(Imagine the Peanuts "Snowfall" piano piece tinkling in the background as you read this blog. Sorry I'm too tech-ignorant to put it on here.)
Wow, as I write this, it is snowing like mad outside. Generally, we don't get a lot of snow here in the DC area, but I've got more than a foot on my deck table, and it's still coming down hard. The newscasters are calling this one of the three biggest snowfalls in the history of DC!
Tha last one was a week of storms early in January, 1996. The kids and my husband were off school and work for over a week. Yep, they shut down the government when there's more than a half-inch of the white stuff.
It gets much icier here than in Utah, and because of the humidity, it feels much colder too. I simply will not ski here in the mid-Atlantic because it is so uncomfortable. I vastly prefer the ideal conditions of Alta and Solitude!
The downside is that we had to postpone the arrival of our youngest daughter. We did not want her to be stranded in a strange place, alone, as she was last year. So she comes in on Monday morning.
Maybe we can make a snowman! I am not, however, looking forward to shoveling the driveway.
Take that, Global Warming enthusiasts!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
The Christmas Run-Up
I love Christmas. I really do. I try to plan ahead so things are not too stressful (this is not especially effective), and I enjoy looking for presents all year 'round. All my kids (three I birthed and two I got as in-laws) will be home, and I want to make it fun and joyous and cozy for them.
I am working my way through several recipes (some multiple times!) and sharing with my co-workers and my dad, and nibbling a few myself. Well, more than a few, but I'm trying to be more mindful of my eating. We have a Continental breakfast on Christmas; I make pizzelles and my mother's cinnamon twists.
We sleep in now that our children are adults--which is just fine by me. When I was a kid I got up at the crack of dawn and sneaked downstairs for a look at the haul. Then I got my sister and we looked together, then tried to go back to bed until a more civilized hour, but we couldn't sleep. Eventually my parents got up and my dad filmed us "waking up" and "discovering" our gifts under the tree. He always panned around the room to get the whole display.
The run-up to Christmas is more fun than the actual day for me. I don't particularly care about getting any gifts myself (which frustrates my husband, who loves having lots of presents under the tree). I like to prepare the meals and the pies and the cookies and candies, and watch Christmas movies. And every other year or so, we have a huge party, the highlight of which is a White Elephant gift exchange. I had planned to have one this year, but my mother's passing has taken a bit of the stuffing out of me, and I got very far behind because I was away for three weeks. And my kids lament that they cannot be here for the party--they loved it when we had them when they were young. Next year, I hope!
I am grateful for my Savior and the miracle that was His birth. I am so glad that our Heavenly Father provided for a way we can repent of our sins, and the example of His Son, who came into this world in the humblest of circumstances. When I compare the ease and comfort and conveniences of my life compared to his, I feel very blessed. I am grateful that I could live in this day and age, despite the wars and problems. I try to let the peace begin with me, and as I get older and learn more, I am becoming more successful.
Merry Christmas, every one!
I am working my way through several recipes (some multiple times!) and sharing with my co-workers and my dad, and nibbling a few myself. Well, more than a few, but I'm trying to be more mindful of my eating. We have a Continental breakfast on Christmas; I make pizzelles and my mother's cinnamon twists.
We sleep in now that our children are adults--which is just fine by me. When I was a kid I got up at the crack of dawn and sneaked downstairs for a look at the haul. Then I got my sister and we looked together, then tried to go back to bed until a more civilized hour, but we couldn't sleep. Eventually my parents got up and my dad filmed us "waking up" and "discovering" our gifts under the tree. He always panned around the room to get the whole display.
The run-up to Christmas is more fun than the actual day for me. I don't particularly care about getting any gifts myself (which frustrates my husband, who loves having lots of presents under the tree). I like to prepare the meals and the pies and the cookies and candies, and watch Christmas movies. And every other year or so, we have a huge party, the highlight of which is a White Elephant gift exchange. I had planned to have one this year, but my mother's passing has taken a bit of the stuffing out of me, and I got very far behind because I was away for three weeks. And my kids lament that they cannot be here for the party--they loved it when we had them when they were young. Next year, I hope!
I am grateful for my Savior and the miracle that was His birth. I am so glad that our Heavenly Father provided for a way we can repent of our sins, and the example of His Son, who came into this world in the humblest of circumstances. When I compare the ease and comfort and conveniences of my life compared to his, I feel very blessed. I am grateful that I could live in this day and age, despite the wars and problems. I try to let the peace begin with me, and as I get older and learn more, I am becoming more successful.
Merry Christmas, every one!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
A Well-Lived Life Ends
Goodbye, Mom.
I have been in Utah for two weeks because my mother was dying, and she passed away one week after I got here, on November 6, 2009 at the age of 84 years and 8 months.
My mother was both brilliant and naive, loving and domineering, enthusiastic about her own interests, pessimistic and negative about those of which she didn't approve or share. Often, she didn't approve of me. I learned to deal with it, though often her anger and disapproval hurt or enraged me. But, as my husband observed once, people are a mixed bag. Mom certainly was.
At the end of the day, though, I always knew my mother loved me. She had serious anxiety issues and never really learned to adequately control her emotions. However, the strength she taught me gave me the ability to stand up to her disapproval and do what I knew to be right.
Each day since her death has been a little easier. Having watched her decline for nearly 3 years made it easier to say the long goodbye. I am glad she is in a better place, no longer prisoner in that pain-riddled, deteriorating body.
I have been in Utah for two weeks because my mother was dying, and she passed away one week after I got here, on November 6, 2009 at the age of 84 years and 8 months.
My mother was both brilliant and naive, loving and domineering, enthusiastic about her own interests, pessimistic and negative about those of which she didn't approve or share. Often, she didn't approve of me. I learned to deal with it, though often her anger and disapproval hurt or enraged me. But, as my husband observed once, people are a mixed bag. Mom certainly was.
At the end of the day, though, I always knew my mother loved me. She had serious anxiety issues and never really learned to adequately control her emotions. However, the strength she taught me gave me the ability to stand up to her disapproval and do what I knew to be right.
Each day since her death has been a little easier. Having watched her decline for nearly 3 years made it easier to say the long goodbye. I am glad she is in a better place, no longer prisoner in that pain-riddled, deteriorating body.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
No Kindle Inflames my Passion!
"I could not live without books."
"So many books, so little time."
"...books are keys to wisdom's treasure. Books are paths that upward lead. Books are friends. Come, let us read."
I have loved books and reading since I was a very little girl. Walking into the library never fails to give me a little frisson of excitement. I cracked the code quickly and became impatient with the repetitiveness of Dick and Jane; I wanted to move on! I never liked Dr. Seuss because of the repetition when I was a child, though I like the cadence of the prose as an adult. Reading is the activity that I enjoy above all. I could read and do virtually nothing else.
For some reason, even with two voracious readers as parents and frequent trips to the library, none of our children are the readers we are. I stood before our crammed shelves one day with a daughter, pointing out to her the merits of various books when it dawned on me: those stories are not a part of her the way they are of me. And they likely never will be. This realization broke my heart.
The various experiences and the infinite wisdom I've gleaned through books are invaluable to me. My child, whom I love so much, is bereft without even knowing it, and this breaks my heart. How much will this diminish her life? She may never know or care, but I do know that my own life would be greatly diminished without the vast storehouse of information I've read and pondered and stored up for many, many years.
Lately I have been reading for escape. I just finished Cold Comfort Farm, a brilliant and hilarious book that sends up the overwrought English countryside novel popular between the wars (much as the Jeeves and Wooster books do). Lately my life has seemed difficult and bleak, and to get myself out of this mood, I have been reading. Real printed paper-between-covers books.
I cannot imagine using yet another electronic device to read when it is so easy and inexpensive to read a book. You don't have to plug it in or recharge it; it doesn't cost hundreds of dollars plus a fee to read, only a short trip to the library. I have been told that a Kindle stores 1500 books (but since length varies so much, who can tell?) but that's a load of money too, since it costs about $16 to download a book. Who needs this gadget? Not I.
In ninth grade, I took a Power Reading course. It was a proud moment when my teacher stood before the class and said that I had completed the highest available materials in the course by semester's end. (One other boy, my crush for a couple of years, had overcome the material at the beginning of the class, but he decided to finish it anyway.) I'm zipping through novels and biographies at the rate of several a week, just to keep ahead of what Winston Churchill called "the black dog."
At least it's working, even if I don't get much else done.
Just give me the words printed and bound. I am happy with these treasures.
"So many books, so little time."
"...books are keys to wisdom's treasure. Books are paths that upward lead. Books are friends. Come, let us read."
I have loved books and reading since I was a very little girl. Walking into the library never fails to give me a little frisson of excitement. I cracked the code quickly and became impatient with the repetitiveness of Dick and Jane; I wanted to move on! I never liked Dr. Seuss because of the repetition when I was a child, though I like the cadence of the prose as an adult. Reading is the activity that I enjoy above all. I could read and do virtually nothing else.
For some reason, even with two voracious readers as parents and frequent trips to the library, none of our children are the readers we are. I stood before our crammed shelves one day with a daughter, pointing out to her the merits of various books when it dawned on me: those stories are not a part of her the way they are of me. And they likely never will be. This realization broke my heart.
The various experiences and the infinite wisdom I've gleaned through books are invaluable to me. My child, whom I love so much, is bereft without even knowing it, and this breaks my heart. How much will this diminish her life? She may never know or care, but I do know that my own life would be greatly diminished without the vast storehouse of information I've read and pondered and stored up for many, many years.
Lately I have been reading for escape. I just finished Cold Comfort Farm, a brilliant and hilarious book that sends up the overwrought English countryside novel popular between the wars (much as the Jeeves and Wooster books do). Lately my life has seemed difficult and bleak, and to get myself out of this mood, I have been reading. Real printed paper-between-covers books.
I cannot imagine using yet another electronic device to read when it is so easy and inexpensive to read a book. You don't have to plug it in or recharge it; it doesn't cost hundreds of dollars plus a fee to read, only a short trip to the library. I have been told that a Kindle stores 1500 books (but since length varies so much, who can tell?) but that's a load of money too, since it costs about $16 to download a book. Who needs this gadget? Not I.
In ninth grade, I took a Power Reading course. It was a proud moment when my teacher stood before the class and said that I had completed the highest available materials in the course by semester's end. (One other boy, my crush for a couple of years, had overcome the material at the beginning of the class, but he decided to finish it anyway.) I'm zipping through novels and biographies at the rate of several a week, just to keep ahead of what Winston Churchill called "the black dog."
At least it's working, even if I don't get much else done.
Just give me the words printed and bound. I am happy with these treasures.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Road Trip
I went on a road trip with my friend Kacie last weekend. She had to drive to meet her family at the National Order of the Arrow (Boy Scouts) conference at Indiana University in Bloomington. Her son was receiving a prestigious award. She didn't want to make the trip alone, so I agreed to go with her.
We were near the Flight 93 site in Shankstown, Pennsylvania, so we went over there. Now I have been to all three memorials from 9/11. It is still very makeshift, but very touching for that. Hundreds of mementoes are there, left by those who have visited. There are park benches with the names of the victims engraved on each, and granite headstones with messages too, presumably from families. The actual site of the crash is across a field and is fenced off. It is very rural. Living near Washington, D.C., I can only imagine what plot those brave passengers foiled. How many lives did they save? Amazing.
We went on to the Workshops of Gerald Henn headquarters, where there is a small gift shop. The company is going out of business and I wanted to add to my daughters' pottery collections before the stuff was completely unavailable. Lo and behold, their warehouse was open, and I was able to garner a whole bunch of stuff far below the retail price! I was very satisfied with my purchases. I love this pottery because it is of such high quality. Now my girls will have some kitchenware that will be passed down to their kids, as well as serve them well throughout their lives.
We went on to Fort Wayne, Indiana where I had the best chocolate I've ever eaten in my life (DeBrand, check out their website at debrand.com) and made the acquaintance of my friend's niece, a very precocious ten-year-old who reminded me a lot of myself at that age. On Sunday, we drove to Bloomington, and made the mistake of stopping at a White Castle burger place for lunch. The worst food I have ever eaten, bar none. The thinnest piece of meat possible, gray, on an over-steamed bun. No flavor. I took three bites, as did my friend, and we gave up and ate the fries only. We should have asked for our money back. Eeeuuww.
Kacie went to the festivities at IU Sunday night while I stayed in our motel talking to family. I love cell phones! On Monday we drove home over I-70, a route I had not taken since 1984 when we moved to Maryland. (Well, technically, I did take it in 2008 when we drove to Utah, but it was in the other direction.)
All in all, we had a great time. I'm glad I did something different for a few days, and I'm glad I could help my friend. I would not have wanted to make that drive alone. And I'm really excited to have gotten my hands on more pottery!
We were near the Flight 93 site in Shankstown, Pennsylvania, so we went over there. Now I have been to all three memorials from 9/11. It is still very makeshift, but very touching for that. Hundreds of mementoes are there, left by those who have visited. There are park benches with the names of the victims engraved on each, and granite headstones with messages too, presumably from families. The actual site of the crash is across a field and is fenced off. It is very rural. Living near Washington, D.C., I can only imagine what plot those brave passengers foiled. How many lives did they save? Amazing.
We went on to the Workshops of Gerald Henn headquarters, where there is a small gift shop. The company is going out of business and I wanted to add to my daughters' pottery collections before the stuff was completely unavailable. Lo and behold, their warehouse was open, and I was able to garner a whole bunch of stuff far below the retail price! I was very satisfied with my purchases. I love this pottery because it is of such high quality. Now my girls will have some kitchenware that will be passed down to their kids, as well as serve them well throughout their lives.
We went on to Fort Wayne, Indiana where I had the best chocolate I've ever eaten in my life (DeBrand, check out their website at debrand.com) and made the acquaintance of my friend's niece, a very precocious ten-year-old who reminded me a lot of myself at that age. On Sunday, we drove to Bloomington, and made the mistake of stopping at a White Castle burger place for lunch. The worst food I have ever eaten, bar none. The thinnest piece of meat possible, gray, on an over-steamed bun. No flavor. I took three bites, as did my friend, and we gave up and ate the fries only. We should have asked for our money back. Eeeuuww.
Kacie went to the festivities at IU Sunday night while I stayed in our motel talking to family. I love cell phones! On Monday we drove home over I-70, a route I had not taken since 1984 when we moved to Maryland. (Well, technically, I did take it in 2008 when we drove to Utah, but it was in the other direction.)
All in all, we had a great time. I'm glad I did something different for a few days, and I'm glad I could help my friend. I would not have wanted to make that drive alone. And I'm really excited to have gotten my hands on more pottery!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A Day Late and a Dollar (or More) Short
Guess what. I've been scooped again.
Annette Lyon, a Utah writer, just published a book: Their, There, They're, a grammar guide.
I went on Amazon and looked at her chapters. It's definitely got a Utah slant (she has one section on Supposedly/Supposably, and it's only in Utah that I have ever heard this error. That is also the only place I've heard the remark, "He was bein' really ignernt to me." People use the term "ignorant" to mean "rude."). She has a lot of the same things I have on Mrs. Clark's Grammar Rant, which has yet to see the Internet light of day, mostly because I do not know how to set up a website.
Oh, well.
I know I could not hold a candle to Eats Shoots and Leaves, the wonderful grammar book written by Lynne Truss, an Englishwoman and therefore a higher authority than I, but I was trying to make my little light shine.
Move on, dear. Move on.
Annette Lyon, a Utah writer, just published a book: Their, There, They're, a grammar guide.
I went on Amazon and looked at her chapters. It's definitely got a Utah slant (she has one section on Supposedly/Supposably, and it's only in Utah that I have ever heard this error. That is also the only place I've heard the remark, "He was bein' really ignernt to me." People use the term "ignorant" to mean "rude."). She has a lot of the same things I have on Mrs. Clark's Grammar Rant, which has yet to see the Internet light of day, mostly because I do not know how to set up a website.
Oh, well.
I know I could not hold a candle to Eats Shoots and Leaves, the wonderful grammar book written by Lynne Truss, an Englishwoman and therefore a higher authority than I, but I was trying to make my little light shine.
Move on, dear. Move on.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
No County for Old Women
So, a friend of mine wants me to attend the Relief Society Book Group. The book this month is Emma, by Jane Austen. A classic, right? You'd think the regional (meaning bigger than most of the others) library in my town would have several copies, right?
You'd be wrong.
Not finding the book in the stacks, I went to the online card catalog. I typed in the word "Emma" as the book title. Simple, huh?
Ninety-eight different titles came up. Beginning with "The Wonderful Adventures of Emma," or something like that.
WHAT THE?
I scrolled through five pages of book titles, none of which was simply Emma, to the last page. Then came the videos. FINALLY, there it was: my library was in possession of ONE large-print copy. No others. And it was checked out.
This library does, however, have available copies of Hello!, People, and InStyle.
I had to order the book to be sent from another library.
Now, keep in mind that in the county where I live, the median household income is $105,000 per year, the highest in the nation. And we pay the taxes to show for it.
Yes, this is a cranky post, and I really do try not to be cranky for various reasons, not the least of which is that I believe in purging one's life of crankiness, but this really dumbfounded me. It shows I'm getting old. I should've gone to Borders and shelled out the $15 for the book. It would have been easier on my blood pressure.
You'd be wrong.
Not finding the book in the stacks, I went to the online card catalog. I typed in the word "Emma" as the book title. Simple, huh?
Ninety-eight different titles came up. Beginning with "The Wonderful Adventures of Emma," or something like that.
WHAT THE?
I scrolled through five pages of book titles, none of which was simply Emma, to the last page. Then came the videos. FINALLY, there it was: my library was in possession of ONE large-print copy. No others. And it was checked out.
This library does, however, have available copies of Hello!, People, and InStyle.
I had to order the book to be sent from another library.
Now, keep in mind that in the county where I live, the median household income is $105,000 per year, the highest in the nation. And we pay the taxes to show for it.
Yes, this is a cranky post, and I really do try not to be cranky for various reasons, not the least of which is that I believe in purging one's life of crankiness, but this really dumbfounded me. It shows I'm getting old. I should've gone to Borders and shelled out the $15 for the book. It would have been easier on my blood pressure.
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