The Wonderful, Fabulous, Miraculous GPS (Global positioning system)

          For those of us who are directionally challenged, the GPS is the best device ever!

          Roland had won a GPS in a contest through his work.  It was about a week or two before we had gone to another state to see his family over a year ago.

          Roland makes jokes that Jenna must have been injected with a phonographic needle when she’d receive her shots.  It took her a while before she started talking, but once she got it, she hasn’t shut up..

Jenna would start talking at the same time the GPS would vocalize directions.  Jenna became annoyed and said, “Gosh, she’s bossy!”

This last time we had gone, I was fidgeting for something else but hit the GPS in error.  Roland looked at me rather puzzled and asked what the GPS had said.  “Go 108 miles and turn left” 

Oh, thank you for the heads up!

          Randy wants a GPS with a sense of humor.  “You have just missed your turn!  Just kidding”

         

          Lately I have had a couple of problems with getting the right information however.  Somehow the GPS thinks I’m in a location where I am really not.  For instance, I asked it to find a credit union near my mom’s house.  The nearest locations it gave me were not “near” at all.  And the GPS can’t tell you how much construction will be in said path to said destination. 

          I like that it tells you the speed limit and lets you know what speed limit is being driven.  At least ours does.

          For the most part it is the most awesome thing to have.  What a great invention!

Weekend parades ALL summer long

          On June 3 of this year, my brother, Corey, marched in the Pride parade.  I wanted to show him my support by marching with him – but it was at the same time my granddaughter was being blessed.  And so I did not march in the scorching sun drenching my clothes in sweat or caused pain to my feet or back while walking in improper shoes.

          Yesterday I walked with Jenna in the youth parade for Days of ’47.  We walked with a small group of girl scouts.  We’d been told that we would be number 40, but shortly after we arrived, we learned that our group would be second following the police officers on their motorcycles.

          I thought the girls who were leading were walking entirely too fast.  We were walking much faster than a parade pace in my opinion – we weren’t spaced out well enough behind the motorcycles, I didn’t think.  And there was enough space between us and the flag for another float or band.

          Copper Hills High School had a band that did an awesome job in my opinion.  I wish they had been spaced closer behind us than they were as I really enjoyed their music.

          There are always parades going on in the surrounding areas if not downtown.  I recall one year our family went to join the boys’ extended family in Star Valley, Wyoming.  There happened to be a parade on their “main street” shortly after we arrived. 

          The parade starts down one end of the street going up/down just one side and making a full circle at the other end and return on the opposite side of the street.  What a hoot.  But I loved it.  The entire parade (at least from the spectators’ point of view) was only about 20 minutes.  A far cry from 2-3 hours of NYC’s Macy Thanksgiving parade or SLC’s Days of ’47.  My eyes get bored after 20 floats, bands, and what have you.

          My family had also got stuck watching the parade just outside of Arco, Idaho.  We were on the return from a family vacation – totally unaware that a small town parade was even going on.  The street we happened to be on didn’t go through that particular time and so we watched the parade until we were allowed to cross.

When I was younger – much younger – our neighbors would take us to a parade in American Fork for the Geneva Steel days – that was a good sized parade.  After the parade we went to the parades final destination to ride rides and enjoy carnival food.  That was a LONG time ago.

          Some floats and bands from yesterday’s parade (as well as some others) will have an opportunity to be seen again on the 24^th as it marks the arrival of the Utah pioneers settling the state – though it didn’t officially make it into statehood until about half a century later.

          Each city will offer its own parade (or parades) to celebrate something.  In Midvale they have a couple of parades during the year.  One being Cinco de Mayo – which I’ve only been to once.  I think we spent more time waiting for it to get started than sitting through the actual parade. 

          Jenna was only two at the time.  Our main objective for being there was to provide some kind of entertainment for her.  It was kind of disappointing really.  For the first five vehicles (I’d say 70% of that particular parade was vehicles – not including the floats) were ones that we would see on almost a daily basis.

          It was led by a police car.  I think the fire engine was third.  And there were a couple of construction cars – really.  We waited for that?

          It wasn’t all disappointing.  There were the Budweiser horses and a mariachi band.  I really have fond memories of that one after the parade.  They were on one side of the pavilion playing music; Jenna and I were at the opposite end, unseen by the audience that had gathered around.  Jenna was dancing to the music and I was standing close by making certain her wobbly legs didn’t send her on a trip down the cement stairs.

          When the band finished playing, a loud applause could be heard.  Jenna graciously bowed and chanted “Thank you.  Thank you very much.”  I am so sad that my camera’s battery wasn’t charged enough to take her picture.  How cute it was.  Especially her bows and curtsies to an imaginary audience.

          Kearns has their fire, water and ice in August.  It starts off with a parade and ends with a spectacular firework show.  I plan to take Jenna to the parade and the fireworks.  Don’t know that I’ll go to the event itself as it has always been so crowded.  The last time we went the pools were closed due to the rain.

          So all over the state there has been and continue to be parades that will definitely suit ones needs and/or desires.  We have the lengthy parade on the 24^th or the much shorter parades in the smaller surrounding areas. 

          The one on the 24^th is televised.  I have never watched a Days of ’47 in its entirety.  Too hot outside.  Too long either way.  But if parades are your thing – I heard that it was the third largest in the nation (at least at one time) go for it.  Have a great time enjoying life!

Welcome to the Neighborhood!

          When we first moved to our current neighborhood, I wondered if had neighbors.  It was quiet.  The most people I ever saw was in the morning when children would walk to the bus stop.  I hadn’t actually met the people on either side of us – but my social Jenna introduced herself to just about everybody.  We met our across the street neighbor through her.

          Next door to him on each side were Spanish speaking neighbors – the adults anyway.  Jenna would occasionally hang with the girl who was 4-5 years older than her.  Jenna said she didn’t know Spanish that well – weird.  If that’s what they spoke in the home.  They had to have spoken Spanish to the grandma as she just didn’t know any English.

          They have since moved.  The house was vacant for a couple of months before an acquaintance of the neighbors to the east of us moved in temporarily.  I don’t believe she was living there legally.  She was an uptight bitch.  I was relieved when she was gone – I didn’t think it would last.  And I don’t see it lasting for the current group that come and go right now. 

          Up the street from us is a house that has been vacant from 1-2 years.  A couple moved in just last week.  They are from California and according to her are NEVER going back.  Both are quite impressed with the welcome they’ve received.  And I like having them at the top of the street.  I am saddened that none of the move-ins have children that Jenna can play with.

          Traci and Miles packed all of their belongings and drove here from California.  They said that everything that could go wrong with the move did.  They were supposed to arrive on Saturday but because of some mechanical problems did not arrive until Sunday.  And then they couldn’t get a hold of the landlord and had oodles of possessions which needed to be moved in somewhere.  But it was unrealistic to take it all to a motel/hotel.

          Hot water went out and it sounded as if they experienced some kind of water explosion whenever they tried to use it.  Plus the garage door won’t open and so they can’t use the space.  (There was a lot of vandalism that took place on that house during the time of vacancy) But they are both happy to be here.

          They said that when they moved in that one of their across the street neighbors (they live on a corner) came over with a six or twelve pack of sodas saying that it was too hot to be working so hard and maybe they could use the drinks.  One of their next door neighbors invited Miles over for a beer.  Our across the street neighbor gave them a pie.  They are floored.  Never have they known such hospitality.  They said they would never see that in their old neighborhood and that if someone were to come by, it would probably be something negative – they used the example of shooting.

          I had actually met Traci the day prior.  There was a fire at a restaurant nearby.  Traffic had been rerouted into our neighborhood.  Oh, my goodness.  I haven’t seen that many cars over the two and a half years that we’ve lived her.  It was crazy!

          Traci had parked in front of our house – which is a ways down from her own.  She walked to her house on foot to find Miles standing in the street directing traffic.  I think that’s great that he took that incentive.  It really was helpful.

          Traci and I visited for 30 minutes or so.  And last night Roland and I were to visit with them both.  I hope they’re with us for a while.

          

Corresponding with my Secret Friend

          Jenna is always asking if there is any mail for her.  I suppose most children go through the stage of wanting to receive a card or letter that has been sent especially to them.  It doesn’t happen too often.  And the disappointments seem to weigh in even more.

          Recently we were at a pool party hosted by my cousin.  Her daughter, Melody and Jenna are five months apart.  We had arrived at the party late and both Jenna and Melody were going through withdrawal for each other’s company.  Before we pulled Jenna away so that we could return to our house, Jenna and Melody promised that they would write to one another – though we only live about 20 minutes away from one another.  Postage is definitely less than the cost of gas.  Not to mention the commute itself (construction and heat account for far more than 20 minutes) and our current car situation.

          Jenna’s has written three letters thus far (one for each day since the party) and I have mailed two of them.  She has been disappointed that she has not received anything yet.  I tried to explain that even if Melody had written that very night and her mom actually mailed it (which actually is quite doubtful) that it still wasn’t enough time to deliver a letter – unless she should get one today.  I’ll make sure she gets one – though it won’t be from Melody.

          I actually put a letter out in the mailbox last night – figuring Jenna would find it this morning when she took Melody’s letter out.  I did not sign Melody’s name however.  I signed it “from your secret friend”.  Jenna is certain that it came from Melody.  The letter she wrote out this morning was addressed to “?”.  It is currently in a drawer ready to be mailed tomorrow.  Well, partially ready anyway.  I haven’t put it in an envelope.  I told Jenna to look for some postcards that she has.  I have postcard stamps.  I ran out of the other.

          She decided that she would send letters to another friend who lives in the neighborhood.  She has decided to sign her letters “your secret friend”.  Who knows, maybe we will get a chain reaction from this letter thing.  It does feel good to have her so excited about the “secret” correspondence.

          When I was younger I sent letters to other countries.  I wrote to a girl in Guyana and to one in Germany.  Perhaps I ought to find her a pen pal that will assist in helping her to learn Spanish – or having a desire to further her Spanish fluency.  I will have to find some addresses – I’d prefer keeping her in the country though as postage outside of US is close to or over a dollar.  Maybe if we send enough out, we’ll find someone who is just as excited to do it as Jenna.

The Happy Drunkard and Exotic Dreams

          On Feb 14 I created this post.  My sister-in-law’s visits with my mom were positive and full of conversation.  My visits were not so uplifting.  And then mom became Mr. Hyde for each of us.  But now she’s seemed to take on this happy drunkard personality with a desire to travel – and in her mind she has.  In her mind she has done a number of things that she would have never even considered just five years ago – such as sky diving.

          I have actually never experienced a conversation of where she’s been and what she’s been up to – but apparently she has told my niece and nephew-in-law countless stories about having gone to Russia, Hong Kong, China, and South Africa – all within the last ten years (she has been out of the state, but not out of the country – unless it was with a tour group in the early 2000’s)

          Occasionally my niece and nephew-in-law will take her with them to my brother’s house for Sunday dinner.  Corey was with the rest of the family when mom related her “sky-diving” experience. 

          The conversation started out with reminiscing of sky diving events that had already taken place in real life with my oldest niece and nephew.  Their younger sister was unable to go because of age or lack of money.  But after having watched Ellen and Kimball experience the thrill of falling out of the plane, three other family members have been saving up money to experience the same thrill.

          Apparently my mom chimed in with a story of her own as she has also been skydiving (my mom has never sky dived in her life; she doesn’t even enjoy certain rides at the amusement park as her legs are dangling.  There is absolutely no way she would ever go sky diving!  She cringed at the very idea of Ellen and Kimball doing it.)

          And so the family allowed her to speak without correcting her. Some smiled as she did so.  And because the events were so real to her and she was able relate with details, Sunny said that even Corey seemed to question whether she had actually gone or not.  She must have fallen asleep during some war movie where they were jumping out of airplanes or was watching a documentary or something.

          My grandma has been to China.  Maybe Russia – I don’t know.  She really did go on several tours and saw many parts of the world before she died.  I don’t know if my mom got her own life mixed up with her mothers or if she has started to watch the travel channel or if she has exotic dreams or what. 

          There was a time when Jenna’s visits used to wear her out (I think Jenna’s enthusiasm and loudness has wiped out just about EVERY family member) but now she welcomes her and calls her cute and crazy.

          I don’t know if it’s her blood sugar or in the meds that she’s taking or if this dementia is somehow gratifying her because so many desires have apparently been fulfilled in her mind.  But it just makes me worry about her all the more – for I know there are times that she is alone – and it’s okay if it’s the television that takes her away – maybe not the best thing – but certainly better than having her walk out the door and not knowing where she is. 

          We’ve called the police on her a few times – one time they found her (that was just before we took her license away) and a few times kind strangers have brought her home from wherever she happened to be.  We need to set up the alarm system so that she’s unable to leave unless someone is with her.

Thanks to the police and all of those who have spent time assisting us with my mom.  Thank you to the firefighters who continue fighting the countless amounts of fires.  My mom used to keep herself updated on all the current events.  I wonder if she even knows about the fires – or if she’s completely missed the boat on them because she’s been having all these global vacations.

Declaration of recruiting subjects back to the castle

Once upon a time in the kingdom of  Natalafe, there lived a royal prince and

his subjects.  Now the name of the prince was Emmanuel Bishop and the king had given him a list with the names of all of his subjects.  The problem was there were some names on the list that he wasn’t familiar with.

Now all of these subjects lived far and wide all throughout the kingdom –

yet they all lived within a day’s walk of the castle.  Many of the subjects would come to the castle at least once a week to pay their respects to the king.  Prince Bishop knew all of those subjects by name.  He would often meet each subject at the castle gate and would welcome them.

But there were many subjects who never even entered the castle though the

king strongly desired for each of his subjects to attend.  Prince Bishop knew

some of those subjects but not all of them.  And yet the king had told the

prince that it would be his responsibility to make certain that ALL of his

subjects were safe. 

That was a huge responsibility. Especially with all of his other princely responsibilities and because he didn’t know all of the subjects on the list. And so Prince Bishop would try to come up with a plan to make contact with those who were not coming to the castle knowing that he just couldn’t do it all by himself. 

  And so it came to pass that Prince Bishop divided the kings’ subjects into units and called knights to serve over each unit. One of the units was specifically designed for the Lords and another for the Ladies. The knights divided the Lords and Ladies into even smaller groups called families and they called their squires to serve in pairs and visit a certain amount of families each month.

Each pair would be responsible for visiting three to five cottages within the

kingdom.  They were told they would only have to visit just once a month to

learn how each subject was doing. It was not a difficult task.  To give just a bit of time just once a month and report back to the knights who served within the units so that they in turn could report back to Prince Bishop. 

And now it came to pass that the squires had fulfilled their callings.

And this greatly pleased Prince Bishop and the king to have such compassion within their kingdom, that so many were willing to fulfill their callings Their reports made it so much easier for Prince Bishop to understand and help his subjects a little better.

The branching out and reporting back seemed to work well in the beginning but darkness fell upon the kingdom. For behold, verily, verily I say unto you that not all the squires would be able to work together each month. Each pair seemed to come up with excuses not to go until finally only about half the subjects in the kingdom were receiving visits. Thus Prince Bishop felt sorrow for he did not know how some of his subjects were doing. 

The knights seemed just as perplexed – why would those who had been called agree to give up only a little bit of time just once a month and not do it? Why wouldn’t they be willing to keep that commitment to help Prince Bishop and more importantly our King?

Prince Bishop called two royal hunters who would go from cottage to cottage inviting the subjects to come back to the castle. And each month the royal hunters would report to the prince about their findings within the kingdom of  his subjects. Prince Emmanuel Bishop always praised them.  He has praised many of his Squires also.  But not all of the Squires are doing their part and the kingdomric often wonders how to get the ALL of the Squires to do his or her part.

With faith, hope, charity and love, with an eye single to the glory of the king, We know it can be done.

We are ALL important to the King’s plan. What can we do together to strengthen our calling in our kingdom?

The End . . .  or should I say to be continued?

                                                                                                                     kfrahalc

How Does Your Garden Grow?

          My husband is from the garden state – which does not necessarily make one a gardener – just as living in Utah for all of one’s life does not necessarily prepare one to have ever gone skiing. 

          I have always had a white thumb.  One look at my grass implies all gardening skills.  Water alone does not produce green.  With our yard, it is morning glories.  Not just this house – but every house I have lived in.  The lawn is usually always somewhere between brown and albino.  And frankly, I don’t blame the grass for drying up.  I don’t blame any vegetation for not wanting to peek its head out into the scorching sun.  I certainly don’t wish to be in it.

          My husband has tried.  For almost each year that we’ve been married, we’ve attempted the garden thing. We got some really tall tomato plants in the first yard where we lived.  Tall plants – no tomatoes though. 

          One year we tried zucchini.  Most Utahans who have planted zucchini have produced tons more than desired or expected. Surely we could grow something that seemed so plentiful.  We got one – the size of a small pickle.

          And one year Roland brought in an excavator and tore up our backyard – with earth which appeared to contain at least 70% rock (more rock than dirt) gads – no wonder nothing would grow for us!

          We tried growing onions in an old swimming pool – filled with fresh dirt and manure and all the fine things that the most of experienced gardens use – with a thin layer of compost.  Not all of the onion plants turned into onions.  And all of them were small.  Perhaps two or three times smaller than the bulb that was initially planted.  I think we were able to use them for only two or three meals.  Or was that our current house?

         

          I think the former owners (or maybe even renters?) of this house thrived on gardening.  There are pocketed areas separated by cement all throughout the yard.  The first year we planted peppers, lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, beets, melons, strawberry, blueberries, carrots, grapes, onions, cauliflower, broccoli, and kohlrabi (whatever that was; the last three mentioned plants we received for free) and pumpkins.

          Of course the kohlrabi grew – we turned it into coleslaw (as I hadn’t a clue what else to do with it) but I am not a huge fan of slaw and the last kohlrabi that came out totally got out of hand – it was too tough and too big to deal with.  So we ate two of the four plants and ended up giving one away.

          The broccoli and cauliflower both got buds – and we may have even had a sample of the broccoli – but that is all it was.  Neither one grew well enough to feed us.

          I believe that the blue berry bush bit the dust the second it was planted – but perhaps that’s just me.  We did get maybe five strawberries – and that was it for the fruit.

          The wind blew the neighbor’s fence over on our peppers like two days after they were planted.  We planted more – but peppers just don’t want to grow for us.  And neither did cucumbers. 

          The beats and tomatoes did well – in fact they flourished – but there was a pathetic amount of production with everything planted between.  No cucumbers.  About three to five finger sized carrots (we planted regular carrot size) and a really bitter lettuce which was long like a boa. 

          Last year we tried peppers, corn and two tomato plants instead of six.  Though we attempted to plant the corn in strait lines, some of the seeds spilled and the seven ears that were produced grew in random areas.  No peppers again.   I think we got four pumpkins - two average size and two that were small. Our tomatoes did well. 

          I don’t know why we didn’t do tomatoes this year.  Roland wanted to try corn again.  We planted in a different area.  I thought I was watering in vein until Roland pointed out the one stalk that is growing.  OOO – one stalk.  Nothing near it to germinate.  Marvelous! So I don’t guess we’ll be getting corn this year from our personal garden . . . the community garden perhaps.

          The community garden is quite beautiful actually.  And we’ve already received from it.  Roland made a salad with radishes.  We’ll probably get some squash tomorrow night.  And we’re probably just as awesome at preparing squash as we are at having green grass.

          I think next year we ought to stick to just beats and tomatoes.  

Conveyor Belts and Hangers

          There are several opportunities that each of us has to volunteer – whether through the community or the Church we attend – often both.

          The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints distributes food items to so many in need all throughout the world.  And the demands are always increasing.  Assignments must be fulfilled in order to meet the requirements and demands.

  I have personally assisted at the pasta plant, the cannery, the dairy (well – not the actual dairy where the cows are milked – but the plant where the milk and cheese are made) the bishops’ storehouse and Deseret Industries (a store which sells a large variety of second hand goods) For each I have positive experiences for the most part.  With some come memorable stories. 

          Once when I was pregnant with Jenna, Roland and I had gone to DI to offer our assistance.  I don’t recall what location – but we were given chairs and price guns to put on books that had been put on carts but were still outside.  Roland and I started setting aside books that we thought we would like to have for our unborn child. Some were really in great condition.  Some appeared as though they had never been used.

The first time I’m aware that I assisted at DI, our son Ooki  (mentioned here) was living with us at the time.  As it was also his first time assisting at the store he wore his flip flops – his everyday footwear – and so for safety reasons he wasn’t allowed to be on the floor lifting heavy objects as Roland and Biff had been assigned. 

Ooki and I were assigned to the warehouse.  Our job was to sort through clothes.  There were three lines overhead. We were told to sort the clothes into men, women and children.  It was so awesome having him back there with me as he was a natural hard worker – and he could reach above me and could more easily pull down more hangers when we ran out. 

There was one thing that amused me about his performance however. Every time he came across something red, it automatically went onto the women’s hanging.  If it was small enough, I suppose he would have placed it to the children’s side.  But I did notice when he placed a man’s shirt on the women’s line.

          “Isn’t that a man’s shirt?”  I asked after he had placed it on the line with the other clothing.

          “NO!” he wondered what would possess me to ask such a question.  “Would you wear that if you were a man?”

          “I don’t know.  But look.  It is a man’s shirt.  The buttons are on the opposite side.”

          People have asked, “Why do men and women have buttons on the opposite side of their shirts?” 

          I wasn’t paying close enough attention to ever consider it.  But Roland explained to me that so that when you are dressing a person of a different sex than your own (an invalid spouse, parent, child, whatever) the buttons are on the same side as your used to.  Oh.

          “Besides just because you wouldn’t wear it doesn’t mean another man wouldn’t.  Don’t you think it looks like something that Tony might wear?”

          “Oh, alright!” Ooki removed the garment and placed it on the men’s line.  It did make me smile that he had reacted as he had.

          I don’t recall having done volunteer work at the pasta plant until after I was married.  Volunteers have to be at least sixteen and so we didn’t have any of the boys the first couple of times.

          Roland and I were assigned to remove the spaghetti noodles from the chute and stack them neatly in grey tubs.  I have small hands and was not able to keep up with Roland who was filling 3 ½ tubs to my every one.  When my side got too full, Roland and I would trade places and he’d empty my side until I could no longer keep up with his side. And then we’d trade back.  It was fun. 

          When I’m at the dairy, I am usually on the assembly line with the cheese – though I don’t recall now what my exact job was.  My favorite part about working there is going on break and having access to chocolate milk and cheese.  And often we get a brick of cheese before we leave.  And church cheese is very wonderful to the pallet.

          This last Thursday I did some work at the cannery.  It wasn’t near as hot as the pasta plant – especially where I was positioned.  I enjoyed watching the long line of conveyor belts take each of the bottles to their destination.

          Someone would load empty bottles onto the conveyor belt.  The bottles would line up and go through a machine that would squirt salsa into each bottle.  Then the loaded jars would be removed long enough for one of three workers to put on the lid.  And then it would go to the “steam room for bottles”

          The temperature of the water – from what I understand – was 180 – and that would seal the lids onto the jars.  My job was checking the lids to make certain that all were vacuum-packed – and to remove the few that still had air beneath the lids. 

          The water had cooled down quite a bit – though the salsa was still warm.  I loved having the opportunity to shake some excess water onto myself to help myself cool down.

          The final destination for the bottles was inside of a premade box.  And that was it.  I worked hard and once my shift ended, I drove to my sister’s house to pick up Jenna (who had spent the night) I didn’t realize how sore I was until I sat down on Kayla’s couch.  I must do some volunteer work more often.  I may start going 3 of 4 times a month after school starts again.

          I mentioned the Bishops’ Storehouse in this post.  We have also fulfilled various tasks at the food bank – from sorting food products to sending out letters.  I’m grateful for the opportunities that I have to serve.

         

The Most Important Leg on a Three-Legged Stool

          Jenna always asks if we can sign up to feed the full time missionaries – which is something we did often when Roland and I had the Church calling of being the ward missionaries – but now that he is in the bishopric – and often with hours at work – we’re not as available to feed the missionaries as we were at one time.  And so it’s actually rare when we do sign up.  Jenna would prefer that we could do it once a month at least.

          Our goal was to send our three boys on full time *proselyting* (defined at the end of this post) missions.  As Biff is our oldest, he went through the interviewing process and paperwork first.  We had taken him in for his physical. We did all we could do – and waited.

          I wish our then bishop had been honest in his dealings to begin with – and perhaps he had really said something to Biff who either didn’t relate the events with us or maybe it just didn’t fully register. 

Our bishop had said Biff’s Spirit was definitely there – but he just didn’t feel he was socially ready.  HE DIDN’T FEEL . . . I often felt that it was more laziness on my bishop’s part than it was revelation.  But that’s me.  Perhaps it is I who was wrong.

          Because Biff was unable to serve a proselyting mission, it was suggested that he fulfill a service mission – which means he would continue living at home as he served and continue working his job.

 He brought home a list of positions available – and there were a lot to choose from.  Roland tried steering him in the direction of working at a plant such as the pasta plant or dairy where he would learn a trade.  Even planting flowers on the temple ground would have helped him to prepare for a job or career – but Biff wanted the opportunity to serve with the public more and chose to usher or assist at events that would take place at Temple Square or the Conference Center.

          His confidence was built in ways that I did not understand at the time.  Others found it refreshing to have such a “young” member on their team.  He was diligent about his calling and received recognition for fulfilling his assignments and callings.  He grew in ways that I didn’t recognize at the time – but am beginning to see now.

          Interestingly enough, both of his brothers were called to Portuguese speaking missions.  Tony was called to report to the MTC (missionary training center) in Brazil at the beginning of April 2008 and Randy left for the MTC in Provo at the end of April in 2009.  He’d been called to Portugal.

          It hurt both me and Biff to see his brothers serving proselyting missions when Biff himself had been denied that opportunity. And Roland would encourage us that Biff’s mission was equally as important – often comparing missionary work to a three legged stool and asking – which is the most important leg?

          We all represented that three legged stool.  Biff on his service mission, Tony and Randy proselyting in Portuguese, and Roland and I as the ward missionaries who worked with the full time proselyting missionaries   In addition to our two missionary farewells, our family had been called upon at least three times to give missionary themed talks in Sacrament meeting (a meeting for the entire congregation)

          Before Jenna started reading, I looked for graphics so that she could memorize the talks that she gave and Roland and I would each write our own.  Sometimes the boys spoke in addition – but not always.

          Roland and I served in our church calling for about three and a half to four years before we were released and then the ward boundaries were changed and the ward got a new bishop.  He was the bishop who sent out Randy. 

          Each of us has had experiences that have made us grow.  Each of us has learned to appreciate the others’ position even more. For in order for a three legged stool to function properly, all three legs are required.

* PROSELYTING: Evangelizing; doing mission work. Unlike in Christianity, it doesn’t have a negative connotation. In Mormonism it is used in a positive sense.

It’s NOT like I need your Approval

  

          Sit coms often come from real life situations.  We laugh at deception.  The sitcom characters put on a show for one played by a guest star.  They try to pass themselves off as rich, married, successful, high-ranking or whatever.   Their dishonesty snowballs into more lies and further deception until they realize they just can’t continue with the charade any longer. And yet we laugh.  If they just told the truth in the first place, there would be no show or else it would be a rather boring episode.

There are many real life people who continue to put up fronts and play charades with certain people from their past.  I don’t get it.  If you’re not close enough to this person that he or she really knows who you are, why would you care what he or she thinks?

          If anyone from my past is interested, I am NOT wealthy.  I am not in a high rank position.  I do not rub elbows with Hollywood’s finest.  My children did not go to Harvard.  Two of them simply don’t have the grades for it. I’m just not that prestige.  Nor do I pretend to be.  I am who I am.  Either you like me or you don’t.  And if you don’t, well that’s okay.  I am not a people pleaser – that is to ALL people.  It is IMPOSSIBLE to please ALL people. 

It doesn’t matter who you are or what you become – there are some who will like you and there are some that just won’t. And that’s okay.  It’s not the world’s approval that makes us happy (though I guess there’s some who believe differently).

 

Happiness is what’s within us.  It’s knowing who we are and what makes us tick.  It’s feeling.  It’s caring.  Why should having the approval of someone else be our deciding factor?  Doesn’t our own opinion matter?  Aren’t we valuable enough to decide for ourselves?   

          I have read a couple of posts from different Blogs in which reference was made for keeping up with the Joneses.  One seemed all for it while the other was not in favor.  I’m not in favor.  Couldn’t keep up if I wanted to.  And I really don’t want to.  Trying my best to show them up or show I’m equal.  Why?

          I see girls dating guys that they like – though I often wonder why.  What do they have in common really?  “Oh, he can/will change” says the girl.  Change into what?  Why change him?  Why not just go out with someone who fits the mold in the first place?

I’m grateful for the values that have been instilled in me and have helped me develop my character.  I wish that were the same for all.

Flat, Small and Neatly Folded

Roland is a great father.  Perhaps he was not always there for his boys – I know that his “work” excuses got old after a while.  And there were disappointments.  But I know he spent quality time with them – I even have pictures to prove it.  And I know that there have been many other countless activities that I don’t have pictures for.  Like Klondike camping.  And Roland hates the cold.  But all the boys were with him.

Recently he told Jenna that they would go “camping” though Jenna’s never really been camping before.  Both times it was putting up a tent in the back yard and roasting marshmallows before going inside.

Initially they were going to set the tent up on Saturday.  Roland would start off his father’s day waking up in the tent - but when he came home from work (which is unusual for where he works) with information about a community fair that featured bouncy houses and free pony rides. 

We could do only one or the other, but not both.  It would be Jenna’s choice.  If she chose the fair, we could always do the camping thing at a later time.  But if she chose the camping . . . well, who knows how soon we would have another opportunity for free bouncy houses?  He wasn’t trying to persuade her – he really was letting her choose.

She chose the fair.  Roland said that maybe they could go camping on a Tuesday night (as he doesn’t have to be to work until later time on Wednesdays) and so this past Tuesday she had been looking forward to their camp all day – constantly asking, “is dad home yet?”

I had the car and had taken Jenna to my mom’s house.  I left a message to ask Bill if he would mind bringing Roland to meet me at my mom’s house. They just happen to work at the same place – but don’t frequently car pool because of the distance our houses are from one another.

As mom and I pathetically tossed the Frisbee around with Jenna, Bill and Roland pulled up in the driveway and Jenna tossed the Frisbee around with them while mom and I rested.

We didn’t return home until just before 6:00.  Roland said he had a class and asked Jenna if they could postpone the camping until Friday.  I told her that we could still make some smores.  And we roasted marshmallows over the stove.

While Roland listened to the lecture online, Jenna played outside with a friend.  After his parents took him away, Jenna came inside and cried herself to sleep.  She didn’t believe that Roland would take her camping on Friday either.  I told him about it the next morning.

He wasn’t aware that she had been looking forward to it all day and that she had cried herself to sleep.  I did not intend for him to feel bad, but he took Jenna aside and told her that they could set up the tent the minute we got home from his work last night.  And we did.  And all before the sun set.

We finished roasting marshmallows and making smores before the sun appeared to leave the sky.  And the sleeping bags were laid out with LOTs of extra blankets.  I slept in the house but relieved Roland at 3:00 this morning knowing he had work at 7:00 or 8:00.  Needless to say that I am sore and tired.  And I hope that three hours in a real bed was enough time for Roland.

At six I coaxed Jenna back into the house.  She went to the TV to watch Phineas and Ferb – and I want back to bed.  I think I slept for another hour and decided to see if I could take down the tent and roll up the bedding.  What a chore.

Taking the tent down was not a problem.  Got the stakes in their bag, and the poles in their bag – now the challenging part – folding the tent into a tiny pillow to put in its bag.  I am really horrible about returning anything to its original container – everything seems to expand once I remove it from the box – or else the box shrinks.

I sat on the tent and tarp and each sleeping bag and tried ever so carefully to squish out the air and fold it ever so carefully.  I would think that I weigh enough that I could squish it to incredible flatness with just one sit – but alas – no matter how flat and careful I think I’m being, the flatness is never small enough.

I remember attempting to fold a child’s sleeping bag that had been given to me by a neighbor.  One of my uncles happened to be visiting and watched with amusement.  I looked up at him and asked if he and his wife were experienced campers, and could he assist me in folding up the sleeping bag.  I don’t recall his exact words, but it was something along the line that he thought it would be easier just to do it himself.  And he did.  But Jenna had it undone within a matter of minutes.  My uncle had already gone when I came across the opportunity of rolling it back up.

          It can be done.  I’ve seen people do it.  Not my talent however.  And the heat of the blazing sun did not help matters.  It was only 8:30 in the morning and I felt like it was high noon.  I stopped.  I think the folding part is a two man job.