First Names

          Today a sister had asked why we call each other Sister so-and-so and not address first names.  I understood her question.  There are some sisters who have such beautiful names that are often lost in the shuffle when they are addressed by their last name. I do think that you get used to addressing a person one way and may have a hard time making your mind remember to call them something else.  (For instance for years you may have been calling the neighbor lady Mrs. Loren twenty years later you are expected to call her Amanda.  Huh?)

According to this site, the title “Brother” or “Sister” is a sign of respect which I understand but I do not think of calling a person by first name is a sign of disrespect.  It is more intimate and familiar.  I like hearing people called by their first names.  But I do get the respect of the title just as addressing Bishop (name) President (name) and so forth.

One sister commented that sometimes we don’t know the names of those we are addressing and may address an individual “Sister” while introducing ourselves. Or “Sister, remind me of your name” which seems to happen more often than not.    LDS Living offers these two ideas. 

         I am okay with either “Karen” or “Sister Rivera”.  Either is acceptable and I’m not offended if addressed by the other. Jaime would rather not be referred to as “Sister Rivera”.  Fair.  I also had a problem when I was addressed by my maiden name. I personally would have rather been called “Karen” than “Sister Fehr”. Sister Fehr was my grandmother and not my 21 year old self (or however old).  I hadn’t looked at it as a sign of respect.  For me, personally, the title felt somewhat intimidating – as though I had graduated from being a youth to having one foot in the grave. 

As Jaime and I were talking she told me she understands the respect thing. She most often addresses her uncles as Uncle Todd, Uncle Steven, Uncle Robert and so forth. But she is still using their first names and not Uncle Glad, Uncle Fehr and Uncle Rivera (that would be weird).  I have always used first names for grandmas to separate them from their parents.  (Grandma Greenwood, Grandma Fehr, Grandma Mary, Grandma Helen, Grandma Gerrie, Grandma Aurelia, Grandma Lucy . . . .)

I did have one bishop who had a three syllable Polish name which wasn’t all that difficult to pronounce but the entire time he was serving was addressed as “Bishop Joe” – Joe being his first name.  I served a ward in Virginia where all the members were addressed by Brother and Sister First Name rather than last name.  I really liked that.  First names means “friend” in my opinion.

Give Me Autumn

  

Every Summer

my mind seems to

be displaced from

my body.  I am so

sleepy ALL OF THE TIME. 

It’s not healthy.

 

Every Winter

my mind always believes

it is later than it is because

the sun sets BEFORE

4:00 p.m.  What’s up with that?

 

Temperatures change and send

me into a coma in the summer and

a stupor in winter.  But

changing the clock from one

time to another does not

help with my sleeping

habits either.  I have NEVER

had good sleeping habits.

 

I have allergies all

year round.  Spring has

always been the worst though

I have experienced a

runny nose, itchy eyes and

sinus problems in

summer and winter as well.

 

Can’t we just keep the

temperatures of fall for

the entire year?  None of

the weather record highs or

record lows.  No snow, no fire,

no comas. Please keep the

 sunrise and sunset at

reasonable hours and

so forth.  Give me the

fall.  Get rid of the fatigue.

 

“Watch” What We’re Doing With Our”Time”

          In addition to making cards Richard has taken up another hobby: repairing watches.  He buys broken watches at yard sales, estate sales and second hand stores.  Often they just need a new battery but sometimes they require a backing or strap.  He fixes them up to running and donates them to a homeless shelter.

         On Thursday the shelter handed him two large bags of broken watches.  Jai and I have joined his cause and made the watches a family project.  We have sorted the watches into piles of “probably just needs a new battery” to “no straps” “straps only” “backings” “without backings” and so forth.  I have decided to wear a new watch each day – just to make certain that it is working.  Problem is I find that I haven’t looked at it often enough.

         I had set a green watch aside as one I might like to keep.  I had it on for two days before I realized the hands were no longer working.  The one I wore today is a red one that has on hat over the face.  There are only four numbers and I couldn’t make out the time very well.  I wore it more as a fashion statement.

         Richard has not repaired even a hundred watches yet.  I am certain there are currently 200 watches (give or take a few) on our back table.  Jaime is marking them while I blog about it.  Perhaps I will go join them again once I have posted.

                                        

The Wolf Dogs are Gone

           Just over a year ago a couple moved into the house next door.  I remember family members working on the roof and house trimming and paint.  They spruced it up nicely.  We were really excited to have them move in.  I remember them watering their lawn on a daily basis.  I thought they had money as they could afford to do that.

         Ally played with a girl that Jai and I had been introduced to just over a year ago.  I was under the impression that Jeremy was the father of the three children but that they all lived with their mom.  However when Biff and Clair moved in it appeared that Holly was living with Jeremy and Amanda.  Amanda also had another child.  They also had two huge dogs which reminded me of wolves.

         The dogs would bark up a storm every time they were let into the back yard.  Jeremy and Holly really liked Bonnie but they did not like Char.  Biff and Clair had moved out before Jeremy and his wife.  I heard that Holly was moving – but thought it may be back with her biological mom (I still don’t know the story) but learned today that the dogs are gone, the family is gone.  It sounds like they were renting?  That is weird.  I thought they were the homeowners who started out with a great yard.  But the people who are servicing next door said they really trashed the place. 

          I had seen a man over there.  I thought he was the father of either Jeremy or Amanda. Guess not.       Today we received a visit from a small dog named Monkey.  He arrived with leash so I figured his owners were not far.  I asked a man who was in the driveway next door.  He is the one that told me that the house is currently under construction again. We’ve lived in our current house just over seven years.  We’ve seen people come and go.  I would like some stable neighbors – ones we like.

More From the Shed

                Richard had decided to buy me a 12 X 12 scrapbook with extra pages as I had enjoyed scrapbooking. This purchase was made at the time when we still lived in West Valley.  8 ½ by 11 always seemed more practical for me though I had made up four or five 12 X 12 scrapbook albums when I was single.  After I had married I had made a couple of pathetic attempts of scrapbooking in order to preserve the memories of my new instant family – but I had given that up after Jaime was born.  I didn’t have the room I needed.

         Before we had even moved to West Valley Richard had given me a CD set to download to the computer. The program allowed me create scrapbook pages on the computer. No longer would I have to spread out photos and lay them out for placement and seek for stickers or die cuts to go with whatever themes.  I could see benefits for both. The pages I print from the computer don’t have raised borders or the third dimension sometimes offered by a hand created scrapbook. 

         I kept all my scrapbooking supplies in the event that I ever returned to pre-computer.  When Richard presented me with the 12X12 I decided to go through some accumulated photos (such as our trip to Disneyland) and create pages.  I asked Jaime to assist.  She made one page.  That was her contribution.  She does not love scrapbooking.  Not her thing.   

  I had started four or five pages.  STARTED.  I had placed pictures on the12X12.  I don’t know what year I had tackled that feat – if it was the year before my mom was put into assisted living, the year before we moved here or when.  Apparently I had packed up my scrapbook pages and supplies and even the new scrapbook album which Richard had purchased.  I didn't even realize that I had had it when we lived in West Valley but the receipt indicates that is where we lived. It sat in our Oregon shed(s) – eight years it lay untouched.  Honestly I had forgotten that they existed – until quite recently when Jaime and I were finally able to tackle both sheds and reorganize and dispose.

I had the 12X12 scrapbook in the yardsale.  It remained untouched.  Then I decided I would put some of the photos (particularly the cut ones – see here) in a scrapbook and send it to Ryan.  After I printed his name off the computer and inserted it along with his photo I found alphabetized stickers in the front cover – where they will remain because I don’t know how to get them out.  There are instructions for inserting the extra pages.  Evidently the spine needs to be broken and reset.  What the hey??!!! 

Anyway I have decided to get rid of the extra papers, stickers, die cuts, stencils and whatever else I happened to collect.  I took a picture of some samples and posted them on facebook.  I had a taker within five minutes.  Excited about the claim.

A Magician and a Castle Cake

           I scanned several photos with the intent of mailing them all to Ryan’s family.  I thought his kids might enjoy looking at them.  There are quite a number of photos and postage will be costly – unless I send just a couple of them at a time.  Thus I started with four random photos and a message to his family to keep an eye on his ever changing hair (or lack thereof) for Ryan has had a head full of hair similar looking to Sideshow Bob (from the Simpsons) and has also been completely bald.  He has gone through a blond stage.  Dreadlocks. 

          We had an unused scrapbook in our yard sale.  It was not purchased and I have recently decided that I will place some photos within and send it out when it is full.  I will start with Ryan’s 14^th birthday.

          Richard and I had been married just over a year when Ryan (dubbed as Tony in previous posts) turned 14.  I don’t know how we were able to afford such an elaborate birthday party. Richard must have sold a  few properties as he was able to hire a magician to host the party.  Ryan invited several friends and I had invited my family.  Our foreign exchange student took most of the photos that are now in my possession. 

          Not all of the photos have been cut into pieces.  I probably have enough photos to fill five or six pages.  Reminders of the guests, magician and birthday cake.  Perhaps it will trigger some memories he will be able to share.  Here are just some of the photos:

He Was a Long Term Substitute

 When I was in junior high (the year indicates I was in my ninth grade year) I had an English instructor who seemed kind of strict and thought he might be a hard grader.  I really don’t know much about him except for he had pronounced my last name correctly and since that rarely happened I thought we must related.

I don’t know for how long he was my instructor.  I think at least one semester.  But we had a substitute finish out the year.  He was a very easy grade.  For the most part we didn’t even receive instruction (as I recall) but were subject to every Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton movie.  I kid you not.  I’m surprised to learn that apparently we had been given an assignment.  But there it is – his comments following the four A pluses.

 

 I must have referred to this paper at least four times within the letters I had sent to my mom while attending Ricks College.  I knew that if I ever came across it that it would not be worth the read – and yet how great to have those marks.  I think I needed an instructor somewhere in between the old man who had a heart attack and never did return to school (at least while I was there) and the long-term substitute who seemed to be obsessed with silent movies and oblivious to teaching English. I wonder how many of the other faculty were aware of the situation.  We definitely WEREN'T learning.

 I did not scan the assignment itself but had made my own comments that anyone who wanted to read my assignment plus any follow-ups had to be nuts.

“This thing was brought to you by a Dramatic English class.”

Silly Girl

 

Long before digital cameras we used film.  Film cartridges were dropped off or mailed. After the film was developed into pictures they were ready for pick-up.  They would come in envelopes with two pouches.  The larger pouch contained the photographs and the smaller held the negatives. Jai and I found a large number of negatives among the photos we had discovered.  Jai seemed to take more pleasure out of looking at the negatives than the pictures themselves.  Silly girl.

Summertime Blues

     Since I have been married 

each ward we have lived in has 

offered a small primary.  

When members go out of town 

the primary appears to be even smaller.  

The primary president had recruited Jaime as 

a sunbeam teacher for the next two weeks - 

starting the other day.  

There were five children in the primary - 

more leaders than youth.  

They combined the younger children and 

older ones for just two classes.  

Jaime was not sad to learn 

she was not needed after all.

From the Popcorn’s Point of View - a composition written in 1981

 This is the only composition I had scanned.  My first paragraph ends with the comment good.  My last paragraph ends with the comment disarming.  I received 22 points.  I don’t know what that is in relation to.  If there were 25 possible points I think I did rather well.  But the paper itself was an atrocious mess.  So maybe it’s 22 out of 100?  I don’t know. I think I went overboard on the contractions. 

My instructor may have docked me for at least one spelling error but as I type this I have found some others that he hadn’t underlined (or pointed out).  My typewriter did not have spell check but word does.  Thus my spelling errors have been corrected but I tried to leave paragraphs and commas as what I had turned in.  I have included two paragraphs from the original I had handed in.

 That particular English class was a rather easy grade as I recall.  So I’m thinking 22 was a decent grade.  But maybe not.  Typing this up for this blog post has been fun for me.  I laughed a lot – probably more than you (the reader) will.

 

You won’t believe how hard it is to be a popcorn kernel. Unlike humans, we don’t make our [own] decisions.  Humans determine how we grow, when we’re to be shipped and sold, and the end result – our career.

We start out as a hardy variety of Indian corn.  We are small kernels and we live in small ears.  We have a tough skin, and that’s how humans can genuinely tell us apart from regular corn, or corn seed. After we are harvested, we are bagged and shipped.

Some mortals will put us in this greasy substance called oil.   At first we think we are getting a bath or something.  The pool is greasy, but we start out feeling good because we think the steam may be tenderizing our skin.  Only the feeling doesn’t last for long.  Quickly, one by one (sometimes two of us will go at a time) will jump to the top and hit our heads on the ceiling.  Some mortal beings will think we are growing, but we’re actually turning into a “Hulk” formation.  You’d burst too if you were frying in a grease while melted butter drips all over your body.

Once we are popped, most people will scarf us down like it is their last time they will ever taste popcorn.  They buy or take us to the movies, and plop us in their mouths while their bugged eyes focus on the screen.  (Well, there are some cases in which we never get eaten, because the humans are too busy practicing mouth to mouth resuscitation.)

Sometimes we are bunched together.  Humans call us popcorn balls.  They stick us together with just about anything.  They use Jello, Karo syrup, honey, brown sugar, caramel, and things like that.

People don’t do it as much as they used to, but still we get some who will poke holes through us and string us around a pine tree.  We become part of the Christmas decoration, and we feel really special.  We are admired by people of all ages and sizes.  It is just really neat. 

Also Creative mortals have used us as part of a picture decoration.  I remember a few friends who were glued to a sheet of blue construction paper.  The paper was used to represent the sky, and my friends portrayed the snow.  We’ve been used in other pictures too. 

Some of us don’t even have to be blown up and go through the “steam-pot” humility.  Folks can still make pictures out of us even though we aren’t popped.

There was this human person who dressed 483 of us in paint.  Some were brown.  Some were black.  Some were many other colors.  The human used the brown kernels for the turkey’s body.  He used the red, green, yellow, and purple kernels for the feathers, the black kernels for the eye and the orange kernels for his feet.  I knew a lot of kernels that had fun having that as their career.

Also men have used us for markers when they play a game.  Sometimes they place a number of us in a jar, and other humans have to guess how many of us there are.

My conclusion is that sometimes it does seem very hard to be a popcorn but we do make people happy.  I guess it’s like a school education, carrying all those books around and writing stupid compositions may get hectic, but the outcome is rewarding.

Here are two paragraphs taken from the paper I had turned in.  How pathetic.

Letters From Rexburg: More Discoveries

                Among the photos that Jai and I have gone though were several letters that evidently had come from my mom’s house. I have many memories from my past.  I remember a lot of details. I have mostly positive memories but there are a few that aren’t so pleasant.  For the most part I have succeeded at blocking out the bad memories. I thought I had been pretty good about keeping the pleasant ones but am learning it is only for up until a certain age – or so it seems. 

I attended Ricks College from September 1981 to the end of April 1982. (Keep in mind that this is back in the day before personal computers, emails and social media.  Our communication was written correspondence and telephone calls – NOT cell phones, but phones that used dials and curly cords) 

  It appears I had written to my family at least three times a week.  I have few memories of my college days.  The letters haven’t changed that at all. I’m quite annoyed at how often I repeat myself.  I recognize some of the names I provide but certainly not all of them.  There were more discovery moments than actual memories.  Nothing scan worthy – though I have scanned a few things as I am impressed with my handwriting and print looking nicer then than it does now.  Evidently I had taken my typewriter with me.  Don’t remember that at all. 

I made mention of a certain speaker who spoke at a devotional. That did trigger a memory having the opportunity to attend Devotionals each week. We also had the opportunity of purchasing two devotionals on cassette tape available in the book store. On September 15, 1981 I informed my dad about a speaker named M. Russell Ballard. I found it was interesting that I had mentioned that as M. Russell Ballard was not yet an apostle of the church.  He was set apart just over four years later.  I did mention the very last devotional on one of my posts (here).

 For the most part I was more fascinated by the stationary itself than the contents.  I was also impressed that some of the stickers were still intact while others had fallen off.  After 40+ years I would have thought all the stickers would have lost their adhesive.  Apparently not. 

Among my discoveries I read that I had considered staying at the college and attending summer semester.  I don’t know what happened there.  I needed two credits to finish my freshman year. I had been looking into summer theatre (which was NOT my major; interestingly enough it is Jaime’s.)  Evidently there didn’t seem to be enough choice in classes that I wanted to commit myself.  That is what the letter said anyway.  I’m sure there was more to it – but alas I do not have the details nor do I remember that consideration.

Kindergarten Notebook for Journaling

     Jaime had the most awesome kindergarten teacher.  We both loved Miss Webb.  She had the ability to teach all the children on their own level.  Of course it helped to have parents volunteer whenever the children were put into groups.   and would have liked to finish the year.  Jaime was in the learning advanced group.  She was in the top three academically. Miss Webb had given those children a composition notebook which they used to communicate.  Often she would comment on what they had written or use a prompt to get them started.  Jaime rarely ever needed a prompt.  What an imagination my child has!

Sadly we moved and put Jaime in another school. Miss Webb continued to communicate with Jaime via my facebook account – or so I’m guessing.  There is evidence of conversation but all in my handwriting instead of theirs.  It has been a fun treasure to explore.

I scanned this check list.  Lisa Webb succeeded on all three check marks.  What a remarkable individual!