Game Lists

             Most of the games that I play on my kindle are word games.  There are two that will provide a list of four words and it is up to the player to figure out what the four words have in common.  One list that came up was

DEFEAT

LOSER

DISASTER

ZERO

Twelve letters appear at the bottom with seven spaces above.  I was to come up with a seven letter word using the letters below.  I came up with FAILURE and thought just because one is defeated does not make him/her a failure.  Just because one loses a game does not make him/her a zero. 

My next set of words was

PROSPEROUS

PROVIDENTIAL

LUCKY

GOOD

Once again I was given a choice from twelve letters to come up with an eight letter word which was

FORTUNATE

One set of words had such a negative vibe while the next list was positive.   Just thought it was interesting and thought I’d share.

Where Do We Draw the Line?

       

  Richard has been watching several reruns from the 70’s.  We were watching a “Quincy” with the topic of down syndrome and ignorance.  It reminded me a bit of the controversy of abortion.  My obstetrician had advised me (or maybe suggested) that I might want to consider an abortion given my age and the statistics that made it probable that I would be carrying a child with down syndrome. 

        I remember feeling resentment at the suggestion.  So what?  If my child had down syndrome he or she would still be a blessing to our family.  God entrusted the baby into my care and I would definitely care for him or her.  It wouldn’t have mattered.  I would have loved the child regardless.  We have been so blessed with Jaime who does not have down syndrome. 

        Regardless of their physical appearance or their ability to quickly process information, they are still human beings with feelings and purpose.  I rue the ignorance of others who won’t even try to understand or show compassion toward others regardless of circumstance.  Treat others in the same manner that you would like to be treated.

        The next Quincy that we watched featured an individual with schizophrenia who was institutionalized and had escaped the institution to return to the home of his family where he killed all family members except for his mom who wasn’t present.  He, of course, didn’t remember doing it.  It was another personality.  His lawyer was going to try and get him off “due to insanity” – really?  We’re going to free someone because of insanity?  Doesn’t every act of murder involve some degree of insanity?  And if that be the reason, wouldn’t that said individual be more of a threat?  People like that shouldn’t be set free! 

And yet, just as the down syndrome or kabuki syndrome individual, they are all children of God.  It’s not their fault they are mentally out there – but I would be in favor of aborting those who kill for the “sport” of it – those who have turned guns on innocent people in Chicago, Texas, Las Vegas, Sandy Hooks . . .  where does it end?  I am in Favor of aborting those that turn out like Hitler and Putan.  But how do you know?  How do you know when they haven’t been born yet? 

So where do we draw the line?  Who is it that decides who lives or dies? Or how our tax money is spent?  Why are we putting them in prison and spending money to feed them?  I mean the ones who have been caught in the act of crime – although I suppose most of those ended up turning the gun on themselves and now are having to answer on the other side.  I know that mental illness exists.  I have been hurt by people who on experimental medication – though not physically.  I wouldn’t want to kill or abort them because overall they are good people who feel and care and show compassion – when they are of sound mind to do so. 

I don’t wish to sound as though I am comparing the physical appearance, mentality, or syndromes to one another.  My intent is to express how each of us is human.  Each of us has some kind of challenge – though some challenges seem more obvious than others.  If we each have a soul, don’t we deserve to exist without others pointing fingers at us or making judgment calls (which I have done – obviously).  Where do we draw the line?

Orange and Flaming Red continues

        For those of my readers who are unfamiliar with baptisms for the dead, this site will be helpful information 

        I was asked to join a group of ward members to go down to Medford Temple with our newest member.  I had gone with the youth a few times but had never physically been in the font since I had lived in Utah.

        I had ridden in the car with our former RS president and our newest member.  On our way down the car encountered something – though none of us seemed to know what it was.  It felt like a pothole.  Our driver continued driving hoping to make it to the next exit.  Unfortunately the tire lost all air and he didn’t wish to continue driving on the rim.  We were a quarter of a mile from the rest area.

        Fortunately the tire was on the passenger’s side and he managed to remove the burnt mangled rubber that had once been a tire and replace it with a donut.  That is a few many miles to be driving on a donut!  But we made it to the temple when all the others arrived. 

        I hadn’t taken my “Wendy” hair into consideration as I entered the font.  It wasn’t until I removed a towel from around me that I saw large orange splotches and was mortified.  I had orange on my white clothes.  All the while my hair is dripping like carrot juice all over the floor.  Oh, gosh.  I remember only one time when my hair bled after I had colored it.  What was happening?  Ahhhhhhhh!

        This morning I took a shower and realized I had never added the conditioner to my hair after it had been dyed.  Perhaps if I had there would have not been the problem of bleeding out and becoming even more flaming red.

        When I exited the car (a different car than the one I had gone down in) Jaime was on the porch laughing.  I asked, “It’s my hair, isn’t it?”  YUP.  I’d take a picture, but the photo really doesn’t do it justice.

I’d Rather Have it Red Like Wendy’s than Wilma Flintstone’s Color

         The other day I went to the hair salon to get my hair cut and colored.  I had  made an appointment for 8:00 but had forgotten I had made it for that time and did not show up until 9:00.  I think the stylist was mad – which she had reason to be.  I was upset with myself – and here I’ve been taking this Prevagen (which by the way does not seem to be working; at two dollars a pill, I would think my mind would have cleared that first day). 

        She said she’d color my hair and reset the appointment for my haircut.  But it was the cut I needed more than the coloring. I had purchased only one bottle of hair coloring and was willing to try it by myself – but with less hair.  She agreed to cut me and commented on the thickness and length of my hair.  She then read the directions of the hair dye I had purchased and proceeded to get it ready to add to my head.  I was a bit concerned when the shaken up formula bore a strong resemblance to that of carrot juice.  I didn’t want my hair that color.

        I’m okay with my white hair – I really am.  I had it white the entire time I subbed at the school district but after the “Stay at Home” order was given, Richard and Jaime begged me to change the color and so I did.  I often use a different shade of red depending on what my choices are.  When living in small town America there are often limitations to one’s options of brand or selection.

        The dye did darken I’m happy to say – but still nowhere near the color on the box.  Instead of orange hair like Lucille Ball or Wilma Flintstone, it came out more of an unnatural red sort of resembling the Wendy’s icon.  That is what happened with my hair at the end of March, but instead of orange-turning-red, it came out purple-turned-maroon.  I think it was  supposed to be the same color in each case – though the picture on the box was closer to purple/maroon than it was to anything that resembled the color of flames.

        Yesterday morning all three of us went to the pool.  Richard had decided that he wanted to go to Costco right afterwards and so I packed my clothes (which I normally don’t do – I just wait until I return home to change) and had a problem removing my suit.  As I was getting dressed, I realized I had forgotten my pants and wrapped a towel around myself.  I presented Richard with a few choices: He could continue to Costco and I could wait in the car.  He could take me home and drop me off.  He could take me home and wait for me to change.  If, by chance, Vinny de Paul’s was open, he could stop off and purchase something he thought would fit.  The problem is he and Jaime never seem to put size into consideration.  She does know me better than Richard does and so I sent the both of them in and waited in the car.

        I was near enough the window that I saw them holding up items for purchase.  Apparently they both missed the expression on my face.  Richard held up a pair of red sweatpants (though darker than my hair) while Jaime held up a blue paisley-printed skirt.  It looked like something I would wear – but not with a printed tee that said “Barn in the USA”.  When they returned to the car, I told Richard he was not allowed to move the car until I had on said item.  I started with the pants which were not sweatpants but more like pajama bottoms.  They were marked 2X.  2X for who? 2X should be a size indicating you may be a little paunch around the middle.  Not a tall and somewhat thin person.  There is no way I was getting that thing over my gut.  I ended up wearing the skirt. I felt l looked ready to go to Walmart. 

       It didn’t look as terrible as I imagined.  (I am NOT a Trump supporter - though I have seen many that do seem to have that "Walmart" mentality;  I do kind of look like one of those) Not that anybody was looking.  My flaming hair received more stares than anything.  Richard and Jaime are the ones that have to look at it and both seem happy with it.  I don’t dislike it but I haven’t learned to love it either.  I am happy to have it all evenly distributed unlike I’ve been doing on my own (as I can’t see behind my head) and it does feel so much better.  So that’s a plus.

       

This is the Weather That Brought Us Here – If Only it Would Last

         I didn’t want to jinx things by saying something sooner but the news this morning said we can expect a warmer hot forecast next week. And surely by the end of the month.  After all what is a Myrtle Creek summer fest without scorching temperatures?

The weather and elements have awesome for about two or three weeks.  June had up and down temperatures but seemed quite pleasant for the most part.  Mornings are always cold and then it cools off at night.  I don’t even think it hit the 70s yesterday.  That was nice.  The rain isn’t so bad.  Better than the blazing sun.

I honestly don’t remember the low temperatures this late in the year.  When I looked at the map there were only seven fires in the entire state.  None up and down I5.  I wish it would stay that way.  I wish the dark skies would always be due to moisture and never smoke.  I wish to breathe in the clean air always.  I LOVE the current weather we’ve been given and wish it would continue to linger ALWAYS.

Our Generator is so LOUD

         I don’t know why I didn’t post these pictures before.  Four months after snowmagedden Richard ordered a backup generator that would work on its own rather than our having to “jump start” every eight hours.  Though it had been ordered in August of 2019 it wasn’t delivered to us until October.  It had been left next to the carport as the equipment for unloading was too tall to fit under the carport.  It took Jaime, Richard and I two days to push it from the carport entrance to where it sits today.

 

         Evidently there was some kind of vehicle crash that caused the power to go out sometime last night.  When I checked early this morning there were over 300 (about a tenth of MC population) but the number continued to go down and this was about 5:30 this morning:

I would have not known except I heard the generator.  I’m certain the whole neighborhood can hear our generator as it is loud – but working.  And that is nice to have that.

Discover a Reason

        I just read my brother’s latest post in which he mentions paying fees towards a park that he never uses.  It is annoying paying fees for something in which you don’t feel a part.  For example there are many paying taxes for schools when they have no children.  Those who reside in Myrtle Creek pay taxes on a small airport.  I remember a man complaining about it. At the time I didn’t even realize there was an airport in Myrtle Creek.  And though it’s true that no commercial planes will ever land here, and I will never personally train to fly, I do reap benefits of having an airport so close to my house as I had mentioned in this post.

        My brother took a picture of himself at the park – I don’t know from the photo how big the park is or if there is a playground or walking trail available.  If so, I would think that it has the potential of being a good source of giving children or walkers a place away from traffic – more importantly a place away from mischief.  If the park didn’t exist, what would become of those who attend?  I have been to Las Vegas.  There is no way on God’s green earth that I would ever think of driving there!  I might not even feel safe as a pedestrian.  But I would be willing to take a stroll in the park.

        There are still a handful of children who can have fun without electronics.  I would rather have them playing at a designated playground than wandering in my yard out of curiosity.  I’m not saying having the park there will protect them from acts of crime, but think about it.  There is a reason.  Perhaps it isn’t as popular as it was when it was initially proposed . . . but still . . . just a thought really.

        Some drivers have complained about traffic lights and sharing the road with buses or trains or trolleys or whatever.  And yet, what if we didn’t have them?  How much heavier the traffic or more accidents as suggested in this post?

        If we didn’t have an airport in Myrtle Creek, where would the helicopters park during fire season? The heat gets unreal in the summertime – but not as bad as Las Vegas.  I have suggested to Steven several times that he and Isaias should move to Ashland.  I am certain that both could get jobs there and he would be more comfortable than in Vegas – though I don’t know if Isaias would feel the same way.  He would rather do the city driving than the country.  I’m sure he’d find his niche though.

I Miss My Flip Phone!

              There are so many things I miss about my flip phone.  No accidental butt dials.  Not that I can actually butt dial as my touch screen is so LARGE that it will NOT fit into a human pocket.  Often it is too big for the provided pocket that comes with totes especially designed for the cell phone.  NOT my cell phone.

         My last phone was an Easyfone which totally lives up to its name.  Turn it on and it is ready to go.  No waiting for the forces of nature to connect to cyberspace even though I don’t have all the so called cool features as apps and the internet.  Unwanted ads.  I already get that through texting – Thank you very much.  Never got the ads through my cell phone – not even Trump’s important message that went out to most cell phone owners.  Not me.  It was great.

        I did get the Amber Alerts – and the ones sent out of Oregon and not Utah (even though I still have a Utah area code).  I seriously thought about changing to an Oregon number – back in 2020 when I went through NOT ONE but THREE different cell phones.  THREE!!! Give me a break.  Initially I thought I’d just wait until the pandemic was/is over – though good I didn’t – as I would have been without for two years now. 

        My Easyfone still works – just no service with my current carrier – but that could change again.  Not looking to do that anytime soon.  But you never know.  The touch screen takes much more awesome pictures than does the Easyfone.  But then again – I use my phone for a phone and not a camera – but as I have that added feature, why not.  Doesn’t zoom in as great as my camera does – and my camera is easier to carry than the brick I call a cell phone (or is it the other way around?) and everybody in the neighborhood knows when I am taking a picture as it has the same click as those old time cameras – invented long before I was.   

        And let us not forget my skinny fingers turning into the size of hotdogs each time I try to press a button.  (Swipe a button?) I was never frustrated by the cell phone.  Time to stop my griping.  I need to get ready to go to the pool.

What is Your Worth?

        We have contacted landscapers throughout the years but have never been able to afford the asking price.  The last bid was at 8,000.  Uh, that’s twice the amount I was willing to go – though I thought it was still too high.  Since then Richard has been watching DYI videos on what we can do. 

        While we were watching the DYI landscape videos, we heard our censors go off to indicate that perhaps there was more presence than just the turkey in our yard. Two youth were at the door announcing that they were willing to do some landscaping work.  I let Richard know.  He ended up hiring the kid who said he would replace our pipe hose for 50 dollars.  That’s a lot of work for only 50 dollars – but Richard accepted his offer.  No written contract.  No credentials.  The kid is a high school drop-out.  But he did it.

        He weed wacked the hill in the back and offered Richard a hundred dollars to cut out beds so we can plant.  Richard told him he would not want to do it for a 100 but perhaps 100 per quarter and divided the land.  It’s been quite intensive labor – probably more than the kid had bargained for.  Richard has given him a few advances as we really are getting our money’s worth.  Perhaps Richard ought to offer more incentive - like twice the amount if you can get the project done by a certain date. 

        Thus far the kid has labored in our yard each day, but the amount of time seems to lessen each day.  He’s not what I would call dependable.  Fortunately we are paying him by the project and not by the hour.

        Richard had told Don (not his real name) to take Sunday off as he did not want to be responsible for breaking the Sabbath.  Only Don does not share our same standards and worked while we were at Church and took the day off on Monday.  On Monday Richard told Jaime and I to help him move rocks to cover the pipe. 

I hoped that Google would not come by to take pictures while I was bending over.

        I don’t know how often Google updates their maps and residential sites.  When we first moved into the house we currently live, I remember looking up our WV address on Google and seeing my neighbor bent over in her yard.  It reminded me of a yard decoration that some people might have in their yards.

They have updated the WV location since, but the address we have now has not been updated in the last six years at least as the house is white with blue trim and we have changed that to green trim.

        I remember taking a break and sitting down to create this post.  I was so tired that I couldn’t even think.  I ended up going to bed majorly early (like 6:00) and haven’t made the effort to even start the post until yesterday and it was only a start.  I knew that I would not get through everything I had at least had the sense to brainstorm on Monday.

        I don’t know what happened on Tuesday. I had a busier schedule today than on Tuesday but still found the time to get the majority of this post written – hoping I’d be able to proof read and add pictures today.  So there you go.  A half baked update on my life right now.

Fathers' Day

Fathers’ Day seemed to be a big deal in the last ward that I had come from.  Our first Sunday in Myrtle Creek shortly happened to be Father’s Day.  I don’t recall Father’s Day being mentioned.  The last couple of years the primary children (and our number is dwindling – count of 7 today) have been singing either Mothers’ Day or Fathers’ Day (depending on the month) in sacrament meeting.  Before it was in either RS or Priesthood.  Neither one of them were incorporated into a program.  Today we heard the first Fathers’ Day I’ve heard given in this ward. 

As we were on the way to Church Jai reminded us of this comic routine.  Very appropriate.  Tony called to wish Richard a happy Fathers’ Day and the three kids sang him (well, one sang, one echoed and the other was just there) 

Happy Father's Day and Happy Juneteenth.  

Well, it was on my agenda . . .

 Though not necessarily today – it had to be done.  Still isn’t complete, but it has now become a family project that will need our attention – especially if Richard thinks he’ll have to watch TV.

I have been aware for some time that we would need to go through our evacuation bags – in the event that we will need them.  Richard has packed them so full that they are so heavy – especially his as he has extra items – such as a square pan.  Though small, it still makes it a challenge for closing the bag.  Also heavy.  So it has at least two purposes.  Cooking or a weapon for clobbering – should we feel the need.

We were looking for something specific but as long as two of them were open I thought I would pull out everything!  Why in the world do we feel the need for that many clothes?  Why not make a separate piece of luggage JUST for clothes?  Though that would not work if we are not all together.  Jai will be moving to Ashland in the fall.  I am certain that there will still be smoke in the air.  I wonder if she will be taking her vac-bag with her.  It seems like it would be a good idea.  I never had a bug-out bug when I went to college.  But I understood the importance.

I had gone to Ricks College. I was not yet in high school when the Teton flooded over Rexburg – but I had heard first hand events.  One was from a sister who had made quilts for charity.  She ended up donating one that she was not proud of.  She believed it was very ugly and was ashamed of having donated something that was beneath her standards.  When the floods happened on June 5, 1976, she, along with many neighbors, had evacuated their homes and were sent to higher ground to spend the night.  As the bedding was passed around, she started crying – probably for several reasons – but at the gratitude she felt for the quilt given to her was the very one that she thought was ugly and unworthy of her donation.

I told Jai that I didn’t think our clothes would fit us anymore.  We had to switch it out.  I noticed that one pair of pants I had saved needs to be washed.  But than again, if I have to use them, there are going to be several others in my same boat that may have only the clothes on their backs – which may be more soiled than the ones in my bag.  I certainly can’t do my nicest clothes – so I stick with the ugly ones – which fortunately I have never had to wear.  Not because they’re ugly but because I haven’t had need. We haven’t had to evacuate.  Others have. 

There are many who lost their homes back in 2020 when Corona stopped being the leading story because the fires were.  Not everybody has recovered still.  There are still people without homes.  Those who have lost all of their belongings – some that will never be replaced – like photos and other memorabilia.

I want the clothes on the bottom and all the heavy stuff on top.  The food needs to be rotated.  Some may need to be thrown out.  I don’t like that.  Some food can make it passed their expiration date.  I think water will always be good – but the containers will need to be replaced.  I feel fortunate that none of our bags are wet.

https://sopa.tulane.edu/blog/essential
-items-pack-hurricane-go-bag

What Strange Weather

 I feel like it is a safe guess

to say that my family has been

to Yellowstone at least 15 times

from the time I was born and up

until my father’s death. 

 

I remember fires having

closed Yellowstone Park –

but never flooding. 

This weather has been so strange.

I know that I mentioned

how tired I get

each time the wind blows. 

I don’t know why it has sent me

into a coma so often – like

I’m taking sleeping pills that

knock me out into another week. 

The fact that it really does happen

is strange.

 

I also get hot

whenever it rains. 

When I am sound asleep and

the rain is pounding

on the roof, it is not the

sound that wakes me up. 

 

It is the rising temperature

in my body. 

Why does it do that? 

Why would I get hot when

the rain itself is so cold? 

That is also strange.

 

I never referred to the summer

as “fire season” until

I moved to Oregon. 

The first exposure I had to it was

the year 2015 when

we first moved to Oregon. 

 
I don’t remember the fire marker

being set to low in

July through September.

I don’t recall our first exposure to

 smoke and haze until

August of 2015 when we

chose to explore Grants Pass. 

It has been smoky most Augusts that

we have assisted at the pear farm

in Medford.  Strange.

 

And now it’s wet. 

Wetter than I remember Oregon

being this late in June –

if at all. 

I don’t wish to see fire season delayed. 

I would like to not see it at all. 

Or smell it. 

Or breath it. 

 

https://www.oregonlive.com/wildfires/2017/
09/the_worst_wildfires_in_oregon.html

I want to stay safe. 

I want the weather to stay cool. 

I like the 50 – 60 temperatures. 

I don’t like the constant vacillation of

“today will be in the low 40s but may

end in the high 80s.”

  That isn’t nice!