all I wanted was to make a baby dress

Have you purchased a sewing machine lately?

As a new bride my mother decided I needed my own sewing machine. She scrounged around and found an Italian brand machine. A Bertinelli, ever heard of it? Nah, neither had I, or any of the repair shops I took it to. It was about 20 years old, but had been reconditioned and was about 88 pounds of sea foam green hardware. The motor sounded much like Mussolini's tank invading France, and it left destruction in it's wake the majority of the time. I look back on that machine as the tool that taught me to swear.

Time went by and we decided to take up with the allies and remove Italian machines from our home. We searched out what my mother and other's had said were good brands, Bernina, Pfaff, Viking...hey Viking, they sound like they could take on any sewing chore and do very well. After doing much research we decided that a Nordic made machine would be great, however the Euro had not yet been created, the iron curtain was still hung, and no matter how we thought it out, we could not afford a "good" machine. We went with a Singer. Yikes. It was a higher education to be sure:

Singer Sewing/Swearing 202. The Sewing/Swearing Technology program provides students with the technical and practical training necessary for work as a seamstress or sailor in a variety of settings, including homes, church, and/or but not limited to submarines, along side drunken sailors, long shore-man or bartenders frequented by the above. Students will examine the sewing machine (over and over and over), material becoming ground up into the feed dogs, thread entanglement and breakage, bobbin tension malfunctions, the use of scissors to extract clothing from the machine and seam ripping on all articles made.

Courses are not necessarily offered in the sequences in which they appear in the catalog. Oh no no no! Students will be thrown for a loop every time they begin to sew! No two projects will ever be the same and multiple application in regard to the same pattern will also turn out different as the machine is possessed by Satan.

Prerequisites for this course are previous work on a Bertinelli Machine, serving 2 years with the merchant marines, or surviving a coup d’état. Testing out is possible if you can go two rounds with...with... heck, my mom! (sorry mom, but yeah, I learned a lot at home!)

30 years have gone by and it's time to buy a new machine. The kids are (relatively) out of the house, we can eat food storage for a month, and save to buy a new (cherubic choruses singing) machine of Nordic heritage!

I thought. Have you seen the price of a new machine? The first store I went into we had to call in paramedics. The sales gal asked me what my budget was. I know I was going to shoot low, I mean really, I know I can't afford even a mid range machine, but all I need is a low end model, so I say (somewhat proudly) $350.00! The poor woman fell over backwards and knocked herself unconscious on a bolt of heavy duty denim.

After the medics took her off, her second came in and politely told me, trying very hard not to laugh, that the LOWEST price machine they sold was $500.00. She could show me a "craft" sewing machine, they come in a cardboard box, third shelf in the scrapbook isle. (swearing is coming back to me) "O.k. well show me what you do have in the bottom of the barrel category. It's been a while."

She takes me over to a "...really nice little machine that has been used as an upgrade. The owner bought it knowing they would return it within 90 days as a trade in... (WAIT! Did she just say "trade in"? as in "I want to trade in my station wagon for a minivan."?) ...so it has only 3 months usage! It retails for $5,000.00 but we are putting out for $1,500.00!" Holy cow, I am dead freaking meat.

When I gasp, she senses my surprise and informs me that to get a "really good quality machine I need to invest, not just buy." I am SO in trouble. She walks me over to -if it were a surf board- would be a long board. "This (she pauses for dramatic effect, arm pointing to the beast) is the Turbo-tastic computerized embroidery/quilting 350! It retails for (please sit down if you aren't already) $25,000.00." (and yes, I am exaggerating a lot in this post, but this price? um, no. THAT WAS THE ACTUAL PRICE!) She waits for a response. I am, frankly, hoping those paramedics haven't left the parking lot because I am feeling my left arm go numb. "You see, you need to invest!" She waits again for me to say something, anything, but I am still trying to get the elephant off my chest. "You can purchase a car, or a sewing machine...." Her voice kind of fades and gets echo-y and at that the room kind of swirls around and begins to turn black.

I woke up (in a cold sweat) with her standing over my (presumably dead) body. "S'mee? S'mee? Oh perhaps I have overwhelmed you. (ya think?) Oh dear, (she begins to giggle) you were serious about wanting a bottom of the line!" She walks me over to a rolling chair and sets me down to look at what she has never touched. Seriously, it had cobwebs between it and the other 3 machines on that desk. There were cobwebs and I think I heard eerie organ music in the background, it was a dark and scary place, the kind of place you just know something bad is going to happen.

"This (she is suddenly channeling Ben Stine) is the WhyBotherSewingAtAll 200. It sews. This model here (moving over one machine) is the Sure,IfYouWantEveryoneToLaughYouOutOf TheSewingGuild 180, it also sews, but it has reverse too. It starts at $550.00, but it's on sale, today until (what time is it now? 12:35) 1:00 for $399.00. This next one, the I'mSoEmbarrassedToEvenBeSittingByIt 450xl3 is also on sale, regularly $800.00, for $499.00. It sews, go backwards, and also makes zigzag stitches. (she begins this speech with those soothing, melodic tones one uses while trying to coax someone off a ledge) Now you see S'mee? Do you see why you need to invest? Why these machines here, well they just sew a straight stitch, maybe a button hole, but those over there, well, all you have to do is throw folded material at the machine and (in a strict German accent) command them to "make a toddler dress, size 4!"- and it's done! No cutting, no sitting at the machine, just done!"

I go through this process with four other sewing centers. Ladies and gentlemen, I have some career advise: Forget being an astronaut. Put down that dream of being a brain surgeon. Don't even think about being a rock star. The real money on this planet is in sewing machines!

I am still in the market for a machine I can afford. (please, for the love of Pete, stop laughing!) I have a few more places to explore before I finally commit to just killing myself. I'll let you know how it goes. Mussolini? Hitler? heck, if they knew how to do it right they would have just forced their enemies to try and buy a sewing machine.

stroke of genius

I saw this on TED (lower left side bar under "looking off the port bow")when it first came out and loved it. Last week Jill Bolte Taylor was interviewed on NPR as the book she has written is being released. This is a fascinating true story of a brain scientist who falls victim to a stroke. She speaks of how at first she doesn't realize what is happening, only that it is beautiful. Eventually she figures out something is wrong and eight years later she is able to express her struggles and what she learned as a scientist who observe the stroke from the inside out.

This talk is well worth the 18 minutes it takes to view. I guarantee you willbe glad you listened to her. Awesome.

You're o.k. I'm o.k.

Olly with the ladies
Originally uploaded by Oliver Steeds

I've been out and about lately, reading, pondering. Seems we bloggers have aging on our minds. So who wants to be America's Top Model? I guess, in a way, we all do. But then there's me. I'm some what low maintenance.

I met my best girl friend years ago. She is tiny in height in shape, but never in hair, nails, or ideas. She is huge with ideas. And generosity, but that's another post. My best girlfriend has always tried to "girlify" me, you know, help me dress better, wear make up, do something -anything- with my hair and generally fem up a bit. o.k. It's not like I'm a lumberjack, but that I am more the hippy chick wanna be. If I had my way I'd look similar to Dharma's mom, Abby Fincklestein, but I'm no where near that cute.

I gave up make up in the 70's because it was just to suffocating on my skin and after a couple of hours I looked like a raccoon anyway. Back then I was 105lbs. with stick straight hair. In the 80's I wanted big hair (read BIG HAIR) like everyone else. So I fried the juju out of it. I also gained a lot of weight so I ended up looking much like a before photo of Richard Simmons...no one wants that, so I eased up on the perms.

Most of the 90's and, up until recent dates, I lived in the perma-pony tail, still sans make up, and let my casual dress lead the way. I wear a suit to church on Sundays because grown up ladies are supposed to do that, but frankly, I'm not a fan. I would love to wear my peasant blouses, broomstick skirt and berks, but I do know that I don't look like Abby enough to get away with that. I don't dye my hair. I have really nice colour anyway, who cares if it is going gray now. I'm 50, deal. I both fell into the "beauty" trap and avoided it, I'm an enigma, go figure. But I am aging and with age comes wisdom, or at least one can hope.

There are wrinkles now. There is the funky stretchy skin all over and the bread dough tummy... probably from eating too much bread. I lose more hair on the pillow than Thor ever will. I shed. Holy cow, do I shed!

But then I think about the women on my favourite t.v. show, the women of the Kombai and Mek tribes. Beautiful black women who have lived their lives in the wilderness of their countries, no make up, no lotions, no Victoria Secret, no Spanks, no toothbrush or nightly showers, no clothes or shoes. No models to speak of, no bill boards or infomercials, no make up counter at the center of the village, nothing. What would Carrie Bradshaw do? Probably throw her Prada pursed, Manolo Blahnik shod and Victor and Rolf draped self off the nearest cliff.

I look at my face in the mirror and see the crow's feet beginning to hop around, I see the laugh lines and my still crooked 'period' teeth. I see the "highlights" of gray in my charcoal hair. I feel the aches and pains from standing on a ladder one too many times. But I also see the wisdom that is coming with each year, the not worrying about the little things anymore, the ability to let things go that are no longer important.

I look to the women who see me as the young kid, and who laugh out loud at all the fuss about carbs, low-fat yogurt and the number of inches on your heels. One of my dear friends, in her 80's, just last week shared with our lunch group how she just looked straight at her doctor and told him he could jump in a lake, she was fine with her weight and at her age she wasn't about to go on a diet. Don't get me wrong, she does water aerobics three times a week, and takes full care of her ailing hubby all the while pulling off a pretty stressful and time consuming church job. She takes care of herself, but she doesn't worry about the outside too much any more. "It's great to go to the pool now. No one cares if you're too fat if you're in your 80s!" She says with a laugh. "You should see those tiny little 25 yr olds! They worry about every little jiggle. They don't realize men LOVE jiggles!" With age came confidence in her true self; added pounds and all.

We live in the U.S. The birthplace of feminism, which was supposed to give us all the "go ahead" to be what we wanted to be rather than having to be what someone else decided for us. And yet, for all those grandiose ideas we all still look to Carry as the role model, as the "it" girl. (a women, I might add, who has wrinkles, smokes like a freaking chimney, colours her hair, and -for all her liberated lifestyle- only wanted what most of us already have, a husband.) What happened to being o.k. and good enough in our own skin? What happened to being revered for who we are and not for what we own, wear, or how large or small certain parts of our anatomy are?

Look at the women in the photo above. Confident, learned, knowing, even sassy. These women grew into themselves not a size 0 designer label. They grew into what they were divinely designed to do. As young women they had full round hips and breasts. As their children grew away from a mother's need, these women's bodies changed and adapted to their new age. Are these women wistful that their bodies have changed, drastically? Maybe. But they go with it anyway. They add to their dog teeth necklace, honours and trophies for their abilities and skills, not for their collection of Jimmy Choos, snow white teeth, or size two body after fourty.

They sag. Their legs are scarred and pocked. The skin drapes over their ligaments and tell the struggle of their existence and experience. Their hair is a ball of woolen snarls, but their eyes... look at their eyes.

I'll give you a minute, go on, click on the photo and check it out as large as it comes. Look at the women.

I'll tell you right now the two on the outside, well, I would love to talk with them. Don't they look fabulous? They look like they have something to say! All three of them look smart, confident, strong in opinion and ethics, interesting and humourous. Wouldn't it be grand if someone saw a photo of us, no clothes, no make up, looking straight into the lens and could say that about each of us?

Now that gal in the middle, don't mess with her, she knows what she wants and I bet she gets it...every time. She doesn't look angry or overbearing, but defined, focused, purposed, and even humble. I bet she is a good friend. Dependable. Sure. The gal on the left, seems like the gal in high school who had it all together, a bit of attitude - the good kind- and always on the edge of laughter, the gal who went to work and got it done. The cutie on the right, I want to know her the most. She just looks like she is ready to share a good story, such smiling eyes.

In their tribe these women will be worked literally to death. Yet in that work will come their honour also. They will be praised for the children they bring into the world, rear and train. As they become older their knowledge will be sought after, and as elders they will be regarded as wise and powerful. Even in their death they will watch over their children and grandchildren and the tribe as a whole. They are revered because they are women. That's enough.

My point is this: Take care of yourself. Eat right, exercise, keep moving, stay involved, but for heaven's sake, take a look in the mirror and give yourself a break. You were designed to wrinkle, gray, and shift your body weight. It happens, it's o.k. Embrace the fact you are aging, it's certainly better than the alternative! Dye your hair if it makes you feel better, but don't feel bad if you don't. Diet if you like doing that, but it's o.k. to buy a size larger (or even more!) than you did when you were young and single. Relax, you're going to be fine the way you are.

Being you is enough.

Do one thing.

Hitting close to home, or disasters that occur miles away- they can and will make our own lives and comforts displaced. In order for our family to feel secure, safe, and self reliant we need to become prepared.

We began a 12 week program that can helped us begin to store and build a 72 hour emergency kit for each member of our family. Thor and I were able to gather all these supplies (and even more!) with little or no money, just squirreling away items we were able to find in the house already and setting them aside.

Twelve weeks to a full kit:

Week 1: BACKPACK - a duffel bag, rolling suitcase, bucket, whatever! Some form of storage for each member of the family. (It doesn't need to be new, just sturdy)

That's it! That's your assignment this week. I'll be back next week with another item to put in your kit.

Tomorrow, a great web site to explore!

BASIC Survival, 72 hr. kit in a can!

This is a repeat post from Oct. 23, 2007.:
BASIC SURVIVAL 72 HOUR KIT IN A #10 can FOR ONE PERSON:

Prepared items that can be stored in a #10 aluminum can, sealed, and set aside in a car or office, etc.. The items would provide sufficient nutrients and calories to sustain life over a three day period, minus fresh water. Sorry, couldn't find a way to get enough water in that can. All in all the items were gathered, and for $8.00, one could have a minimal survival kit of food. We're not talking luxury dining, but the very basic necessary for survival.

You can use a large coffee can, or any #10 can with a rubber or plastic lid. You can use packing tape to seal the seam and it should be "safe", if not the most fresh without a professional form of sealing. (I assume that if you don't have access to a #10 can, you could double bag this in a ziploc.)

Here's a list of what went inside:

Day one:
Morning: 1 hot cocoa, 1 bag of trail mix
Noon: 1 small can of tuna, 1 apple sauce
Evening: 1 granola bar, 1 cracker snack pack
Snack as needed: 3-5 pieces of hard candy

Day two:
Morning: 1 instant oatmeal, 1 apple cider drink
Noon: 1 dry fruit roll, 1 can Vienna sausages, 1 lemonade drink
Night: 1 granola bar, 1 beef jerky log
Snack as needed: 3-5 pieces of hard candy

Day three:
Morning: 1 bag of trail mix, 1 hot cocoa
Noon: 1 cracker snack pack, 1 nut mix pack, 1 beef jerky roll
Evening: 1 granola bar, 1 apple sauce
Snack as needed: 3-5 pieces of hard candy.

This menu requires four cups of water, and provides vitamin C, fiber, carbs, fats, and sugars. We also strongly urged the families to have water stored, enough for each family member's daily requirements. (Usually one gallon per person, per day, for hydration and sanitation.)

We also suggested adding a pack of chewing gum to the outside of the can for tiding hunger pangs. We secured a small can opener to the top of the can, and added the menu and expiration dates of food items on the side of the can.

72 hour kit

When preparing for a possible emergency situation, it's best to think first about the basics of survival: fresh water, food, clean air and warmth; not a weekend at the Four Seasons.

You can't eat that Disaster Elephant whole, so take a basic simple tiny manageable bite. One bite, then another, then another.

Thor and I have our kits stored in five gallon buckets with snap tight lids, we had to be creative, but it fit. Back in the day when we had all five kids at home we stored our kit in a 33 gallon lawn/garbage can with wheels, turned the lid upside down and set a small round table top on it. We put a long tablecloth over that and set it near the front door as a side table. In an emergency we could just toss the table top and cloth, turn the lid right and snap it shut, and roll it wherever we needed it to go. Tacky? Perhaps, but it worked.

Currently our buckets (yes we have more than one because I want to not just survive, I want my chocolate and some amenities during those three LONG days without indoor plumbing! No one says you can't have additional supplies!) -they are stored in a small space near the garage door just inside the garage. We have backpacks filled with smaller, less cozy 72 hour kits in our cars.

Whatever you choose to use make sure it is easily available and near an exit; light weight enough to be carried, or on rollers to be pulled/pushed. Use items that can withstand elements/temperature change if you are storing outside or in your car. Label everything with expiration dates! Check your supplies once a year. Rotate dated items according to dates recommended. I list all items on both the lid and the outside of our buckets. For backpacks I write in permanent ink right on the back. I use block lettering so anyone can identify what is inside without having to unpack the whole shebang.

We always pack a set of sweats for layering, socks, and a pair of shoes we have broken in and know are comfy for walking. Kids clothing can be a year ahead in sizing, better too big than too small. Change out yearly along with other dated items.

Recommended Items to Include in a Basic Emergency Supply Kit (from ReadyAmerica):

• Water, one gallon of water per person per day for at least three days, for drinking and sanitation
• Food, at least a three-day supply of non-perishable food
• Battery-powered or hand crank radio and a NOAA Weather Radio with tone alert and extra batteries for both
• Flashlight and extra batteries
• First aid kit
• Whistle to signal for help
• Dust mask, to help filter contaminated air and plastic sheeting and duct tape to shelter-in-place (during our fires they instructed us that 'regular dust masks' won't do much good in a serious situation, better to purchase a 'particulate matter' mask. We found ours at the local paint store.)
  
• Moist towelettes, garbage bags and plastic ties for personal sanitation (garbage bags are also good for insulation, as a poncho, and I even cooked a chicken in one!)
  
• Wrench or pliers to turn off utilities (you may also want to add the info/instruction on how to turn off utilities.)
  
• Can opener for food (if kit contains canned food) (Thor and I try to store pop top cans whenever we can.)
  
• Local maps
  

Additional Items to Consider Adding to an Emergency Supply Kit:

• Prescription medications and glasses (I just save the previous years glasses and switch them out as I get new ones.)
  
• Infant formula and diapers
  
• Pet food and extra water for your pet
• Important family documents such as copies of insurance policies, identification and bank account records in a waterproof, portable container (You can pack zip drives or dvd with your info as a back up.)
  
• Cash or traveler's checks and change (chances are banks will be closed)
  
• Emergency reference material such as a first aid book or information from www.ready.gov (Or grab a Scout Handbook or Young Women's Camp Manual.)
  
• Sleeping bag or warm blanket for each person. Consider additional bedding if you live in a cold-weather climate.
  
• Complete change of clothing including a long sleeved shirt, long pants and sturdy shoes. Consider additional clothing if you live in a cold-weather climate. (Be mindful that you never know what time of year you'll need this stuff!)
  
• Household chlorine bleach and medicine dropper – When diluted nine parts water to one part bleach, bleach can be used as a disinfectant. Or in an emergency, you can use it to treat water by using 16 drops of regular household liquid bleach per gallon of water. Do not use scented, color safe or bleaches with added cleaners.
• Fire Extinguisher
• Matches in a waterproof container (You can make your own by dipping regular wood matches in paraffin wax. When you scrape the waxed tip over a rough stone or brick the wax peels off, the match ignites, and any remaining wax acts as a fire propellant.)
  
• Feminine supplies and personal hygiene items (Can you imagine being without them?)
  
• Mess kits, paper cups, plates and plastic utensils, paper towels
  
• Paper and pencil (We also added a permanent marker. I.D. infants and children with names and pertinent information between their shoulder blades on their back. Adults can be I.D. as well with SSI# etc. on ribcage or abdomen. =lesson learned from Katrina Victims)
  
• Books, games, puzzles or other activities for children (lots of batteries for hand held video games?)
  

After Katrina I saw a lot of good ideas. One was to add a fresh/new permanent black marker to your kit (see above). When disaster happens make sure to write children's names on their back in between shoulder blades and other pertinent information...just in case. Adults can also i.d. themselves in a discrete body location. Write full name, SSI#, and other I.D. info, again, just in case. Icky to think about, but better to know who I am than to become a "Jane Doe".

Adding extra thick plastic trash bags and having those five gallon buckets can be put together and used as an impromptu potty. Add some t.p. if you want to go the "extra mile"!

If you are unsure of camp cooking or skills, and first aide has been a thing of your youth, invest in a Scout Handbook or Young Women's Camp Manual -they have all the info you need in a concise and easily read format.

Keep your vehicles up to date on fluids and fuel. When electricity goes out so do the gas pumps. (Lessons learned from those stuck on the Bay Bridge during the last big San Francisco quake.)

Chocolate never hurt anyone. Toss a bag of M&Ms in there for mom, Tootsie Pops for the kids. Also, remember those Jiffy Pop popcorn pans? Um, yeah, that would be a great idea too!

So the above is the basics PLUS! Get the BASICS first, then add those things that will bring you comfort.


THIS IS TOO OVERWHELMING! ACK! I CAN'T DO THIS!!!

Not to worry! Tomorrow I will have an even more basic 72 hour kit. One that, seriously, will sustain life for three days, yet be small enough to pack in a # 10 can!

cell phone

Text I have received this week:


"I love you."

"Have gd trp! kiss baby 4 me. tell kids hi"

"ASAP! what wz the code 4 the house?"

"miss you"

"hope ur hving gd day. just listnd 2 barack obama"

"did u get the RS agenda?"

"do u hav S&Ks #?"

"No. I'll take care of it. Thanks."

"barb boxer @ lunch mting"

"mting hillary c tomorrow"

"call k give info pls"


I don't know about you, but some of those I don't get every day!

Profiling for Terrorists=Safety for All!

There are a few of you who literally know what I look like. For the rest of you let me draw you a picture:

5'4"(and that's a stretch), 50 yrs.old, over weight (seriously, just look at the icon, it's pretty accurate), short gray hair, glasses, very stiff legs and neck on the day in question, which means I was slow and walking rather "broken".

As that may be I am still the epitome of the American Enemy, a terrorist.

Yup. According to the folks at The River in Rancho Mirage, I am terrorist material!

I was taking the photographs you see in this post between 8:30a.m. and 10:00a.m. last Friday when I was approached by a Security Guard. Now to his credit, he seemed really embarrassed to "do his job", however do his job he did. Seems that "someone" had reported me. I was "suspicious". This is pretty much how the conversation went down:

Guard: Hello

S'mee: Hey! Pretty day!

G: What are you taking a photo of?

S: (as I am aiming at the roof of the Cheesecake Factory) The scroll work on the facade.

G: The what?

S: The scroll work. See? It's really cool and I bet no one ever pays attention to it. It's going to look great in a tight shot.

G: yeah? hmm.

S: Yeah! I got up early this morning so I could shoot the desert flowers in macro...

G: Really? I'm just learning to do that! Were you up at dawn?

S: Not that early, but early enough to get good light. Now it's too bright and those bougainvillea blooms are giving me trouble; too bright, too much contrast between the white and magenta.

G: So do you work for (a local newspaper)?

S: Oh heck no! hehe, my husband is in a hotel basement for a conference and this is how I keep myself occupied! I just go all over taking whatever sights I can. I like macro shots of architecture and ...

G: Shrubbery. Right. Yeah, you see, that's why I'm here.

S: huh?

G: Yeah, I've been trailing you for about 40 minutes. All I have seen you do is bend over and take pictures of the ground or stick your head in a bush. 'Figured all you were taking pictures of were close ups on flowers and bushes.

S: hehe, yup, I'm weird that way.

G: Well, I hate to say this but I need to escort you to your car. You need to leave.

S: What!?!

G: Yeah, someone called in a report a while back; said they saw you taking "suspicious" photos. Thought maybe we should check it out. That "someone" talked to a store owner who talked with another and then more and more shop owners called in and well, we have rules and policies about this sort of thing.

S: You mean against taking pictures of flowers? I didn't take any photos of people or store designs. You want to check out my film?

G: No, like I said, I've been watching you for 40 minutes and all I have seen is you taking shots of bushes. Well until the rooftop. They think you could be taking photos to use in a (rolling eyes) "plan".

S: Sooo, I'm taking terrorist photos? hehe. Let me explain something. First off, If I were to take off running, you could catch me in three steps. Second, there ain't a fat girl alive who would blow up the Cheesecake Factory! And third, if I were a terrorist and I did somehow manage to blow up this place, what would I accomplish? Blowing up, what, like, 250 old people? I'd be laughed out of terrorist school!

G: hehe, I see your point, but you still need to leave.

So leave I did. Let this be a lesson to you folks. If you are ever in Rancho Mirage, home to the likes of the Betty Ford Center, 12 golf courses, a casino, and the 67% elderly population who boast that Sony Bono was once their Representative...remember that they are also very diligent about civic security! The bushes have eyes! They have a "no tolerance" enforcement for their "suspicious" photographers. Terrorists beware! These folks are on high alert and will take down -or at least escort politely out- anyone profiled as "dangerous!"

I don't know about you, but after seeing these "plan" photos, I'll be sleepin' with one eye open! (shudder!)
(shhhh! That bud right there---> it's a microphone!)

Wow. Watch this:

Besides the intended message, what other ways can we apply this to our lives?

It's a new day.

Like I mention in previous posts, Thor and I married young, in 1976. In all those years we have lived a few different places. Our first place was in a smallish town near the big city. We had little finances to play with so we lived in a tiny apartment in an "o.k." neighborhood. Things went well. Yes we had a murder in the field next to our complex, yes, there was a rape and a few burglaries in the area before we moved. But all in all it was home.

We moved back to our home town just minutes before our first born made his entrance into the world. That apartment was also in an exciting neighborhood. The gal across the sidewalk was a late night worker if you know what I mean. She would set her two toddlers out on the porch while she "entertained" her gentlemen friends, then scoop them up and put them back to bed once the guys left. Kids would riffle through the dumpsters, a house across the street was robbed once, and well, it was home.

Our first "real" house was in another small town. We were the only house on the block for a bit, well us and the strange family across the street. Eventually other houses would be built and folks would move in. Families like the one on the corner where, if you knew about it, you could score some pot. One night the police came to our door in search of "evidence", seems one of the neighbors made another neighbor mad and they fought in our front yard. Someone lost a finger and well, there you go. Good times.

We moved from that house and into an in-law's. We baby-sat that house for a while during their out of state move. A nice house with a huge floor plan and a pool. And evidently a large neon sign that said "Please take any vehicles left in the drive way!" Our one and only car was stolen. Oh well, we liked the pool!

Then we moved to the place we are in now. The second year we were here the house behind ours, kitty-corner, ended up being a crack house. The house across the street had a parolee, and the house down a ways was occupied by a habitual wife beater. Actually beat the tar out of his wife right in our front yard with the kids (ours and theirs) watching.

Still in all those years, all those homes, all that "fun" we never felt the need to lock a door. It was a joke actually. Anyone who knew us would exchange horrified looks when we told them to just come in if they needed to drop off something while we were out. We would leave for vacations and never lock a door. We would come home after long days and find a kid asleep on our couch, not our kid, just someone's friend who knew we were a safe place to rest until their parents could pick them up.

Last Saturday Thor went down to Lowes, laid down $145.00 and brought home a deadbolt and new knob for the door. It's a first folks. Never since I was 18 have I lived anywhere I felt unsafe. But the robberies are happening with regularity and during the daylight hours, and with just moments to spare as far as timing. You leave the house, someone breaks in and by the time you get back from the grocery store everything is ransacked.

Don't get me wrong. For years we both felt it was much better to allow someone to come in and steal what they felt they needed and walk away. Heck, what have we got that is all that great to begin with? Not much. An old piano, an out of date t.v. with a big yellow dot here and another green dot over there. A radio that still plays cassette tapes along with the c.d., and two computers, one with Vista, so you know no one wants that one! Still it's the thought that these robbers trash the place while they search. grrr.

I don't much care if someone takes my "things" just do it with out making me have to replace all the stuff you leave as well. So we have locks now. I hate locks. I hate feeling unsafe. I hate being somewhere I know my neighbors lay in wait to abuse my good nature. I am not a huge fan of creepy people as neighbors.

What to do? What to do? Not much. All we can do is what we have done. Try to make it difficult and harder for our house to break into than someone else's on our block. Great. I feel like "Hey don't rob us, rob our neighbor, cause they didn't protect themselves as well as we have!" Yah, now I'm hoping someone else gets it before we do. ugh. So we now bolt the doors, lock the windows and pray a lot. I went and made a key for each of the kids and there you go. Now we are like everyone else on the planet. Cynical and wary. I hate being wary. It makes me weary.

Celebrity Sighting!

Hey! Lookie over there! I see a celebrity! Me! I'm a guest poster (or is the poser???) at Mormon Mommy Wars today! Check me out!

Me and Dory

I remember being a (very) young bride; and life, it seemed, would never get around to happening for me. I felt then, and still do at times, that I had lived through a tumultuous childhood fraught with many trials that not one of my peers had. I was a bottom feeder, and I felt as though I would never see the top of the tank. Still, there was sibling love, remembrances of giggles and good times, and hope.

I was 18 and my new husband was a very old and wise 19. We moved into a small apartment in a bad neighborhood and thrived on the extra $12.00 a week we had after we paid all our bills. We kind of threw ourselves into the deep end and learned to swim with the currents. Tuna was 52cents a can then. I would measure the economy by that can of tuna for years. Anyone wanting to know our fiduciary skills could monitor it easily by checking out the counter in the kitchen. It would be 20+ years before we would splurge on paper towels.

Prior to our marriage Thor and I had long discussions on children, how many, how soon, how to rear, where to rear them, what kinds of discipline, even if they would share rooms or get a car at 16 if we had money enough. We made goals for home, education, work, and missions before we ever "walked down the aisle." One of those goals was to retire by age 40. We did the math and decided that we could do it.

Well, time goes by and the storms came and went. But you know, even with several years of absolutely no work (hello 80's recession) we were still 'vested' and eligible for retirement at age 42. Wisdom somehow comes with age (at least one hopes), and with that we changed gears and decided that in this new economy, tuna @ $3.49, we probably should continue working and bank more hours into the pension fund. "...just keep swimming!"

In a way it has proven to be a greater blessing than I had anticipated. In these later years Thor's job remained in the same field, but his duties and responsibilities changed. He was now working behind a desk, and often behind the wheel or in the air. He has been sent all over the US and Canada to learn and provide a better way of life for those in his company. He has had opportunities and experiences we never dreamed of. I have also.

As a little girl I could never have hoped for the blessings I have been given. For the trips with Thor to Alaska or Hawaii, to Washington and Washington D.C., to Las Vegas (which I am never really fond of, but I do enjoy being with Thor) and Monterey. Heck, up until 8 or so years ago I had never even considered getting on a plane!

I have met all different people and seen many different cities. I head for the 'sights' while Thor is stuck in a basement. At night we drive to see what the non-tourists do and where they live. I am always able to find interesting places and new things, even if I have been there before.

Tomorrow we head out again to Las Vegas. I will visit with some family and do a lot of room staying! I can catch up on some much needed reading and do a bit of photo shooting. I'll be sure to post the days finds.

I'm not really sure what this post is about other than the idea of sometimes life throws you into the deep end, you get chased by sharks, you ride the swells and surf the waves. As a child I learned so much more because of the 'breakers'. As an adult the 'waves' have also taught me, but they have also been terrific fun.

I have made it to the top of the tank many times during my life. For the most part I live among the kelp, in the middle, a little above and a little below. I just keep swimming.

In the end, looking back, my curvy little knot in the string, my swim in life's ocean, has been very blessed. I am pretty blessed.

In a land of milk and honey...

As a kid, there were four thirsty little mouths and always an empty milk carton somewhere. At one point my mom had a deal with a local women who owned a few cows. We would get our fresh bottles of 100% and skim it to make our butter! The milk was thick and yummy. The butter... amazing!

As an old married lady I felt the extreme luxury of always having the carton to myself, or at least with only one other person to share with. Again, never left overs, always on the brink of milklessness.

As a mom, at times, I had to budget enough money for a gallon of milk a day. There may be a few unsuspecting souls out there who have yet to experience an adolescent boy and his need for "moo juice". I had that times three (13, 16, 18, with a 15 yr old girl and another girl 10). Three teen aged boy-men who could drink milk until, well, the cows came home. It was so bad that they got into a habit of having to ask me if they could have a snack, a glass of milk, anything from the fridge. They are sharks in young man form. To this day my male adult children still feel compelled to ask before raiding the cupboard or fridge. Habit.

So here we are. The two of us. Thor and S'mee. We love our milk too. It's kind of nice not having to worry about the milk being gone. The budget isn't as tight, I can get a carton of fat free for Thor, (gag, blue milk!) and a carton of whole for me and to cook with. I purchase less, but I still watch to make sure we have what we need and that it's fresh. I have never had a problem until this morning.

After being gone for the week and weekend (thank you burglars for not visiting while we were away) ... the milk had gone bad and the bread stale. The times, they are a changing!

It will never happen to S'mee....

Plane Crash I, July 25, 2004 - Fort Collins, Colorado
Originally uploaded by gregor_y.

Almost twenty some years ago I was driving down a city street to deliver my sis in law back to her home with her kids. My minivan was packed to the gills with all of my kids, her kids and it had been a long day. As I drove, I saw ahead of me in the sky a small plane. It was dipping and tilting and I pointed it out to my sis in law just in time to see it completely lose control and dive into the local fair grounds' largest building, exploding on impact and killing the two passengers. Luckily, the building had just been emptied and no one was inside.

This has left a huge imprint on S'mee's little brain. Planes aren't all that fun if they get into trouble.

S'mee's sis in law (yes, another one) left from Vegas this afternoon with her little girl for CA. Her hubby needs to stay and she needed to get home so a short 45 minute hop seemed logical. She left and was expected to arrive sometime around 3:00. Her hubby called me about 7:30 to tell me that she didn't land on time. In fact she had been delayed due to "wing flap failure". Her plane had to circle the airport until fuel was spent so that it could land without benefit of wing flaps, making the landing "very fast". Sis in law reports that all is well, but after seeing the fire trucks, ambulances and other emergency vehicles and personnel waiting for them, it was less than fun for their first flight.

This is my nightmare. I can only imagine what goes through one's head when faced with circling for two plus hours...and what do you say to your little girl?

Holy COW! Tonight's prayers will be a tad longer!

one lesson, 38 years ago made a difference

I was baptized when I was about 8 1/2. Many folks hear this and think that makes me a "dyed in the wool" LDS person. I still think of myself as extremely blessed to have been introduced to the Gospel, to have had a family that accepted it and yes, be baptized while still only 8 years old. I can personally see how this young age baptism blessed my life.

We were converts, and as such -enthusiastic. After a year or so, I had Brother Hitzka as my Sunday School Teacher. He was a regular guy type of guy as I remember, nothing much to write home about. However, one Sunday something prompted him to be a tad more dramatic in his lesson presentation. We were all seated and he asked us to count off, one, two, one, two, one, two. I was a two.

"All of you 'two's please stand up. Go over to the door. Wave to everyone and say good bye." So we all complied. I remember standing there thinking I was going to be given a special assignment, would go off to the kitchen for a glass of water or perhaps out to the grass for something else, who knew? I was excited to be one of the "chosen"! "O.k.!" he said, "You can leave now, bye!" We just stood there not knowing where to go. "Um, BYE now! Go!" and with a swoosh of his hand we understood we were to GO, but where was still a mystery. Irritated, Brother Hitzka stood up, opened the door and began to physically lead each of us 'two's out the door. As he started to close the door, one boy asked, "Where do you want us to go?" "I don't care. I just know you will leave eventually so I thought why wait? Just go now and get on with your lives!" We all stared at Brother Hitzka.

For me, I had some abandonment issues already, so to have my Sunday School Teacher tell me to go began to tear at something familiar inside of me. I was immediately scared to death that I would never be back. I would never go to his Sunday School class again and maybe never see him again either. I felt a loss of love, his love, a love that I didn't think about until that moment in time; but something told me Brother Hitzka did love me. But did he decide not to now? I didn't quite know what to do with this information. The moment seemed very long, but eventually Brother Hitzka asked us all to come back into class.

"I read a scary fact this morning. By the time you kids grow up to be 21, half of you will have left the church. " Oh, now I get it, he's making a point. But inside I didn't feel much better. In fact it made me physically sick and I wanted to throw up. Brother Hitzka explained how when grown ups grow up they aren't much smarter than we were right then. He wanted us to be smart. He wanted us to know that things get hard in life and that sometimes, adults see the only solution to problems is to leave the church and their activity in it. He stressed that the one thing that was smart would be to hang onto our activity NO MATTER WHAT WE FACED AS AN ADULT! I don't remember too much from the lesson than that and the feelings I still have when I remember it all.

Brother Hitzka was right. In my class were 12 kids. By the time we were 21 exactly half of us had left the church for various reasons. "C" left because his family was a complete mess and he just couldn't figure out how to please them, himself, much less God. "G" left due to an early and sad temple marriage that fell apart. "K" left because her parents "shoved the church down [her] throat." Truth be told her parents were nuts, but it was an excuse for her to experiment with the late 70's and not feel guilty. "C" left because she had been abused by her father and when the church became involved the justice was not justice but a "good talking too, but not much else." Bitter. "S" left out of boredom. "E" left out of, again, familial shame brought on by a parent's public sin.

Did the other 6 of us have great lives? No. One of us married a man with children, one of whom decided to be gay. Another lost a spouse. Others had trials with word of wisdom issues, sex, and financial ruin. The truth is EVERYONE had an excuse to leave. EVERYONE had a reason to stay. For me, I also had trials. LOTS of trials. (Haven't we all?) I can honestly say that I could hear Brother Hitzka telling me to leave during each one. The point is this: After that one lesson I was so sick at the thought of leaving my Heavenly Father (someone it took me a lot of work to find) that I couldn't leave. The thinking of inactivity made my stomach ache - hard. I promised myself one thing. "If I ever felt like just staying home, or being mad and wanted to quit, that I would not allow myself to do that. I would work it out however I could, but I would ALWAYS go to church. EVERY Sunday. NO EXCEPTIONS."

That one promise, made by a 9 year old to her future self, has been the saving grace that helped me through thoughts of "This is enough! No more!". Through the desires to go out on the boat, take the day trip, just skip it this once. I realized even as a child that activity is more than sitting through "Dry Council Sunday" and the travelogue "testimonies", the hypocrites that demand this or that and do otherwise themselves. It's more important for me to sit through all the "junk" because that is where I am supposed to be. I have never regretted going to church, even when the lessons have been ridiculous and the drama of the women is worse than anything you see on t.v. Being there is important.

I still feel that love I felt from Brother Hitzka. I feel it through other people now. I know that feeling is directed from Heavenly Father. As a grown up I still have that scary feeling of abandonment. When I think that I would be the one doing the abandoning, it makes me sick. This time I choose to leave. This time I am the one who says, "I don't need you, you are not worth it! I am finding something better, something easier than you." The only difference is that I am saying it to my Heavenly Father. That thought and those feelings are what keep me in the bench, in the dull lesson, in the room when I want otherwise. I want the love and the feeling of going home to my Father someday more. I stay active.

Thanks Brother Hitzka.