unfortunately transferring clips from youtube shrinks them a bit, so you don't really get to see the charming gagging she does so well.
And while I have your attention, can I just say that going to Border's in Logan on Saturday night was oh so the saddest of occasions. They're closing! (she wails as she dabs at her eyes and snorts into a hanky) Yes, they're closing. Now the aisles are littered with books flung aside and stuffed animals facedown (I DID pick Olivia up gently and smooth her dress before I set her back on the shelf...) as FURTHER rude evidence that people are truly barbaric by nature for the most part. And those ghastly 25% off/Store Closing banners!
Why didn't they just suspend old ladies upside down from the ceiling instead? Or pictures of spider ice cream? I shuffled through absentmindedly humming the funeral dirge. My sanctuary where I had previously transmutated if only for a brief time hours and hours and hours on end has now become Filene's Basement. And then it will resemble GoodWill as the prices drop and drop, until at last, the store will sputter as it runs out of gas, closes its doors, and joins the ever-growing number of vacant storefronts across our great decrepit country, yet additional unqualified evidence that decency is slipping slipping slipping... And should you still mistake me for Pollyanna , let me hasten to add...Big Brother will have to PRY MY TRADITIONALLY BOUND BOOKS OUT OF MY BLOODY-STUMPED DEATHGRIP!!!! (Incidentally, yes that IS me in front of Border's. I'm growing facial hair in protest.)

Blessed Are the Cheesemakers...

2011-03-04T23:53:00.006-07:00

I milked a goat today at a friend's farm. Her (the goat) name was Peaches. She lives with 8 other goats, 13 rescue horses, 1 llama, 10 chickens, a rooster, and the memory of a recently dispatched duck. From all observances she grooves on Brrrr Lake farmlife. After all 4 goats were milked, we attempted cheese--gouda and mozzarella back in the kitchen. As with most things that you think must surely be effortless (spinning, riding a horse, getting alpacas in and out of a trailer, catching a llama, turning 8 acres into a hobby farm etc.) cheesemaking takes skill and precision--both of which alluded us today. We were supposed to heat the goat milk to 90 degrees. We hit 130 toot sweet, so whatever would have made the milk curdle I think we pretty much fried. On to mozarella. That went better...until we added salt after the second trip to the microwave with the elastic-like ball. The ball turned to hmmmm...think mashed potatoes with a rubber ball melted in. Or semi dry Playdoh. We theorize that the salt did that. Back to the drawing board. But it tasted wonderful. Elaine took it home and was going to add it to salad or something. Some sort of dish that would call for crumbled cheese. When we left, the gouda was still curdling. I'm guessing it was history. "The gouda was no gooda." At $6 a gallon, Paco is suggesting that we make fromage de chevre--goat cheese--sparingly.
One gallon yields just a little old ball once all the whey is extracted, so that may be a luxury. No where to go but up. We here at Grab a Teat Acres know all about up because we are always trying to look there.

Happy Birthday Dr.!

2011-03-02T06:24:00.008-07:00

What you can't see is the itty bitty bitty little Cat in the Hat hat on my daughter's new baby girl coming in May! Boy was that tricky getting it on her! I'm sitting here in my Cat in the Hat suit--I think this is year 13. The problem is that I get less and less of a reaction which is so not good! I think I may have to retire this year. It's been a good run. One girl said she hadn't even noticed that I was wearing it! Come on!!! The only slack I can possibly cut her is that she'd been to a funeral. I mean really...

On the Eve...

2011-03-01T20:58:00.001-07:00

The Play's the Thing

2011-02-25T10:18:00.002-07:00

On Quoting Shakespeare
If you cannot understand my argument, and declare ``It's Greek to me'', you are quoting Shakespeare; if you claim to be more sinned against than sinning, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you recall your salad days, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you act more in sorrow than in anger; if your wish is farther to the thought; if your lost property has vanished into thin air, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you have ever refused to budge an inch or suffered from green-eyed jealousy, if you have played fast and loose, if you have been tongue-tied, a tower of strength, hoodwinked or in a pickle, if you have knitted your brows, made a virtue of necessity, insisted on fair play, slept not one wink, stood on ceremony, danced attendance (on your lord and master), laughed yourself into stitches, had short shrift, cold comfort or too much of a good thing, if you have seen better days or lived in a fool's paradise -why, be that as it may, the more fool you , for it is a foregone conclusion that you are (as good luck would have it) quoting Shakespeare; if you think it is early days and clear out bag and baggage, if you think it is high time and that that is the long and short of it, if you believe that the game is up and that truth will out even if it involves your own flesh and blood, if you lie low till the crack of doom because you suspect foul play, if you have your teeth set on edge (at one fell swoop) without rhyme or reason, then - to give the devil his due - if the truth were known (for surely you have a tongue in your head) you are quoting Shakespeare; even if you bid me good riddance and send me packing, if you wish I was dead as a door-nail, if you think I am an eyesore, a laughing stock, the devil incarnate, a stony-hearted villain, bloody-minded or a blinking idiot, then - by Jove! O Lord! Tut tut! For goodness' sake! What the dickens! But me no buts! - it is all one to me, for you are quoting Shakespeare.

Bernard Levin

P.S. I'll be in Shakespeare's birthplace come June...

amen

2011-02-23T06:42:00.004-07:00

"ANYONE WHO IMAGINES THAT BLISS IS NORMAL IS GOING TO WASTE A LOT OF TIME RUNNING AROUND SHOUTING THAT HE'S BEEN ROBBED. THE FACT IS THAT MOST PUTTS DON'T DROP, MOST BEEF IS TOUGH, MOST CHILDREN GROW UP TO BE JUST PEOPLE, MOST SUCCESSFUL MARRIAGES REQUIRE A HIGH DEGREE OF MUTUAL TOLERANCE, MOST JOBS ARE MORE OFTEN DULL THAN OTHERWISE. LIFE IS LIKE AN OLD TIME RAIL JOURNEY...DELAYS, SIDE TRACKS, SMOKE, DUST, CINDERS, AND JOLTS, INTERSPERSED ONLY OCCASIONALLY BY BEAUTIFUL VISTAS AND THRILLING BURSTS OF SPEED. THE TRICK IS TO THANK THE LORD FOR LETTING YOU HAVE THE RIDE."--President Gordon B. Hinkley, Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints

Be OK, OK?

2011-02-22T06:12:00.002-07:00

18 degrees here. White stuff all over. Yesterday we snowshoed on top of the white stuff in the Tetons. The white stuff there is a heck of a lot like our white stuff here, but we can't go to Dairy Queen here. Or the "world's best Dollar Store". Or the mmmmmmmmmm good yarn shop. When we drove into Jackson our Subaru broke into the "Hallelujah Chorus" and spent the day high fiving all the other Subarus! She honked at old friends from the factory and college and even some she'd met in rehab!!! We should take her up there more often to mingle.

I Heart Me Some Bag Balm!!!

2011-02-19T13:02:00.002-07:00

I reached for Paco's hand in church the other day and discovered he needed some TLC for his hands. Not to worry or be embarrassed. We ALL need a little bag balm now and then:

Sticky, smelly Bag Balm: Problem-salving for all

LYNDONVILLE, Vt. – Winter is most definitely here. It must be. The phones are ringing at Bag Balm headquarters.
Everyone wants a new tub of the gooey, yellow-green ointment. And all have a story about its problem-salving — they use it on squeaky bed springs, psoriasis, dry facial skin, cracked fingers, burns, zits, diaper rash, saddle sores, sunburn, pruned trees, rifles, shell casings, bed sores and radiation burns.
Everything, it seems, except for cows.
"Some, you don't really even want to hear, but they're gonna tell you anyway," said accounts manager Krystina McMorrow, who is half the office staff.
"I've been here 14 years," said accounts-receivable clerk Shawna Wilkerson, the other half. "The oddest one I've heard was somebody who reloads his ammunition. He puts Bag Balm on the bullet casing and it makes it easier to reload 'em."
Developed in 1899 to soothe the irritated udders of milking cows, the substance with the mild medicinal odor has evolved into a medicine chest must-have, with as many uses as Elmer's glue.
According to Bag Balm lore, the stuff went from barns to bedrooms when dairy farmers' wives noticed how smooth their spouses' fingers were after using it on cows' udders. The wives were jealous.
Bag Balm went to the North Pole with Admiral Byrd, to Allied troops in World War II, who used it to keep weapons from corroding, to Ground Zero for the paws of cadaver-sniffing dogs searching the World Trade Center rubble, and to troops in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Sold off pet care shelves and at farm stores for $8.99 per 10-oz. green tub (with cow's head on the lid), it's made of petrolatum, lanolin and an antiseptic, 8-hydroxyquinoline sulfate — substantially the same formula used since John L. Norris bought it from a Wells River druggist before the turn of the century.
It is made in a one-room "plant" by the family owned Dairy Association Co., Inc. — six employees, two officers and no sales force — operating in a cluster of converted railroad buildings in this small (pop. 1,215) northern Vermont town.
Petrolatum is shoveled from 50-gallon drums into a large vat and blended with lanolin from Uruguay, then heated to 95 degrees. A machine quickly squirts the goop into metal cans that are cooled, capped and packaged.
The plant is inspected annually by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, though the product is marketed for use by animals, not humans.
Distributed by wholesalers and sold retail in farm stores, national drugstore chains and general stores, its popularity has grown largely with word-of-mouth advertising as converts becomes users and then devotees.
Imitators through the years have included Udderly Smooth Udder Cream and Udder Balm.
The Dairy Association won't divulge sales figures.
In a 1983 report, the late CBS News journalist Charles Kuralt said upward of 400,000 units were shipped annually. Norris' granddaughter, company President Barbara Norris Allen, won't say how today's shipments compare.
"The colder the weather, the better our business," said Ron Bean, production manager at the plant, which is open for tours but not photographers.
To call the operation old-fashioned is an understatement.
The plant operates with one shift, Monday through Friday. The Dairy Association doesn't take credit cards ("Send us a good ol' check," says Allen). And the names of individual stores that buy directly are kept on index cards in file cabinets.
Long-distance bicyclist Andy Claflin says he started using Bag Balm on a cross-country race last June, when a teammate turned him on to it for saddle sores.
Claflin, 37, from Dayton, Minn., was suffering from saddle sores as he competed in the Race Across America. A teammate told him it was good for the sores, a bane of long-distance biking. So he slathered some on, down below.
"I was sitting there in Arizona, it's 110 degrees, the air conditioning wasn't working, the crapper in the RV wasn't working, I gotta' bike 100 miles in this heat and great, I've got to deal with this," he said. "It was nasty and filthy and it felt weird ... But I didn't have saddle sores from then on, riding 130 miles a day. When you're on the bike, you're like 'Oh, this stuff is great.'"
Marge Boyle, 62, a quilter in Paducah, Ky., keeps a tin by her sewing machine.
"It's really a wonderful product when you're sewing, because of all the pinpricks you get. It soothes and heals your fingers. Quilters are always pricking their fingers. We wash our hands constantly to keep them free of dirt, and you need something to soothe them," she said.
And it's still de rigeur in barns, where it all started.
Dairy farmer Willie Ryan has used it since the '70s, to soothe the chapped teats of cows. And more.
"The cows get frostbit sometime, so we use the Bag Balm," said Ryan, 60, of Craftsbury, Vt. "Any open wound with swelling, you just put some of that in and put a pack bandage on it and it does wonders. Don't ask me how, but it does," he said.
For all its myriad uses, there's one place its makers say never to use it.
"Never put Bag Balm in your hair, because you will not get it out," said Wilkerson.

Pattycake Pattycake

2011-02-19T07:50:00.002-07:00

Grammyhood

2011-02-17T06:11:00.003-07:00

I struggle with the long distance grandmother stuff. I'd much prefer the picket-fence-cookies-and-milk grammy down the street, but my kids are sprinkled hither and yon. I pour over the blogposts, and when we get together it takes a while to teach them to associate my face with all things warm and wonderful. And they're just so huggable...sniff...sniff. Blasted economy. Blasted nuclear family extinction. Blasted distances. In 15,20 years maybe they'll bring their roommates for a weekend. I promise I'll make chili and hot rolls...I'll be quirky and funny and you can laugh and talk about "that grammy" all the way back to college. In the meantime don't forget me.

"Oh My Luve's Like a Red Red Rose"...stirring melody

2011-02-16T04:38:00.004-07:00

When I awoke at 2:43 A.M. (the moon is nearly fully, thus illuminating my bedroom), I tried to put myself back to sleep by reciting this Robert Burns poem which my 7th graders have memorized and recited one by one, line by line on Valentine's Day for 48 points. Valentine's Day at our middle school is highly volatile and emotional. In fact, a fight broke out yesterday in the 8th grade hall resulting in 3 day suspensions for two youngsters--one defending the "honor" of his girlfriend. Val's Day is a dress up occasion at BLMS. One lad wore a hot pink silk vest with a matching bowtie--remnants of a friend's brother's wedding. He looked (and I'm sure felt) dapper. The rule is that young men must wear ties, so the principal facilitates this by placing a hodgepoge box of thrift store ties out for student use. Unfortunately directions are not included. Several young men went the full 9 yards and wore suits. And then the young ladies--high heels. Teetering high heels. And bejeweled hair done up on their heads. It's a regular Easter Parade. My personal brand of "torture" this year was to assign a love poem for memorization due on this day. Picture this beautiful poem delivered 52 times with varying degrees of success and aplomb. Standing on one leg and then the other. Stumbling over the Scottish brogue insertions in the text. "So deep in love am I". I looked them square in the eye as they recited and prompted them as needed. Is this dropping well below the "pearls before swine" line that I so often cross? Is this exquisite poetry just washing off their backs? Would Robert Burns care that his heart's work was being galloped through by a slick backed haired kid with a mouthful of metal? I have a small vision of a moonlit night down the road. Same kid--teeth straight now--a young lady at his side, anticipation high on both sides. Will he miraculously recall this poem and go down in the annals of history? Probably not. But then maybe...

OK, All You Rocket Scientists Out There!

2011-02-11T22:01:00.003-07:00

Invisible chairs? I wouldn't put it past the Chinese to train their musicians to be able to sit like that. In my next life, I want to come back Chinese. I think they're over the top awesome.

Gioing Where This Blog Has Never Gone Before

2011-02-11T18:45:00.007-07:00

(They originally asked me to pose for this cartoon, but my agent advised against it.)

Pictured below is a young physician by the name of Dr. Starner Jones. His short two-paragraph letter to the White House accurately puts the blame on a "Culture Crisis" instead of a "Health Care Crisis". It's worth a quick read:

Dear Mr. President:
During my shift in the Emergency Room last night, I had the pleasure of evaluating a patient whose smile revealed an expensive shiny gold tooth, whose body was adorned with a wide assortment of elaborate and costly tattoos, who wore a very expensive brand of tennis shoes and who chatted on a new cellular telephone equipped with a popular R&B ringtone. While glancing over her patient chart, I happened to notice that her payer status was listed as "Medicaid"! During my examination of her, the patient informed me that she smokes more than one costly pack of cigarettes every day and somehow still has money to buy pretzels and beer.
And, you and our Congress expect me to pay for this woman's health care? I contend that our nation's "health care crisis" is not the result of a shortage of quality hospitals, doctors or nurses. Rather, it is the result of a "crisis of culture", a culture in which it is perfectly acceptable to spend money on luxuries and vices while refusing to take care of one's self or, heaven forbid, purchase health insurance.
It is a culture based in the irresponsible credo that "I can do whatever I want to because someone else will always take care of me". Once you fix this "culture crisis" that rewards irresponsibility and dependency, you'll be amazed at how quickly our nation's health care difficulties will disappear.

Respectfully,
STARNER JONES, MD

...sniff...

2011-02-10T05:48:00.004-07:00

Our Windstar van did not, in fact, survive. As per our "Do Not Resusitate" wishes, she was pronounced dead on February 9, 2011, at approximately 3 P.M. She leaves behind a Subaru and a Ford truck. In lieu of flowers, friends may send motor oil to the grieving survivors.

Us? Yes? Oh No!!

2011-02-09T06:16:00.002-07:00

Watch the full episode. See more FRONTLINE.

I chanced upon this last night during some rare downtime as I sat knitting. Mesmerized. Block out some time and watch it. Looking for comments.

Wowee Kazowee...

2011-02-08T06:45:00.004-07:00

Check this out! I'm just going to dispense with the formalities, pack my satchel, and head for the movies!! I'll pretty much need to plan my whole next entire year around seeing all these movies!!! Muppets!! Atlas Shrugged! Hugo Cabret!! Those sly folks down Hollywood way have been sending mind probes up here to read my mind!!! Hope some show up that tickle your fancy too!

A Working Vacation

2011-02-07T06:59:00.001-07:00

On the left--my son, Taggart. Part of a group from his Centennial, CO ward selling programs. I KNOW!!!

I HOP you LIK this!

2011-02-05T19:16:00.000-07:00

"You're On!!

2011-02-04T06:55:00.003-07:00

My local library is having an adult reading contest. Read a book, put a ticket in the fishbowl. Read NONFICTION and you get to put in two! On April 1st names will be drawn for prizes. I'm going for the Kindle. Last year I won 3 prizes!!!! A library-themed apron, a boxed game of Bunco, and some perfume. I realize the competition is tougher this year. I'm going to have to work harder. My strategy is to focus on nonfiction--"Oh, P-L-E-A-S-E don't throw me into that briar patch!!!" (I lurve nonfiction.) I'm going to have to forego some sleep to work in more reading. But I'm off and running! First stop, a delightful book about spending a week at Heathrow written by a quipy Scot. Speaking of the airport's owner who commissioned Mr. de Botton to be Heathrow's "artist-in-residence" for a week, the author writes: "I felt myself to be benefiting from a tradition wherein the wealthy merchant enters into a relationship with an artist fully expecting him to behave like an outlaw; he does not expect good manners, he knows and is half delighted by the idea that the favoured baboon will smash his crockery." And I, kind reader, fully intend to "smash the crockery" of this contest, as well.

EeK! Ohhh!!! Yowee!!!! Ahhhh!!!! WHOA!!!!! OUCH!!!!

2011-02-03T17:40:00.003-07:00

Those who have visited us know that we're nestled/crammed among multiple canyons. Sometimes in the winter all four roads into town are closed. If you tend towards claustrophobia, watch out. Today Paco chose one of the "escape routes" fully intending to visit the temple in Logan. Enter (front right) a massive boulder--OK, it wasn't as large as this one. But he had to make a split second decision--Do I swerve around it and smash head on into that car? Do I slam on the brakes and slide who knows where? Do I hit the boulder? He hit the boulder and by so doing nearly gutted the undercarriage of our mini van. Would you please send up a prayer for our car tonight? We're thinking maybe totalling it out might be a good option. When George takes a look/see that might be what he decides. So Paco was towed home, and our Windstar is probably weeping helplessly over at the garage. This could have ended oh so more dramatically. Right???

" Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn't one today."

2011-02-02T20:48:00.003-07:00

Happy Happy to all you Woodchuck Chuckers out there! Minus 20 here. A forced "snow day". It seems the fuel in our school buses turns into a gelatinous mess at minus 20. I turn into a gelatinous mess long before then. But I'll take the day off, thank you. Tomorrow too?? I remember a Groundhog Day celebration at BYU where we suspended a potato with toothpicks in a glass, decorated it with eyes and some paper clothes, wrapped Christmas lights around it, and thought we were very clever and funny. Actually we were.

Existential Angst

2011-02-01T06:27:00.010-07:00

Why, when you wake up at 3:A.M., don't your thoughts turn to yawning puppies and mooshy baby blankets and all-you-can-eat sushi, and the stellar educational standards upheld by Finnish students? Maybe your's do. I'm not quite so fortunate. My thoughts turn immediately to my mortality, my regrets, my failings, the mountain of work awaiting me at school today, the book I've misplaced somewhere in the house, and this morning--the minus 45 degrees morning I am going to have to face. My all-time "pet" mind jarring waker-upper, though, undoubtedly is contemplating my mortality. In the deep dark recesses of the pre-dawn hours (supplemented by a lonely train whistle--bet you've never heard of "a cheery train whistle"), I review my life. It comes as quite a shock to me that I haven't been more dazzling. I thought I would be. I had high hopes for myself. I pictured more rose-covered picket fences, more traditional paths, and above all a calming assurance that I was maximizing my time here on earth. More often than not I find myself thinking, "Is this ALL for me? Is this IT???" Some of the less sterling scenes in my life leave me just glad I could "limp off the stage without unconsciously trailing toilet paper off the heel of my shoe." I envisioned perhaps more figurative applause. I thought my tally would be longer. Instead I find myself quite ordinary. No, I'm not on any wanted posters. No, I don't appear on welfare rolls. No, I don't cross the street to avoid enemies. I live a quiet life in a small town where I know probably 60% of the residents by their first names. I teach, I serve, I cry at funerals, I pet my dog. I mother, I grandmother, I sister, I aunt, I niece, I friend, and I wife. I'm not sure what I expected 57 to look like, but then again, I'm not sure I'm willing to accept that this is ALL it looks like. Part of my late night angst also centers around the realization that I'm breaking down; I'm graying and cracking. I find myself reaching for reading glasses and mincing around on the ice like I'm 274. Who knows? Maybe from a distance I might be mistaken for someone REALLY hunched and old. Is there a cane in my future? Diverticulitis? Drool? It all seems well within the realm of possibility...during these early forays into my existential self. Fortunately when I awaken I can usually pull it together...at least for now. But what about bladder control? And involuntary flatulence? And losing my teeth one...by one...by one...?

This and That About Absolutely Nothing

2011-01-26T20:26:00.004-07:00

Paco admitted to me tonight that he took Mugsy into JoAnn's last week! Oh Really? Yes, I told them he was a therapy dog. They seemed impressed by that until he confessed that Mugsy NEEDED therapy-- wasn't going to GIVE it!

I'm looking at the mound of our 2010 Christmas cards/letters here on the desk. Ho hum...What's the hurry?

My two good friends are rising up out of this frozen wasteland headed for Disneyland tomorrow. I KNOW!!!

So I'm thinking of imbedding treasure hunt clues into my blog. Nobody seems to be reading it, and if they are they're mum. The visitor counter must be wacked out to the max!! If I imbed clues or commands "Call me and let the phone ring three times if you're reading this," then perhaps I can crack this mystery.

Four years ago Friday I landed in Minneapolis to love on my first grandson, Charlie. It was minus 32 in the balmy Twin Cities. Happy Birthday Charles Chew!!!

This morning I trooped one of my reading classes over to a parking lot across the street and had them run around reciting the poem we're memorizing at the top of their lungs. Sometimes we march around the room to memorize stuff, or clap, or stand on our desks, or walk backwards. My favorite method is to hold a squirt bottle of water in front of their faces as I recite the poem and pause for them to say the next word or else...good fun. But today was the first time I've ever done a mid winter forced march outside.

I received a grant (go Me!) from the great state of Idaho to add a fancy pantsy piece of technology to my whiteboard thus morphing it (with the aid of an lcd projector and a laptop) into an interactive SmartBoard!!! Can't wait for it to come!!!!

I'm coming dangerously close to chucking my couch at one of my students. That would mean Good-bye Job, so I grind my teeth behind his back and vividly imagine his death by zombie.

I've given up supper and feel so much better!!

Hyrum is the son of a former student of mine back in the day and my daughter's good good friend from high school. He hangs with me every day from 2:11-3:19. His writing is illegible. He hands in a book report in 4 or 5 puzzle pieces which I have to tape together. Many times he zones out. Simple instructions totally elude him. Before Christmas he brought in a reindeer made out of a large box with a fully rotating head and antlers powered by some sort of solar cell. Today when I walked back to his desk I saw that he had taken 3 pencils, a paper clip, some string, and the insides of a pen and created something truly amazing capable of standing on his slanted desk. I ran across the hall to get my friend Lynne who teaches earth science, and together we marveled. I'm going to visit Hyrum's lab/shed which I hear he supplies through the Deseret Industries drop dumpster. Hyrum's friend, Michael, is his techie. Michael dumpster dives too and pirates computer parts which Hyrum is turning into a remote control vehicle of some sort. Who needs legible handwriting and A's on book reports anyway..?

I was referred on Goodreads.com today to a short story by Neil Gaiman in which the heroine is an old lady who discovers the Holy Grail in a bin at her local thrift store!! What a smashing storyline!!!!

I'm totally put out that I must cancel my spinning lesson with Lou in Pocatello next week.

Not one but TWO of my students have parents who met in Evanston, Wyoming's WalMart as employees!!!!! Is that just tooooo freaky? If I didn't assign autobiographies there would be no end to my stupidity. I pretty much learn EVERYTHING from them.

And if you read to the end of this post, send me an email with your favorite popsicle flavor in the subject line. marhadd@gmail.com

Exhumed

2011-01-24T20:47:00.004-07:00

The 1972 Time Capsule containing this picture of my parents--not my parents! This was a delightful find today on the local library's website. A truly wonderful stroll down Memory Lane. I had been gone from home for a year in 1972, but not to worry. Things looked much the same in 1972. Come to think of it, they STILL do!!! Ha ha ha!! This picture was taken at the ward's fair stand where I spent many many comradic hours flipping burgers, slinging sodas, filling mustard containers, and having the time of my life with some of the best people I've ever known. Back in the day we had to earn money to pay an annual assessment to run our church. The fair stand was a quick (but exhausting) way to make money. I believe my dad was still the bishop. Good good times.

Surely You Jest...

2011-01-21T06:14:00.011-07:00

Toying with the idea of sending out our Christmas cards today. But not too seriously. What I really want to do is obliterate the fly bomblasting this screen. I found our Texas fly swatter which was hibernating in a corner, but unfortunately my first swat at the evil winged harbinger of death landed on the overhead light and apparently has rendered it useless if the sparks and resultant darkness are any indicator. I'll have to break that gently to Paco. On the lighter side, I don't know about what the moon did to YOUR neighborhood yesterday, but here at Camelid (look it up) Quarters amour is in the air! I bring you an email I received from Paco yesterday afternoon:

As predicted by the lady in Blackfoot, we're having a humpfest in the corral. It started with Obama followed by Thoreau and Aristotle. Being the littlest of the three, Emerson seems to have no interest - he's off munching hay somewhere else. I heard some strange noises from the back and when I went to investigate Obama was going at it on Rose Hip, Thoreau was going at it on Obama - to no avail I'm sure, and Aristotle was making valiant attempts to get lined up behind Thoreau. The lady in Blackfoot says that all the males know is "she's open" and they'll try to fix that as soon as they can. The net result is predicted to be that Rosie will get bred again and again, and in the process get torn and develop a roaring infection, which I don't think we can afford to try to have treated. So we have to think of a way to get them separated - I'm working on it but I could use any help you can think of or solicit from anybody else. BTW - Nobody's trying to go after Dalaigh or Mary Jane, which further suggests that our suspicions may be true regarding their status. I was hoping that we might be able to delay having to get them separated but I fear that even if we start now we may have a huge problem if Rosie gets sick. If Obama goes after her again I'm also afraid that he might crush her. Given what we know now it was probably a mistake for us to take Rosie in the first place.

Not to worry. Rosie has been sequestered. Furthermore, I ran into fellow llama owners at the library last night who reported similar shenanigans at THEIR farm!!! Hmmmm...I don't want to get personal (well, yes, actually I do), but did the moon mess around with anyone else out there???? So wrap your head around THIS image--long ears, coarse hair, large of size And I'm not referencing a roommate you once had! That's what results from llama/alpaca unions. Rose Hip, as you may or may not recall, is sterile, poor thing. And there I will stop with that. But I'm just saying...

One of my students told me yesterday that her mother puts leather in soup for flavoring. Really?? And to conclude,from my "You Just Never Know" category comes the account of a shy, sit-in-the-corner-and-very-quietly-do-your-work cute little 7th grade boy who upon my mention of scars (and their attendant stories) being interesting material to add to an autobiography, LEAPS out of his seat, charges to the front of the room throwing off a hoodie as he comes, hoists up his shirt to his chin, pulls his jeans down just above the YIKES point, and proudly displays a scar of yore. I stood slack jawed.

You may argue that Capitol Hill, the U.N., Time Square, Picadilly Circus, Red Square,Cape Canaveral, or Tiannanamen Square are where "it's happening", but I beg to differ. Where it's REALLY happening is in America's 7th grade classrooms... Oh, and I also learned yesterday at the library that perhaps if we fed Rosie some wheat sprouts she might just conceive. What do ya think?
Last thing-- having access to Wallace and Gromit merchandise would be reason alone for me to take up residence in the U.K. If I can't find the Christmas stamps in the above picture, well, then, I'm just not sure I want to go on living. (note to astute readers: This post is obviously not about JFK Jr. I know that, and you know that. Later.)

Fifty Years Ago Today

2011-01-20T05:46:00.007-07:00

I was in second grade at Malad Elementary (Malad, ID) at the time. I remember our entire class walked over to a house kitty corner from our school, crowded into the living room, and was probably shushed by our stern teacher, Mrs. Hartley. This was obviously in the glory days of "AV" when the schools' only form of projecting visual images was to use a giant 16 mm projector--no TV's yet. We also got a good bit of radio (old programs sponsored by Mobil Oil and hosted by Arthur Godfrey which featured world travel which I dearly dearly loved) which makes me sound older than dust! The room was dominated by what seemed to be an enormous cabinet TV. I must have seen color TV by this time in my life (some friends of ours frequently invited us over to watch "Wonderful World of Disney" on theirs some Sunday afternoons), but it was still novel enough to hold great fascination. We were most likely seated a "safe" distance from the TV as Radiation Scare was huge back then. I remember seeing President Kennedy with his hand raised to take the oath at the podium, but my real interest lay in his two children--Carolilne looking a heck of a lot like my Kit American Girl doll now that I think of it, and John John in his Buster Brown shoes, shorts, and navy coat that hit him square above the knees. The Kennedys figure prominently in my youthful memories--their days in the White House, Cuban Missile Crisis (the practice bus evacuation during that period from my school scared me so badly I wet my pants!!) the assasination (I read The Warren Report cover to cover!), the funeral, Jackie's post JFK life, the death of JFK Jr. (see tomorrow's post), and the sole survivor bravery of Caroline.

Still Playing With Dolls...

2011-01-19T17:30:00.002-07:00

and having so much fun making hats!

A Poem by Madhadder

2011-01-11T05:27:00.002-07:00

WACKA WACKA WACKA WANNA LOVE ME SOME ALPACA!
RAHMA RAHMA RAHMA BETTER RUN IT BY THE LLAMA.

A No Brainer...Really

2011-01-09T22:35:00.001-07:00

Paco and I made a provision run to Logan the other day. After a very mediocre (but not wholly inexpensive) meal at Chick Filet I said, "You know, I'd rather bring sandwiches or boiled eggs to eat for three times and then go get some really good sushi on the fourth trip over here. Even Steven." I've just about had it with mediocre fast food. We eat it because it fills a hole. You're in you're out and the hole is gone. But with sushi--ahhhhhhh--sushi. Now that's something worth looking forward to and sacrificing a bit. Three or four blah burgers would equal in cost what a brief visit into the afterlife (sushi) would. So that's my plan. I'll keep a little notebook in the jockey box to tally up my savings each time. Then I'll sashay right into the sushi bar and not feel a moment of guilt. The only trouble is that I may do it alone--Paco loves him some Burger King...

Hearts and Flowers

2011-01-06T16:30:00.005-07:00

Apprehended from two boys yesterday (they swear they found the note on the floor):

Who do you like?

____________________ a little.
Who do YOU like?

A couple of people.

Who? _________________?

HECK NO!!!!!!

______________________?

HECK NO!!!!!!!

____________________?____________________________?_______________________?

Sort of no, and ___________________________ is my cousin!!!

Is it me??

I can't tell you..._____________________________ might get mad...

I don't care if she gets mat at me. She's a freak!

LOL. Be nice.

No. She's creepy. LOL.

Ummmmm...well, do you like me? If you tell me, I'll tell you.

Kind of.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN???????

I am ever so sorry that school happens and these blazing love notes get cut short! It's criminal.

A Short Essay on Why I Live in a Small Town

2010-12-30T04:49:00.003-07:00

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

10:35 A.M.--I pull a filling in my mouth out with a caramel
10:40 A.M.--I call my local dentist on the outside chance I can get an emergency appointment.
10:42 A.M.--I have an 11 A.M. appointment which I grab because meanwhile my principal has just walked through my door and grants me immediate permission. The Christmas dance at 11 allows me this kid-free/no sub time.
10:45 A.M.--Another teacher relieves me of my students.
10:50 A.M.--I arrive ten minutes early at the dentist office greeted by three friendly faces, the dentist's wife, and the dentist's daughter home from college and am ushered right in.
11:05 A.M.--I emerge from the dentist's office--hole filled. No deadening. No pain. Pleasant chitchat with the dentist about the history of the procedure he used to mend me. Asked about my daughter (whom he's met once) by name. Laughed a bit. Commented that I should do ads for this practice.
11:08 A.M.--Back at the dance.

Christmas Day 2010--Almost Bethlehem

2010-12-28T06:51:00.032-07:00

Animals and "manger" in Gaston, OregonAn "innkeeper" with no more room for baby alpacas coming this spring. An internet plea for adoptive parents! Virtuallly FREE to a good home!!
After much correspondence we meet Pat and her daughter Giselle. Oh so lovely.
Rosehip (Rosie) settles in for the long "flight" into Idaho--Once we got going they all "kooshed" into a fluffy lump and relaxed, as did Mugsy on my lap/sciatic nerve.
SNOW! SNOW!!! SNOW!!!! ARE WE IN BOLIVIA????????

Direct quote from Obama: "SAAAAAAYYYY WWWHHHHAAAAATTTTT?????"
STAY TUNED FOR THE UP CLOSE SHOTS AND INTERVIEWS WITH ROSIE, ARISTOTLE, THOREAU, AND EMERSON.

'Twas the Night Before Scout Camp"

2010-12-14T17:34:00.004-07:00

We're busying our pre-Christmas wacko selves by doing an 8 part writing assignment based on Christmas (a direct violation of the First Amendment, I am aware) topics. We wrote a rebus letter to Santa Claus, described a food that shows up only during the holiday, and a few others. The most challenging part of this assignment has to be the 20couplet poem after the fashion of "A Visit From St. Nick." I read a smashing poem about an elk hunt today. But my favorite related in-my-face story came from a young lad who described something that happened at Scout camp last summer. The leaders had put together what they called a "John Colter Relay" which involved racing around the lake there at Camp Barlett and having to accomplish scout-related tasks at different checkpoints all the while being conscious that they were in a race. At one point the scouts had to stretch a rope across a fire pit and build a fire underneath it. The object was to be the first to burn through the rope. This kid's troop was cruising! They were neck to neck with a Utah troop! Home Stretch time!! At the peak moment when their fire was leaping right up to burn that rope, a punk from the sinister Utah competitors sashayed over, squatted, and passed gas right on the fire!! You may be as surprised as I was to learn that it distinguished the fire!!!! I had so totally believed that gas would have the opposite effect! Needless to say one fart story in 7th grade opens up to two three four and then TEN good gassers retellings. I was laughing so so hard.

Robin

2010-12-13T06:37:00.008-07:00

I've known Robin since I was ten and she was eight. Her father was the high school librarian and also served unofficially as an extraordinary historian of all things Brrrrrr Lake. She fell right in the middle of a large batch of kids and tells stories of ALL nine members of the family piling into the front of a pickup and heading out across the state to visit grandparents! Obviously this was pre-seatbelt days. Clown car???!!!! "She's TOUCHING me!!" Robin and I played sports together and attended summer girls' camp. Now in our 50's our paths cross again--we serve together in our church's young women's program. I really need to sit down and interview her because just the few facts I've gathered about her take my breath away. Most recently she showed up at our door with fresh hamburger--lots of it. Their cow had stumbled and lamed itself coming up the hill from getting a drink, so they'd had to butcher it!!! Not take it down to the market--BUTCHER it!!! Right there. Right now. I know Robin's house burned to the ground a few years back, and the community rallied to put up a new log house for them. But the rest of the story is that that house was her husband's family's original ancestral dwelling. Rustic. Robin's two daughters didn't know indoor plumbing until they were...wait for it...wait for it--14!!!!! That meant they were carrying water from a pump, heating it on a woodstove for dishes, and bathing in a galvanized tub!!!!! Am I going to run out of exclmation points????? Robin and Tim are quite the couple. They are employed by a sheep rancher and spend long months living in a sheep camp in the summer way far away from all things civiilized.
They also spend days and days and days on horses "escorting" those wooly lambs to and fro across the valley. When you look up "work ethic" in the dictionary be prepared to see THEM! They embody the principles of thrift, industry, no frills living. I stand totally in awe of them. Last night I watched Robin in action yet again, this time...playing the violin in an orchestra. A true Renaissance woman. If things "go down", I am planning to sprint down the road to Robin's house and know that if ANYONE is going to survive whatever an apocalypse might send our way, she will!!

Dressed to the 9's For Christmas

2010-12-12T13:16:00.002-07:00

Some well-laid plans run amuck. Exhibit A is our living room project which was supposedly going to be completed by December 9th. Hmmmmm...Twelve honored guests arriving in 5 days. Stay tuned for our next episode when we hear Madhadder say, "The carpet layers are coming when????????" To which Paco responds, "We'll just have to work around it." But then who can complain? This is a project we here at Take Us Or Leave Us Acres have been anticipating for five years.

"Woof!"

2010-12-09T22:47:00.002-07:00

"Move Over, Hallmark" Revisited

2010-12-09T09:08:00.006-07:00

He: So _________________ is the one that told me that u liked me, but I always liked u.

She: Seriously? But I am glad she did.

He: IDK she did. Ya. So what am I aloud to do right now? Circle one.
Kiss

Hug

Hold hands

Put my arms around u

She: I want to get over ______________________ for a day, so I'll go out tomorrow. Don't write back."

This intercepted love note carries all the components of a classic, so let's take a moment and analyze it. First of all, nine times out of ten seventh grade romance involves another person--a friend who intercedes for a reluctant party. This can lead to problems, as you might suspect. Third parties become an entity in a relationship that oftentimes knows too much. I've seen third parties move into first place ousting a "best friend" in the triangle. Second, notice the choice of physical contacts. I would put a fifth: "Tell others that we're going together." Now I'm wondering where all this "aloud" touchy feely exchange takes place... Thirdly, all good dead relationships require a certain "grieving period." I respect this young lady's warp-time handling of that. Shows maturity. She's moving on. Incidentally this is the most unlikely of unlikely relationships. I love taking notes.

Blatant Piracy

2010-12-09T05:40:00.005-07:00

I kifed this from a blog I read. I'm sure she won't mind--might be flattered. YOU HAVEN'T READ THE UNDERNEATH?????? I'll just pretend you didn't say that.

Out Loud, If You Please: Guest Post by Kathi Appelt

Many of you are probably familiar with Kathi Appelt - her 2008 book, The Underneath, was a Newbery Honor book and a National Book Award Finalist, not to mention garnering rave reviews from all number of review sources (at library conferences, many of the publishers put large star bookmarks in their books for each starred review or honor that book received. When I saw The Underneath at TLA last year, the book could hardly stay closed, it was so full of star bookmarks).

Her newest book, Keeper, has the same lyrical quality as The Underneath and both books seem to me to be ones that are best served by being read aloud. If the words are magical on the page, they're even more so when they're being spoken.

I wrote yesterday about how much I love reading aloud. And it turns out that Kathi shares that same love. Which, after reading her books, doesn't come as much of a surprise to me.

***************************************

I wish that I could say that I had always wanted to write books for kids, but the cold, hard truth is that I never would have thought about it were it not for the arrival of my first son Jacob.

And once he came, was I ever unprepared!!! Being a mom caught me by complete surprise. What was I supposed to do with him? Here I was, an educated woman, but who nevertheless knew very little about raising kids.

I confess that I was never the type to do kid-type activities. Making figures out of Play-Doh? Not me. I squeezed the stuff for therapy.

Hide-and-seek? I hated that game.

All I had left in my bag of tricks so far as entertaining and engaging my little guy was reading. After all, one of the good things about my father was that he read to me when I was very small. I could do that too. At first, since Jacob was born while I was in graduate school, I just read whatever I had to read for school, which at the time meant the Greeks. (I was taking a course in Classical Rhetoric—exciting stuff, I know). And that seemed to be enough until he got to be about five or six months old, and then, well, Aristotle lost his allure.

A quick hop to the bookstore, and our world changed forever. This was back in 1982 and technological changes were sweeping the children’s book industry, allowing for art to be reproduced in ways that it hadn’t before. The array of beautiful books, featuring illustrators like Ruth Heller, Susan Jeffers, David McPhail and the Pinkneys were just landing on shelves, their art simply breathtaking.

I bought a copy of Heller’s Chickens Aren’t the Only Ones, and both Jacob and I fell in love with the rhymes and the illustrations, but mostly . . . and more importantly . . . we fell in love with the activity of reading together.

What I discovered was that if either one of us was tired or fussy, we could pick up a book, sit down together, and reconnect with ourselves and each other in a way that felt completely magical.

When Jacob’s younger brother Cooper arrived two years later, Jake and I were old hands at creating our own “campfire.” Cooper simply joined in. Often, at the end of the day, their father joined us. With the four of us surrounding a book or two or ten, we closed our circle. In fact, I called it “the magic circle” for the sense of safety and enchantment that it offered to our family.

Reading out loud became part of the fabric of our family, and I read on road trips, in airports, at the doctor’s office, wherever. And I also read to the boys until they were well into their teens. It was just what we did together. We graduated from Ruth Heller to Brian Jacques and Gary Paulsen and Lloyd Alexander and Ursula K. LeGuin. We even ventured into J.R.R. Tolkein, followed by T.A. Barron and Philip Pullman. Story was our family glue.

Having experienced this magic, my huge longing is for every child to be read to every day. I have a deep-seated belief that if that were to happen, that if every child were read to every day, by a caring adult, the world as we know would make a shift. It doesn’t even really matter what the books are. The simple act of pulling a child up next to you and reading together sends a significant message of caring.

One of my students at Vermont College of Fine Arts, Tamara Ellis Smith, in her critical thesis, called this act, “The Vibrant Triangle,” in which the three points of the triangle consisted of the child, the adult, and the book, and what makes it vibrant is the reading aloud.

For me, writing a book that calls for oral reading hearkens to my yearning for that vibrant triangle to occur over and over again. And so with all my books, from picture books to my novels for middle graders, I take great care with the three R’s—repetition, resonance, and rhythm—in my prose, reading it out loud to myself over and over again, to make sure that it has that capacity for oral reading, for vibrancy.

It’s important. It matters. There is more at hand than just the story. There’s magic.

"The Envelope Please..."

2010-12-08T06:07:00.007-07:00

"And the winner is...!" I just won a Pillow Tie for my stunning idea (which I can't even remember and which seems to have vaporized off the web) on how I would use one. The rest of the story is that the artist for this fledgling (but not for long! Oprah, Today Show etc. etc. etc.!!! YEAH!!! Well, I should SAY SO!!) venture is my youngest (and most mind-boggling) son--the immortal T.C. Giles. Last spring I let my 7th graders loose on inflatable tie use possibililties. We came up with 50 but have yet to see a penny for our efforts. Are we bitter????? Heck, yeah!

Rise and Shout!!!

2010-12-08T05:22:00.001-07:00

I am so going to do some BYU days posts! This was soooooo insparrrrrring...

Ecto

2010-12-06T20:51:00.003-07:00

A couple of our household chores fall in the "stand-off" category. "If I just wait long enough..." You'd think bathrooms would be one. No. You might suspect windows. Nope. Garage. Yes. Making the bed. Yes. Refrigerator. Big fat hearty beefy smelly ECTOPLASMIC yes. I tackled ours tonight. What our house has needed sorely lately is a housekeeper instead of a full-time carpenter and a full(and then some) time teacher and lame-o graduate student by night. The clue that our fridge was reaching critical mass was when I opened it and our leftovers (having morphed from food into identities capable of voting Democrat) greeted me by name and inquired about the grandkids. I started with the sourdough start. I always start there. The routine is to remove the lid on the crock and pour the "hooch" down the drain. Dr. Hess (when he gave me the start) said I could drink that, but I choose not to. Then I take a wooden spoon--never metal--and stir the start. I'll leave it on the counter to warm up and then "feed" it tomorrow--equal parts water and flour. I might scare up some pancakes over the holiday, so I'll want to vamp it up a little. Following the start rejuvenation, I began to untangle the fridge. Pretty routine--slowly pry off lids, sniff a little, gag mightily, and then down the garburator it goes. Tonight I found a cumulus cloudlike mass hovering in a yellow Tupperware bowl. I grabbed a plastic fork to prod it a bit. To my utter amazement under the fluffy covering was the grassiest green...spinach hummus...I think! Then in another container lay an egg thing. Gray and cracking, kind of lolling in a black liquid of sorts, but still egg-like. I'm thinking hard-boiled at one time. It galurpled as I emptied it into the sink. Galurpled. We had an inordinate amount of jam containers tonight--residue from Paco's canning frenzy I imagine. Then there were the usuals--brown lettuce in its own au jus, some leftover chicken soup that certainly could never be good for the soul, bread/hockey pucks, carrots you can tie in multiple knots, and a pickle jar sans pickles--just juice. I've thought long and hard over the years as to a solution. An inventory posted on the front where you keep track of what you put in, take out, use up, or replace? Probably Martha, but not us. A weekly sponge out? A bi-annual sponge out? I'm thinking someone out there has to have a plan. Anyone? The true miracle is that I have yet to read in an obituary that the cause of someone's death was "refrigerator related" because it truly is a hazard. Right up there with slppery rugs and dog bites. Speaking of dogs, ours hasn't bitten anyone lately, but tonight (in an attempt to get as far away from the automatic nailgun as caninely possible) climbed up onto my lap here and then took another step up to the computer desk where he plunked his butt right on the keyboard. Everything went sideways! Paco had to fix it. Meanwhile Mugsy is an absolute wreck. He hates all the noise associated with home improvements. Maybe he'd like a snack. Maybe some leftovers...

Pioneer Woman

2010-12-03T20:16:00.004-07:00

I was reading a blog satire of Pioneer Woman's appearance on Bobby Flay. This particular blogger has a somewhat unhealthy detestation for PW which I find entertaining sometimes. She dresses Barbie dolls up and stages some really ridiculous farces flinging all manner of mud down Oklahoma way. I was also reading a Forbes interview with PW. Back in the day my daughter-in-law and I were "fans" of PW's blog and were quite faithful. But we petered off. Meanwhile PW has gone on to atract some 6 million readers a month! Wildly popular. She published a New York Times best-selling cookbook and is about to release the story of her romance and subsequent marriage to an over the top wealthy Oklahoma rancher. Some people find her "14 carat phony", and others are appalled at how she exploits her children. I can't imagine that her pristine ranch life hasn't taken a giant cyber step into sheer complication thus interrupting her homeschooling and adding an air of Hollywood to her former intimate homelife. That can't feel good. But then again maybe it does. She must bring in obscene amounts of money from ads. Just thinking on this stuff--what we do for money and how it rocks our boats. Paco and I had a lengthy discussion on how tipped the society is and how forced we all are to tip right along with it at Chick Filet the other night. What if we all took 2011 and restructured our financial base? Stopped being so dependent on spending and devoted more time to study, meditation, and exuding more kindness? We could "cleanse the palate" of our mind and scrape out the plaque in our lives. I remember a month of my life when I ate very very simply and just spent my time walking and talking with some others in the same experience. Our skin became robust! And our hair!!! Try not washing your hair for a month and you won't believe how magnificent it looks when you DO wash it again. I guess I'm just looking around at the world focused on money. Money equals worth. Money equals validity. Money equals security. Money equals happiness. And I'd like to debunk it...Once and for all. Maybe we can turn Provident Heritage Farm into a commune. Attract some anti-materialists. Grow some organic produce. Kumbayah around the fire. Or maybe I can just carve out more time in my day to be reflective. I think that's what I need more than anything. I'm hoping Pioneer Woman hasn't sold out and now has golden handcuffs...

I'm Yours

2010-12-01T23:20:00.010-07:00

This bongo guy is too cool for school!! I want HIM under MY Christmas tree!!! So hoping he comes with that gnome!! And Jason...hmmm...well, he can come along too. Oh Favorite daughter, kanji interpretation please. I need one of these too: And while we're on the subject, my pageview monitor says I had 1004 visitors to this blog last week. Yeah, right...And Queen Elizabeth wants me to knit her a muff...

"Let Me Be the First to Wish You Merry Christmas This Year!"

2010-12-01T22:49:00.000-07:00

Away But Not Forgotten!

2010-11-28T19:56:00.003-07:00

Maryland may as well be Siberia--no wait, that's where WE live. Counting the days!

Some People Are Smartie Pants!

2010-11-27T21:44:00.002-07:00

I guess this inspired me because of all the recent leftover ordeals associated with Thanksgiving and other holidays that generate copious amounts of food. You cut off the top part of the bottle, thread the plastic bag up through the bottle opening, and then screw the cap on. Clever, huh?

No School!

2010-11-23T06:50:00.002-07:00

Contest Eulogy

2010-11-22T09:29:00.006-07:00

Well, that wasn't any fun. Two entries. Fizzle...sputter...splat. Thanks to Annie and Dave for entering, anyway. Dave won with his "multiple-cover-all bases-shoot multiple rounds-approach. Those pictures are truly from Thomas' blessing. Yes, he wore that. We held that event at our house in Pleasant Grove, Utah, for some reason. It was January or February and cold. As for the get-up. When we lived in Bloomington, IN (half of the married couple attended Indiana University, and it wasn't the female half), I sewed long dresses for the Saudi women who predominated in our 9 story high-rise married student housing complex. This was during the Iran hostage incident--very exciting time to be where we were. This fabric was a remnant left over. So, if you think these jammies are exotic, you should have seen the dress!! Non-traditional baby blessing in a non-traditional blessing outfit...and we wonder why Thomas is the way he is...

On Cardboard

2010-11-21T06:54:00.002-07:00

I was touched by this on a very visceral level. I'm thinking about what my cardboard would say. How about your's? (from the same folks who brought us "Jonah" yesterday)

Jonah

2010-11-20T06:47:00.001-07:00

The story of Jonah from Corinth Baptist Church on Vimeo.

"Gimme an L-I-B-R-A-R-Y!!"

2010-11-20T06:10:00.002-07:00

This is a posting from my school blog (currently in a coma) done two years ago. The good news is that I brought about 9 classes of kids out to see a home llibrary over the last several years, and we had a great time. The bad news is that all fieldtrips have been canceled for the entire year due to complete lack of funding. And if that doesn't bring a tear...

Except for Mugsy (the resident Shih Tzu) biting Murphy's head (well, what would you do if 25 kids barged in and woke you from a sound sleep and then mauled you?????) our fieldtrip to see a walking talking living home library went well. We tried on all the finger puppets, checked out a few dvd's, ate sack lunches, slurped down root beer floats, and had a close encounter with a couple of bad boy bats over in the knitting loft!!!!!! Whew...hope everybody signed the guest book!!

Contest Time!

2010-11-18T05:58:00.005-07:00

Okay. Now if you know the answer to this, you're disqualified. You have to guess! What occasion were we commemorating when these photos were taken? The baby is my youngest son, and that darling two year old (the spittin' image of HIS two year old) is his brother. The cute little blonde girl is a cousin, Jennifer. Prize? Hmmmm...I'll surprize you. Deadline? Saturday night. Enter as many times as you'd like.

HALLYLOOYER!!!!

2010-11-17T17:15:00.002-07:00

I was going to post this on Facebook, but when I got home wouldn't you know that my ISU professor just befriended me! So I'm forced to cower here on my private blog when I'd rather be whooping this from the housetops (or at least the tops of Facebook): I'VE JUMPED THROUGH THE LAST HOOP AND BEGGED FOR THE LAST BONE FROM ISU IN THIS LIFETIME!!!!!! TODAY AT 12:30 I WAS GRANTED A PRINCIPAL ADMINISTRATIVE CERTIFICATE AFTER FOUR LONG YEARS--TWO OF WHICH WERE GRUELING AND RIGOROUS BEYOND WHAT ANY HUMAN SHOULD ENDURE. There I shouted. Now I'm going to slowly gather my life back, perhaps become a decent teacher again, maybe go to movies, or make meatloaf. I'm very lighthearted and sang stupid camp songs to Paco all the way home. Picture me with a singing heart...

Jeopardy-- 3:42 A.M. "Insomnia for $400 please, Alex"

2010-11-13T03:43:00.003-07:00

One hour video of post traumatic stress syndrome in the lives of former Marines in Iraq, immigration law for dummies written on good friend's blog, and missing and exploited kids.

What is early morning web/blog surfing madness at 1985 Bench Rd.?

A Co-ink-ee-dink!

2010-11-09T22:01:00.004-07:00

I posted about my complete enamorment with this book last summer. My niece Annie took my admonition to RUN out and find it. Because she lives in Soldotna, Alaska, her "running" took her to Homer! Here's where the story takes a weird twist, so if you need to break, you might want to now! The bookstore owner KNOWS the author of Talent Code BECAUSE THE AUTHOR LIVES IN HOMER!!! Get out of town...

What's Wrong With This Picture?

2010-11-08T19:50:00.003-07:00

I'm fine with most everything in this picture. The motor scooter is obviously being maximized. The family is all together--that's got to be good for a kid's outlook on himself. The baby in the back is securely bound to his mom--he's not going anywhere unless she goes there! All in all it looks like a heck of a lot of fun. It reminds me of similar instances of entire dwellings stacked up and being moved on a bicycle which I saw in Beijing a few times. So...what's wrong with this picture? Hint--the little guy in the bucket. No, he looks pretty comfortable and content, I know. BUT, if the men on this bike are in coats, WHY OH WHY is that baby bare necked??????

Up To Our Knees In 'Em

2010-11-07T14:41:00.003-07:00

The editors of Old-House Interiors magazine:
If you think your house is plagued with flies this year, consider this: If a pair of houseflies began mating on the first day of summer and every member of every generation of offspring survived and reproduced at the maximum rate, the resulting fly population would cover the Earth three feet deep by the first day of fall!

We here at Provident Heritage Farm agree. Therefore we are focusing our attentions on male fly castration. We are catching male flies by the thousands, and in a very carefully controlled lab removing their tiny male parts one by one. It's a slow process. We initially looked into fly traps and sprays, but we decided on castration because we think it will send a message to the fly population that WE MEAN BUSINESS! Our hope is that 1) the males will eventually choose celibacy 2) at some point natural selection will take over and only the weakest flies will be left to mate resulting in a diminished population 3) the resulting neutered flies will spread the word once they leave our lab. That's our campaign and we're sticking to it.