Fathers' Day Gifts

Did you see that anonymous comment on yesterday's post? The one that thanked me for the Kindle Fire? Any guesses on who wrote that?

If you guessed my sweetie, you are right! I know, it's not quite Fathers' Day, but he is headed out on a business trip and a new toy might just make the whole thing a little easier. I actually bought the Kindle Fire back in May and stashed it under my side of the bed. I don't usually spend that much, but I had a bunch of credits at Staples, so I only had to plunk down $70 and I even got a $15 gift card with it!

credit

 

I was so excited about my purchase (if you remember, I'm a terrible secret keeper) I had to tell someone. So I picked Teach. Next to me, she is the second worst secret keeper in the family. It was less than 24 hours before she asked my sweetie if he would like to have a Kindle Fire. And then when his answer was pretty negative, she naturally passed that information on to me.

I was crushed!

I thought about taking it back to the store, but I had gotten such a good deal on it and I didn't know how they would deal with the credits, so I wrapped it in a grocery bag and stashed it under the bed. And it sat there for the last 5 weeks. This morning I pulled it out and wrapped it up. Then after dinner when he was worrying about what he might do for hours alone in a motel room, I presented it to him.

The kids immediately pounced on it, so I couldn't tell if he liked it or not. I gave him a regular Kindle reader for Christmas a few years ago and even though he had casually mentioned he might like one and I thought I had a winner, he never used it. Oh, he might take it to church on Sundays, but the scriptures were about the only thing on it. A paper copy would have been much cheaper!


I manage to score about every five years or so between birthdays, Christmas, and Fathers' Day.  He is always gracious and thankful, but if the gift lays on his desk, or worse yet, still in the gift bag for several weeks or even months, I know I missed the mark.

I seem to have the same problem with my dad. I don't know, maybe it's just me...

How about you? Are you the perfect gift-giver?

Did You Miss Me?

As you already know, we've been out of town all weekend. It was a necessary, bittersweet journey. Our hardwood floors were in desperate need of refinishing so that meant the kids needed to be out of the house for a few days. Memorial Day weekend seemed to be our only opportunity, so we grabbed it. My sweetie started sanding things down early in the week. That meant the house was pretty torn up all week. We had to have everything off the floors! That meant cleaning out the hall closet and the floor of the pantry. After a couple of days of sanding, masking, and sanding again, he was finally ready to pour. The first light coat went down on Thursday and we all slept in the basement with the doors closed.

All ready for church!

On Friday, I packed up the kids and left for Grandpa's house. My sweetie would join us on Saturday after he made the final pour. I'll spare you the details on that because he actually has a funny story to tell...

When we arrived at my dad's house, everything had been locked up tight for a while. The house smelled kind of funny and the kids were a little nervous about staying there. It was hard being in town with Grandma gone. This was our first Memorial Day when we would have to decorate her grave as well. We aired out the house and decided on a huge sleepover in the living room. The kids all spread out their sleeping bags and pillows. We ate hot dogs out of a cooler and played board games and read stories.

The sleeping on the floor thing was brutal and early in the morning I sent my sweetie a text asking him to please grab the air mattresses before he hit the road. We ate bowls of cereal and then headed off for the Memorial Day parade. We mostly enjoyed it except that the wind kicked up and blew sand and grit into our eyes and made things a little miserable. Scout was thrilled to catch a Frisbee that was thrown from one of the floats. It hit a girl in the head and while she was a bit disoriented, Scout snatched it from the ground. She probably should have surrendered it to the other girl, but she was so excited to be the winner, that I just didn't have the heart to make her do it. Besides, the other girl didn't seem all that upset about it.

After the parade we ate lunch and then joined the festival. Is it just me, or are festivals all about spending money? We were a little disappointed about that. But we all piled back into the van and I took the kids on a driving tour of my old high school and some of the other sights they hadn't seen.

My sweetie finally showed up around 7:00 and we ate dinner and ran to the local WalMart. My sweetie is all about Redbox, so we got a movie and headed back to the house to watch it. We made popcorn and just enjoyed being together.

The air mattress made the second night much easier although it still wasn't like my bed at home. We had committed ourselves to attending church. It didn't run as smoothly as I had hoped. I saw a few people I knew from years past...remember I've been married for nearly 29 years. I even saw a couple of girls I went to high school with. I guess we are all grandmas now.

We made the rounds of the cemeteries on Sunday afternoon. We stopped at six, but drove by several others. I love the family history stories we share on those outings. It gave me a few good topics to blog about. Then we joined up with my MIL for a sandwich and more stories.

One more night at my dad's place and then we were on the road this morning. I had all the kids in the van with me and my sweetie hung back to do a few home repairs for his mom. We got home around 3:30 and began the huge clean up task. The hardwood looked great! But there is still so much to do. We can't move the piano or the major furniture for at least another 24 hours, so everything is still a mess.

I hope you all had an awesome weekend and maybe you got a chance to visit a cemetery or two...or six...

Guest Blog - Bad Dad by Sweetie

So I've been working a bit of overtime lately. As always after a bit of that I start feeling like a bad dad, even when we need the extra money, the guilt seems to build. So I've actively been trying to do a bit extra... I know quality time is a myth... but so is Santa and he brings me some pretty good stuff, so why not some good results from the quality time fairy?

Here's some of the things I wanted to get done today... 

Get the grass growing better.   (This one's for my wife)

Fix some things around the house...

Listen to conference... (Eternal Salvation, but it's also a good example for the kids)

Work... (So I can get ahead at work and can take a 5-day weekend next weekend)

Play with the little kids...

Play with the big kids...

Tell the teenagers I love them and I'm proud of them... (I've been thinking a lot about what good kids they are but never when they are around ...I need to tell them)

Figure out why the shower is leaking....  (Everyone would like that fixed)

My brother has offered to fix a chair... (He is a way better wood-worker than I am... can't seem to get it to his house)

So all that was on my mind about 8:00 Friday night when Bossy came in to tell us that as she was closing the garage door a mouse ran out. Needless to say, my wife was less than enthused...that suddenly became my top priority.

I got up early, despite sleeping on the couch half the night because there were too many people in our bed... Headed out for some mouse gear...and some grass seed... (forgot the peat moss, and some parts to attack the shower problem...) Set out some de-mousing gear.. Quickly started mowing the lawn before reseeding, trying to get done in time that I could listen to conference while spreading grass seed and raking it in. Oh crap, the rake is broken... Guess I'll go inside and check on the family.   

Shortly after I got settled, Bossy came in offering to help clean the garage so we could assess how bad the mice were...  Offer was to good to pass up... I looked at all the kids nicely watching general conference... 

Expectation

Reality (Thankfully not ours)

"OK Kids... new plan we will be listening and cleaning at the same time... That was Bad Dad Number One. All the kids worked together to accomplish a huge task in a small amount of time, but the tiny radio was hard to hear....  Bad Dad Number Two. (Didn't find any mice, BTW.) We worked until almost three when I decided to finally feed the gang..  Pizza Hut... me trying to be a good dad... and teach the kids that rewards come to hard workers. After getting to finally sit and watch the last 1/2 hour of conference... I got feeling guilty and decided to take advantage  of the howling wind and take the kids kite- flying. The only problem was that I had to be showered and to the church  by six... I had about 45 minutes... 

Flying kites with kids is like fishing with kids only there are no hooks... but way worse tangles, and the odds of success are about the  same. But with today's winds the biggest danger was the kites self destructing. I was excited... i was being a good dad. Crafty had been talking about how she had never really succeeded at flying a kite, and today she would.  

 
They all got the kites up and crashed them and tangled strings... Of course it took me a while to assemble and get all the kites ready to go. As I was working on the last one, I noticed Crafty chasing a loose kite across the park towards the trees. Then I looked over and saw her trying to get the kite out of a tree. Sighing, I went back to getting the last kite in the air and then I would go help her. The kite seemed to be down and she was sitting, enjoying the shade I suppose...     Drat! The string is tangled right out of the box. Why is Crafty waving to us? Maybe her string is stuck...   i shout to Prima Donna to go help her.

Still working on the string about five minutes later. Prima Donna is further away and obviously can't hear me. Crafty is still waving and my string is still tangled...  "Sport, go help your sister," I call. Sport and Curly suddenly get their kites tangled mid air. I Start working on that. I glance over at Crafty. She still doesn't have any help...  

Oh good, divine intervention.. the pink Barbie kite is loose and heading towards Crafty. It drops right by her. At least she will get her help. I finally get the last kite in the air. Curly is by himself, getting dragged across the field...  Thankfully a big gust downs his kite. The Angry Birds kite is broken, but at least Curly is safe. 

It must be time to start cleaning up. Suddenly, I have a brilliant idea. The kites have short strings... If I put the long string roll on a new kite.. I bet I can get it pretty high. The string is pink and Barbie will match. Just as I get the string tied on, Crafty shows up in tears. "Dad, I broke the kite!" I glance at her unhappy face, "That's OK," I assure her. "But Dad, I got the string stuck in the tree and the fence and me and I couldn't move and no one would come," <sob> "and help"  <sob sob sob> "me!"  I try to soothe her, "I am sorry... want to see  a kite really fly?"  <sob sob> So I left her tied up for about ten minutes...or so.... Evidently she was waving and crying, but down wind we couldn't hear... Bad Dad Number Three. But surely she would like this. so I risk a man card  and start flying a pink Barbie kite with pink string. <sob sob>  "Dad, I'm thirsty... it's too windy, let's go home." Then as the kite gets higher and higher, they start to watch... 

 

The wind is really too strong for the kite... it's like a big fish. It needs line or something is going to snap.I have the spool on my fingers and the kite is taking the line SOO fast! Then suddenly the wind dies.  I drop the spool but the line tightens and the kite starts to climb again.... and suddenly off she goes. The string is burning my hands. The spool is on the ground. I look down... plenty of string...  up up up she goes.. this is SOO cool.. and then suddenly WHOOSH! Right through my fingers.. the string is gone... kite gone... Now it's Scout  <sob sob> "My kite! <sob sob>.... Bad Dad Number Four.

A few hours later.. the little ones are bouncing off the walls throwing pillows from the couch at each other, Bossy is telling them to stop. She can't see the need for some unwind time. I have a brilliant idea. I loudly demand all the pillows. After getting them all, I mass fire, bouncing them off the kids. They got the message immediately and I was soon in a pillow fight..  all against me! I got buried several times. The big pillows from the other couches came in...  then suddenly the fun was over. It seems I had caused so much excitement Curly's asthma had flared up and he started coughing. He ran to his mom and his supper come up all over my wife.... Bad Dad Number Five.....  



I never did make it back to the grass.. or the plants I bought....or the chair.. didn't get much work done..but quality time? I got that one...and the Bad Dad award to prove it.

Patriotism

My dad is a Commander in the American Legion Post 72 out of Orem, Utah. He has been involved with that group for several years now and they do some amazing things. First of all, they are not solely a group of old retired soldiers (although most of them are). Some are young and all are passionate about our country and patriotism.

The first time I saw these guys “perform” was at a funeral. Sport wanted to take pics of Grandpa is his white uniform for a Reflections video he was making. Grandpa agreed and we headed to the cemetery. It was cold and windy. We waited for a while and watched them get ready, then we climbed from the car and set up the video camera under a tree. We didn’t want to be obvious, but with a zoom lens we could see everything.

Despite the weather, these men did a wonderful job. They set up flags and as the Honor Guard, they were allowed to play Taps and perform the 21-gun salute. Even though I didn’t know the soldier they were burying, tears came to my eyes as they folded the flag and handed it to the family. These are men who know what it’s like to put it all on the line in the name of patriotism.

It was only natural that we would ask them to participate in the Dog Walker’s Court of Honor last month. They brought in the flags from each of the branches of the armed services and played their songs. They asked audience members to stand and be recognized. I was amazed at how many men had fought for our country. Then they showed us the proper way to fold the flag. They handled it so reverently and carefully, with white-gloved hands and slow salutes. How many of their friends had died for that very piece of cloth?

KSL

 So today I saw them again on KSL.com. They buried the mayor of Orem and Grandpa’s group was there to honor him. What a fantastic group of men! They aren’t paid for their time and trouble, only in helping us all become a little more appreciative of our freedom. Tell your friends “Thanks,” Dad, for helping us all remember.

KSL

Iron Chef

Only two weeks to go to Labor Day, so we couldn’t let a Sunday pass by without trying to complete another item on our Summer List. One of our favorite activities from last summer was our first Iron Chef competition. We split our family into two teams, boys against the girls. Last year the boys won by preparing the judge’s (Grandpa) favorite fruit salad as an appetizer. This year the girls were determined to win.

Our list of common ingredients included chicken, zucchini (what else am I going to do with it?), and chocolate chips. Then each team got to choose a secret ingredient that was revealed to the other team this morning. The girls chose oatmeal and the boys chose Swiss Chard… really?!

The cook-off started at 4:30 with all three courses to be served at 6:30. We take a little more time than the TV show since we only have one kitchen. My sweetie is a much better cook than me, so we make the boys cook outside where they have the option to grill, Dutch Oven, or use the hotplate on the grill. They can also use the oven if needed (we try to be nice about these things, although after the chard thing they didn’t really deserve it).

Winner! Winner! Chicken Dinner!

One of the best things about this competition is that we try to make something new and maybe a bit unusual. Grandpa is always a good sport and he eats everything. His all-time favorite food is homemade bread. Last year we made rolls as part of both meals. This year I forgot to make that stipulation, and the first thing my sweetie did was mix up a big batch of Dutch Oven rolls. The other rule is that everything has to be made from scratch with ingredients we have on hand or in the garden.

We were pretty sure we had a winner this year. The Drama Queen printed some recipes for Teriyaki Chicken and Tempura Vegetables. I know my dad loves Japanese food since he has a Japanese daughter-in-law. We also figured that a good bar cookie would top that off just perfectly.

We had planned a salad for an appetizer, but the guys got to the lettuce first, so Bossy pulled off a miracle by making Swiss Chard veggie sushi. She used thin sliced cucumber, carrots, and zucchini and rolled it into chard leaves with a little rice to hold it all together. It was surprisingly good (although the boys beat it out with their fruited salad. They used lettuce and chard, but then they added fresh strawberries and apricots (I still have a ton of them if you are interested!) carrots and nuts. They even made a homemade vinaigrette!

Ok, maybe they deserved that one. But our Teriyaki Chicken with rice and Tempura Veggies beat out their Zucchini Boats with Chicken and Pasta hands down. Not even their homemade rolls could save them. My sweetie agreed that our food was tastier!

So it was all up to the final dessert. The boys had a good one. Sport and the Dog Walker made Rice Krispie squares with chocolate chips stirred in. The little kids had already given it the thumbs-up! But in the end, my Coconut Pecan Chocolate Chip Oatmeal cookie bars were declared the winner.

We had a great time sharing our food, talking and laughing and just being together. Last year the girls (losers) were required to do the cleanup. This year we just earned bragging rights…I’m still not sure how that happened…next year I’m going to write down ALL the rules before we start! Thanks for being the judge, Grandpa!

Food for Thought - French Toast

I've told you before that my mom and dad raised 8 kids on a teacher's salary. Mom was always SO careful with money. We had a farm, so that meant fresh milk and eggs. Mom made her own bread, so that was always plentiful. It was only natural that French Toast was part of our diet. Mom made hot breakfasts five days a week, Monday through Friday and the breakfasts were pretty set. We had eggs one day, pancakes one day, French toast one day, mush one day...(I just skipped breakfast on mush day)...you get the idea. Mom made good French Toast, but I had never really appreciated French Toast until my sweetie made it for me! He uses four or five loaves of bread and three dozen eggs, so cut down the recipe for your family. We like to eat it cold after church since it is pretty much a Sunday morning thing. I think the key is really the cinnamon and that extra dash of sugar. I have always loved jam on French Toast, but some of my kids prefer syrup. And get this, my sweetie eats his smothered in applesauce! I hope you enjoy it. Leave me a comment and let me know.

French Toast

butter (for griddle)
3 dozen eggs
2 pinches of salt
2 tablespoons of sugar 
3 cups of milk
2 tablespoons of ground cinnamon
4 or 5 loaves of white bread


Beat eggs well, then beat them some more.

Add salt and milk. Beat. Add cinnamon while beating and then beat fast for a minute or so to get the cinnamon stirred in.

Dip bread and cook on buttered griddle.

Flip and cook the second side until golden brown.  Butter griddle between each batch.  Enjoy!

Day Camp

I’ve told you before that Scouting is very important in my family.  So of course I had to sign up Crafty and Scout for Day Camp. Every year our Service Unit puts on a little three-day camp that costs about 25 bucks for approximately 10 hours of activities. That’s pretty cheap babysitting! The first evening they were supposed to meet at 5:30 at a little park over by the “Oval” in Kearns. They were going ice-skating. I had the girls pack their little backpacks with a jacket, water bottle, and their swaps. 

Not our swaps.  Instructions here.

Swaps are little pins that they are supposed make themselves and “swap” with other scouts. Teach and I sweated over these all week and then we finally designed them and made them with very little help from the girls. Crafty’s were little ribbon roses hot glued to pins, and Scout’s were Christmas buttons hot glued to pins. I know it’s June, but it was actually rather appropriate since their day camp was called Holiday Hijinks. 

So we were driving over to the Oval and I asked Crafty to read me the address since it had been a while since we had been in that area. It was about that time when she noticed that they were supposed to eat dinner! Being the amazing (but forgetful) mom that I am, I pulled into the nearest Sonic and ordered them each a chicken sandwich. After about ten minutes waiting for our food, I impatiently poked the order button. 

photo credit

 “Can I help you?” some unknown voice asked. “Is our order ready yet?” I demanded. I may be forgetful, but I hate checking in late and I hadn’t planned any extra time for a stop, especially not one that took so long. About 30 seconds later, they finally delivered our order. I passed out the food and drove the last 5 minutes to the park. Of course Scout had only eaten about two bites of her sandwich. I wasn't sure that really qualified as dinner, so I told her to haul it along with us. She nibbled on it for the 20 minutes it took us to check in. 

photo credit

 Check in/check out is always a big huge hairy deal. My Service Unit Director took one look at Scout and said, “Oh, her first Day Camp!” (We’re geeks like that…) “Yeah, she’s so cute,” I commented. And she and Crafty were off with the rest of the girls just like a bunch of little scouts.  They had a plenty of fun activities all three days of the camp. On Thursday they made Easter bunny pins and tacos for Cinco de Mayo. On Friday they made snowmen kits and giant Christmas stockings. They made lots of new friends. We even managed to arrange a carpool for the second two days with a neighbor I didn’t even know had a girl in scouts. Her dad was supposed to pick everybody up from the final day. 

My girls came bouncing in the house about 7:45, singing silly Girl Scout songs and showing off their goodies. About 8:15 I got a call on my cell phone that I didn’t recognize. I punched the talk button, “Hello?” “Is this Sandy?” a strange voice asked. “Yes,” I said tentatively. “Do you have your girls?” she asked somewhat accusingly. “Which ones?” I asked, confused. I have lots of girls. “Crafty and Scout,” (although I must confess she used their real names). “Yes, they are right here,” I answered cheerfully. “Nobody checked them out!” Now if you know girl scouts like I know girls scouts, you know that this is a huge breech in protocol. 

“Oh, we have a new scout dad and I guess he didn’t know,” I answered, “Sorry.” You would think she would be relieved to know that they hadn’t lost four little girls, but instead she just seemed annoyed. “Next time, check them out!” I hung up the phone. Maybe we needed to have a shirt for dads that reads “First Day Camp." At least then they would know which dads need a lesson at check-in.

My Dad

My dad came up for dinner tonight to celebrate Fathers’ Day with us. It wasn’t until he asked me if I blogged today that I realized I had missed a huge opportunity…It was easy to write about my mom for Mothers’ Day and even my MIL and Grandma. It’s a little harder to write about my dad. As a kid, Dad and I had our moments. I was not an obedient child, but I was a straight shooter. I said what I thought and usually he didn’t like it. I used to think that meant he didn’t like me, but now that I’m raising kids of my own, I can see the world a little differently. 

Dad and Sport

 Dad was a teacher by trade, but with 8 kids to feed, he had to find other ways to bring in a few extra dollars. I’ve told you before that he had a farm and I was raised with the chickens, cows, and sheep. He also taught drivers’ ed, and that kept him running for at least a couple of hours after school every day. Then he was the game announcer for many of our high school sports. He also drove the Bookmobile every summer. I think my dad was just so overwhelmed with the every day effort of taking care of all of us that he didn’t have time to watch our ballgames or read us stories. Even when he would finally quit working for the day, he was exhausted and just needed a few minutes to unwind. 

The best thing that ever happened to my dad (at least in my opinion, he would probably tell you something else), was when he became a grandpa. After he retired, he finally had the time to play with the grandkids, bring them tootsie rolls, and read stories. I love watching my dad interact with my little ones. He loves them all equally and he is always willing to hold a sleeping babe or attend a concert or dance recital. 

Dad and my grandma and the grandkids (26) and great-grandkids (2) summer of 2007

Dad and Taco

 He is 75 years old and still actively involved in community service. As a commander in the Legion Auxiliary, he has a fancy uniform with white gloves that he wears to funerals where he is in charge of the men as they issue the 21-gun salutes for veterans. He is a proud member of the Kawanis and I’m pretty sure he is the president-elect, meaning he will serve as president of his chapter next year. He works at the temple on Saturdays and the Family History Library on Fridays. 

One of my favorite memories of my dad happened about 6 or 7 years ago. My mom was very sick and she had to be on daily dialysis so the two of them had moved into Utah County. They lived with my little sis for a while, then Mom moved into a care center so she could have full time nursing help. Dad spent as much time as he could with her and she would have good days and bad days. On one of those good days, we celebrated someone’s birthday party at a park in Lindon. 

The Dog Walker’s latest obsession was softball, so he dragged all of our equipment out to the van. I told him I didn’t know how many people would be interested in playing, but he could bring the stuff along and we would see. Mom was feeling pretty good that day and she sat and watched us all play ball for over an hour. Dad played baseball and basketball in college, but we were surprised and delighted when he picked up a bat and agreed to hit. It was the first of many family softball games that included Dad while Mom cheered him on. I miss those days. The family parties are not the same without Mom. It will be five years tomorrow since she passed away. Dad still mourns her loss, but he has somehow found a way to keep on living a family-oriented productive life without her. 

Dad and Mom surrounded by grandkids at Taco's first birthday.

I know he reads my blog every day, so just for him…Thanks for being such a good grandpa for my kids, for putting up with them when they jump on you, begging for tootsie rolls and stories. Thanks for bringing fruit snacks and macaroni and cheese. Thanks for sharing your life with us; we love it when you are here. Thanks for putting up with me during my growing up years. Thanks for food and clothes, dentist and doctor visits. 

Thanks for adding $5.00 to my bank account every year on my birthday even though I usually just begged you to give me the money. Thanks for forgiveness. Thanks for letting us borrow your truck to bring the Drama Queen home from school…the new tires and tank of gas did not go unappreciated. Thanks for reading my newspaper and raving about dinner even when it’s just leftovers. Thanks for bringing up my dumpsters and for vacuuming my floor and getting Curly and Scout to help. You are an amazing person and a great example for my kids. Thanks for being my dad! I love you.

Memories Day

On Saturday we headed south to visit with my MIL and my grandma. My sweetie dropped off me, Crafty, Scout, Curly and Baby Doll at Grandma’s house just in time for us to walk uptown to see the big parade. (If you read yesterday's post, you know where the older kids went with my sweetie. Sport stayed in the valley with Bossy’s family so he could attend Bean-Dip’s birthday party.)

My home town's one and only stoplight. It was put in about 20 years after I left.

I kept thinking I might spot somebody I know in my hometown, but other than Grandma and my sister-in-law and her kids, I didn’t know a single person. I guess I have been married and gone for 27 years. I found myself searching the faces of the old people rather than the young ones. What does that say about me?

Anyway, after the parade, we walked back to Grandma’s (I forgot the stroller, so I was lugging Baby Doll the whole way). There was a festival going on, so tons of people were on Main Street, but I wasn’t nervous about my kids, for some crazy reason, my home town is still not a scary place. When we got back to Grandma’s, she asked me to help her color her hair. Some silly people in her life told her that she is 93 and she should just let it go gray. But why? It’s a five-dollar box of hair dye and half an hour’s worth of time to make her happy.

We got the color on and my sweetie showed up with the rest of the kids. They were itching to check out the festival, so I sent them all out the door so I could help Grandma take a shower and rinse out her hair. I wasn’t prepared for the wave of emotion that swept through me upon seeing her tiny frail body. She’d had a recent surgery on her leg and the area was about three inches wide and five inches long where the skin had been removed. As I gently washed her back and rinsed the dye from her hair, the tears flowed down my cheeks as I realized we’d come full circle. This was the bathroom where I sat as a child while Grandma washed my hair (I didn’t like it much then). This is where Mom and Grandma gave me a perm and rolled the rollers so tight it stretched the skin in my cheeks! It’s amazing I came out of that one with any hair left.

I wrapped the warm towel around her narrow shoulders and steadied her as she stepped over the edge of the tub. Slowly and carefully I helped her dress. Just this much excitement had made her tired. She was not like the Grandma I remember, yet she was still herself in so many ways. They say Memorial Day is about remembering and I spent the day doing just that. After the kids came back we piled in the van and headed to the cemetery to leave some flowers on Mom and my Grandpa’s graves. Dad was in his truck ahead of us and as we pulled in about 10 yards behind him I saw that he was talking to someone.

Remember my story about the irrigation ditch that nearly did me in as a child? Dad was talking to Mike, the guy who pulled me out. I climbed out of the van and walked in his direction. I hadn’t seen him in at least 15 years. He pulled me into a big hug and I said, "I’ve been thinking about you all week! Remember when you pulled me out of the irrigation ditch? I was just telling my kids that story…" (and all my blogging friends). He started laughing, "That was a long time ago!" We visited a little longer and he turned to leave. "Thanks, Mike," I said. I don’t think I said it as a child, but it seemed appropriate now. He smiled and waved. Yeah, it’s all about the memories…and family…and service (even from a 12-year-old boy)…and love. I hope you had all of those on your own Memorial Day weekend.

Baby Doll got her viking on.

Water Turn for Worse

I’m doing a little rearranging on my blog, so if you are looking for the Food for Thought feature, come back tomorrow. I’ve decided that "F"ood for thought just fits better on a "F"riday. So as your consolation prize, I want to tell you the story of my near-downing that I mentioned yesterday. 

You already know that I’m from small-town Utah. We had irrigation ditches there and that’s how nearly everybody watered their farms. My dad took the water turn a couple of nights a week. I don’t know if he requested them in the middle of the night because of his day job as a teacher or if that’s just how it usually worked out, but on his days to take the water he got up in the middle of the night and headed down to the farm. 

Photo Credit

Taking the water meant pulling the dams on two or three ditches and diverting the water to your field. Water turns were not fun! My dad usually came back exhausted, muddy, and ornery. He often complained that this neighbor had taken his turn early or that neighbor had stolen half the water. The irrigation ditches ran all through our little town and then into a collector that ran under the main streets and into a canal by my grandparents’ house. 

About a half a block from my house on the corner was one of the smaller ditches. It was about three feet across and three feet deep. Most of the time it ran less than a foot of water and we loved to roll up our pants and squish through it with our bare feet. There were several culverts that made exciting tunnels full of weeds and spiders. When the water was mostly gone, the heavy Utah clay dried up and cracked. It was one of our favorite adventure spots, but forbidden by my mother. 

Photo credit

 One day when I was about six, my older brothers and I and a family friend named Mike sneaked away from the house and headed over to the ditch. It was running at about half capacity, which was way too deep for us to wade, but was oh so fun to throw sticks and leaves and watch them race. Japan and I sat on the edge of the ditch, dangling our feet in the rushing water. New Zealand and Mike were hanging out on the other side of the culvert, watching our sticks and declaring the winner. 

Now remember, we were in a small town and there was no cement or wood to hold back the mud and the edges were slippery. It just so happens that the farmers had been through a day or two before and burned away all the vegetation so the water would flow faster. As I inched along, encouraging my stick to pull ahead of Japan’s, my feet slipped in the sludge, and into the ditch I tumbled. 

I wasn’t afraid at first. I’d been in the ditch many times, but never with the water flowing so fast. I tried to pull myself up but everything was so slippery and the water forced it’s way up my nose and I couldn’t breathe. I clawed at the edges, desperately trying to find something to hang onto. Somewhere I could hear Japan yelling for help but I couldn’t track his voice. I was no longer sure which way was up. I slipped through the culvert and the water ran even faster. I was cold and muddy and totally out of control. 

Photo credit

 I was terrified! The ditch widened and deepened about 20 feet further down and if I got that far…Suddenly a hand reached through the murky water and grabbed my flailing arm. "I gotcha!" he yelled. Twelve-year-old Mike and 10-year-old New Zealand dragged me through the mud and into the dirt until I was out of harm’s way. I started coughing and bawling while trying to rub the mud from my eyes. Even 8-year-old Japan seemed a little worried and nothing ever got to him. There was no way Mom was going to let us get away with this one…maybe we could tell her we were just trying to help Dad by taking the water turn…

Falling in Love: The Honeymoon.

The reception was long and we were very tired by the time the cake was cut and the gifts were all loaded into his parents’ car. We intended to help clean up until his dad told us to get going. We were only driving about 35 miles up the road and staying in a small motel in a sleepy town just off the freeway. We quickly changed our clothes and tossed the bouquet. Many hugs and kisses later we ran for his parents’ other car (we still didn’t have one of our own). Our little brothers and sisters pelted us (hard!) with rice as we crossed the parking lot. 

My new husband reached for the door handle and was greeted with a handful of shaving cream. He was NOT pleased. He pulled open the door and balloons and newspaper exploded from the car. We started moving them when for some reason he opened the glove box. It was also filled with shaving cream. At that point the exhaustion and stress of the day seemed to win. He pulled out the registration papers and stomped over to his dad. "Look what they’ve done!" he fumed. "We can’t drive like this!" His dad calmly took the papers and smiled. It was hard to rile him up. "Why don’t you two just take the other car?" he suggested. "We’ll take this one home and get it all cleaned up." This seemed to appease my sweetie. 

The car kind of looked like this.

He took my hand and led me to the other vehicle. "No more rice!" he commented firmly as we passed our little brothers. He pulled open the door. The car was completely full of all the gifts. The only seat available was the driver’s seat. "I guess we’ll have to rearrange some of these gifts," I said. "Just push them toward the door," he suggested. "We can snuggle up on this side." That sounded like a great idea to me. Seatbelts were only suggested then, not required. We both climbed into the front seat and headed out of the parking lot. I was a little sad that we didn’t have anything to identify us as newlyweds…no tin cans to clink and clatter on the pavement or anything. As we drove off into the night, I dozed against his shoulder. It had been a long emotional day. 

 
When we finally arrived at the motel, he gently shook me awake. "Time to wake up," he suggested. I moaned. I never did like getting up. I looked around at the dark, unfamiliar parking lot. "Better lock the doors," I commented. He rolled his eyes. "You’re paranoid," he said playfully, as he reached into the back to push down the manual locks. We checked in and got our keys. Then we moved the car six spaces down the parking lot until we were parked right in front of the door to our room. "Let me get you inside," he suggested, "Then I’ll come back for our bags." We walked to the door and he scooped me up to carry me over the threshold. Once inside, I started turning on lights and checking the bathroom. He came back in with the bags and reached back to lock the door. 

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Locking the door?" he said innocently. "We can’t leave all those gifts in the car!" He looked puzzled. "Why not?" I couldn’t believe he didn’t see the danger here. "They might get stolen!" I said. "But it will take me 50 trips to bring them in," he reasoned. "They’ll be fine." I started putting my shoes back on. There was no way I was letting all of those beautiful gifts spend the night in the car all by themselves. He sighed and unlocked the door. Twenty minutes later, the gifts were stacked in neat little piles around the room. Again, he locked the door. My eyes swept the room, taking in what looked way more exciting than Christmas morning. 

There were about 100 gifts in that tiny room. "Let’s open some!" He groaned and dropped down on the bed. "Aren’t you ready for bed?" he asked. "Just a few?" I pleaded. He sat up and looked at me. Slowly a smile spread over his face. "OK, you choose." A few turned into some.  Some into many.  And then eventually all the gifts were open. It’s no wonder I love this man! Happy Valentine’s Day!