Old Fashion Blogging

"Eat, Sleep, Smile"

Since the laundry overtook me last week, I have not been able to sew.  In fact I think my sewing machine is still buried under some clothing items to be folded.  I've been frequently checking in on Marie's sewing projects with full envy.  So for a quick project fix and baby gift I once again pulled out the freezer paper.

  

These three characters read in Chinese "Eat, Sleep, Smile".  That is the wish I have for a very special baby (and her mother) today, the day of her birth.

Freezer paper stencils are actually quite simple.  What made these a bit tricky though was the intricacy and scale (1") of the characters.  I used a  shish kabob stick to help with the placement of the tiny freezer paper shapes.

 

Wordfull Wednesday: Act of Kindness

Guest Post by Paul:

There are a few simple, paradoxical truths about the concept of giving that, when discovered, can unleash immense power in our lives. One is that, in general, the more one gives, the more one receives in return. Another is that the more anonymous the giving is, the more it says, practically speaking, about the giver.

For about a year or so, I awoke each morning to find the newspaper perfectly placed on our front door welcome mat. It struck me as odd, as our door is probably 30 feet or more from the street. Either the paper boy is the reincarnation of Greg Maddox, I thought, or he is spending an inordinate amount of time placing the paper on the stoop. Either way, I figured it wouldn’t last long – he’d either be drafted into the big leagues, or fired by his curmudgeon newspaperman boss for taking so long on his route and putting the rest of the paperboys to shame.

One autumn morning, I uncharacteristically arose early to take the dog out for an early morning walk. It was barely 5:00 a.m., and my limbs, unaccustomed to being up at such an early hour, seemed to drag lifelessly along in the chilly pre-dawn air. It was one of those misty, mysterious mornings, like something you would see in the movies, where the darkness and stillness is exaggerated. You grip your popcorn a little tighter because it feels like some kook might jump out of the shadows to rough up the protagonist.

Barely two minutes into our walk, as Archie stopped to communicate with his neighbors in the manner dogs often do, I picked up a faint shuffling sound ahead of us down the street, something like worn out windshield wipers toiling in short, swift strokes or, more likely, old rubbery-soled shoes on a sidewalk. Unable to make out anything in the darkness, we pressed on another house or two down the street, picking up the pace a bit to perhaps get a better look. There I was finally able to make out a small shadowy figure shuffling along slowly in the orange-tinted shadows of the street lamp ahead. It was clearly an elderly man, cloaked in a brown coat a size or two too big for his small narrow shoulders and skinny waist, his small head topped off with a glen plaid cap. He was shuffling along with a decided elderly gait, the kind that belies experience, propelled by feet that had doubtlessly taken tens, if not hundreds, of millions of steps before. From a distance I could hear him humming an unrecognizable yet upbeat tune as he went.

I continued to follow him, gaining on him with each step, two of mine the equal of perhaps six of his. When I was about 20 paces away, he turned abruptly to his left and then, after a few steps, stooped down at his waist and snatched a yellow plastic bag off of a wet driveway. The Salt Lake Tribune. I slowed to a pause and watched him patiently and methodically shuffle to the neighbor’s front door, depositing the paper neatly on the Welcome mat, before turning and heading back down the driveway. When he arrived again at the sidewalk, I recognized him. It was my neighbor Grant Morris.

From what I gathered, Grant Morris had done well in his life, having invested wisely in businesses and properties, a quiet, humble sort of capitalist. By any standard he was well off, yet he chose to live relatively simple, healthy life. His secret to longevity, he confided in some, was a daily dose of mint, picked fresh from his garden, squeezed into an herbal tea. Like his faded brown coat, he was practical and comfortable being so.

But the crisp, sharp mind that had once driven a hundred business deals had now faded somewhat, and as he spotted me on the sidewalk it seemed to search in vain for my name. That look was not new to me, for each time I saw him in church or in the neighborhood he mistook me for someone else. I told him my name as we briefly shook hands there on the wet, predawn sidewalk, and, looking relieved, his eyes instantly lit up in a warm, enthusiastic greeting. I wanted to mention something of his service, to thank him on behalf of the whole neighborhood, but, as quickly as the thought came to mind, a strong impression came to me to say nothing at all.

The Savior Himself said it best in the Sermon on the Mount:
1. Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them: otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven.
2. Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
3. But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth:
4. That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly. (Matthew 6:1-4)

Grant Morris was not like most other people. If he were he might go about his errand a bit later, after the dawn had broken, when he would be in plain view of the world. He might casually let you know in conversation that he was responsible. He could mention it in a church talk, or maybe joke about how tough the regular snowfall was making his rounds. But he didn’t. Instead he kept his charitable act to himself, his alms in secret. His habit of forgetting my name made his other habit all the more charming, his service all the more anonymous.

After exchanging a few pleasantries we parted ways. I stood still a bit and watched him shuffle off into the darkness, the windshield wiper sound of his feet fading as he continued down the street to collect the next newspaper. My eyes, like the air itself, became misty. I realized that the foreboding-movie-type feeling I had had before, the exaggerated stillness and darkness, did indeed did produce a plot twist that I would remember vividly for a long time to come.

It was a simple gesture really - fetching newspapers from driveways and placing them on front porches. Some might not have even noticed. But in reality his daily act of charity, rendered to all, transcended every worldly division in our neighborhood: different faiths, different political views, different life stages. In fact, the diversity of newspapers themselves, from the Deseret News to the Salt Lake Tribune, the New York Times to the Wall Street Journal, represented a sort of microcosm of all those differences. With that slow gait and the winding, hilly streets in our neighborhood, in the rain and in the snow, it may have taken Grant Morris hours every day. But under the cover of darkness, every day, without fail, the paper was there.

When Grant Morris moved out of the neighborhood recently, some of the neighbors actually called the newspapers to complain. The paper boy just wasn’t doing it like he used to, they said. They never knew. Indeed, just the way Grant Morris would have wanted it.

More wordful Wednesday here

Junior Mints

That 4ft+ laundry pile I wrote about just about overtook me.  What made it so overwhelmingly large was last week's battle with the stomach flu.  What made it even worse was a middle of the night episode that landed and splat atop all the freshly pressed and cleaned church clothes that were so neatly laid out.  I too became a target of such messes, so did my bed.  Even our dog got sick but his bedding had to wait outside on deck for the few days the washer was occupied.  It was worse than my last laundry episode.   

I may have remained cheerful in completing my homemaking tasks on the joyful day of our anniversary but by Thursday I was fed up with the laundry, messes, clutter, and just feeling overwhelmed.  I even shouted at the laundry as I approached it to be sorted and spot washed.  During this moment of frustration, one of my young boys put his arms around me and consoled me saying:  "Don't worry Mom, you've got people on your side".  That is just what I needed to hear - that is what I call a "Junior Mint".

You see I don't really like candy but I love Junior Mints.  They are just the right size and offer the perfect ratio of chocolate, sweetness, and minty flavor.  They are refreshing, especially for one who has a bad taste in their mouth.  So it is with the funny little things kids say.  When in our adult world we are feeling down and frustrated, or maybe a bit too serious, it is the "Junior Mints", or funny things our kids say that give us a refreshing perspective on life. 

So this notebook was purchased months ago from Costco to record just that.  I do have journals for each individual but with six kids its hard to remember who said what and when.  But my Junior Mints notebook is always in reach and ready to record the funny things the kids both say and do.  It is filling up quickly.  

In response to the "Don't worry mom, you've got people on your side", the people may be little but its great to know they are on my side.  I just may teach a few of them how to do laundry this week.  

And one more "Junior Mint", just for fun.  From the mouth of our 4 yr old:  "I'm not sure what its gonna feel like when Obama is president.  It might feel like another country but I forgot which one.  But it might feel like the United States is rolling.  Like it is rolling like a car.  But I really wanted Jeff Morrow   to be president"  (there were many signs for this local politician in our neighborhood).

So here's to all the funny and amusing things kids say, may they help us not only get through our daily chores and also lift us as we face the uncertainty of the future.   

10 Great Years!

It is snowing today, it looks like we could end up with at least six inches.  The dishes are dirty and the laundry is fast acumuluating as well, I think I'll end up with at least 24" of each (actually I just measured and there is exactly 4 1/2 feet of laundry to fold and about 3 feet that needs washing - I hope the accumulation has stopped for today).  

But it is a beautiful day and my heart is full.  I can't help but smile as I care for our children and complete my tasks about the house.  I feel I am the luckiest woman in the world to have a husband who not only cares for me but also makes me laugh everyday.  I smile also in the memory of the life and adventure we have shared so far.  

Who would have thought I might marry that boy from Mrs. Brockhouse's first grade class - I'm glad I did.  I could not have imagined what joy these years would bring.  Here's to many more years - a lifetime and forever.  Happy Aniversary Super Hero - I love you!

"Boating" Day

I took only two of the kids with me this morning to vote.  I called out to them asking "who wants to go with mommy to vote"?....... James and Maryanna both came running.  James noted that this was his third time accompanying me as I voted in a presidential election.  He said he does not want to miss one in his life and is still counting down the years until he can officially vote.

I didn't know what Maryanna was talking about when she asked if she needed her bathing suit.  I simply said "no honey, it is cold out there".  She then asked if we were going to get wet and I answered "maybe a little because it is raining".  Then she asks "we're going to swim in the rain"?  I respond "What"?   and it became clear that she misunderstood the invitation to go vote as "who wants to go with mommy to boat"?  But we were already in line by that time and the concept of voting was too much to explain.  I bought her a doughnut and pulled out her little Corolle doll catalog then sat her along side James who was reading the Wall Street Journal on some folding chairs.  She was good but just screamed for more doughnuts as we exited the building. 

So it was not as exciting as my voting experience in 2004 but still a great opportunity to teach my children about the importance of voting.  But you may want read about another individual's voting experience here.

The Aftermath

The results are in and it looks like all the children averaged about 2 1/2 lbs of candy each.  That is except for Clara who either did not climb out of the stroller for every stop, or already ate half her candy on the road.  The idea of letting the children consume all that candy makes me very uneasy.  But it was still fun to be out visiting with neighbors and also fun to sort, organize and calculate the loot.  After our math fun and a few favorite pieces the rest will be donated.

Some may think I'm a mean mom for taking away my kids candy.  But that picture of Clara above explains my reasoning - my children have a very low tolerance for sugar.  If I wish to keep my children content and cooperative, which is essential in the home school setting,  I must limit the consumption of sugary processed foods.

The above chart shows some interesting trends.  The older the children get the more aggressive they are in aquiring the candy but the less likely they are to eat it.  But we will continue the study over the next 10 years because we may find the girls don't follow this trend and will never out grow their sweet tooth.

 

Paul is wishing we had charts from our own Trick-or-Treating because he has several thoughts and theories about the economics and evolution of the holiday.  Maybe its time for him to start his own blog because his thoughts are more entertaining than mine.