Journal Jars

I once attended a Relief Society enrichment meeting where we made “journal jars”.  What is a “journal jar”? you may ask.  It is a jar containing questions that will hopefully provoke thought to get written answers one may record in his or her journal. 

Questions like:

“Do you remember your grandparents?  What special memories do you have?”

          “Did you have a favorite radio or TV show as a child?”

          “Tell about the changes you have seen in your lifetime: society in general, technology, fashion, politics, laws, inventions, etc.”

          Jenna absolutely LOVES to explore these questions – or my answers rather.  Often she can answer for herself, but many ask for detail on things that she hasn’t experienced yet such as marriage, parenting, high school, dating, etc.

          The idea of the journal jar is to record memories.  But Jenna loves to use it as a conversation piece or in place of playing games.  And I like that she likes it.

Heavenly and Sinful (at the same time)

          I know that I mentioned in an earlier post – perhaps several – that cooking is really not my forte.  Roland, on the other hand, enjoys cooking and baking but does not have the time or opportunity that he used to, and so I have had to put together more of the meals and frankly, I’m just not that good at it.

          I can follow a recipe but it’s got to be exact.  Roland has told me a few times (probably) that I need to cover dishes when baking in order to maintain moisture – I haven’t committed that to memory however.  If the recipe had instructed me to cover the dish, I would have done so, but it didn’t – needless to say the lasagna I made was a little dry.

          The other day I went to the office to meet Roland for lunch.  He was on the phone and pointed to his lunch bag and said he had something for me.  Inside were what appeared to be two muffins – although I didn’t know what kind.  I bit into one and oh . . . what heavenly pleasure . . . the taste buds came to life on my tongue as I enjoyed the succulence sensation of  cookie and  brownie surrounding the surprise taste of melted peanut butter cup.  It was delicious!  Sinfully delicious.  Heavenly and sinful at the same time!

Though my tongue was quite pleased with the vivacious wonderment – the rest of my body must have experienced some kind of resentment. I did not eat them both.  I saved the second to give to Jenna when she returned from school.  I knew she would agree with me about the wonderfulness of it all.  And she did.  We both wanted more.

          My family is having a BBQ on Memorial Day – and Roland decided we would make this awesome treat, and so last night we had a practice round. They still taste sinful – unfortunately this particular batch also looks like – well, it looks like I made them.  It gives me comfort when Roland’s food doesn’t always turn out quite right – not that I want to gloat in it.  But I feel like such a failure in the kitchen, it’s nice to know that he’s not kitchen perfect either.

All I can say is that it’s a good thing we did a test run.  I suppose we’ll try it again later on today.  Meanwhile Jenna and I will somehow manage to force ourselves to eat the mistakes.

Racked Nerves

          I am usually not pressed for time – but on those few days that I do need to leave – well, those are the days my mom would like me to stay.  And it would be all well and good if I actually lived closer – or with her.  But I don’t.

          We’re down to one functional car – and even that has been questionable. 

          Since Roland works late on Wednesdays, he drove the car in and so I borrowed my son’s car in order to get out to mom’s.  Talk about nerve racking.

         

          First off, it has a quirkiness to it that anybody but Biff might not get – and the fact that other people have trouble turning on the ignition is actually a great feature in Biff’s opinion.  I was just about to give up, when I actually got it to turn.  I don’t know how.  But then I worried – if I did make it all the way to mom’s and it was time to leave, would I be able to start it again?

Biff’s car would make clicky sounds – even when I hadn’t put on the turn signal.  I was only part way to my destination when it dawned on me that I didn’t think Biff has car insurance.  Oh, great!  As if I wasn’t already neurotic about the whole thing.

          And then, I parked across the street from my mother’s driveway (as there was a van in her driveway) and pulled out the keys from the car and the radio continued to play.  I didn’t know if that was normal for Biff’s car.  I turned it off so that the battery wouldn’t run down.

Mom’s air conditioner was being worked on – a good portion of the day – I might add.  She was hungry.  She wasn’t satisfied with anything in her fridge and asked the worker how much longer he’d be.  At least another hour.  She told him that she was going to go get lunch and that she’d return before he left, but if not, he could just lock up.  Just a few years back, that would have been so out of character for my mom to do that.

We went to a drive-in just at the end of her street.  And we did return before he was finished.  (I think they should have sent two guys instead of just one) and I actually had to leave before he did – although he was packed up and ready.  Biff left for work shortly after I returned.

          I noticed a luggage tag fastened to mom’s purse.  Corey had posted some personal information on a bright pink card.  It may let others know her medical situation and contact information in case she gets lost again. I don’t like this “old timers” mental state at all. It is more irritating than Biff’s car.

Crossing Bridges (NOT a metephore)

One year our family was asked to host a room for Halloween.  Roland wanted to do something different from the typical activities and games that we had seen in years past.  So we ended up doing a haunted maze  (which I will provide details for as it gets closer to Halloween).  The point I was looking to make in this post was the reaction of what some considered scary while others seem to enjoy or become bored with.

Our “haunted maze” was a big hit with the teenagers – but too frightening for the majority of children under eight maybe ten.  Except for Jenna – who would laugh each time she went through.  She feared nothing at the time. 

          Over the years she has grown into some fears.  I suppose we all do.  Some we can rationalize – while others make us wonder why it has become a fear.

          Jenna LOVES crossing bridges.  There is a definite excitement about it.  I remember feeling the same exact way.  And it didn’t matter if we were walking or driving across.  Nor did it matter what the bridge was over.

I recall at a certain place downtown there were two different bridges for the freeway on and off ramps.  I thought that was the absolute coolest because at one point we’d actually be on a bridge and under a bridge at the same time. 

What a tremendous difference in my once joyful outlook to the emotions that stir up right now.

I realize that there are people who cross bridges everyday on their way to their jobs or family or whatever.  They think nothing of it.  Nor did I as a youth.  I used to walk across the intrastate on my way to work.

Somewhere along the way I completely lost my enthusiasm for bridges – well maybe not all bridges.  Just the ones that pass over the interstate or intrastate or major traffic or long drops – not water necessarily.  I can stand on bridges that are over water and pose for pictures. But just as with railroad tracks,  bridges seem to freak me out lately.  I don’t know why. There’s no rational reasoning for it. I don’t recall having any bridge collapses.  But when I see a great number of cars below me, I am definitely not as excited as I used to be.

I am grateful that I am able to cross bridges and that they are available - I just wish I could cross them with the same enthusiasm as I did before I was the driver.

the assistance of a shoehorn

This morning I was helping Jenna to get the knots out of her shoelaces and adjust the shoes back to her feet.  She tugged at the heel of the shoe and stomped on the floor in attempts to get it to fit over her own heel.  It reminded me of the convenience of the shoehorn.

          I had worked at a daycare only briefly.  The children were required to take naps.  All shoes had to be removed before naps.  After the naps, all shoes were to be returned to feet.  This was not always an easy task.  Some of those children had really tight fitting shoes over really fragile feet.  Thus  I started bringing the shoehorn to work.

          Funny about the different reactions I received from the kids.  Suddenly I had this long line of children who would wait their turn to be fitted properly into their shoes – while others would go out of their way to find another teacher so that they would not have to deal with that “scary” shoehorn.

          It is actually a great invention.  I used to have several of them.  I don’t recall ever having seen one after I got married. 

I don’t think Jenna would survive Charter School

I had looked into a Charter school while Jenna was still in kindergarten (which I referred to in this post)   She needed to be challenged, and just wasn’t getting that in our assigned public school.  I am still on the waiting list.

          If she had started APA  in the first grade, I don’t think she would have ever questioned it.  She would have loved it in all the ways that I would have not, had it been available to me when I was a youth.  But after two more years of public school?  I think she would totally freak out and hate it even more than the school I was trying to get her away from.

          Jenna is very smart academically.  But organizational skills and prioritizing is not in her nature at this time (something that we will be working on this summer) and I don’t think she will adjust well going from free spirit to uniform and structure.  She tends to misplace things – which is NOT acceptable at APA (from what I understand)

          For example: on May 15^th Jenna brought some papers into me.  They were dated for March.  One was for the talent show that I remember her telling me about – but I didn’t see the form until six weeks after the fact.

          The other was about my scheduled conference with her teachers.  I was wondering where it had been. 

          I would prefer that she was more organized and cared more about her appearance and had more respect for belongings – but such a drastic transition (should the opportunity ever occur) would only discourage her – whereas she would have not even questioned it two years ago.

          And while there are things that I really like about the charter school, there are also things that I don’t like.  I would love to have her do more with music, but in the long run I think there will be more value in having her learn a second language.

The Third Petal of the Forget-me-not

          Roland had been in charge of putting together the  Mothers’ Day program last week.  It was AWESOME – one of the most amazing Mothers’ Day programs that I remember.

          It was based on Pres. Uchtdorf’s talk from the September 2011 Relief Society Meeting.  The theme of the talk was based upon the “Forget-me-not” and five pieces of advice that we should not forget.

          Roland introduced the theme of Pres. Uchtdorf’s talk and introduced those who would be speaking.

The first speaker shared with us a bit about his childhood.  He has seven siblings.  All eight children were expected to play a musical instrument. The first petal was to “forget not to be patient with yourself”.  No one is perfect, even though there are many who may appear so.  The first speaker reminded us of patience.

I unfortunately don’t remember a lot of what the second speaker said.  His assigned topic was to forget not the difference between a good sacrifice and a foolish sacrifice.  He related experiences from his childhood in which his mother had made sacrifices for one reason or another – for the good of the family.

Then there was the musical number.  Practically every Melchezedik Priesthood holder in attendance came up to the stand and sang a medley of songs dedicated to mother.  It was awesome!

My most favorite talk – perhaps because of the way it was delivered – came from the third speaker.  Forget not to be happy now.  The speaker related Pres. Uchtdorf’s comparison of the “golden ticket” sought after by so many children in the story of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” – so busy with trying to find the gold that they’d forgotten to enjoy the chocolate.

          We need to be happy in the moment in which we’re living instead of constantly looking ahead with the decision of becoming happy for what’s ahead.  We may never be happy if we continue looking to what might be instead of rejoicing in what we have now.

The forth speaker put enthusiasm into his delivery as well.  Forget not the “why” of the gospel.  Sometimes – perhaps often – in our daily routines, the vital aspects of the gospel are unintentionally overlooked. 

As with the first speaker, this one was also “forced” into piano lessons – though he did not appreciate or pursued.  He loves listening to his mom play the piano.  He says he and his dad will turn the television down or off just to hear her play.

The last speaker summarized Pres. Uchtdorf’s talk.  Forget not that the Lord loves you.  There may be times when we may feel insignificant in comparison with others.  Retold the story (or legend) that Pres. Uchtdorf related about the forget-me-not flower.  What a beautiful talk. 

You can find Pres. Uchtdorf’s entire talk here.