Clean

Today I picked up a copy of my driver license record (MVR) for the background check application I'm working on for a new job.

I am pleased to report the following:

No citations on record

No arrests on record

No department actions on record

The MVR only goes back three years for citations. According to the helpful man behind the counter at the Driver's License Division, the last citation I have on record was a speeding ticket in 2003. I remember that day. I was rushing to get to a nursing home to do a good deed (um, karma?!) and was going 35 in a 25 mph zone near the high school (important note: I was not driving in a school zone). School had just gotten out so the police were eagle-eyed. The officer said that he wouldn't have given me a ticket if it hadn't been recently raining, which made the road wet. Sheesh.

What was not on my record was the speeding ticket I got at Devil's Tower National Monument in Wyoming in 2007. Be warned that the moment you drive into the park, the speed limit drops to 25 mph. I got caught doing 40 (which seemed so slow after the 75 mph speed limit on the road to the park). While the very pleasant park ranger wrote up my ticket, I read the park newspaper we were given at the entrance gate. The lead story was all about the high number of wild animals that had been killed by speeding cars, thus the painfully low speed limit. Thank heavens the pleasant park ranger pulled me over before I had a chance to run over any of the hundreds of prairie dogs we saw there.

Man in Black

Tonight we bought Jack his very first suit (and I actually tackled the hemming of the pants!).

He's managed to get by without a suit his whole life. Now all of a sudden he's got all sorts of reasons to need one.

In April he needs a suit for his performance as one of the Beatles in a school production, a family wedding, and my brother's memorial service.

In May he turns 12 and will take on special duties at church that don't technically require a suit, but it will be nice for him to have one to wear when he chooses.

He's my (almost) man in black.

When Is a Rut Not a Rut?

Roger, Jack and I went out to dinner for family night tonight. Not too unusual.

We ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant (Mi Ranchito by the University Mall). We all ordered what we usually order (a veggie burrito and a sangria for me). As usual we inhaled the chips and salsa while we waited for our food. And as usual, because we were stuffed from the chips and salsa, we took home the leftovers for tomorrow.

So what, you may ask, was new or out of the ordinary about that?

Well, we had company, that's what. We were lucky enough to share the evening with Roger's brother and his wife who are visiting from Jefferson City, Missouri, for a couple of days. Thanks for the good times, Jim and Cindy! No estábamos en una rutina esta noche!

Heading West

We headed west looking for an adventure this afternoon.

Roger and Jack loaded up the Jeep with a .22 and some cans of expired v8 juice that I cleaned out of the pantry last week. I tucked in a copy of The Whistling Season, the Ivan Doig novel I need to read for book club this week. The story begins in rural Montana in 1909.

We drove out past the southeast corner of Utah Lake. While the boys set up cans for target practice, I settled in with this spectacular view and began reading.

Not three pages in I came across the following passage, and I knew I'd embarked on quite a journey with these characters.

"Boys? Boys, what would you think of our getting a housekeeper?"

"Would she do the milking?" asked Damon, ever the cagey one.

That slowed up Father only for a moment. Delineation of house chores and barn chores that might be construed as a logical extension of our domestic upkeep was exactly the sort of issue he liked to take on. "Astutely put, Damon. I see no reason why we can't stipulate that churning the butter begins at the point of the cow."

We headed west this afternoon looking for an adventure. Lucky me, I got two!

Abandoned

My husband and son left me for nearly 24 hours while they went off on a scouting adventure. It was really strange being in the house all by myself overnight.

My favorite part was when they came home and I got to hear all about it.

“I am a true explorer," Jack announced. "My pockets are full of rocks, and my shoes are full of rocks.”

Frozen Over

Nope, not talking about the spring snow storms we had today. I'm talking about the rare occasion that the Utah State Legislature does something major with which I wholeheartedly agree!

The governor called a special session and today the legislature repealed an unfortunate bill it passed a couple of weeks ago which represented a huge step backward for transparency in government. Goodbye HB477.

Public outcry to the rescue!

Cancelled

A few months ago I started doing something really smart. Jack and I always get our hair cut at the same appointment, but we'd always end up being pretty shaggy by the time we went. I'd only remember to call for an appointment when the salon was closed or our stylist wasn't working, and we'd end up waiting too long between appointments.

One day while we were getting our hair cut, I asked if we could make our next appointment right then. And we did! We don't get as shaggy now that I don't have to remember to make appointments in a timely fashion.

Today I picked Jack up at school for our scheduled appointment. Just as we were leaving, he said, "I can't get my hair cut because I'm one of the Beatles."

"No, he can't get his hair cut for two more weeks," said his teacher.

The sixth grade is doing a Music Through the Ages performance on April 4th, and, yes, Jack is one of the Beatles and must sacrifice for his art, even it it means getting shaggy.

I was the only one to get my hair cut at today's appointment.

Texas Toad

Time for a little something new that isn't life changing.

Roger wrote a post for his daily library blog about the Mountain West Digital Library, which is a repository for digitized items, some of which are pretty unusual. It includes things like images, stories and audio clips.

Click here to hear the voice of a Texas toad. It's the sound of summer on its way!

Keeping the Mystery Alive

I decided to accept the job offer I was given yesterday. I can't say where I'll be working quite yet because the employment offer is contingent on a few things, including a background investigation, a polygraph test and a drug screen.

Even more curious now?

Here's another tidbit. Before I start the job, I will be required to attend "training for avoiding sexual and other harassment."

Huh

So, completely out of the blue I got offered a job today. I actually think I might take it, but I'm going to sleep on it first, because, well, it was completely out of the blue.

Here's why I'm leaning toward taking it:

1. It involves something I believe in, and I might really be able to make a difference in the world.
2. I would be given fairly free reign to design the program I'd be responsible for. Very little micro-managing from above.
3. It involves developing relationships with a variety of non-profit organizations and connecting people with their services, which sounds like satisfying work.
4. It involves teaching without grading.
5. The pay isn't awesome, but it is respectable.
6. It is a highly flexible job, which would enable me to work more during the school year and less during the summer.
7. It's a part-time job, so I can continue teaching classes at UVU without being stretched too thin.
8. It could easily lead to new and unexpected opportunities in the future.

You never know what might happen when you wake up in the morning.

Jim the Mouth

This morning I attended the church I grew up in with my family. Lots of people have moved in and out over the years, so I didn't know most of the people there, but it was good to see a few old friends.

Pictured here is Jim (circa 1979), who was one of our youth leaders when I was a teenager. That's me behind him, trying to make the same face. (I did finally learn how.)

For a while, my brother worked at the same company with Jim, and they often drove in to the office together. Mom and Dad thought it would be nice to have Jim speak at Robbie's memorial service in April, and he graciously agreed.

You can tell by looking at him that he'll do a fabulous job, no?

Bound Together

My brother is free of the body that tortured him his whole life, especially in these last months.

But because we are inextricably linked forever, Robbie, you will never be free of the little sister who tortured you.

I will remember you every time I stuff every color of gumball in my mouth until I’m chewing a big old gray wad as loudly as I can. I will remember you every time I improvise and don’t sing a song the way it was meant to be sung as loudly as I can. I will remember you every time I win a game of Monopoly and flaunt it as loudly as I can.

Did you know that the first big word I learned was “provoke”? As in, “Margy, don’t provoke your brother!”

No, dear Robbie, you will never be free of me!

A Day with Charlie

The easiest way to get around Boston today was on the MBTA, so I got to buy a Charlie Ticket, which is named for Charlie in an old Kingston Trio song.

I only rode the Red Line. First from the parking garage at Alewife to Harvard Square to meet my sister Maryann, who teaches English as a second language at the New England School of English.

Then to the Charles/MGH stop to visit my brother. We got there just in time to see my aunt Sigrid, who drove up from Connecticut for a short visit with Robbie, before she turned around and headed back home again.

Little by little the family gathered in Robbie's room--Mom and Dad, both of my sisters, and me. I looked at my brother, talked to him and touched his cheek. He opened his eyes just a bit. I thought about how much he looks like our Grandpa Charlie, which surprised me.

One of his doctors, a nurse, and a social worker asked us to meet with them in a conference room. We talked for a long time. His situation is deteriorating rapidly.

Dinner with the family nearby the hospital to talk some more about hard stuff. When the rest of the family headed home, my sister Maryann and I took the Red Line to Park Street. We were planning to go to a reading--a plan we had made before the serious talk with the doctor. After we got there, we decided our brains were much to scattered to focus on anyone else's stories.

We left and found a local coffee shop, ordered some hot chocolate, and hung out on a big leather couch talking, trying to process everything. It's all so surreal. I vacillate between rational thought and deep emotions that catch me off guard.

More than anything I want my brother to have peace.

When the coffee shop closed, we hopped back on the Red Line at Downtown Crossing and took it back to Alewife.

And We're Not Even Irish!

Everything went according to plan today with lots of serendipity thrown in for good measure.

Despite the fact my alarm clock went off later than I expected, I got to the airport in plenty of time. No lurid stories to report about airport security. No problem finding a spot for my carry-on in the overhead bins on a very full plane.

I sat in between two interesting people on the plane. I diligently graded three student papers, then gave up and enjoyed great conversation all the way to Boston. The man on my left works for a food wholesaler and was on his way to the International Boston Seafood Show. The woman on my right was on her way to visit her grandmother. At one point during some turbulence, she grabbed my hand and begged, "I know you don't know me, but do you mind?" When the plane settled down she let go of my hand, and laughed as she said, "The ironic part about being afraid of flying is that I'm an aerospace engineer." Turns out we're booked on the same flight back to Salt Lake City on Sunday.

Even though we were late taking off, we landed a little early. Dad pulled up to the curb just as I got there, and we took the scenic route to the hospital, right through the heart of St. Patrick's Day celebrations around Faneuil Hall. We enjoyed our own little private parade when a troupe of bagpipers played as they crossed the street in front of our car.

We found a parking spot straightaway at the hospital and headed up to see my brother Robbie, who is still hanging in there. Mom showed up, then one of my sisters. My parents' bishop came and he and Dad gave Robbie a blessing. Jack called when he got home from school (his braces are now off!), and Roger called to make sure I got there safely.

It was too hard to tell if Robbie could really understand us. He didn't open his eyes, but he did move his head. I hope he knows we were all there. I hope he knows.

When I got ready to settle in for the night, I realized I forgot to pack pajamas. Mom produced a nightgown for me. Of course it was fine. The luck of the Irish was with me today.

I hope it's with Robbie, too.

Order Amid Chaos

When I got home from Costco the other day, I realized that I couldn't fit everything I bought into the pantry (like, yes, an entire case of boxed macaroni and cheese).

Time to eliminate all excess packaging. Time to purge all expired food (um, chicken broth that expired in 2007? Ugh!). Time to impose some order on the rest.

This week has been full of uncertainty. Getting news about a cousin and his family in Tokyo after the earthquake--they are okay! Getting Jack's report card and meeting with his teachers--he gets all the concepts, but he, uh, needs to do more of the work to get credit for what he knows. And getting updates about my brother--still hospitalized and not recovering.

Yesterday, my parents and sisters had a conference with his doctors and some other hospital personnel about his condition, and the all-around report is that his situation is grim and could deteriorate rapidly.

Today, I booked a flight to Boston, finished reorganizing the shelves (look at all the extra space!), and took a load of cardboard packaging to the recycling dumpster at Jack's school.

Tomorrow, I fly.

I do not know what is in store for my brother or if I will get there in time to see him. I do not know how things will play out in Japan. I do not know if Jack will embrace the concept of turning in work to get the grades his mind is capable of.

But I do have an orderly pantry, an empty recycling bin, and a reservation for seat 13E.

Precocious

This afternoon I worked a shift at the elementary school book fair. When I got there I discovered that the librarian wanted one of us to pick something from the book fair inventory and read to the fifth graders coming in for their library time.

I raised my hand first. Lucky, lucky me!

I looked through my options and settled on a theme: precocious birds. Before I read the books, we talked about what the word precocious means. (I make a point of taking every opportunity to share a new vocabulary word. And precocious seemed to be a good word to share with a bunch of fifth graders.)

First I read Terrific by Jon Agee, which is about a grumpy man and a smart parrot with a broken wing stuck stranded on a desert isle. The parrot engineers their escape and the grumpy man gains a more optimistic outlook on life.

I followed that up with a story about the most awesomely precocious duck ever in Thump, Quack, Moo by Doreen Cronin and Betsy Lewin. Farmer Brown works hard on a corn maze during the day, but Duck puts on his night-vision goggles and reworks it during the night. They (and we) finally see their masterpiece when they take a balloon up to see it from above.

Duck never fails to pull the fast one on Farmer Brown. He quacks me up every time.

First Annual

Enjoyed our first Pi Day celebration with friends and lots and lots of pie. Mmmm. I think I'll just slip into a coma now.

Plan(n)ing

Today I researched flight information for a trip to Boston next month. Jack and I will be flying back for a family wedding in Connecticut and some other important activities, like visiting my brother in the hospital. Sadly, Roger must stay behind to keep the home fires burning.

When I was a teenager, I didn't want to spend my money on clothes or makeup or music. I was a total travel geek and worked hard to save up for plane tickets.

Having an adventure to look forward to is the best!

The Duck Was My Favorite

Here's one of the reasons I like Facebook: Last night one of my Facebook friends (an old work acquaintance) posted about today's performances of Peter and the Wolf at symphony hall. I checked the Utah Symphony website and discovered he was the narrator! I immediately pitched the idea of attending to Roger and Jack, who couldn't resist my enthusiasm even if they wanted to, and booked three tickets for the 12:30 performance.

We thoroughly enjoyed the show, both the symphony and the ballet. We had second row seats way on one side, and because we were so close to the stage, which was just above eye level, some of our view was obscured by the scenery. We couldn't see the conductor, much of the orchestra, or the narrator, but it turned out that we had absolutely perfect seats for the arrival of the wolf!

The sassy duck, though, was my favorite. So sad she got eaten.

Into the Weeds

I've decided that I'm going to write up examples for the series of research papers I require my students to write. At first, I was going to do something straightforward. Or perhaps something random to show how nearly any topic can be pursued within academic parameters.

But I ended up choosing something truly complex--a topic we often discuss at a theoretical level with seemingly clear moral principles guiding us, but then our thinking starts to fall apart when we apply it to real life situations. And now I'm publicly committed to my topic because I've presented the first exploratory essay I wrote to my classes this week. I've got to see it through!

Generally, I'm writing about how we balance our societal value of the sanctity of life with our values of individual responsibility and the freedom to make choices about our own lives and families. Specifically, I'm writing about what can/should guide our decisions about health care on behalf of family members who can't speak for themselves and who are facing serious quality of life issues. And even more specifically, what role should the law play?

Today, independently of the research I'm doing for class, I came across this video of a couple telling their painful story to a reporter from the Des Moines Register. They faced a crisis in the wife's pregnancy after 20 weeks, the point at which abortion is no longer legal in Nebraska under any circumstances. As I watched the video, I realized that their story illustrates many of the issues I am exploring in my research.

So now I may draw on debates about abortion when the life of an unborn child is in jeopardy as well as debates about end-of-life care and the right to die.

What am I thinking?! I hope I can actually model a way to untangle the threads and frame the issues effectively in a relatively short paper. Here's to giving it the old college try!

Basebawl

Jack's eyeball met a baseball tonight. His first black eye is coming on. This has been a tough week for the Jackmeister.

My Bad

I'd like to think that I rarely make big parenting mistakes. Jack may hold a grudge about this one for a while.

A week or so ago, Jack said that one of the brackets for his braces was loose. He said it more than once. I pretty much blew it off thinking that his next appointment was so soon.

Plus he'd be getting his braces off anyway.

Well, today was the day he was supposed to get his braces off, and the orthodontist said he needed another week. Apparently the loose bracket actually slipped down on his tooth and put enough pressure on it to mess him up.

One day, maybe, Jack will look back on this and laugh. Really a week is just a week. But today it feels like a massively unfair setback. And the blame rests squarely on me.

My bad, Jack. I'm sorry.

Please Don't Let It Kill Us

Jack was in charge of planning and cooking a dinner for his scout troop to pass off a requirement. Roger and I were invited. While we sat by a campfire in his scout leader's backyard, Jack cooked up some hot dogs on the grill.

He decided to say the blessing on the food himself. "Thank you for the food. Please don't let it kill us."

Our hearts are all still beating. Good job, Jack!

No Good Deed

Today no good deed went un . . . rewarded! This afternoon, I helped a neighbor get to an appointment with her ophthalmologist. We took her car because our Jeep is tough to get in and out of. And she's got herself a spanking new Cadillac. So we breathed in that new car smell and enjoyed that smooth, smooth ride all the way to Provo and back.

I am a driver at heart. Yes, I am.

Five Things I Learned From Student Papers

I never know what I'm going to learn reading student papers. Here are a few tidbits from today's batch:

• In Hawaii, people do not have to pay property tax on their cars. (Glad they get a break on something. I hear it's very expensive to live there.)
• It is smart to wait an hour after exercising to eat. (Flips the old wives' tale on its head. I need to check into that one further. Could be onto something.)
• Getting a college degree used to guarantee that you'd get a good job. (Really?)
• Only 5.7% of nurses are men. (Source not cited, and not clear whether stat refers to nursing in the United States or elsewhere as well. Sounds about right for our neck of the woods, though.)
• The president of Uzbekistan has a thing for erecting golden statues of himself. (I googled him and discovered that is among the least of his problems.)

Wrangling

Jack finds treasures everywhere, and he almost never wants to let go of anything. It can be overwhelming for a purger and wannabe minimalist like me.

On my way to Salt Lake City yesterday, I stopped at Ikea and bought inexpensive boxes to help Jack wrangle at least some of his treasures by getting the shelves over his bed more organized.

Today I got the boxes assembled, cleared off the shelves (including much dust despite the cat constantly roaming around on them and knocking things off), and neatly arranged it all. Little by little I will help Jack figure out what he'd like to keep in the boxes and label them accordingly.

And although I'm a purger and a wannabe minimalist, I'm also a big fan of color and fun design. So while I was at Ikea, I also picked up a little something for me.

Traversing: A Triptych

Part One

All day and into this night my thoughts are with my brother Robbie, who is being flown by air ambulance from Nairobi to Cairo to Prague to Reykjavik to Newfoundland to Montreal to Boston. By the time I wake up tomorrow, he should be settled in at Mass. General.

I worry that he has not been able to breath on his own for nearly four months and that he cannot move his body. Robbie is someone who has demanded control over his circumstances and the people around him for as long as I can remember.

I wonder what he must think and feel now that he is at the mercy of others.

Part Two

A couple of stories made the rounds today. Opposite ends of human nature.

The first was this ugly, ugly video of people, including at least three elected officials, protesting Muslims at a fundraiser held by the Islamic Circle of North America for a women's shelter. I wonder if the protesters know that Allah is Arabic for God, and that Arabic Christians worship Allah. If God exists, it stands to reason that we are all children of the same God regardless of our faith or understanding.

The second story was a hopeful one about an LDS congregation in Missouri that shares its church each Friday with a group of Muslims who are in need of a place to worship while they work on building a mosque.

More of the latter, please.

Part Three

High on the side of a mountain with a stunning view of the lights of Salt Lake City, my nephew's wife, Cambria, was showered with gifts this evening in anticipation of the birth of their first child, who will change their lives forever. When he is a few months old, his parents will take him to California or Ohio or Wisconsin or New Hampshire so his dad can attend medical school.

My niece Megan, Cambria's sister-in-law, gave the mom to be this most awesome gift.

Driving back on I-15 after the party and lost in thought, I missed my exit. But I made it home.

Handwritten

On the way in from the school bus, Jack grabbed the mail for me. As he walked up the front steps, I saw him holding an envelope of Valpak coupons and a giant flier from Brent Brown Chevrolet.

"Ugh. So boring!" I whined.

Jack plopped the mail down on the coffee table. And then I saw the corner of a white envelope peeking out from the middle of the stack.

A real letter! So rare! (Thanks, Carolyn!)

The immediacy of the internet is fabulous, but I truly love getting real letters, especially when they're handwritten. My far-flung friends and I used to correspond like mad well into adulthood. Great, great memories.

And way, way better than stacks of coupons for oil changes, carpet cleaning and dental services.

A Cow in Kenya

Well over a year ago, my niece Lauren sent a message out to the extended family asking us if we'd like to join a family team at Kiva, an online microfinancing organization. I quickly said "Yes!" because it was something I'd already been thinking about doing.

Fast forward (as only a serious procrastinator like me can do) to the present day and the fact that as of this morning when I woke up, I still hadn't followed Lauren's lead.

Shortly after waking, I read this article. Mohammad Yunus, a Bangladeshi economist and pioneer of microfinancing, has run into trouble. From what I can gather, he's being called on some possible technicalities, not on anything nefarious.

I have followed Mr. Yunus' work for a long time, and I decided that today was the day to honor his work and get down to business with Kiva.

I recruited Jack to help me find an entrepreneur to make a loan to. We decided to find someone in Kenya, thinking that might send some positive energy in the direction of my brother, who is still in a Nairobi hospital and unable to breath on his own.

We have officially thrown in with Mr. Mwangi to help him buy a dairy cow!

Update: The day after I posted this I learned two things. (1) Mr. Mwangi's loan was fully funded, and (2) After months of waiting for my brother's condition to stabilize and for everything to fall into place, arrangements were finally made to fly him by air ambulance from Nairobi to a hospital in Boston.

Just Say Nein

As Jack transitions into his teen years (oh my!), we want to be sure he's armed with information that will help him make good choices. Tonight we went over the drawbacks of using illicit substances.

We found this to be a helpful, if unconventional, visual aid:

Maybe this isn't the the most auspicious way to put it, but my hope is that a little humor helps the medicine go down and stay down (unlike the alcohol in the video).

You Can't Go Home Again

It's been nearly five years since we turned off the red neon leaf that hung over the entry of our happy, happy bookstore.

Today I went into the toy store that moved in after us for the very first time.

Five years ago I was unprepared for the emotional toll it would take on me to spend three months publicly dismantling our business, and I was even more unprepared for how lost I would feel for so long after it was closed.

Only recently have I felt I've begun to regain my footing.

So today, when Jack asked me to take him to the toy store because he knew they'd have what he was looking for, I took a deep breath and decided I was ready.

There was barely a trace of our old space. And it was okay! Truly, truly okay.

"It's a Major Award! And I Won It!"

Look what we have in our front window!

Sadly (because who wouldn't want a leg lamp in the front window?), it's only a temporary home for it. Roger will be sneaking it in to work early in the morning to surprise a coworker.

The leg itself, originally part of a full human form, was made for an exhibit at BYU that never saw the light of day. The reasons for that are shrouded in mystery.

Apparently all that remains is the leg. Which, of course, screamed "leg lamp"!

(If you don't know the hilarious origin of the leg lamp, click here to watch the clip from the movie The Christmas Story.)

So yesterday we went to Ikea and found a lamp on clearance, stopped at Hobby Lobby to pick up the gold fringe, then stopped by Roger's office to pick up the leg, which he had been storing under his desk for just this moment.

Roger put it all together in a complex operation that involved drills and wire splicing and hot gluing and a bit of physical pain. Et voila!

I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Roger's coworker discovers it on his desk. This is the stuff of leg-ends, er, legends.

It Was a Big One

Today we went to our friend Scott's 50th birthday surprise party. He is the first of my college friends to turn 50. Crazy!

Just for the record, Scott is a few years older than me, which reminds me of a great birthday card I saw once. On the front a couple of friends are talking and one says, "I know. Let's get older!" Then on the inside the other one replies, "You go first!"

Thanks for paving the way, Scott!

Meeting Ashley

My nephew Tim, who is in graduate school in Boston (excuse me while I pause for a moment of pure envy), got married to Ashley last fall.

I haven't had a chance to meet Ashley in person yet, but am happy that she let me friend her on facebook sight unseen. Especially because today she posted a link to her new blog, in which she writes about her student budget dollar-a-day "splurges" designed to avoid true budget busting splurges. Her personality shines through, and I love the little glimpses of her Boston neighborhood.

What a fun way to get to know her before I meet her!

Plus there's this: I've put off getting a wedding present for Tim and Ashley (according to the "rules," I have a year, right?) because I want to pick something that will suit them. Even if it ends up being an impersonal gift card, I want it to be a gift card for a store they'd really like to shop at. Her blog is going to give me all sorts of ideas!

Accessory Impaired

I am generally accessory impaired.

Except for my wedding rings on my left hand, a friendship ring on my right, and (yes!) a toe ring that I always wear, I rarely wear jewelry. Maybe the odd bracelet or string of pearls. And once in a while I try to get earrings through the disappearing holes in my ears. I don't even own any belts.


Accessories never feel quite right on me.

Lately I've been a bit envious of the scarves my friends wear. They look so hip. Like maybe they've just come home from a weekend in Paris.

I want to look hip and like I've just come home from Paris. So I bought a scarf and I wore it for the first time today.

I'm afraid I am still just as accessory impaired as I've always been. Even after doing a bunch of research online, I couldn't figure out a way to tie it that didn't make me feel extra voluminous or make my collar go all wiggy, so I just let it hang around my neck. It didn't really make me feel hip.

Maybe what I really need is to actually go to Paris for the weekend.

Packing a Lifetime into a Lunch

I had lunch today with an old friend I haven't been in touch with for maybe 20 years. She started a new job at Utah Valley University a few months ago, and I headed over to meet her at the Hogi Yogi in the student center after classes today.

So fun to catch up with her!

I loved hearing about her on again off again transatlantic relationship with the Irishman she eventually married. They knew each other in grad school in Utah, and then met again a few years later. They dated awhile but things petered out. She was about to take a job in Seattle when he called to say let's try again. She flew to Ireland to see him figuring she'd end things once and for all, but a spark lit them on fire again. Two children later, they're still going strong.

And the whole time I had no idea all that was happening. I want to find all my old friends and hear their stories. Just think about all the living that's been going on all these years!

Ouch!

I have learned far too many times that procrastination can pay off. I can't even count the number of times I have put off a task only to find it wasn't necessary after all. Or the number of times I have put a task off and then discovered a better way to approach it. Or the number of times taking care of a task in a timely fashion would have actually created more work.

It's not a particularly good lesson for someone who tends to procrastinate.

Today I learned that lesson (yet again) in an unusual way--by actually doing something without putting it off first. I was cooking dinner and decided to empty the dishwasher while I waited for some water to come to a boil. The dishwasher had just barely completed its final cycle.

Let's just say that I will be waiting for the dishes to cool off from now on. My fingertips are still feeling the trauma.

The Witching Hour

I am actually going to turn out the light and go to sleep before midnight tonight. It's true!

Rationalizing Rations

I caught Jack's cold.

Feeling sorry for myself, I rationalized, "I deserve a treat!" (even though I had already snarfed down a couple of fun-size Snickers bars and four Golden Oreos earlier in the day).

So I cracked open a box of Peppermint Crunch Junior Mints that I got in my stocking for Christmas and gave them a try for the first time.

A tasty treat, but I think I prefer my Junior Mints smooth. That said, the box of Peppermint Crunch will be gone by the end of the week.

This Explains the High Notes

Not sure how I missed this tidbit in the past 47 years, but did you know that the tune of The Star-Spangled Banner was originally a popular British drinking song? I learned that today.

I'm going to tuck that knowledge away next to things like the fact our Pledge of Allegiance was written by a socialist and the irony of Patrick Henry saying "Give me liberty or give me death"** when he was a slave owner.

I downright revel in the rich complexity of our nation's history that is, well, human. Let me have it in all of its paradoxical glory. None of that one-dimensional lore for me!

**Click here to play an actual 9 second recording of me reciting a line about Patrick Henry in my sixth-grade bicentennial choir performance. Yes, it's really me. Feel free to laugh at my accent.

Then and Now

One of my students just emailed me a makeup assignment because he missed class today. He wasn't in class because he is in Nicaragua for a week. He is visiting a friend who is working construction at a new resort there. He will be spending his days on a surf board.

This is the first time I've ever had a student submit an assignment from another country. I confessed I was jealous when I emailed a reply.

Before he left, we talked about how Nicaragua was not exactly a vacation destination when I was in college in the early 80s. During those years of counter-revolution in the aftermath of revolution, however, several of my more radical family members (including my 80-year-old grandmother) traveled to Nicaragua for political and humanitarian purposes (not necessarily in support of official U.S. interests).

As an international relations undergrad and because I was intrigued by the work my grandmother and cousins were involved with, I ended up writing several papers about U.S. foreign policy toward Nicaragua and human rights issues there. My grandmother even flew out from Chicago to speak about her experiences with Witness for Peace in Nicaragua at a peace symposium I helped organize at BYU (my own small but passionate attempt at being radical).

If I'd had a chance to go to Nicaragua as a college student, I'd have jumped at it. But I'm not sure surfing would have been on the itinerary then.

Judy's House, Joe's Luggage

Earlier tonight I picked up my friend Emolyn under the rising full moon and it followed us all the way to our friend Judy's house for book club.

I've never been to Judy's house before! What a pleasant place to spend a few hours with interesting women discussing Major Pettigrew's Last Stand (which I recommend) and catching up on all of their various adventures.

The fat full moon reminded me of a favorite scene from Joe vs. the Volcano in which Joe is lost at sea, floating on steamer trunks he's lashed together. Basking in the company of good friends and intelligent conversation reminded me to be thankful, like Joe, for my life.

A Serious Turn

Heartbreaking news this week here, here and here. And just in the last few weeks I've had three students write about or talk in class about similar situations in their own lives.

I work hard to put myself in other people's shoes, to try to understand how they see the world. But I don't know how to understand this. I mean really understand it, not just intellectually know the reasons.

How do people get to a place where they feel free to wreak havoc on a person's mind and spirit by wreaking havoc on their bodies?

I have personally never considered myself a victim of abuse, but it astounds me that when I think back over my own life, I need at least two hands to count the number of times boys and men--unequivocally uninvited--have crossed darn inappropriate lines with me, including three that actually broke laws currently on the books.

Two hands! That's not okay!

When I was in graduate school, I focused my studies in political science on public policy. I worked in the Utah County Attorney's office and wrote a thesis evaluating a Utah statute designed to minimize trauma to children testifying in abuse cases. After graduating, I continued to be involved as a volunteer with the interagency Utah County Child Abuse Council, which ultimately founded the Children's Justice Center in Provo.

For years I was steeped in a whole lot of reality. And while there has been legitimate push back against things like false allegations of abuse in custody battles and people recovering false memories, there have been far, far too many real perpetrators and real victims.

What gives me hope is that I have seen up close so many people working so diligently to protect adults and children, to stop cycles of violence and abuse. Most valiant among them are victims who tell their stories and who give others hope and perspective that can be healing.

I have to believe all of their efforts are not for naught. But honestly, it's been hard to believe this week.

Literally

A contribution from Jack, who shared this funny trailer parody with me this evening. Thanks for a good laugh, Jack!

Be Still, My Beating What?

Valentine's Day brought an unexpected surprise to our house.

Roger found this electronic drum kit for less than half of retail price at one of his favorite websites: woot.com.

Every night at midnight central time (11:00 p.m. in our neck of the woods), Woot! updates its website with the one product it will be selling for 24 hours or until it's sold out, whichever comes first.

Random stuff, awesome prices and $5 flat-rate shipping no matter what it is. Happy, happy!

Common Ground

My grandmother became a Quaker fairly late in life. She was the daughter of Scottish Presbyterian missionaries, the wife of an active Episcopalian, and a life-long skeptic who could never quite bring herself to profess a belief in God, but who remained steadfast in her life-long study of religion. Once I asked my grandmother what she truly believed in. She paused for a minute and said, "world peace."

When I was a teenager, she gave me a slim little volume called The Faith & Practice of the Quakers by Rufus M. Jones. She thought that if I wanted her to learn about my family's religion, I should learn about hers. Like most teenagers would, I thanked her and then tucked the book away somewhere without looking at it. Today, more than 30 years later, I pulled it out and started reading it.

I can see why my grandmother was drawn to the Society of Friends, who were committed to reviving New Testament Christianity, the essence of which they believed had gotten lost over the years in a sea of creed, ritual, and dogma. Quakers focus on peacemaking, alleviating human suffering, light, truth, life, love, redemption. The Reformation wasn't enough for them. They felt it "failed to restore the original spirit, power and authority of the apostolic church."

I wish I'd read that slim little volume before my grandmother died. I think we'd have found a lot of common ground to talk about.

The Force Is Strong with This One

Jack picked the topic for today's post.

This is his newest Lego construction project, the Star Wars Imperial Shuttle.

At 2503 pieces and for ages 16+, it is the largest and most complex Lego project he's built so far--probably twice as big as any other.

Jack had to save up his own money to help pay for it, and even though he received a lego.com gift card for Christmas that put his earnings over the top, we made him wait until February to order it. He had a lot of Lego under the tree this year, and we thought some pacing would be good for all of us.

It arrived yesterday afternoon, and Jack worked on it straight--except for forced food breaks--until the midnight deadline we set. When he woke up this morning, he went right back to work. The whole project took him about eight hours.

That's a boy with focus. Proud would Yoda be.

Am I a TEDster Now?

I am basking in the after glow of attending my first live TED event at BYU this afternoon. I've been a TED fan for years and have enjoyed watching many of the speakers online at the TED.com website. What an awesome new dimension the TEDx concept is!

As someone who believes in the TED mission of spreading good ideas, I liked everything about it. The organizers did a fabulous job, from keeping things running smoothly to selecting inspiring speakers to serving amazing refreshments. Seriously. Fabulous.

Here's just a smattering of what I reveled in:

Innovation and social entrepreneurship. Seeing things in new and often counterintuitive ways. Making unexpected connections. Building relationships. Designing simple, elegant solutions. Honoring the dignity of every human being. Trusting and being trusted. Being bold, not reckless. Believing we are all on the same team.

TEDsters are definitely my kind of people.

Dark Thoughts

A couple of days a week, I'm totally booked between 10:30 and 3:00 without any break for lunch. I've been on the lookout for snacks to pack along that are easy to eat and that will tie me over until I get home.

I found these at the grocery store today:

Low fat Quaker Oats dark chocolate cherry granola bars. Mmmm.

I grew up in a predominantly dark chocolate loving family and married into a predominately dark chocolate loving family. I will always choose dark chocolate over milk chocolate, and will generally pass on milk chocolate altogether.

A couple of years ago, I learned a good lesson about strong, enthusiastic family preferences and the pressure that can put on individual family members when Jack approached us very sheepishly with a confession.

"I like milk chocolate better than dark chocolate," he said. And then, encouraged by the fact that we didn't freak out, he went on. "Actually, I don't like dark chocolate at all. Is that okay?"

So okay! And however much I love it, I will always choose that boy over dark chocolate!

My Newest Oldest Hero

An ironic turn of events today in light of yesterday's post.

A few days ago, my 94-year-old neighbor slipped on the ice while she was getting her mail. Her back hurt a bit, but she thought she'd be okay. The pain, however, continued to grow to the point that she couldn't eat or sleep. She ended up in the emergency room this morning.

I stopped by the hospital to check on her after class this afternoon. Two bones in her back were crushed! Another neighbor and I kept her company until they wheeled her off for an ingenious surgical procedure in which an interventional radiologist uses a needle to inject glue to fuse the bones. If it works, she'll be in a lot less pain and walking out of the hospital tomorrow.

While we were waiting and chatting and waiting some more, we joked about the impact this injury would have on her golf game. I asked her when she last played. Turns out it was a mere three years ago, when she was 91!

And on top of that, when I helped her take off her socks, I discovered her toes were painted bright red.

I want to be like her when I grow up.

Meeting for Drinks

At about 10:00 this morning Jack calls from his school's office. Slipped on ice during recess. Leg really, really hurts.

Mean Mom wins out over Enabling Mom. "You can make it through the day, Jack."

About 11:30 the phone rings again. "Please, please come get me. My leg still really, really hurts."

Enabling Mom is wavering, but Mean Mom still thinks she's right. "I'll be there in a half an hour, but no promises."

At noon I pack up a bag with a can of apple beer, two cups and a bottle of Advil. I drive to the school and have the secretary page him. We hang out together in the office for about 20 minutes drinking our soda and having a chat until his lunch break is over.

"So I've got to go back to class?"

"Yeah, you really should."

"Okay."

It's such a relief when Just Right Mom emerges in the nick of time and keeps both Enabling Mom and Mean Mom at bay.

Alarming

I typically have my alarm set for about 8:00 a.m. It's basically a safety net just in case I don't wake up by then. I usually beat it by at least five minutes.

Yeah. I'm not a morning person.

Last night, though, I set my alarm for 6:00 a.m. I needed a couple of extra hours this morning to get some work done.

(Feel free to read between the lines and come to the correct conclusion that yes, I procrastinated, and so I had to pay the price.)

It's true that it's still dark at 6 a.m. this time of year. It's really true. Ugh.

So Fine

Every Christmas for the last three years, Roger has treated me to a new set of these oh-so-very-satisfying-to-write-with pens to help ease the pain of grading papers.

I broke out this year's brand new pack for a marathon grading session this weekend.

Using bright colors helps make writing things like "comma splice" and "keep verb tense consistent" and "simplify your wording" a little easier. I hope the bright colors make reading things like that a little easier when I give the papers back tomorrow.

Back to work now. I think I'm going to pick orange next.

Ice Castles

(No, this is not a post about Robby Benson.)

Tonight we drove up to see the ice castles in Midway. I have never seen anything like them! It's amazing what a couple of guys can do with some irrigation pipes and freezing temperatures. I'm going to let the pictures speak for me.

Epilogue

I finished a book today.

People who know me (except for people in my book clubs who know better) might not believe that finishing a book is an out-of-the-ordinary experience for me.

But it is.

I have no trouble starting a book. I start books all the time. And now that I have a Kindle and can download free samples of books, I start even more books than ever before. It's not that I lose interest in what I'm reading. It's that I get distracted by the next one, and the next, and the next.

It wasn't always like this. It's possible that owning a bookstore wrecked it for me. So many books + Much desire to be knowledgeable for customers x Seemingly insatiable curiosity ÷ So little time = Loss of all semblance of discipline.

Well, maybe not all. I did finish a book today.

Lucky Rabbits

Tonight we celebrated Chinese New Year at our friends' Chinese restaurant. Our bookstore was right next to the China Cafe for nearly 10 years, and we became friends with the owners and their two sons, who have been like older brothers for Jack.

This is a particularly special Chinese New Year as the year of the rabbit begins. You see, Roger, Jack and I were all born in the year of the rabbit.

According to the placemat at dinner, the following applies to us: "Luckiest of all signs, you are also talented and articulate. Affectionate, yet shy, you seek peace throughout your life."

We are a family of rabbits entering the year of the rabbit. I do believe this means planets will be aligning in our favor.

Potatoes

I've actually got a lot of out-of-the-ordinary things to report today.

I thought of writing about a discussion we had in class today that led to one student sharing ideas for how to fake a drug test that I had never heard of before. But I decided that wasn't the direction I wanted to take my post. TMI.

I thought of writing about meeting someone who turned out to be my sister-in-law's sister-in-law (she recognized my name). But other than writing that she was very nice and it was fun to meet her, there wasn't much else to tell.

I thought of writing about visiting my 80-something neighbor in rehab and watching her do some serious leg presses with her new knee. But not much else to say other than we had a pleasant visit and I think she's awesome.

I thought of writing about the nerf gun Jack bought with some of his Christmas money and how I never knew they made nerf guns that use batteries. But really all I can say is that it's a pretty intense nerf gun.

At the end of the day, I decided to write about my first ever visit to Five Guys Burgers and Fries (I know!). Extra friendly service: check. Tasty burgers: check (even Jack gushed, which is very unusual). Peanuts in their shells to snack on while you wait for your order: check. Free soda refills: check. Fry sauce: check (A Utah specialty. Do they have it at Five Guys in other states?). Stacks of bags full of Idaho potatoes everywhere: check. The freshest tasting french fries ever: check.

A new go-to place for our whole family: check.

Meeting Hazel

We had the honor of meeting sweet baby Hazel, the girl with the loveliest toes, for the very first time today.

She's heading home from the hospital tomorrow to join her twin older sisters, who are not yet two. This is what I have to say about that: "!"

We couldn't stay long because Hazel was pretty insistent it was time for her dinner. In the few minutes we had to get to know her, it was very clear that she'd be able to hold her own as the smallest member of her family. She's a feisty one!

Congratulations Shelley and Trevor!

It's Catching!

Communications manager Roger has been inspired to write up a (pretty much) daily post about something he's found in the library at BYU.

His first post is about call number T 15 .U6 1892, a book entitled The Growth of Industrial Art. Click here to see it.

One of the many things I love about Roger is that he has a particularly good eye for seeing interesting and unique items that other people might overlook.

I'm excited to add http://lib.byu.edu/sites/news to my Google reader and discover what's at the library through his eyes!

Next Blog

Sick day today. Didn't set a foot out the door. I had to figure out to improvise. I decided my best bet was to do some virtual exploring and see if I could find a new blog to add to my Google reader.

If you notice at the top of this blog, there's an option called "Next Blog," which randomly takes you to another blogger blog when you click on it (geez, that's something I never said when I was a kid!).

I got sucked into clicking. I learned about a woman who is trying to figure out how to prepare gluten-free food. I met a family trying to save up money to do mission work in Honduras. I discovered Lisa who likes to post pictures of her cats. I found Emma's parents who have signed up to run the Gold Coast marathon in July. I enjoyed pictures of a lovely couple who just got married in India.

After all of my exploring, I decided to add two blogs to my reader.

The first blog is by a 28-year-old guy who is on his third year of posting a new thing to see or do in London every day. Today's post was about finding a band to play with on the Drummer Wanted board at Rough Trade East, where "musical hipsters come together to scrawl notes about how they need other hipsters to make their dream work."

I didn't know why the second blog I added appealed to me at first. But as I read through the entries I discovered it's the blog of an LDS mom who lives in the Boston area. Go figure! Getting caught up in it reminded me of this Salon article, which has recently been making the rounds: "Why I can't stop reading Mormon housewife blogs."

Sometimes the world is not so big. Even the virtual world.

The Square Root of 256 Is Always 16

Disclaimer: Technically this happened yesterday, but I was thinking about it today as I watched and read coverage of the uprising in Egypt. I hope you don't think less of me for playing a bit fast and loose with my rules.

I learned how to use a calculator to figure out the square root of a number. I haven't had to figure out how to find a square root since high school, and I have no memory of how I did it back then.

Lately I've been involved in some work that requires me to get back up to speed on high school level math. It's been unexpectedly satisfying because I usually spend my time and energy focused on subjects full of paradox and complexity, multiple possible answers, and competing values. Parenting, teaching writing, trying to figure out what I want to say to my state representatives in the midst of a stunning movement to erode public education that goes far beyond cutting budgets due to recession. Answers are not always clear.

But when x + 3 = 12, x is always 9. And when two lines cross, opposite angles are always equal. And the square root of 256 is always 16.

I find great comfort in that.

Eulogy

Today I read the last issue of our town's newspaper. I've never had to face something like this before, and, frankly, I'm a bit shaken.

The Springville Herald has been such an integral part of what makes us a community, and I am very thankful for that.

In its pages we have celebrated victories, marked important life events, rallied around neighbors in need, battled one another over issues like whether to change the high school mascot (we didn't) or pass a bond to build a new library (we did), and discovered many of the neat things that go on around town.

Personally, I have long since lost track of the number of times the Springville Herald helped me get the word out about various projects I have been involved with, especially our bookstore. And I'll miss chuckling (and sometimes guffawing) at small town police beat items and over-the-top letters to the editor.

I fear our little fish town will be lost in the big county newspaper sea.

The Smell of Lasagna Is the Air

Lately I've been stocking up on food from the Stouffer's outlet at the north end of town, right near the plant that makes many of the items I buy there. They sell products that are basically fine but don't quite meet retail standards. For example, right now they have cartons of 12 turkey dinners for less than $1 apiece because the boxes are misprinted with a 9 minute cooking time rather than 6.

I believe in the idea of voting with my dollars, though I confess I'm more committed to that in theory than in actual practice. It can be really complicated to (1) balance competing values, (2) know where and to whom my dollars are actually going, and (3) know what is involved in bringing the products I'm buying to market.

This I do know: Stouffer's is owned by Nestle, a multinational corporation, but the local plant is a strong contributor to the economic health of our community (and a sometimes contributor to the scent of the air, which is a good thing IMO).

On our way home from Jack's science fair at school today, my mother-in-law asked me if I'd mind stopping at the Stouffer's outlet. While we were there, I chatted with a friendly employee and learned a few more things.

• While many of the ingredients for the products made in the Springville plant are not local, the company makes a concerted effort to buy local whenever it can. (I'm a little nervous for the cows in the picture above.)
• Not all of the products they sell at the outlet store were made at the Springville plant. If items made in other plants get damaged in transit and Springville is the closest distribution point, the items come to the Springville outlet.
• The local operation employs as many as 1,600 people. That's a big deal in our community of about 26,000.
• The company focuses on implementing green practices like reusing, reducing and recycling. The employee told me that he, personally, had been reprimanded for discarding a carton in a dumpster instead of recycling. And he took me into the staff-only area to show me signage about safety and environmental procedures employees are expected to follow.
• I pretty much have to be related to an employee or be a VIP like the governor to get inside the massive, multi-story freezer at the plant. He said I would be blown away by the number of pallets it can hold if I could see it. That made me even more determined to get inside some day. Some day.

Spaghetti Tacos

Yes, you read that right.

Jack, inspired by Spencer's favorite meal on iCarly, talked Roger into making spaghetti tacos for dinner.

After some more serious posts in the last few days, I have officially been shoved back into the shallow water today.

We all tried them.

And, well, we can check that off Jack's bucket list.

A Tale of Two Speeches

In an unprecedented move, I called Roger to see if he'd meet me at the mall after work to see the newly Oscar-nominated film The King's Speech. We actually only get to movies in the theater a few times a year. Not because we don't want to. Mostly because we're not very organized about it. In this case I have friends who keep posting positive things about this movie, so I wanted to make a point of seeing it myself before the Academy Awards.

The King's Speech tells the story of King George VI, or Bertie, who had a stuttering problem that paralyzed him with fear, and his speech therapist, Lionel, who used some unconventional and risky tactics to help the king overcome his challenge. At the end of the movie, the king successfully delivers a critical radio speech to his nation upon entering war with Germany.

I was thinking about both Bertie and Lionel's tenacity when I walked out to the parking lot. I started up the car and the radio was tuned to a station broadcasting the State of the Union address, which had already begun.

As I drove home, President Obama was talking about how our country was founded on the idea that each of us should have "the chance to shape our own destiny" and that "the future is ours to win." He went on to quote Robert Kennedy who said, "The future is not a gift. It is an achievement."

I don't know what would have happened if Bertie had not worked to overcome his fears and Lionel hadn't gone out on a limb to help him. But they did.

And we can, too.