My Garden Pants

When I purchased these pants – I don’t know how many years ago – it was not my intention to wear them in the garden.  They were comfortable shorts – okay, maybe a bit longer than shorts, but something I could throw on during the summer and not feel the heat of the fabric surrounding me like an unwanted blanket. 

There is a knot in the front.  Well, several knots, really.  I don’t know how to maintain them.  I have tried different methods for keeping them straight when I put them in the wash, but somehow they always manage to twist themselves together.  It seems the harder I work at keeping them straight and make attempts to keep them from knotting, the more knots and tangles will form before I remove the pants from the washer.

I can’t find them now, but there used to be some rather ugly stains in addition to the knots.  Thus they became my garden pants.  As they were already stained, I didn’t figure being in the dirt with them would be a big problem.  Imagine my surprise when I took them off the clothesline and spred them out to take a picture and now I can’t find the stains that were there. 

Nice job, Mr. Sun!

"And Ye Shall Plant a Garden . . ."

 We planted beans, beets, onions, and peppers.  Roland asked if we should do corn or tomatoes again.  I don’t really care about the corn, but I do enjoy being able to eat tomatoes off the vine rather than paying an outrageous price at the store for something that just isn’t as good.

But there were plenty of tomatoes with the community garden last year – and as Roland donated all our tomato cages to the cause – we decided that we would just use the tomatoes from the community garden and that would be enough. 

It was overcast and cool.  Roland wanted to finish before any rain fell down.  The dirt looked light and dry as it spit around the cultivator.  We dug holes for seeds and plants and planted stakes at each end and tied string from one end to the other and were pleased.  Though Roland seemed to want more.

Lacy and her husband have a fair amount of property.  I would guess roughly about three or four acres – but that is just a guess.  There’s a bunch of us who have used a patch of their land for our community garden.

Dan is in charge and had scheduled for those that had contributed to come plant on Saturday.  That cancelled due to the rain but we were asked to come on Monday night and dress appropriately for possible mud.  And so the community garden was put on hold.

Monday Roland returned from work with six tomato plants and corn and strawberries.  He always wants to plant strawberries – but we haven’t been very successful with fruit (except for the tomatoes – which are technically a fruit) .  We’ve tried blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, melons, grapes.  We get apples on our apple trees, but we don’t eat them.  We did eat the plums from the trees when we lived in our first house. Somebody else planted them.  They seemed to grow fine without our help.

Since we don’t have the tomato cages anymore, Roland used some signs that he had from his last job – another of his creative solutions. Thus we stood the frames next to the plants  for the tomatoes to lean against when they become large like the first sets we grew.

So we found a couple of areas and Roland cultivated the land.  It had been raining all day and the soil looked rich and dark – but it wasn’t muddy.  The sun was beating down while we were planting.  We both wore hats.  The one that I wore I had purchased specifically for gardening as it shaded me.  Roland wore a safari hat.  But the shadow of him wearing the hat made him appear to be an actual farmer. My shadow gives off the image of a true gardener (LOL)

Just as we had finished, it grew overcast again.  And then we went over to the community garden to plant and covered each plant with milk cartons to keep the birds away.  But I see another definite plus with the milk cartons – when the weeds start popping up, it will be easier to tell which are weeds and which are plants.  Pull everything NOT surrounded by milk carton.

I can’t remember if Dan said if we were planting fruit or not.  Those that couldn’t show on Monday were requested to come Wednesday to plant corn, beets and pumpkins (Corey refers to the squash varieties of the Y’s of the fruit world; you know how Y can act as either a consonant or a vowel in the English alphabet.  Squash and tomatoes, pumpkins . . . they’re all a part of the fruit family though most people consider them to be vegetables)

  

 Seems more peppers were added to the crop this year – and more varieties.  I personally don’t care if a chili pepper or jalepeno pepper ever make an appearance in this house. 

Roland and I grew pumpkins one year – we were hoping for the kind that can be carved into Jack-o-lanterns, but they were an unfamiliar squash that we could only paint faces on.  Or in this case: 

I Have to Have a Ten Page Report About Sir Isaac Newton Turned In by Monday

It is nearing the end of the school year and Jenna tells me she has to do some research on Sir Isaac Newton for an upcoming report.  She tells me that it has to be ten pages and has to be turned in by Monday.  Funny how I didn’t question the report itself – though the amount of pages and deadline threw me somewhat.

Generally her teachers have sent out an outline of the things that the class will be learning during the course of the year.  Usually they have worked an entire month on any given project.  And ten pages is a lot for high school students – let alone third graders.  She must have heard wrong.

I asked her what teacher had given the assignment and type up an e-mail as I believe that Jenna’s understanding is not correct.  Just as I finish and am about to press send, Jenna begs me not to. 

“Why not?” I ask. 

“Because it’s not a real assignment.  I just made it up.  I’m interested in learning about Sir Isaac Newton.”

I am dumbfounded.  Not only for her interest – which might spell GEEK to some of her friends, but for her clever acting.  She said she wished she had gotten someone else, but that each child had to draw a name out of a container that her teacher had passed around.

I love that Jenna truly loves learning.  She is fascinated with non-fictional books.  Always has been.  She loves to read about Science and history and is ashamed of how different races have been treated throughout the course of history and really would like to better our world. 

Let’s Override Bullying and Manipulation

It’s been a couple of months since I took Jenna and her friend to see The Mysterious Happy Life of Brown Bag by Greg Near. I honestly did not know what it was about – but it was playing at the library and gave us something to do for free.

It started out cute and funny.  Jaime, Trume and I all laughed.  Towards the end though, they both got bored with it and I don’t think they realized what had even taken place.  The one act play had taken me from laughter to tears in just a matter of seconds.  Brown Bag had been bullied because he was different.  He so desperately wished to have friends that he allowed them to manipulate him – even though he knew that because they were trying to hurt him, they really weren’t his friends.

After the play the cast members and writer and some others held a discussion panel.  Trume and Jenna both wanted to leave – which I understood.  It’s not a comfortable subject. But I thought it was important that we stay and get some feedback.

So many of the children (what little there are) that surround us are from broken homes and dysfunctional families and perhaps it’s just what they’ve learned from their own surrounding circumstances and upbringings.  I wouldn’t classify any of them as bullies (just yet anyway) though there are a few that have been able to manipulate Jenna.

Jenna had always been the leader when we lived in our first part.  Yes, she was a bit manipulative – but in a positive way.  She never tried to hurt her friends.  She never tried to seek pleasure by embarrassing another or enjoying watching others get into trouble or what have you.  She’s just always had a head full of great ideas and would strongly suggest that her friends play her games.  But they always had fun together.  There was never anything cruel about her domination.

Over here things are different.  She has somehow allowed herself to get sucked up into things that she hasn’t been comfortable doing – and I repeatedly tell her to stand up for herself and not to get sucked in.  A real friend wouldn’t allow a friend to feel uncomfortable.  I’ve used my own examples as well as referring to The Mysterious Happy Life of Brown Bag and repeatedly asking if she remembers what happened to him.

I used to worry about Tony, too.  Tony has always seemed socially awkward (actually, both two oldest boys have) and I was afraid he would fall in with the wrong crowd.  He is swayed so easily. Even as an adult I think he is easily manipulated. I’ve always wished that he would stand up for himself and not allow others to walk all over him.  But he has been walked on a lot.  

Jenna and I are over here to learn something.  I don’t know what it is.  Gratitude perhaps.  Because right now we are not very grateful.  I’m finally comfortable in my own ward, but not with the neighborhood.  Not with Jenna’s friends (or lack thereof)

 

I don’t deal well with bullying.  I am so upset with the results and the pain.  Manipulation needs to vanish.

short post about bread

Near my daughter's school is a bakery outlet.  I'm not much of a Sara Lee Fan.  But I do really like Grandma Sycamore's bread a lot.  I have decided that my absolute favorite (at least of now) is Sunflower and Honey. 

I especially enjoy it when it surrounds egg salad or chicken salad.  Jenna doesn't care for it much - especially with peanut butter and jelly.  I do buy a variety, but I personally like sunflower the best.

Planting Another Garden

-->

Everything I know about garden could be written on a 3X5 card – perhaps with room to spare.  We lived in the same stake as Joy Bossi – who hosted the program “Joy in the Garden” Our two wards shared the same church building and we could there on Thursday afternoons to listen to her words of wisdom on what we needed to do to prepare for and grow gardens.

 

In our particular neighborhoods the soil was not great for growing much other than weeds.  One thing that I remember learning was to make several holes in the bottom of a plastic wading pool (the kind that you can find in stores) and fill it with great soil and mix it with manure that was purchased from a gardening store.  Roland and I tried it.  And we did have growth, but very little in the way of onions.

 

Last night Roland and I made another attempt at a garden this year.  From seed we planted beans and beets and pepper plants and onions. We had tried onions again after moving to West Valley (which does have much much better soil than what we had in Kearns)  - they came out like pearl onions in which about nine onions would equal a small onion used for cooking.  I think it only lasted for three meals.

We have grown beets before.  They did well for us.  And actually so have tomatoes – at least certain varieties.  Roland chose not to do tomatoes this year, as there seemed to be plenty from the community garden last year. 

Peppers have never grown for us.  I think this is our third year trying.  And I don’t remember beans growing so I don’t know if we’ve already attempted them or not.

Dan has put himself in charge of the community garden – though all those who would like the benefits of community harvest are expected to participate in the garden’s upkeep.  And Roland had asked tons of questions last year.  This is the first year we have used string to mark where the plants are.  I hope it helps – I am often pulling at plants instead of weeds.

I heard it raining quite early this morning.  I hope it didn’t wash away any of the seeds. We were going to start with the community garden this morning, but it looks like it's been postponed to Monday night because of the weather.  Maybe I can watch Ester this morning.

thoughts concerning mom and Tony

Yesterday I took mom to the hairdresser.

She said it was nice to see her hairdresser again as she hadn’t seen her for a long time . . . which she hadn’t.

As I drove her back to where she lives, she kept on asking who it was that had fixed her hair.

At Alpine Ridge she was greeted like a celebrity.  Everybody LOVED her hair.

She had to check the mirror again as she couldn’t remember.

“Who fixed my hair?” she asked again.

There was a noise coming from the next room.

The noise reminded me of a single bowling lane. 

Mom said she didn’t think that’s what it was.

Well, I knew that! That’s just what the sound reminded me of.

Mom tells me about the woman in the room next to hers.

Apparently they were the first two to live there.  No, not live.  They worked.  But Helen is getting slower.  She has . . .  well, she has . . .  she’s just slowing down.

“You’re all slowing down,” I thought..

Mom couldn’t remember the word “dementia”

Tony and Rochelle have been visiting.

They have to spread their time between two families.

They don’t always show within the hour that Tony says they will.

Usually not within the first four.

It’s not Tony’s fault.  But it is hard to make plans.

Plans for pictures and photographer.

I had made plans.  But Tony said there was a change.

So I decided that we would try again in February.

Evidently I hurt Tony’s feelings. I didn’t mean to.

They may have been on time at the park

But as they’d been wandering around, we didn’t actually see them until later.

But it wasn’t four hours later. 

But still – I can’t make plans for everybody.

I can only remind them.

I think Sunny was disappointed.  But I can’t count on Tony and Rochelle showing up on time.

And we’ve already had one family picture without Randy. 

Tony allowed himself to feel offended.  He’s trying to blame me for my comment.

And maybe I was out of line – but I also know he is hurting because there is truth in my comment.

We’ll do family pictures on Memorial Day – when Tony and Rochelle are back in Texas

But Corey and Joh will be here.  And so will my uncle.  My mother’s baby brother.  He is coming to see her.  That will be nice.  Tony and Rochelle may never meet him.  Well, not in this earth life anyway.

Corey seems more interested in family history now than he has ever been.

He particularly would like to have more information on my dad’s maternal side. 

I told him to ask our former neighbor.  Funny how George Bird would know more about our family than we do.  But his dad used to hang out with our great uncle.

I may be watching Ester this morning.  Or maybe not.  Tony may not want to leave her if he is upset.  I also volunteered to watch Anna and Garrett tonight.  If I have them all at the same time, perhaps I can get pictures of the four that I couldn’t get together in the park.  They won’t be professional like Bill’s would be.  It’s a little overcast thus far.  I may have to take pics indoors.  If I have them.  I haven’t even taken Jenna to school yet.  It’s a short day.  I forgot to mention that to Tony and Rochelle.

Another Day in the Life . . .

I can hear Trume’s grandpa

He is raising his voice

As he often does when Trume

Is getting on his nerves

“Who’s he yelling at?”

I wonder – for it is a school day

Trume is in the first grade.

I hear a light knock at

My door – followed by the doorbell

(as I was too slow getting there – even

In my cracker box house)

Ordinarily I would guess Trume

Except for he should be at school.

He’s in the same district as Jenna

She’s at school.

I check the peep hole

Don’t see anyone.  Trume –

Really?  He’s not the brightest

Although his grandma claims otherwise

“Jenna is in school, “ I say. 

“How come your not?”

Evidently grandpa didn’t feel like taking him

Or maybe he forgot.

How could he not remember?

Grandma took Trume’s little sister

To daycare.  Wouldn’t it make sence that

If she was gone that Trume should be also?

I’m doing laundry

I use the washing machine more in the summer

Than any other season

I don’t always have to use the dryer though

I don’t particulary enjoy being outdoors

When it is so hot

But it is more economical to hang

Clothes on the line.

They dry faster.

Usually by the time I get from

One end of the clothes line to the other

The clothes that I hung up first

Are ready to come down

More wrinkly and stiff than from the dryer

But whites are whiter and our gas bill

Is not as high as if I dried everything I wash.

It’s quiet outside.

I haven’t heard grandpa’s voice

Since Trume came by.

I wonder if he was taken to school.

I’ll probably find out later today –

Like the second I pull in the driveway

Unless I take Jenna to the park.

Maybe I’ll do that.

Spontaneous People Don’t Plan

Mom has always taught her children how to be supportive of one another.  We’ve gone to baby blessings, missionary farewells and homecomings, advancement in the priesthood, plays, sports; I suppose I went to more events when I was single.

Sunny is awesome.  She always lets us know ahead of schedule: We’ve got this planned.  Please come.  And we have.  We make plans to fit it into our schedule.  And then there’s my family . . .

It’s got to be hard to be one of my siblings if they want to be involved but aren’t given much notice for birthday celebrations, graduations, parties – even our own wedding.

 I can’t find the post, but I think I wrote it down somewhere that Roland and I changed our wedding date at least nine times.  It wasn’t that big of an issue for me in the beginning.  After all we had met only three days before he proposed.  THAT IS OUTRAGEOUS! 

I have chosen not to go into detail at this time – but perhaps some time in a future post – but we had changed our wedding date several times before I asked the bishop one Sunday morning if he could just marry us either that night or the next.  So everyone (including the groom) who was invited to our wedding was given only eight hours notice (or less) and everyone we had invited came.

But my family has missed out on at least two of Biffs’ birthday parties.  I just don’t ever know his schedule until that week (at best) perhaps we set a bad example by getting married the way we did.  For the boys don’t plan (although two of them married girls who did) they just say, “Hey” or “By the way”

So went Biff’s party last night.  I was really hoping we could do family pictures, but Tony and Rochelle have been visiting her family.  I realize they have other commitments and are short on time.  And I don’t know what time zone their clock is set to – but they are usually always 4-5 hours behind what we were told.  Except yesterday . . .

Evidently they made it to the park on time – but not the parking lot where I said to meet.  They walked around for an hour I guess before they thought to call.

Jenna’s been putting her life on hold for Tony, the same way Randy still puts his life on hold waiting for Roland.  Not me.  I have always told my boys, “I’m leaving at such and such a time.  If you’re here, you may go with me.  You’re not here, you don’t go or you find another way.”

Randy learned early on that I was serious about a definite time.  But only when someone else has planned.  I’ve tried to plan.  But it is so hard when those you live with still don’t.

We All Need HOPE

Hold

On -

Perseverance,

Endurance

Yesterday I made a comment to a quote expressing a limited hope targeted to a certain group of people for basically following his or her own heart.  Perhaps I was out of line with my answer, but I elaborated as the one who posted the quote followed my comment with a question that sounded to me as though she is feeling despair.

But we have to have hope.  Hope is what brought the children of Israel out of bondage.  And it was hope that caused slaves in America to move from the South to the North.  It was with hope that so many Jewish people (among others) stayed hidden before and during World War II.  It is with hope that we are even to leave our house each morning.

I like how President Uchtdorf says, “Hope, on the other hand, is like the beam of sunlight rising up and above the horizon of our present circumstances.” In his talk The Infinite Power of Hope

We all hope to get out of bondage. We all hope that we can get through each day without harm or accident – whether physically, emotionally, spiritually, or mentally.  We hope that our loved ones will be safe.  We hope that things could be different.  We hope that some things will remain the same.  We hope that our children have learned what we tried to teach them.  We often hope that they may turn out better than we did.

If we didn’t have hope, we wouldn’t try new things.  We wouldn’t try to run (let alone finish) the race.  We wouldn’t put forth any effort without hope.  We wouldn’t go to the doctor’s or the attorney’s office or even work without hope.  We wouldn’t vote or elect officials.  We wouldn’t leave our comfort zone – though often times it may be our hope that we won’t ever have to.  There is no growth without hope.

The Dreaded Bra

I despise wearing bras. I used to think I could get away with not wearing one as I have always been quite flat-chested the majority of my life.  But I have experienced major back pains and I realize that wearing a bra really does look better than going braless.   But for me, wearing bras is comparable to wearing shoes: the more support they have, the less comfortable they are.

Yesterday I wore the “Genie Bra” which didn’t seem so tight fitting until after a couple of washes – did the bra shrink? Or did I grow?  All my other bras seem to fit okay.

The Genie Bra looks good under tee shirts, but they also seem to absorb more perspiration than your average bra – at least mine do.  And as the heat seems to have started early this year, I might as well find a bra made out of sponge.  I hate feeling the need to change not even an hour after I’ve gotten dressed.  And I don’t enjoy wet clothes at all.

Tony and Rochelle are visiting from Texas.  My granddaughter, Ester, is running around and making discoveries and doesn’t mind so much being with Roland and me so long as mom and dad aren’t in the room – though she has decided to make Roland her friend as she was bringing him everything she could manage to get her hands on.

She cries when I hold her.  I think it must be the perspiration that woke her up yesterday and made her cry.  It’s not yet in her vocabulary to say, “Mama, grandma stinks!  Please don’t allow her to hold me.”

As I was straightening up the living room yesterday, I picked up some toys that Ester had played with, and I realized that I miss that stage of learner toys cluttering the house.  Jenna may not ever graduate from toys.  She wants to stay little.  Does NOT want to deal with the bra or enter womanhood.  I can’t say that I blame her.

Mothers' Day 2013

-->

If God should ever show off his sense of humor by calling me to the RS presidency, I am going to make certain there is a generous amount of space between each chair.  No smashing chairs together as tight as possible so that each sister feels as though she’s sitting on the lap of another.  No siree Bob.

I didn’t think it was possible, but chairs seemed a lot more smashed in yesterday.  I guessed it was the priesthood who somehow believed the sisters like things tight – the tighter the better.  They somehow believed that we enjoy sitting in one another’s laps.  Roland told me he had taken charge.  Oh, that explains it.  My husband, the eternal optimist who was hoping to set up for at least two hundred sisters had managed to squeeze in 85 chairs.

The bishop conducted.  And after we all went up to get our breakfast (they had provided us with fruit and muffins) the second counselor taught the lesson.  This is the second year when the priesthood has given the sisters a break from their callings.  I think that's a great Mother's Day gift.

The Elders were in the primary room conducting and teaching and evidently learning one of the song that that the primary would be singing during Sacrament meeting. 

When the children were invited to the stand during Sacrament meeting they sang three numbers – the third was a song that is done in parts.  They sang the first part and then the second part.  I was wondering how they would perform both parts at the same time.  And then the priesthood stood up.  They sang the second part while the children resang the first.  It was awesome.

Tony and Rochelle presented me flowers, a plaque and card.  The card says: Mother’s Day is a chance for us to treat you like a queen! 

Inside: A queen with really lazy subjects who don’t listen very well.

Made me laugh.

The plaque says: Good Mothers have sticky floors, dirty ovens and happy kids.

This morning Biff made biscuits and gravy for mother’s day breakfast.

In my email inbox was a special treat from Corey.  He sent the thoughts mom had written in her journal describing each of her children.  I appreciate mom more with each passing day.