Remembering Great Grandma Hurst

While the grandkids do not remember Great Grandma Hurst, I like to think of the joy she must get looking down and seeing them play trains on her oak table. In her home, the table held a place of honor in her living room - a remembrance of the styles and values of her childhood. Seeing them play with trains and enjoy books reminds me of my mother and the things she loved most - relationships, children, and education.

Jello Water Eggs

Baths have always been a fun time with the grandkids. The bath toys are a motley collection - play food, kitchen toys, travel squirt bottles, an over-sized spider that Drew does NOT allow in the water, and a jello mold for Easter eggs. I started to explain that my Mother had given the pink plastic jello mold to the kids. You filled it from the top, set the jello, and then had to unmold it by placing it in hot water. I told Brooke and Drew that it never worked very well. Either it would get stuck or you would leave it too long, creating watery jello eggs. Drew thought Jello Water Eggs sounded great. So we would submerge the egg tray under water to fill it. Then, I would swing the tray, flipping water over everyone and singing

I'm going to school with my jello water eggs
I'm going to school with my jello water eggs
I'm going to school with my jello water eggs
OHHH, what happened? All my jello water eggs are gone.

Drew would laugh and laugh, pointing to my wet shirt,and clamoring, "Again, Again."

Here is a picture of Brooke with the tray for Jello Water Eggs.

After bath, Brooke heads to the closet to begin the fashion show with Grandma's shoes and her fancy dress.

Drew found matching boots and insisted they be zipped up.

Drew, looking absolutely angelic.

Remembering Christmas

I am gathering information for my writing class. Does anyone have REAL pictures of the items I mention or other memories??

.............................

I can’t think of Christmas without thinking of my Mother. Mother was a large lady with an even larger personality. She had a ready laugh, and when you were with her, you felt like the most important person to her. Christmas was her holiday.

Christmas 2005

The house was always decorated for the holidays, with new decorations added each year. She was quite a sale shopper, so what went on half-off sales after Christmas adorned our living room the next year. In the early years, many of the decorations were homemade. Dad (who taught computer science) provided the punch cards for the wreath that was stapled and spray painted gold or silver.

Many years she made wreathes of wrapped candy.

Her sucker tree was always popular.

I loved the houses she made of sugar cubes and always thought I would get to eat them after Christmas, but it never seemed to happen.

Gingerbread houses were another family favorite. She didn’t cheat and use graham crackers, but painstakingly baked the gingerbread on jelly roll pans and cut it to shape. The pieces were glued together with a cooked sugar that looked (and tasted) nasty, but was sturdy.

Mom and Dad got lots of Christmas cards and would attach them to the walls as decorations.

Chocolate dipping was a huge endeavor. Mom spent hours and hours making mints, cherry chocolates, peanut clusters, turtles, and caramels. Plates were delivered to all the neighbors. It was important to her that, as adults, we children carried on the tradition.







Mom loved a flocked tree and would spend hours decorating it. Sometimes the kids would help by literally throwing the icicles at the tree.

We went to two Christmas trees shortly after that – where we had a kid’s tree with our homemade ornaments in the basement, but the “show tree” with her lovely things filled the living room.
Later, her love of Christmas took on a more sophisticated look as she had expensive ornaments, a village that filled the living room, and beautiful nativity sets from all over the world.




Acting out the nativity was done every Christmas Eve.

On Christmas Eve, we had a big family dinner and were allowed to open one gift. You waited for the nod from Mom so you didn’t waste your “one gift” opening up underwear or socks. We put out our Christmas stockings and set out a plate of sugar cookies and milk for Santa. Dad would read the Christmas Story from the bible as the kids acted out the nativity scene. We went to bed with strict instructions NOT to get up until we could see our hand in front of our face. On Christmas morning, I would be awakened in the dead of night with my older brother saying, “I think I can see my hand in front of my face. Can you?” We would sneak into the living room to examine our Santa gifts (which were always unwrapped). When the noise got too loud, my father would come in and yell, “My Lordy, it is 2 a.m.. Go back to bed.” When we were allowed to finally get up, we first played with our presents from Santa and then looked for treasures from our stockings. Eventually, someone would suggest that we open the wrapped gifts from parents, siblings, and grandparents. Those gifts were usually more practical than the Santa gifts. I used to wonder why I got such nice gifts from Santa who barely knew me (as I was much too shy to enjoy sitting on his lap) and such boring gifts from my parents (who I knew loved me dearly).

Over the years, mother never lost her love of Christmas. As shopping became more difficult, QVC became her best friend. She had her credit card number memorized and was constantly retrieving packages from the front porch. As she aged, the grandkids were her favorite to shop for. Often her children got a generous check (as I think she secretly wanted to spend their wealth before she died), but the grandkids always got something to open. Recent grandchild gifts were a picture of the temple (for those who were married), various items for the Demdaco Willow Tree nativity sets each married granddaughter was collecting, and a wind up dog for a twenty-something grandson who complained he never got to have the dog he always wanted as a child.



Mom often gave the grandchildren ornaments. When Greg complained that he didn’t seem to have his ornaments from grandmother, the next Christmas he opened up a box of wooden ornaments from her collection. On each she had marked, “Greg, Christmas 1983” or “Greg, 1984”. We all got a good laugh out of the collection of “memory” ornaments.


Mom loved giving. When the family was young, funds were tight, but Mom would save all year just to be able to have a picture perfect Christmas. She loved figuring out what each child and grandchild would want. She loved shopping. She loved the cooking. She loved Christmas in all its glory. How did she keep the love of Christmas in tough economic times or with the chaos of grandbabies, late night movies, and loss of sleep? How did she keep the joy alive through old age, sickness, and the loss of her mate? That secret died with her. I think it was part of her Christmas magic.

Yiddish proverb: “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.”

After getting our Christmas letter, a dear Jewish friend from Fort Collins just sent an email to tell of us his concern for our family and that he was praying for us. He was our department head. He writes:

Receiving your Holiday Letter took me back some decades to the time that Lori and Kim first became ill, and, I believe, had their spleens removed. It’s odd but I still remember praying for them during the time at our Sabbath service where prayers are said on behalf of those who are ill. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this to you before, but as I’ve gotten older, and maybe more understanding, I’ve appreciated how much it means to me when somebody tells me they’ve prayed for me or a family member. Yesterday, I again prayed for Lori and Kim during our Sabbath service. A lot of memories were brought back.

We have been so blessed to have such good friends. The proverb is his.

No fond farewells here

It is the last day of 2010. I'm glad to see it go. I have a friend who blogs about her cancer, saying she is grateful for what it has taught her. She comments that she has had an "interesting" life. She is truly an angel. I am made of much less seraphic material.

2010 has been a bad year for a host of reasons one doesn't post on their blog. As we drive out of 2010, I'm glad to see it in my rear view window.

Think to Thank

As I sorted through the small pile of Christmas cards and letters that were sent this year, I was impressed with the ones sent just to thank.


A letter from a family we had helped by donating to their son's mission fund.  [I actually had no idea they even knew we donated.  It must be a policy of the new bishop, as we've donated lots of times and never been thanked.  I thought the donations were normally anonymous.]

A card and gift certificates from a family we gave money do when the Dad was out of work.

A thank you from a neighbor we had recently brought treats to and visited in the hospital.

A letter from a family we had supported by sending letters to their son who is in youth facility.

We also got this cute beaded Santa Claus as a Thank You from a Chinese student whom Steve had helped. Her mother had made it.

One of the cards I get each year is from a former Young Woman of mine.  I'll call her Anne.  She is an amazing woman.  She is bright, athletic, loving, talented.  She used to babysit for us and was the most favorite babysitter.  Because of my connection to her in Young Women, I was aware of some social challenges she faced. I never think of her without thinking of the (holocaust survivor and Nobel Peace Prize winner) Elie Wisesel quote, "The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference."  When she was in Young Women's, the mothers in the ward took turns driving the youth to early morning seminary.  With Anne in the car, the others would talk about dates, parties, and social events that did not include Anne.  While she was never actively mistreated, others were just indifferent to her feelings.  It was a very tough time for her.


So in the spirit of thanking and noticing ...

Thanks to all my kids for traveling to Boise for Christmas.  Kim was unable to travel because of her intense back pains, but the kids volunteered to travel to Boise, lugging gifts and Santa's bags with them.  It was a very sweet gesture.

Thanks for the lovely and thoughtful gifts - a food processor, knife set, universal remote, clothes, computer bag, a beautiful calendar, handmade ornaments.

Thanks of the friends who have listened to and supported me through my many melt downs.

Thanks to the amazing people who made the ward Christmas party happen. 

Christmas Morning

Ben, Chelle and Greg displaying the chapstick secreted into their stocking.

Halle loved unwrapping.

Trisha with her new "travel" camera.

Prissy in her glory.

Halle the diva.

Christmas Eve

Halle glamour shot.

Who needs a gingerbread house with all this candy?

Brandon, David, and Zach plan their architecture.

Kim and David the finished product.

Chelle and Ben with gingerbread home and car...

Minute to Win it. Steve and David in hot competition.

Ward Christmas Party

Steve was in charge of the ward Christmas party. The directions were to have a dinner party for families with Santa there. That is a tall order as we have an older ward. Lots of people aren't wild about coming to a dinner with kids, let alone one where Santa is invited.

We were given an amazing committee. Cheryl and Sue did the decorations. Sue did advertising. Wendy was in charge of the program. Dan and Lana arranged for Santa Claus. Judy planned the craft room. Hank (from the bishopric) offered great organizational tips. Steve and I were in charge of the food.

The internet lies. I guess I should have known that, but it does. We had decided to have bone-in spiral cut ham, baked by ward members with a special pineapple glaze. The internet said we should plan for three fourths of a pound of bone-in ham for each person. Our sign-up lists said 212 were coming. While we knew the sign-up list wasn't entirely accurate, we assumed the "no shows" would be compensated for by those we didn't reach - plus you can hardly afford to run out of food at the Christmas dinner. Only about 150 actually came, though the room looked full. We had purchased 17 half hams. Between an over estimate of the attendance and an over estimate of the amount of ham needed, we had "ham for the thrashers" (as Mom would say). We had five hams and at least that many pies/cakes that we didn't even touch. We had additional ham that was cut off the bone to serve, but wasn't needed. Our good bishop was so cute. He personally delivered the untouched hams to ward members who were going through hard times. We had the foresight to buy "take out dinner boxes" like you get in restaurants, so many of the left overs were carried out by attendees. Some took a dinner to a neighbor who had surgery or just took a plate for themselves for the next day. The ham turned out great. The pineapple glaze made it great to keep warm as well as filling the hall with a wonderful scent.

Santa was a hit. We have so few young children in our ward, each got special attention as well as numerous photo ops.

The crafts were popular.

The decorations were absolutely amazing. Balloons ascending from each table. Large styrofoam gingerbread men and candies adorning the walls. Large presents with gorgeous bows livening up the tables. Christmas lights festooned from the corners of the hall. Garlands of greenery cascading from the stage. Snowflakes suspended mid air. Large candy canes gathered like a bouquet from the middle of the room. A friend sent me a few pictures - so you can see the amazing decorations.

Afterwards, we had so much help cleaning up. We got so many wonderful comments. It was a great experience.

Reflect on Christ

Each year in Relief Society we have the desire to give a Christmas gift to everyone, but have few funds. This year Kelly came up with making luminaries for everyone with the message to reflect on Christ. We spent the afternoon putting these together. They have a small artificial flame in the bottom, but it doesn't show up much. My role was gluing on the beads and gluing the canning ring to the lid.

I would never think of creating such a thing. Crafty I'm not. Kelly is just so creative. I'm just glad it wasn't like the project for last year where we tied handkerchiefs to look like dolls! They were a headache. After three hours we had all of two created. Luckily, we discovered the trick (rubber bands) and eventually got them completed.

Soup and Bread

As a Relief Society presidency, we decided to take soup and bread to the widows and widowers in the ward. I stayed home from work in order to make the bread. At the last minute, I remembered I had small gift bags from last year. I filled them with caramels to include in our deliveries (as I hadn't yet done my dipping, but had the caramels made). We divided into twos to make the distributions. What a fun time. I wish we could have spent more time visiting. It was definitely an activity I would choose to repeat.

The next Sunday, I got the sweetest thank you from one of the widowers we visited: "Thank you so much for the soup, bread, and butter caramels. I have never before been greeted at the door with angel bearing gifts."

Approaching the church as consumers

I love living in Utah, but there is one part of being a Utah Mormon that I don't like.  It is the whiny syndrome. Take for instance visiting teaching.  I hear a whole heard of whiny syndrome comments about visiting teaching.  I won't name them as I don't want to offend the guilty, but you likely know the kind of comments I'm talking about.  Actually, I hope you don't.  I had no idea people were so whiny until I got this calling.

Here are some excerpts from an essay by Eugene England. I really liked the thoughts.

In the life of the true Church, as in a good marriage, there are constant opportunities for all to serve, especially to learn to serve people we would not normally choose to serve—or possibly even associate with—and thus there are opportunities to learn to love unconditionally (which, after all, is the most important thing to learn in the gospel).

Church involvement teaches us compassion and patience as well as courage and discipline. It makes us responsible for the personal and marital, the physical and spiritual welfare of people we may not already love (may even heartily dislike), and thus we learn to love them.

It is in the Church especially that those with qualities ("gifts") of vulnerability, pain, handicap, need, ignorance, intel­lectual arrogance, social pride, even prejudice and sin—those Paul calls the members which "seem to be more feeble"—can be accepted, learned from, helped, and made part of the body so that together it can all be blessed.

If we con­stantly ask, "What has the Church done for me?" we will not think to ask the much more important question, "What am I doing with the opportunities for service and self-challenge with which the Church provides me?" If we constantly approach the Church as consumers, we will never partake of its sweet and filling fruit. Only if we can lose our lives there will we find our­selves.

Embrace our own uniqueness

As an undergraduate at USU, though I was a math major, I often took poetry reading or story telling as my electives.  I remember a poetry reading class taught by Barbara Hales.  The course was primarily for elementary education majors, and the course was designed to help them prepare materials to be used in the classroom.  One of the requirements of the course was to create a picture/poetry file – so you could read the attached poem while displaying the picture.   [I used that picture file for years in teaching primary or family home evening.]

Our final project was to design an educational unit of poetry and required a ten minute oral presentation in class, complete with a host of visual aids.  My presentation involved boxes, where students opened the boxes to get from one poem to the next.  I remember thinking it was a clever way to avoid displaying my lack of artistic ability.

The only other presentation I remember involved a display of animals carefully drawn by the presenter.  As she began to speak, it was clear she was very nervous. She spoke so quickly that you almost stopped breathing as you witnessed such a feat. When she sat down, the professor asked for comments as was the protocol for the presentations.

I sat there thinking, “ I am NOT going to introduce ‘the elephant in the room’.  There is no way I am going to levy that criticism on her." As a child, I was always told that I talked too fast.

Sunday school used to be a stand-alone meeting with its own opening exercises and passing of the sacrament.  Many members won’t remember this because of the consolidated meeting schedule instituted in 1980 which resulted in the elimination of Sunday School opening exercises.  With the dropping of opening exercises went a unique Mormon icon – the two and a half minute talk.  I’m not sure why the strange time limit.  I assume it seemed less intimidating to talk for such a short time.  My first exposure to public speaking came as a young child giving two and a half minute talks.  Under pressure, my carefully memorized and practiced two and a half minute talk was performed in under a minute.  While I must have received other comments for my efforts, the comment that was ever present was, “You talked too fast.”

Thus, as I sat there in the classroom, I deliberately refused to tell the presenter of the speed issue.  As expected, the first comment was on the rate of delivery. Professor Hales didn’t hesitate for a second as she exuberantly replied, “Yes. Wasn’t that delightful?  We are not all the same.  Some speak fast.  Some speak slow.  I loved the enthusiasm she brought to the presentation.”

I sat there at my seat with a lump in my throat.  What a wonderful message.  There is not one acceptable way.  Embrace our own uniqueness.

It's a mystery

I have a good friend who is also a (much younger) colleague.  Today she came to me with an issue she is having with a student.  She said, "I have students who are so antagonistic.  They roll their eyes at things I say.  They will blurt out, "That is wrong" or "This is so useless.  Why do we have to learn this?"  I had her give me their names, but I didn't know them.

I told her, "That doesn't happen to me.  I am teaching three classes this semester - 70 students in the three classes.  I haven't had a single mean or rude thing said to me the whole semester by students."  I can't figure out why our experiences in the same department would be so different..  I can think of precious few times when I have had rude students in my class.  (My foray into teaching a gen ed class was certainly the exception to the nice students scenario.)  I used to think that those who slept through class were telling me my class was boring.  After inquiring if they were okay, I learned that usually their sleeping had nothing to do with me and everything to do with being sleep deprived.

It's a mystery.  I do think that some people act like a victim - which only encourages more victimization.  I remember one person putting it this way.  A lamb who has been injured bleats because of their pain, but instead of bringing help, it tends to bring the wolves.  I don't know what she is doing to bring on the wolves, but I do feel her pain.

Sociometric games

Kim asked for some ideas for a get acquainted luncheon at work. I found this idea

Sociometric activities engage people in representing social dynamics in physical space using their bodies. Ask a series of questions such as "Who in this room would you choose for help with a difficult client?" Each person is told, "Show your choice by placing your right hand on the shoulder of the person you choose. Move about the room as you need to in order to make your choice. There are only two requirements: (1) you may choose only one person and (2) you must choose someone."


In my data structures class, I needed to discuss graphs. The activity suggested sounds like a human graph. I was curious how it would work with a group, so I tried it with my class.   This group has been together for ten weeks or so.  I asked, "If you needed help with an assignment, who would you go to for help?"  I saw one student smiling at me so I quickly added, "Other than the instructor."   It took a few moments for the group to respond.  I was curious what kind of patterns would emerge and who would be the most sought after helper.  One guy is totally brilliant.  He has made insightful comments all semester.  He is a math major in a CS class, so he likely doesn't know the others much.  No one picked him.  After a minute's hesitation, he selected someone close to him.  I was surprised no one recognized his brilliance.  I picked up on it quickly - before I'd seen scores on anything.

Some people who routinely study together, picked each other, as you would expect.

The most interesting result, however, were the women in the group.  In a class of 34, there are only four women.  One woman has a study group - so she was included in that group.  The other three women were sitting by each other before I had them stand for the activity.  When I asked them to pick someone they would go to for help, they each placed their hand on their OWN shoulder.  That made for an interesting discussion about self loops, but I found it telling.  I'm not sure exactly what it means.  Are they so bright they don't need help?  (They actually do quite well, but are not the star students.)  Do they just not fit in?  We  have so few women in CS that group dynamics are sometimes challenging.  But, how sad that the best person you can go to for help is yourself. 

I have had some trials lately - some personal and some work related.  While we are taught to go to our Heavenly Father for help, He often works through others.  I have definitely felt His tender mercies as several people have called or sent email.  They know nothing of what is going on, but He does and has prompted them to contact me. It reminds me how much we need each other in this life.  So, if you have your hand on your own shoulder, find another shoulder to rely on and make sure your shoulder is inviting to others.

Popeye - the master fixer upper

I am teaching a ton this semester (for a variety of reasons that I wont' go into here).  In my data structures classes, I have had the following comments from students in the last week or two:

1. I am getting married mid-semester and leaving on my honeymoon shortly thereafter.  I'll miss over a week of class and the exam.  Can I take the exam early?

2. I turned in the wrong assignment.  I had it done on time, but inadvertently turned in a previous assignment again.  It is now over  a week late.  What can be done?

3. I didn't see the last two problems on the written assignment as there was a problem with the posting.  I failed the assignment because of that.

4. I scored poorly on the exam.  I know the material, but  I just have test anxiety.

5. I somehow messed up turning in the assignment.  I have no back up as I did it in the tutor room.

The trick is to help them with their problems without disadvantaging others or encouraging them to be "special cases" in the future.  In all cases, we were able to come up with a solution which they were pleased with.

Still others came to me with deeper questions: 
1. Do I belong in this major?  I told my mother that if I couldn't succeed I would go back to child development, but I don't want to.  
2. I may have ADD.  I sat in the break room for an hour looking at this, but getting nothing done.
3. It is hard to decide a major when you don't know the future.  Will you marry?  Will your husband's career need to take you to a distant location.  How do I pursue my dreams, yet plan to give it up to stay home and raise a family?

Those questions don't have a pat answer, and ultimately need to be answered by the individual themselves.  Yet, I serve as a sounding board.

When I was a kid, I used to pretend to be Popeye - running around to solve other people's problems and eating marshmallows (in lieu of spinach).  I'm thinking my role as teacher is a fulfillment of that childhood dream.

Share the blame

Government rules require that no one can work without a social security number, and international graduate students cannot apply for a social security number until they have a job.  Every two weeks or so, someone comes to campus to take care of applications for social security numbers.  While social security numbers can be acquired more quickly in Ogden, and international graduate students often don't have a driver's license or a car.   In my data structures class, I have had to replace a grader.  Because of these employment rules, I had to use a temporary grader until the new one could start grading. They are absolutely adamant that a newly hired  individual not start working until all the paperwork is in place.  Anyway, for this reason, I had to use a temporary replacement for grading one assignment.  Thus, I've had three different graders grading assignments in my data structures class.

This past week I had an interesting episode with cheating.  My most recent grader noticed that two assignments were copied.  This was not exactly rocket science.  The two papers were identical, used constructs that are not widely used (I've never used one feature), and were remarkably similar to code found on the web.  Students were informed to 'see their instructor'.  In the mean time, I looked at the previous assignment, and it was also obviously copied. This time the code wasn't from the web, but the incorrect features were noticeable.    The students came in separately to see me.  The first student claimed that the work must have inadvertently started looking alike because they had both gone to the tutors who must have given them the same advice. 

The second fellow had obviously talked to the first as his story was similar.I told him that while the correct output was produced, major logic errors were made and that I couldn't see why the tutors would tell them to do that. On closer inspection, even the spacing was identical between the papers.I explained that the tutors would never say, "And leave three blank lines and forty seven hyphens in your comments."  I told him that it just couldn't have happened the way he said.  I asked if he had given his code to his friend (which is also considered cheating).   He was going to get back to the first student to see what could have happened.

At this point, I looked at yet an earlier program.  It was also copied.  By this point I was getting a little upset with the graders for not having recognized copying in a small class - but they were new graders at the time.  The penalty for cheating is negative points - a negative twenty instead of positive points.  I recorded negative points for all three assignments, as no explanation could remove their guilt.

However, they both did come back to speak to me one more time.  The first guy said, "The graders didn't catch me until I had cheated three times.  If they had caught me earlier, the penalty would have been less.  I think they need to share part of the blame."  I wonder if that argument works for serial killers?

The second guy went to the tutors and got signed statements that they had seen him working on the second assignment in the tutor room. He admitted to have copied both the first and third assignments, yet he found it necessary to 'prove' he had done his own work on the second assignment (and then given it to his friend who copied it without permission).

I wonder if our excuses for having done something wrong sound as indefensible to our maker.

Bishop Bishop

On the cover of the Ensign is our bishop.  His last name is Bishop - so he is Bishop Bishop.  What a great bishop he is.  He has only been bishop since January. He used to be our home teacher, and his oldest son used to come with him a lot.  It is like seeing family on the cover of the Ensign.  He is definitely one to break the mold.  He plays hockey and definitely approaches problems with incredible energy and creativity.

How come you don't have a family?

 Yesterday, as I was leaving Relief Society, the kids of a member of the bishopric came in.   When their Dad was called to the bishopric and  their Mom was still Young Women president, I tended for them for several weeks on Tuesday nights. 

Tyler is the youngest at nearly four.  I was talking to Tyler and teasing him.  After a while, he said to me, "How come you don't have a family?"  So funny.  I don't think he even sees me with Steve - as when I tended him, it was only me.  When he sees me at church, Steve is normally off gallivanting, so I'm by myself.  I guess he was just worried about me.  What a cute kid.  We should all be so aware of others' needs.

County-Wide LIbrary voted down

This year a county-wide library for Cache Valley was on the ballot.  Those of us who live outside of Logan have no rights to check books out from the Logan library.  Thanks to Steve's brother, Bob, we do have a library card we can use.  What a blessing that is for us.  Yet, I worry about the others in our valley without access to a decent library.  We do have a tiny city library.  The collection is a tenth what Logan has and only contains the books someone has deemed most popular.  An avid reader would read through the collection quickly.

Arguments against a county-wide library center on the desire for no new taxes.  In his monthly newsletter, our mayor said "I have talked to so many citizens about the county wide library and for the most part I get the same comments, we have libraries in every school, Logan library, Hyrum library, USU library, so why create another government entity to tax us. Nothing is for free; this will cost the citizens of Providence over $230,000 dollars a year which will come as a tax and once a tax, always a tax. It will not decrease or go away. It will only increase."  I'm sure his opinion poisoned Providence against the measure.


Having a library that you cannot check out books from is not a huge benefit.  Others said we don't need a library because they are archaic. We won't need them in the future because we have kindles and can read books online.  Not everyone has internet access.   While I have access to the internet and use it for a host of research activities, I do not read books online.  Kindles may work for some, but they are expensive.  Would a family of seven need seven Kindles?  Just because some people have other options, certainly all don't.

I think the saddest comment, though, was from a few women in my area who said they were against the library because  they never had time to read. While some people really are too busy, these women are no busier than I and likely less busy.  The one woman admitted, "Reading was never done in my family.  It just isn't a  habit I have."  Political opinions aside, I found that sad.


I have had times in my life that have been so crazy that I haven't read a lot of books, but I always valued them.  I have had a crumby Fall and haven't been reading much.  I finally decided I would be much happier if I started making reading a priority again.  I am reading Laura Bush's book, "Spoken from the Heart."  I have loved it.  I have found myself weeping for the victims of 9-11, being touched by the goodness of people, and being transported into another world.   She tells of a time when her daughter, Barbara, was having a difficult time.   "George went to her room and sat down on her bed to console her as she told him what was wrong. He would not leave until he had begun to make it better. Afterward, I walked into my small upstairs office next to Barbara's room and found one of my young staff members in tears.  She had heard bits and pieces of the conversation through the thin connecting door.  She was sobbing telling me how desperately she wished that she had had a father like George."  I thought it was touching.

She quotes the author Eudora Welty, "I learned from the age of two or three, that any room in our house, at anytime of day, was there to read in, or to be read to.  It had been startling and disappointing to me to find out that storybooks had been written by people, that books were not natural wonders, coming up of themselves like grass."

I feel sorry for people who don't read and consider it so unimportant that they won't create a library for others to have that privilege.

I think it was Mark Twain who said,  "The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them."

So now I'm worried

I've mentioned that my latest Sunday tradition is to make roll dough - and use part for Sunday dinner and make the rest into cinnamon rolls. Often, I even make a double batch - so I have rolls everywhere. Steve's Mom still comes to Sunday dinner most weeks - and food is extremely important to her.  I figure the least I can do for her is cook the kind of Sunday dinner she always fixed.

Well, on Sunday, I made cinnamon rolls - but had far more than my poor freezer will hold (with all the jam and tomatoes we canned and the good buys on chicken).  Anyway, I sent Steve off delivering to some neighbors.  He likes to visit, so I figure it does both parties good.  A neighbor had had surgery this week, so I sent Steve to their home.  A friend was out of town, but her son and husband were here, so I sent Steve that way.  They weren't home, so their cinnamon rolls came back.  Another plate went to a widow he home teaches.  Still another plate went to a good friend who recently lost his wife.


Anyway, today I get this thank you note from the couple whose wife had surgery, "Dear Vicki, Thank you so much for the wonderful cinnamon rolls.  Earlier in the day the thought came to me that you might bring some by."

That really worries me.  If people are getting impressions that I might bring cinnamon rolls, I'm going to have to be a whole lot more insightful in whom I send them to.   Now, it is pretty much random. Seriously, this worries me.

The best time of the year at the lake

On Friday, we headed to the lake to return our boat to the garage (after having it winterized).  We took a walk along the beach, grilled hamburgers, played Upwards, and watched our latest Netflix movie (I Am David).

On Saturday, we had a rematch on Upwards.  I cleaned the garage door (which had been infested with spider-like webs) while Steve got the battery removed from the boat.We took another long walk on the beach.  It was absolutely stunning.  The sun was bright, the sand warm, and the water beautiful.We weren't the only ones there.  Some were reading. Some were walking a dog. A few were playing in the water or making sand castles.Most had walked there.  There were numerous four wheelers on the beach (likely all from the same party).There were even a few boats out. We walked back to Safe Sabor for lunch.  Usually, we overeat there, so we decided to split an entree.  It was the perfect amount of food.  They even served it on two separate plates.  So nice.

I think we discovered the best time of the year for the lake.  I even came back with a sunburn.  I guess it wouldn't be Bear Lake without a sunburn.

Calendar Girl

I'm sure my appearing as "Miss October" on a calendar comes as a huge surprise to all of you, but I have evidence:

Bushels of Cherry Tomatoes

I love tomatoes.  Nothing reminds me of growing up like eating tomatoes from the garden.  This year with the wet Spring, the various tomato plants I bought kept dying - so I just bought more, not really noticing which varieties of the tomato plants died and which lived..  Through some natural selection or luck of the draw, I ended up with more than a half dozen cherry tomato plants.  Cherry tomatoes are so loved when they produce the first edible tomatoes of the season, but once the regular tomatoes come on, cherry tomatoes are hardly worth the effort - yet I can't let them go to waste.  Unlike their lazy cousins (who are just now starting to produce full sized tomatoes), they cherry tomato plants  have produced bushels of tomatoes.  I've given them away, dried them in the oven (sun dried),  frozen them, cooked with them, popped them like candy.I'm running out of room in my freezer, but the production still is going strong.  I think I've got enough cherry tomatoes for the decade.  Still, they are delight - so beautiful and tasty.

The Game of Life - From my Personal History Writing Class

I remember when I first played Milton Bradley’s Game of Life.  The rules were explained.
·    On your turn, spin the wheel. (If the spinner arm stops between numbers, spin again.)
·    Then move your car the number of spaces on the spinner.
·    Always move your car forward, in the direction of the arrows. (Just as in real life, you can't go back in time!) If you land on an occupied space, move ahead to the next open space.
·    Follow the space directions. This ends your turn.


 There was no shortage of facts.  There was even Career Guidance: How much money you earn depends not only on the amount of your salary, but also on how often players land on your Career Spaces (spaces with symbols that match your Career Card). For example, if you're the Accountant, players must pay you whenever they land on "Taxes Due" Career Spaces.

Yet, I didn’t understand  how the random rules fit together to make a strategy let alone an interesting game.  I didn’t understand that the reason you got life insurance was that in the end you got a huge dividend.  I didn’t recognize that by not buying fire insurance you could lose everything in one catastrophe.  I didn’t realize that by risking money on the stock market, you could win the money needed to survive the rough spots.  I just didn’t understand the game and was not a serious contender.   In real life, I’ve tried to play a little more competitive game, but life is still a mystery to me.

My life has turned out almost nothing like I had planned.  In many respects, it has been more fantastic than my wildest imagination – an exciting job, travel to distant lands, a wonderful husband, amazing children, adorable grandchildren, fantastic friends.  It has been incredible – and filled with delicious ambiguity.  I have had a great life. But I must confess that it has been harder than I ever thought I could endure.  I assumed there was a boundary to heartache – a threshold which no one would be allowed to exceed, but just as joy is unbounded, so is pain.

I just didn’t see the trials coming.  As a child, I lived in a pretend world where I had magical powers and every story had a happy ending.  While I am no longer a young woman, life has had to pull me kicking and screaming from the La-La land I resided in as a child.  I believed that if I kept the commandments and worked hard, every prayer would be answered in the affirmative and I would be spared heartache and pain.   Oh, I might have a temporary inconvenience to teach me about patience, but it would quickly dissipate in answer to a fervent prayer. I think that attitude was preached when I was a child.   “Man is that he might have joy,” right?  I thought that meant a life of bliss. What was I thinking?  I saw the pain of Joseph Smith’s life.  I understood the heartache and tears of his family.  I saw others suffer, but incongruously, I assumed that my life would turn out just the way I planned.  Why do I cling to such foolish beliefs?  Where is the growth in everything turning out perfectly?  If pain only exists to teach you a lesson and then quickly leaves when you see the light, how hard is that to endure?  What I continue to learn is that joy is not an absence of pain, but a realization of how far I have come and the lives that have become entwined in mine in the process.  Heavenly Father told us that “Man is that he might have joy”.  “Might” is the keyword.  We MIGHT have joy.   “Pain is inevitable.  Misery is optional.”  I think I’m getting it.  We might have joy.  It is up to us.

Quap

When I was tending Zach and Halle, Zach and I were working on reading.  He can sound out lots of words and qualifies as a reader.  He has a learning tool with pockets which contain cards having a picture on one side and the word spelled out on the other side.  Some of the cards just have a letter.  I held up the Q and said, "What begins with Q?"  He said, "Queen.".  I said, "Yes, and what else?"  He thought  for a moment and then said, "Quap."  I said, "Well, quap would begin with Q but quap is not a word".  He said adamantly, "YES it is.  Quap is a word."   

I've had to reconsider.  It's been a rather quappy season for us.  I guess  he's right!

Halle was so funny.  One morning we went in the back yard to read books and bask in the sun.  The sprinklers had been on and Grandma's old picnic table had a skiff of water on it.   Halle would take her hands and flip water everywhere.  Then she would bend over and suck the water off the table.  It was adorable.

Halle and I had a lot of time together as Zach goes to preschool in the morning.  We would go out and ride scooters while we waited for Zach's ride.  One morning we went searching for bugs.  It is amazing how few bugs are visible at 8:45 a.m.    We finally found a potato bug.  Zach was delighted that it curled into a ball. Halle came to look and smashed it with her pointer finger.  So much for that bug.

We would often hop in the wagon, but one morning she really wanted to go on a stroller ride.  I got it down, but couldn't for the life of me figure out how to open it up.  There were a half dozen controls, most of which appeared to do nothing at all.  :-)  Halle got so mad.  The stroller was off the wall.  I clearly knew what she wanted, yet I "wouldn't" open it up.  That took a phone call to Trisha to explain how to open it up.  Luckily the remote instructions got us happily on our way around the block.  After the stroller ride we continued our bug search and ended up doing a little weeding.  At first  Halle was content to help pull weeds.  Then she started adding dirt to the bucket.  Finally, she was putting the dirt down her neck.  She was one dirty kid!  I'm guessing those cute shorts never did come clean.  She is such a happy baby.

 

NIH

Well, today is the first day of the NIH trip.  Kim is already there.  Trisha and Steve are on their way.  I'm the babysitter.  Kim texted on her way to NIH, " On the shuttle.  All is well  This is so surreal to have some answers after years of prayers.  It is weird to be here.  Brings ups a lot of tear-filled memories in the hospital." 

She called this morning as Zach was getting ready for pre-school. She said, "I had to call.  You should be here with me.  All those years, it was you and I in the hospital, getting transfusions, having blood tests, talking with doctors.  You of all people should be here to get the answers with me.  I don't know why I'm so emotional.  I hadn't suspected this.  It brings back so many memories and the frustration of dealing with a disease without a name."  She went on to explain.  There are some interesting things I've learned.  Low cholesterol is part of ALPS.  I've been told I have the lowest cholesterol my home  doctor has seen - but neither of us knew it was connected to anything else.   At NIH, they took 21 vials of blood!!!  I asked if that couldn't put me into some kind of shock, but they said I would be fine as my blood was good.  They will freeze some for possible future tests.  They asked me what I took to bring me out of  the ALPS episodes.  I told them they just gave me a transfusion.  They said, "That wouldn't have brought you out.  That helped the symptoms, but wouldn't have ended the episodes.  Normally they start and don't have a way to stop.  To stop the episodes, you normally need something like steriods"  I told them that I also had asthma, so many times I was on prednisone for my asthma.  Who knew there was a blessing in having both ailments?  Interesting, huh? 

She said, I also learned I'm not out of the woods.  I had thought, "I'm over it.  I'm good now."  They said, "Well, no.  That isn't true.  If you get a bad viral infection, you could end up as bad as Drew.  In the spectrum, Drew is on the severe side. You are in the middle.  And then your sister and Dad don't have anything noticeable.  We're so glad we get to see the whole family."

Well, Halle is getting tired of helping me type, so I guess we'll go do something fun.

What makes a person do it?

Greg competed in his first marathon yesterday - the Top of Utah. We watched for a couple of hours. It was pretty amazing. I assumed if you ran 26 miles, the pounds would just drop off, but there were plenty of overweight people to disprove my assumptions.   Of course, there were some that looked like runners and were still smiling and talking at the finish line.  Twenty six miles!  I still can't believe it.  Congrats Greg!

Applesauce

We made applesauce this week - a gift from the yellow transparent tree (the only one which really ever produces much). The victorio strainer makes it SO MUCH easier, as you don't have to peel or core the apples. I did core them, however, because enough were wormy I didn't want any surprises.

However, in hours worked, those 23 pints took between four and six hours - hardly a good investment if you were paying yourself anything. I choose to count it this way: the hours I spent picking apples and bottling applesauce were cheap "entertainment" - as I spent no money while I was working.

Steve made the comment, "You really don't see other ladies canning, do you?" I thought, "No, because they are smart. I could buy applesauce for less than a dollar a can and be done with it in ten minutes." Yet, canning is almost a heritage for me. I have so many memories of Mom snipping beans, canning peaches, bottling cherries, making applesauce, freezing corn. During the summer months, Dad spend several hours a night planting, watering, weeding, harvesting, and fertilizing. It was a big part of their lives.

While I do love the fresh produce, finding a way to utilize the bounties from the yard seems part of the stewardship. Mom and Dad were both great stewards of what they had been given. They canned it or gave it away. Nothing was wasted.

Next year may be I'll go with the "give it away" option - but I'll need to spray, as not many people want wormy apples, even if they're free.

So smart

Remember the days when you thought you were smart? It's been a long time for me.

It was fun having the grandkids to the lake. Since my Upwards strategy is definitely an anytime, bounded, greedy one, I could play Racko with Zach and Upwards with Trisha and Steve at the same time. Racko rules went something like this. You grabbed a card, pronounced the number (sometimes accompanied by "this is my favorite number"), and stated where you were placing it in your rack. The first one to fill the rack won. I commented on how well Zach could pronounce the numbers - even fifty two and thirty six. 14 became "One D four" and 30 became "thirty zero". When I told him how impressed I was, he said, "Yeah, I am smart!"

He is starting to read. Trisha is such a great mom. As words were played in Upwards that he could sound out, Trisha would have him read to us. It won't be long for he'll be reading chapter books.

Zach loves the hide-a-bed in the basement. He must be the only person in the family who likes that bed, so he has no contenders. It is a great bed for climbers and has a convenient view of the TV.

Zach has to eat on the little picnic table, not only because it is just his size, but has the added advantage that no one comments on what he is eating when he is away from the rest of us. A private table definitely has appeal. He loved playing restaurant with the play or imaginary food, but real food held little enticement.

At the beach, Zach so loves kids he starts playing ball with some girls in the next group. He's got a pretty good kick. At the pool, he loved jumping to Grandpa or landing on the rubber mat in the water.

Halle loves the beach. She sprinkles sand over her head until her blond hair is completely covered. She is an eater - the "carnivore" as she is called by her mom. She loves chicken, hot dogs, grapes, cheese, Cheerios,milk, corn. She is starting to talk so much. While she attempts a lot of words- ball, dog, grandma, papa, Zach, thank you, bye, milk - the word she pronounces the plainest is "dirt", which came in handy with all the sand everywhere. While she complained if we asked her to wear a life jacket, she spent most of the morning carrying the orange floaties with her arms placed through the holes. She is definitely a mama's girl, but would tolerate the walk with grandma solely because of all the dogs we saw along the beach.

Halle loves water. At the pool, she would jump from sides as long as anyone consented to catch her. She would bend over and blow bubbles in the water.

Everywhere she goes she finds something which interests her. The stairs at the condo are her favorite as the slats mean she can navigate the stairs upright. She loves cars (making the sounds) and girl toys. She found a six inch red string of beads and thought that was the most wonderful thing - putting it on her head (as it was too short for a necklace) and placing it in her mouth. When we could get it away from her, it ended up in the trash.

Ah, to be so smart - loving life and enjoying anything you find along the way. I could use such wisdom.

Punctuation

We spent the weekend at the lake again. JaNae and Lynda brought Grandma Allan on Friday. Trish and the kids joined us. I watched the kids while the rest of them went to Cafe Sabor. Trisha stayed with Grandma and the kids while the rest of us went for a walk along the beach. One of my favorite things to do is walk along the shore line. We walked so far, we got to a part where the seashells were ten inches thick. It looked like gravel, but was terrible to walk through. The shells slipped between the sole of your flip flops and your foot, cutting into you as you walked. We were gone far longer than we planned, but we had a great time visiting.

JaNae and Lynda were concerned with Grandma's home. She doesn't have the strength to water hanging plants that used to adorn her patio. Her yard is a far cry from the glory years, but at thirty dollars an hour for good gardening help and the need for a couple of hours of gardening per day, it becomes a financial impossibility to keep it the way she used to. She has four flower beds in the front yard, in addition to beds along the side of the house and flower beds all along the fence of a huge yard. She's had bugs in her grass, so even the grass isn't up to its old glory. I think its time for some redesign.

Inside the house, the shower is slippery, the throw rugs are a danger, and getting out of her chairs is more and more of a struggle every day. Plus, she gets so lonely. Everyone helps. Norm comes every week to take her out to dinner. Bob takes care of the garbage. Kathy has been coming several times a week to help with the shower and transports Grandma to her weekly hair appointment. We take care of Sunday dinner. Steve goes grocery shopping with her once a week and often takes her for a ride to see the beautiful valley. JaNae and Lynda call every day and visit often. But her friends are dying or in worse shape than she is. She can't enjoy the things she used to do. She gets bored.

But this weekend, Grandma enjoyed the great grand kids, seeing the canyon, and enjoying the company. It was needed punctuation for an otherwise routine existence.

Signs of Fall

It took me years to appreciate Fall. When I was a student and would see the "back to school" advertisements, I would be filled with sudden dread. While I have always loved school and learning, school was always filled with anxiety - and a sadness for the end of summer. Once it was time for graduate school, Fall brought the anxiety of new classes, a new apartment, life away from family. As a Mom, Fall meant the end of delightful times with the kids and the stress of homework and daily demands. After my PhD, Fall brought the stress of new preparations, a rigid schedule, and lots of work. It's only been the last few years when the back to school signs don't elicit any stress.

At the lake, the six inch pond on the beach was colder than the lake - a sign that evening temperatures are dipping. Our tomato plants are eye level. We've only harvested a dozen cherry tomatoes, but if the weather will just hold out, we should have bucket loads. The raspberries have dwindled. Plums are getting ripe. Beans are producing enough to keep us is beans for dinner every day. The peppers are trying hard to get enough sun to thrive. We've even harvested a few cucumbers - and to think I thought they were squash! I planted so many cucumbers and squash that died, I wasn't sure what was planted where. The yellow transparent apples are WONDERFUL. I'm reminded of Grandma Hurst every time I get out my salt shaker to enjoy their tart flavor.

We start into college and department retreats this week. Yes, Fall is definitely coming.

Grandma Blog

Yesterday we recorded Grandma Allan answering some personal history questions.

Her blog is at maldaallan.blogspot.com.

Update

Health
Lori, Kram and kids are to NIH today and tomorrow for the ALPS study. She has blogged about it, so if you have access to her blog, you should read it there. They have some new medication to try and are testing for all kinds of things. ALPS is rare, but our particular mutation is the only one like it that they have seen.

The way the numbers came out, Steve and four of our five kids have ALPS, but Drew is the only grandchild with ALPS. It could be spontaneous with Steve, but they did say they might want to test his siblings. Grandma doesn't have it.

Steve, Kim and Trisha to go NIH next month for similar counseling and testing.

Jobs
Ben started a new job today with a law firm in Salt Lake City. You'll have to wait for Chelle to blog about that, as I've told you most of what I know.

Proof Positive - Less is more

I've been studying game theory for a new course I'm offering this fall. I ran across something so interesting. It is called Braess's paradox. Suppose you have 100 cars going from point A to point D along the roads shown above. The time to travel from A to B depends on the number of cars (x). So if 50 cars take the route from A to B to D, it would take 3.5 hours. The same is true of A to C to D. Because both routes are equally good, the cars tend to distribute themselves equally. In fact, if more choose one route than the other, cars will be motivated to change until the routes become equal again. (It's called a Nash equilibrium.) BUT, if we add a free road between B and C, everyone will take A to B to C to D and it will take 4 hours.

There you have it. Proof positive that less is more.

I have definitely known individuals for whom this is true. I remember talking to one of my rich cousins (one of the Dame's of Woodgrain Windows). He said something to the effect that having a lot of money is a big drain - you have to invest it wisely, make sure you aren't being cheated, plan for it, protect it, provide for others who depend on you. Who knew the rest of us are so lucky NOT to have such big worries?

End of an era...

There it is. The list of all the batches left to complete - empty, zip, zilch. After five years of being over extraction for the stake, the church has officially moved to the new indexing system.

I should feel a bit nostalgic after all the hours I've spent training, checking, auditing, correcting, submitting. I don't. It has been a rewarding calling, but I'm glad to be done.