You know you're an engineer if...

You know you're an engineer if... the provost and both deans say you are switching colleges.

We fought being merged with Electrical and Computer Engineering and they have allowed us to stay as a separate department, if we make the follow concessions:

1. Our department head go on sabbatical for a year starting July 1.
2. We do a national search for a new department head.
3. We move to the college of engineering
4. We give up a faculty position (for someone that had already decided to leave the university).

Lots of changes.

I can taste the love

Working in Relief Society, I see a lot of service being given one to another. One thing I've noticed is that some people are a lot easier to do things for than others. When service is spontaneous, rather than assigned, I see some people getting all kinds of things done for them and others the bare minimum - even though the needs of the two families are similar. I think it has to do with feeling their gratitude. While I do believe that most people don't serve to be recognized or to get thanks, when there is no thanks and no appreciation, the joy of service seems to be seriously squashed. We take in a lot of meals, but I don't believe the meals are about taking care of one's physical needs. Most people in our neighborhood can afford to pick up Papa Murphys or Rumbis. Taking in food is about showing love - pure and simple.

Merlene Ivie has got to be one of the neatest people to serve. She and Boyd have had a ton of health problems this past year or two. EVERYBODY wants to do things for them because they are so wonderful to give thanks. The last time I took bread over to them, Merlene called immediately and said, "We sure appreciate the bread Steve brought over. The thing that is so special about your bread is the love you put in it." I laughed and told her that she was a special woman who could taste the love. I think that is the secret - being able to recognize the love. What you're given may not be exactly what you wanted, may be too much for your needs, may not be your favorite recipe, and may be a duplicate of what someone else brought - but if you can recognize the love, you are truly grateful.

Life in the fast lane

Just when you think you have mastered the Salt Lake freeway exits, you have a setback. Each day Chelle and I have traveled to the hospital to see the babies. Each day we run errands - grocery shopping, buying a crib mattress, getting drawer dividers, searching out bathroom rugs, going to the bank, finding a filing cabinet. Between new babies and a new house, we are burning through the cash.

Yesterday, after seeing the darling babes lounging in their isolettes, we headed for John Paras furniture store in Ogden. Chelle pumped at the hospital to give us more time. (Pumping every three hours makes scheduling errands a half hour from home a bit tricky.) After a few errands in Centerville, it was close to rush hour. As things started to slow down on the freeway, we convinced ourselves we should just head home rather than continue to Ogden. As we inched down the freeway, we kept seeing flashing signs saying "Seatbelt Info Use" or "Exit 1 mile". We couldn't figure out why anyone would need seatbelt info, but we soon found out. Looking for any exit to get us out of rush hour freeway traffic, we took at exit that went nowhere. It was just a police check point for seatbelts! We were laughing as we got our "info". The packet we got did include a tin of red hots and I must say traffic was much better as we exited, so I guess we weren't out much.

We did continue on to Ogden and got a glider/ottoman for the nursery, so we were successful.

The babies are doing well. They are starting to gain back the weight they lost after birth. They still have IVs, nasal canulas with low dosage oxygen, and a feeding tube, but the doctors seem pleased with their progress. Ben and Michelle go back to the hospital every evening and have been able to hold each of the babies for a half hour or more. Chelle thought she might get to try nursing next week.

Unstoppable Halle

Halle is at such a fun age. She is unstoppable – constant motion. This morning she helped me put recyclables in the bin, and we stayed outside. I grabbed my purse so I could record her conversation. As I grabbed a pad and pen, she grabbed my wallet.
Here is her commentary:

Zip it. I zip it. In there. Money. Another zipper. I need money. NamMa money. Mommy money is? I don’t see it. I need money. Put in my pocket. I need money. I did it [putting it in pocket].

I don’t see it (money is hard to get out of wallet]. I need money. Put in my pocket. I need money. I did it! Another money. Another money. See. [Laughing]

Got one. More money. Help me [hard to get out of wallet].

NamMa: You need to stand up.

I dropped. I put it in my pocket. [Hopping.]

[Now every time she puts a coin in her pocket, she stands up so it will go in better.]

Rock. I can’t get it.

I stand up [to put money in].

I dropped one. Other one. [Carefully puts each coin in pocket.] Big one in. [a quarter]

[Chelle comes outside.]
NamMa: Maybe Chelle would like some money.
[Halle grins and gives her the last three coins, one at a time.]

Put in my pocket.

Sky. Clouds [pointing]
Lets go see.
Not blow away [clouds]

[Seeing her welcome home poster of the babies on the railing] My picture. Broke it. Hole.

[Poinging to Chelle’s hospital bracelets for the twins} One Savannah. One Eve.


[Looking at picture] This pink. This purple. This yellow. This orange. This blue. This purple.

[Chelle has stood up. Halle pats porch where Chelle was sitting, inviting her to rejoin us.] Sit me.

Blue glasses [on Michelle]
Mommy’s car gone. Mommy drived.

[Seeing A on my shirt. Starts singing ABC song. Chelle joins in.]

One Savannah. One Eve. (pointing to hospital bracelets Chelle is wearing.]

[Hops like a frog up stairs.]

Heard birdie singing. I hear airplane.

Birdie walking. Birdie singing. See airplane. [hop down porch stairs]

I see rock.

I hopped. Need my shoes. Helicopter. See airplane. Going up here. [Climbs on railing.] See airplane. Mud rock. Throw it.

Zach: I can get a mud rock.

Me too. See airplane. Over there.

[Hops down stairs. Falls.} OWW. [Then up and running]

I on. [Climbs on water meter]
Hole. Hole dropping. [Fills hole with dirt]. Rock go in there. Hole done. I made it.

NamMa: What’s this?

It’s a plant. I on. [Steps on water meter. Sprinkles dirt on water meter. Jumps on and off.]

I see Zachy. I digging [with stick].
[Falls flat. Picks herself up without a whimper and keeps running.]

[In garage. Zach climbs in play oven. Halle adjusts the controls.]
Zach in there. [Shuts oven door.] Bye Zach. [opens door]. Hi Zach.
Making soup. [Turns controls.]

Two, Five, Sixteen [playing with clock on side of kitchen playset].

Ice cream [licking hardware removed from babies' dresser that Trish and Brandon are refinishing for the twins].

Vanilla ice cream. Tasty.

Zach: Do you want chocolate ice cream?

UhHuh.
All done. Two. Need other one. All done. [Brings me four ice cream cones.] Having more.

[Takes out play sink. Steps in it. Trisha appears on porch.] Mamma go running.
Trisha: No. Go to park.
Feed ducks. [And they are off…]

The Bouncing Taxi Driver

Being as I'm in Farmington to be with Chelle, I got to go to Zach's final pre-school program. Zach couldn't have been more excited. You had no trouble picking him out as he was always bouncing. It was so cute.

The program was mainly singing - with kids acting out the part of wind or raindrops, or holding flags. They told the story of the Three Billy Goats Gruff (with audience participation). Zach was the "taxi driver" in a version of the following poem.

Dear Mom,
Thank you for all the times,
You cleaned up after me.
You always kissed my pain away,
When I scraped my little knee.

You're my chef, my maid, my taxi driver too,
I'd be a living mess, if I didn't have you.

You're the one that cheers me on,
A listening ear when I'm feeling down,
Everything seems okay,
Whenever you're around.

I should probably say this more often,
I'm glad a day is dedicated to you,
You really need to know,
Just how much, "I love you."

Roller Coaster Ride

In talking to Aunt Jill, she says the first weeks with preemies is a roller coaster ride - not steady improvement.

I talked to Chelle this morning. The girls are now in a separate room - just for the two of them - with one nurse for both of them. This is better, because in the larger room it was hard to visit, and if a new baby was being admitted, they couldn't be there at all.

Savannah is now on a ventilator and is still sedated (because the intubation is evidently not pleasant). She has an IV through her head. I guess that is common as it is hard to have the IV in one place all the time. Both girls are now on antibiotics. They are treating both babies the same way - as evidently when one has problems, the other often does as well.

Eve is having some apnea and bradycardia. Apnea means a period in which breathing stops. In premature babies, apnea is any pause in breathing that lasts longer than 20 seconds, causing bradycardia, or a drop in the baby’s blood oxygen level.

They have talked about putting in an arterial line to make giving meds easier.

Because they removed the CPAP machine (through her nose) and put an IV in her head, Chelle got to see Savannah's "cute nose and fuzzy blond hair".

The pneumothorax (or collapsed lung) which Savannah has can be caused by a hole the size of a pin prick.

Both Ben and Chelle are trying to get enough rest so they don't get sick - as if they are sick, they can't visit the girls.

The day has arrived!

After more than six weeks in the hospital, Chelle delivered the twins today. Her surgery kept getting bumped until after two when they were born. Eve came first at 3 pounds 13 ounces and 16.5 inches (Apgar scores of 8, 9). Savannah came second at 4 pounds 3 ounces and 15.75 inches (Apgar scores of 7, 9). They are breathing on their own, with a C-Pap machine (via canula) to help out. They are darling! It was hard to get a good pictures with the tubes, cap, and IV. I'll let Ben post the proud Daddy pictures from the U of U NICU unit.

Chelle seems to be doing well. She is in some pain, but is in good spirits.

It feels like being thrown under the bus...

We heard last week that there is a "good chance" the university will merge the Computer Science Department with Electrical and Computer Engineering - in the College of Engineering. For forty seven years we have been a separate program. Now with a flick on a hand, we could lose our identity. The "reason" they give is money, but it just doesn't save that much. It feels like we've been thrown under the bus. We are appealing the decision. I'll keep you posted.

USU acquired its first computer in 1961. It was an IBM 1620, the first one delivered west of the Mississippi. The computer was under the supervision of Dr. Rex L. Hurst, Head, Applied Statistics Department. The computer and the department were housed in the basement of Old Main. Dr. Hurst and Dr. Wendell Pope developed courses and a bachelor's degree program in Computer Science. The BS degree in Computer Science was approved in 1964.

Wicked Weekend

We just returned from the Wicked Weekend. Kimberly purchased tickets for 30 of her closest friends (including family) for Wicked at the Morrison Center. It was a great time. Everybody was there, except for Ben and Michelle. We enjoyed good food and good company, and a lot of craziness.

With church at 2:30, we got home in time to go to our meetings. This is the second time we've made arrangements not to be in church - and ended up getting home in time to go. This 2:30 church is GREAT! I know it is tough on young families, but for us oldies, it is the best schedule.

DC on a dime

I'm in DC for an NSF panel. Being as I have two funded NSF grants, I get on the panel docket a lot. The first time I was here, I took a $50 cab from the airport. Now, I pay $1.85 to take the metro. In all the previous times, I've stayed at the Hilton - which is twenty steps from the metro stop, at the rate of $250 a night. The last time I was here, other panelists were bragging about how cheap their hotel was. I had the record high.

NSF gives us a daily stipend which is intended to cover food, hotel, transportation (outside of airfare) and incidentals. Anything we don't spend, we keep (but have to pay taxes on). I figured with all Michelle's hospital bills, she could use whatever I net out of the trip. With this motivation for my frugality, I did a little searching for the cheapest place to stay. See my accommodations at around $101 a night (including taxes). It's about a three quarter mile walk to the NSF building, but I've quite enjoyed seeing a different part of DC. It even offers a free breakfast - but since we have fruit and pastries at the panel, I've not used it.


This photo of Highlander Motel is courtesy of TripAdvisor

An interesting story

At stake meeting, a member of the stake presidency told the following story.

My sister was traveling from LA to SLC when she fell into conversation with a woman from Rexburg who said she had been helping her sister with the delivery of her ninth child. It seemed clear the woman was LDS. Soon her story unfolded. I'll call her Ann. When Ann was a teenager her family moved to Beaverton Oregon. They were active in the church, in fact her best friend's mom was her Laurel adviser.

When Ann found herself pregnant out of wedlock, her family disowned her. Her mother gave her a list of homeless shelter's and kicked her out of the home. Shortly after, the family moved to Texas and did not keep in contact with her. Ann was indeed homeless, and remained so during the pregnancy. She begged for food in Portland and lived under a bridge. After the baby was born, she realized she needed a better life plan. She learned of a program that would pay for her to become a kindergarten teacher, even providing daycare for her baby.

Things started to improve for Ann. She went to school and got an apartment. At this time, the father of the child was released from prison (on a DUI charge, which evidently was representative of his lifestyle). He sought out Ann and asked for her assistance. After moving into the apartment, they didn't have enough to survive and eviction was threatened.

One evening they were arguing. The fight turned loud and ugly. In the heat of the argument, there was a knock at the door. The man at the door said simply, "I am your home teacher. What do you need and how can I help?"

They told him that they had no money, and the boyfriend needed a job. The home teacher asked what kind of work he did. He said he had done some construction. The home teacher said he had a concrete business and needed a worker. Could he start tomorrow?

Well, the boyfriend worked for the home teacher for several years. He joined the church and eventually married Ann. Ann says she has no idea how her home teacher found her as she had no contact with the church or her family for several years.

The stake presidency member concluded with, "We are often told to magnify our callings, but we usually interpret that to mean 'make larger'. Instead of making our callings larger, let's try to cause them to increase in intensity."

I loved the home teacher angle, but I couldn't get over why anyone would give their daughter a list of homeless shelters and then leave town. That is totally unbelievable. So you people who live in Rexburg and Beaverton, do you think this really happened?

Graduation Dinner

I was in charge of the graduation dinner again this year. It wasn't given to me until LATE, but it turned out fun. We had awards such as "Loch Ness Award - for least likely to be found" or "Koolaid Gang award - for best group work" or the "Jeff Gordon Award - for the one most likely to be found running to class".

Then we played Family Feud - students against faculty. We collected responses with Survey Monkey.

Perfect Company

Trisha and crew are "homeless" and are drifting between our home and Ben/Michelle's new home in Farmington. They moved out of their home a week ago, and are waiting "patiently" for their new home to be vacated.





They are the perfect company.

They make sure the mice are well behaved.

The know how to relax.

They help with Sunday Dinner.

They greet you as you get home for work.

They are easily entertained.

They have been so much fun to have!

What is fun about teaching...

I used to wonder if teaching would become boring as you explained the same thing over and over and over, year after year. Would you get tired of the sound of your own voice?

Today reminded me of those ponderings. In my multi-agent systems course, we were talking about mechanisms which incentivize participants to be honest. It is a fairly complicated concept with lots of cases, rules, and the math to back it up. We talked about ideas, insights, and counter-examples for much longer than you could have guessed. It was a great volley of ideas as they wondered about other solutions, challenged the rules, and compared the ideas to other topics. It was fun.

I think what is missing from some of our teachers in the church is the ability to REALLY understand and value the comments made (and the comments not made). Questions and answers are often intended to keep the audience awake by having them parrot back definitions and terminology rather than stimulating thinking or wanting real input.

If I’m explaining something difficult to my CS students, I can’t just tell them how to do something, I have to be able to understand their misconceptions and deficiencies and adjust my presentation accordingly. I can’t help them to understand until I really see it from their standpoint. I continually find myself saying, “That is a great thought. I hadn’t considered that before.” And I MEAN it. For me, that is the fun of teaching – to consider things you hadn’t thought of before. In addition, the fun of teaching is to see people understand for the first time as you explain it in a way specifically tailored to their way of thinking.

In the gospel, the concepts are simpler, so (often) we think we can just present the material and there will be no disagreement. Thus, we make the mistake of thinking there is a single point of view. We give lessons that assume everyone in the audience is happily married (in the temple) with children, rather than consider another vantage point.

I admit that mental gymnastics are required of the teacher in being able to hear something you weren’t expecting, understand the motivation, appreciate the viewpoint, react so as not to offend, and incorporate the idea into the presentation without losing the main point of the lesson.

Judge Not

We had a very strange Relief Society lesson yesterday. It was on Charity, which wouldn't have made it odd, but some of the comments were odd. I don't want to be critical, but just trust me, there were some mighty odd comments.

There were four points to help you develop charity. We divided into groups to discuss separate parts. Our part began with "Don't think you are better than everyone else." I thought it was odd - about as thought provoking as "Don't yell at people". Why would they have to tell us not to think we are better than others? Do people really go around thinking they are better than others? I guess I did that in seventh grade, but I hope I've matured a bit since then. I decided the lesson meant to say, "Don't judge others."

Teaching has taught me a good deal about judging. I've decided that most people are doing the best they can, given their priorities. What seems unreasonable behavior to me would likely be completely sane if I just understood their motivations. Students who sleep through class aren't usually telling me I'm boring. They are only saying, "I work the night shift and am sleep deprived."

I remember something that happened several years ago that gives me insight into judging others. I was in charge of the tutor room which seated a half dozen students. The tutor was to encourage the students to leave the tutor room after they had been there too long, so that others could get help. One day, the tutor on duty came to me saying there was a woman that just wouldn't leave when asked. I marched into the tutor room to explain to the student that she really needed to leave. She looked at me, but then went back to her work, totally ignoring what I was saying. I tried repeatedly to explain she needed to leave, but she just kept working as though I weren't there. It really made me mad. I went back to my office and called security to physically remove her from the room. I had barely gotten off the phone when the student came to my office (across the hall from the tutor room) to ask a question. I thought it was a bit odd she would come to me for help, as surely she knew I was angry with her. As soon as she spoke, I turned a hundred shades of red. I hurriedly said, "Excuse me. I need to make a phone call first." I had to call security and tell them not to come. The woman wasn't ignoring me. She was deaf.

I love this thought from Henry Eyring:
"A professor of mine, Ray Bauer, years ago corrected me when I put the label of "irrational" on someone's behavior. He said: 'Hal, you'll understand people better if you assume that people's behavior is rational, at least from their point of view. Try to see what they see.'

A perfect day...

We just watched "The Ultimate Gift". I'm sure we'd seen it before, as after every scene you'd think, "Yeah. I knew that was going to happen."

It did have one line I really like. Emily, who's dying of leukemia, says, "My dream was a perfect day and I'm just finishing it. My dream is to be with people I love, that love each other and that love me."

I love that thought. What a simple wish for a perfect day.

I remember some time ago talking to a friend about a host of things that were less than perfect. As she offered advice, I said something like, "Yeah, that's what my sister would say." She stopped and said, "You have a sister who offers sympathy and insight! Wow. What a blessing. I wish I had a sister like that."

I've thought about that a lot. We all have lots of wonderful things in our lives that we don't often appreciate as much as we should. Thanks to all of you for being part of my perfect days.

Is he nice or crazy?

Chelle was admitted into the hospital on Monday. We hope she'll be there six weeks - waiting for the twins to be big enough to thrive outside the womb. On her first night there, I called and asked, "Is your husband still there? If so I'll call back." She said, "Oh, he's spending the night." I was SURPRISED! Is he just a nice guy or is he crazy? I have spent enough nights at the hospital, both as a patient and as a loved-one, that I know it is an experience to be avoided at all costs. People are in and out of the room all night - checking, prodding, poking. Morning begins before the rooster ever thought of crowing. The light flashes in your eyes as technicians enter and leave. Monitors get out of whack and start beeping. The recliners could pass for torture chambers - not long enough to get comfortable, collapsing into their upright position as you move. If you have to use the bathroom, the patients bathroom is usually off-limits so you are wandering down the hall to find public facilities. You are sleeping in your street clothes - and there is nothing comfortable about that. A night in the hospital is spelled I-N-S-O-M-N-I-A! With a young child or very sick individual who needs someone to speak for them or who is too frightened to stay alone, I have often spent the night at the hospital, but I've never considered staying when my presence was just a matter of nicety.

Yet Ben stayed - just to keep her company. I'm not sure that he isn't a bit crazy, but it sure is nice to know that my daughter and grandkids have such a loving husband and father.

Girls Night Out

It was girls night out while the fellows went to the Priesthood Session. Girls night out was pretty thinly attended (just Chelle and I), but we had a good time. We went to Rumbi's for dinner, and ran into Judy and Jessica Nielson. I hadn't seen Jessica for a while, so we had a good time visiting. She asked me to tell Lori and Kim she asked about them. We also saw Renee and Dan (from work).

Following dinner, Chelle and I had crafts night. Lisa and Cara motivated us with their burp cloths. We couldn't decide which kind was better (diaper backed rectangles or flannel backed bean shaped), so we made some of each. We bought some cute pink fabric, but also used all kinds of flannel remnants. I'm guessing even twins can't use all the burp cloths we made. We were motivated to finish the quilts that had been embroidered (by Chelle and by Grandma Hurst), so we planned fabric for those as well.

Chelle enters the hospital Monday!

My Offering Is Accepted..

We attended the Young Women camp silent auction tonight. It was well done - door prizes, entertainment, good food, lots to buy. The young women had contributed items, but ward members were also involved in donating. I hadn't been to one of these fund raisers before, so I didn't know what to expect. There were some handmade items, a twin mattress, some games, a photo shoot, Mary Kay cosmetics, meals, cinnamon rolls, a baby blanket. I acquired the most unusual item. One of the young men had made roses out of duct tape. He stood back from the crowd and watched the reaction to his roses. To me he said, "I sure hope someone buys those, because I made them." I didn't know what I would do with duct tape roses, so I didn't sign auction sheet. As I ate my dinner, I realized that I really needed to buy them. The minimum bid was $5, but I figured they were "worth" at least twice that. I was the only bidder.

I haven't figured out where to keep them, but every time I see them I will remember Colton and his desire to have his contribution accepted and appreciated. Aren't we all like that? Some of us are not so open as to admit, "I sure hope someone buys those" but everyone one of us needs to feel like we are enough.

Thanks, Colton! The message was well worth the ten bucks.

A Storyteller

We've been to several viewings lately. Tonight it was for Jim Bishop - a member of the ward when Steve was bishop. His death was quite a shock. His wife said, "If anybody else says 'He was needed on the other side more than he was needed here', I'm going to punch them. I needed him here." I understand the sentiment. I suppose the comment is supposed to make you feel better, but we understand so little of the 'other side', it is hard to make a compelling case that he was needed more. Plus, the Lord's time moves so quickly compared to ours - he maybe only needed ten more minutes in the Lord's time to make it until a ripe old age.

In talking with the sons, it was interesting to find out what they were doing. One is a surveyor, like his dad. One designs solar panels. One is a storyteller. I wasn't sure what he meant. While I know what storytellers do, I wasn't sure how you make your living as one - unless you teach storytelling at the university. No, he doesn't teach. He just tells stories - around the campfire, at Halloween, at family gatherings. Who knew? He said the recession hasn't been good for business. I'm fascinated. A story teller. That is an awesome profession.

Taking in Dinner

I think "taking in dinner" is a Mormon tradition. Today was my turn to take in dinner to a family whose month old baby is back in the hospital with RSV. When our RS president asked me to bring in a meal, she said, "When the baby was born, I didn't feel like we did enough for the family. This will give us a chance to be of more service."

Since I work until five most days, getting dinner to a family by six isn't the easiest. I woke up early and got Lori Hurst's Crispy Parmesan chicken fixed. (I love that recipe.) I made a raspberry jello salad recipe as well. I left work a half hour early (as we needed to stop by Alda's to take in the garbage can) and arrived home just in time to throw the chicken in the oven. I made ice cream pudding, Alfredo pasta, and thawed rolls from Sunday. I planned how to get everything there without using dishes that would have to be returned. I gathered everything in the car and showed up on their doorstep.

What happened next was pretty funny. The husband said, "Oh, I didn't know you were bringing dinner. We were just eating cold cereal." And they were! I guess he thought that sounded funny so he said, "Oh, this is really just after school snacks (that they were eating at six p.m.- ooookkkay), we're happy to eat what you brought." His wife was in the hospital with the baby. I'm sure she just forgot to tell him that dinner was being brought it.

Funny that I didn't even care they didn't need dinner. I think we bring in dinner to show love, so hopefully they found the love. :-)

Fake it Til You Make It

Someone challenged me to do something nice every day. Shortly after receiving that challenge, the Young Women camp director announced a fund raiser in which they auction off contributions made by ward members. I thought, "A nice person would make something special for the fund raiser." I thought, "Well, I am not that nice." But then I decided I could pretend to be nice - 'fake it until I made it'.

Anyway, with that in mind, I decided to make a "game quilt" for a Mountain Crest fan. Here it is!

Janis Ian

We went to see Janis Ian last night as part of a collection of performances we bought tickets to. She is a folk singer from the sixties. She is my age, almost exactly. SO, tell me I don't look this old.

The event was poorly attended - maybe a third full.

The performance was an interesting one. Her songs were all stories, "At Seventeen" and "Society's Child" were ones my friends recognized from the sixties. I only recognized the first. At the time she wrote them, they were quite controversial. She told of being booed off the stage because of Society's Child. She had an interesting perspective on growing up in the sixties - racial bias, Viet Nam, the role of women.

Her perspective on being lesbian was insightful. She talked about being married in Toronto to her partner of twenty years. She had felt it was "just a piece of paper", but was very moved by the experience. She said, "Finally, our relationship was accepted by a nation." I appreciated understanding that emotion.

I will never forgive her for using the f-bomb in a song. Her manager had asked her, "Can you do your show in Logan Utah?" She knew she was playing before a conservative audience, yet didn't care. I just don't understand why people feel the need to use that word!

The four state tour

It's a real for state tour - Starting out in Utah, spending several days in Arizona, a night in New Mexico and a night in Colorado.

Mesa Verde is truly amazing. The extent of the building is incredible. Some of the complexes had more than fifty rooms. Four storied towers, round subterranean kivas, round lookouts, impressive masonry – everywhere you looked were impressive sights. The cliff dwellings were amazing as they were neither accessible from the mesa top not the valley bottom. They evidently went to and from the dwellings via foot and hand holes pecked into the rock. I’m guessing babies didn’t leave until they were several years old, or there were a lot of unfortunate accidents.

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The cliff dwellings were in the minority. Pithouses were more common. The architecture allowed both air flow and storage of grains and game. The museum was really nice. I was impressed with the weaving of clothing and sandals. They weaved yucca fibers, human hair, and feathers. There was an intricate doll board and even a child’s tea set. Woven sandals were impressive as well. Yucca fibers were boiled or soaked and then pounded to expose the inner fibers. These fibers were also used to produce rope, snares, mats, baskets, belts, and much more. Yucca plants were also used as a food source and as a source of soap made from the roots. The way the plants were used in so many ways was amazing.

The dioramas of Indian life were so well done, a stark contrast from the ones the kids had to do for social studies projects.















This is the Cliff Palace. I'll post some of our pictures when we get home, but this will have to do for now...

Chaco Culture National History Park

On Friday, we went to Chaco Culture National History Park. It was about 60 miles from Farmington, New Mexico - thirteen of which was on a dirt road. The ruins were like nothing I have ever seen. They were used by the Hopi and other Indian groups between 850 and 1150 AD. The great houses were built for ceremonial purposes. There were numerous kivas (Hopi for ceremonial chamber) throughout the complex. Kivas are round, below ground structures with a bench around the edges. In the middle are floor vaults which are used for a variety of purposes. They can be filled with sand and used as a foot drum where natives would dance and have the sounds carried through the ground. Sometimes they were used to store seed. In each kiva was a fire pit and deflector. There were four seating pits to hold braces for the roof. While we saw no roofs, drawings showed them to be crosshatched with smaller timber.

The buildings themselves were free standing structures, composed of numerous rooms, some multi-story. One complex of rooms could be three acres. The walls were formed with a sandstone and mortar combination looking much like stone or brick walls. They termed the construction “core and veneer” as the center of the two foot thick walls was filled with rubble. Along the backside of the buildings were round holes about nine inches in diameter at regular spacings. They held logs that extended over the rooms as roofs and out the backside as support for balconies. The site was discovered around 1849 and the balconies were in place until early 1900’s when they were scavenged for fire wood.

The wood for construction was transported from forests up to 60 miles away. Wood was cut, trimmed, peeled, and left to dry out for a year so transportation was easier. The ends were cut flush and sanded with a stone tool. They figure 26,000 trees were transported into the area for building purposes. They can use scientific methods to date the trees, telling when they were cut and, in some cases, where it came from.

Dirt had been moved to build up the plaza to twelve feet above ground level, either for prominence or to control damage from flooding.

At Chetro Ketl, there is evidence of Mexican influence in the architecture – as there is a colonnade (virtually nonexistent in the Puebloan Southwest). (See the picture below.) It is characteristic of the Toltec culture from 700 to 1000 AD in Chihuahua Mexico. Trade existed between Paguime and Chaco at that time – so possibly architectural ideas were exchanged as well.

Evidence of irrigation ditches is found. Most of the rainfall occurs in the summer, so it seems the Chacoan used the ditches to transport the water to storage ponds and fields. The canyon is at the base of mesas. There is evidence of ladders and handholds in the rock where the Chacoan climbed to the top of the mesa where they could follow roads to a variety of locations all around the four corners region.

The petroglyphs were also interesting. They are created in several ways. Incised designs are carved with a sharp instrument. Some are pecked using hammerstones and a striker (for precision). Some of the areas had been first smoothed using an abrasive stone. They also used paints to create their images. They ground up minerals such as calcium carbonate (white), hematite and ochre (red), and charcoal (black) and mixed them with a binder such a plant or animal oils, eggs, blood, or urine to adhere paint to the surface. I kept wondering if Dad had ever seen these ruins. He would have loved them!

Many of the ruins have not even been excavated. They are filled with sand and look like small mounds.

If you haven’t seen the ruins, it is definitely worth the trip.

Jerome, Train Ride, Blazin M Ranch

Chapel of the Holy Cross

This working chapel in Sedona had the cutest gift shop.

Many of the items had a religious flair. My favorite was a plaque containing this message.

Do you know what would have happened if it had been Three Wise Women instead of Three Wise Men? They would have asked directions, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, cleaned the stable, made a casserole, brought practical gifts and there would be Peace On Earth

Sedona - Red Rocks State Park

Spur of the moment

I guess its the week for spur of the moment decisions. We decided at 6:35 to go to the BYU Men's Chorus performance that started at 7 tonight. The tabernacle was packed. We wouldn't have even gotten in except for they created a new front row of folding chairs. Steve got stuck on the side, but I had an amazing view. They were absolutely delightful.

On Thursday night, as I was leaving a bridal shower, Judy Nielsen chased after me to ask what we were doing for Spring Break. She then invited us to go with them to Sedona, Arizona. We'll be gone for a week. It should be great fun. Hope it turns out as well as the dash to the BYU Men's Chorus.

Not for sissies

I learned this week that a high school friend - Richard Daines - passed away. Heart attach they think. Richard and I have been friends since gradeschool. He was a doctor and Commissioner of Health for the state of New York. He was bright and funny. He made being smart something to be desired. I liked him a ton. It seemed like just yesterday we laughed and talked at our forty year reunion. I'm so glad I got that chance to catch up. I hadn't seen him in years. How tough for his family to have him snatched away so quickly.

Another friend has been diagnosed with multi-domain MCI (mild cognitive impairment). He's barely over sixty - too young for such a disease. The multi-domain part means the impairment is more than just memory loss, but effects recalling stories, switching gears in thought process, finding alternative solutions, and following inference. I can't imagine how that must feel, like being caught in a nightmare where things just don't make sense.

Yet another friend was just diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. She is dizzy and has chronic pain. She has had problems for years, but just now received the diagnosis.

You wonder which would be the worst - losing a husband in an instance, losing your faculties bit by bit, or dealing with MS. Likely the one that is the worst is the one YOU are dealing with.

This life isn't for sissies.

Myth: It is better to remain silent

There is a saying, "It is better to remain silent and thought a fool, than to speak up and remove all doubt." It is a myth. Some students never ask questions. They assume you will think they know everything as they have no questions, but they are wrong. Why would that be a logical conclusion? Those who are learning are asking question. I can tell so much about what a person understands from the questions they ask. I just gave a test today. The two students who got nearly perfect scores were no surprise. I had known they were extremely talented - from their questions!

I love the statement by Joseph McConkie (son of Bruce R.): "My father and grandfathers had a great love of the gospel and were marvelous sources of understanding. I have, however, a distinct memory of the occasion when I went to my father with some gospel questions only to receive the following response: “Look, Junior, you have the same sources available to you as I have to me.” More important than any answers these men gave to my questions was their teaching me how to get answers for myself. They are now gone. Questions continue, as does the confidence that the same sources that were available to them are available to me."

I love it both for the message and for the fact that Joseph McConkie admits he has questions. In listening to a BYUI devotional the other day, the speaker said that true disciples never question. I found that offensive. It is okay to have questions. I think true disciples have a desire to believe versus a critical attitude, but it is okay to question as that is how you understand. So much of the Doctrine and Covenants is answers to questions.

Some say, "I have always known the church is true." While that is great for them, it is difficult to pass that along.

I question, but the gospel is a package deal, not a smorgasbord where you pick up the chocolate covered strawberries and leave the three bean salad. Either Joseph Smith is who he says he is and the Book or Mormon was received and translated as he said it was or Joseph Smith is a fraud. You can't have it both ways. You can't pick and choose. There is no middle ground. Like puzzle pieces you can't quite place - you don't throw them away because they don't fit yet. You place them to the side until their role in the puzzle is clear. Plural marriage is one of those misfit puzzle pieces for me. Yet, the rest of the puzzle is a thing of beauty and growing each year. I'll just put the plural marriage piece to the side (or maybe throw it off the table altogether) for now.

Classic Moment

Last night we went to see the 5 Browns with our good friends. They are five siblings who are all Julliard trained classical piano players. Today, I was giving an exam and decided I wanted to look up their ages. Since I was in a media equipped classroom, I decided just to use the computer in the room. My google search revealed that they are between 32 and 25, originally born in Houston. The each showed amazing talent and interest in the piano at age three. They were home schooled, which evidently gave them the freedom to attend Juliard at the same time. My google searching was going great until I landed on a website which just started playing one of their songs - loudly, getting attention throughout the classroom. I couldn't kill the window fast enough. It was a "classic moment" to be sure. It was pretty funny.

They have been in the news recently for bringing suit against their father for abusing the girls over an eight year period. The father pleaded guilty and is awaiting sentencing. I didn't expect them to say anything about the court case, but they did. At the beginning, the older brother said something like, "Thanks for supporting us at this difficult time. Being able to play for you is what we love." How absolutely horrible it would be to make the decision to turn your father in, knowing that would mean he would be in prison for years. Can you imagine the rift that would create between you and both of your parents, to say nothing of extended family? I can't imagine.

The performance was delightful. At the end, being as it is Cache Valley, there was the 'required' standing ovation. The performers ate it up - coming out for curtain call after curtain call. They performed one more number, but in a later curtain call, almost spontaneously, the older brother decided to sing a song. He is not a singer, but the message was poignant:


When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

When high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Tears sprang to my eyes. The middle daughter was very emotional and crossed her arms over her heart signifying love for the audience. I was touched. Likely, the love and support they feel in performing is what is keeping them sane.

Say hello to Mr. Angry eyes!

Drew is such a sweet little guy. With all his ALPS issues, he has more challenges than any almost four year old child should need to cope with. Last week, his platelets dropped, requiring a transfusion. Going back to preschool later in the week, he was self conscious of his bruises. That makes me feel so badly - both that he has to endure the illness and that he is concerned about being different.

However, he may have discovered a solution. Before story time at preschool, when everyone was quiet, he got in character as Mr Potato Head (from Toy Story 2) and shouted, "Say hello to Mr. Angry eyes!" Everybody was in hysterics, including the teachers. So if you have to laugh or cry, I'm with Drew. Let's have the laughing!

Adults say the darndest things

Art Linkletter used to have a television series with a segment entitled, "Kids say the darndest things" - but I'm thinking kids can't compare with adults.

At our marriage soiree, I talked to two of our ward members. One is a good friend and neighbor (and wife of our stake president). When I told her Chelle's news of monoamniotic twins, the concerned etched her face and then she finally said, "You just had it too easy when they were teenagers. We would look at your family during those years when everything was going perfectly and wonder, 'What are we doing wrong?'" I thought that was so interesting. Who knew she was secretly in awe of how well things appeared to be going. She has been so supportive over the years. When she learned of Kim's divorce, tears sprang to her eyes. When I told her about ALPS, she had to know exactly who had it and who didn't. She has been a good friend, truly one who mourns with those that mourn.

The other interesting comment was from an older sister in the ward. She said, "What is Greg doing?" I told her, but she clearly wanted to get to her message which was, "I have a 24 year old granddaughter who is single. Maybe we could set them up?" I thought that was so funny. She really doesn't even know Greg, but hey, he's single and she's single. Got to be a match made in heaven.

If you feed them, they will come.

We had a stake "Marriage Soiree". It has typically been a sit down dinner, a speaker, and then dancing. This year the dinner was replaced with "finger food". The attendance was HORRIBLE. I'll bet there weren't many more than a hundred there. From our ward, I could count six couples - and only two couples that weren't involved as stake leaders or on the committee. It was too bad, because the "finger food" was substantial enough to be a dinner - if you went through the line a few times. Chocolate covered strawberries, vegetables and dip, three bean salad, asparagus, mushrooms, fresh fruit, tiny pulled pork sandwiches. It was great!

My favorite part of the evening was a story teller (Suzanne Hudson) who portrayed Eliza R Snow, poetess and charismatic leader of women. She was the tenth wife of Joseph Smith (the love of her heart) and the eighth wife of Brigham Young. After Joseph Smith was martyred, she asked Brigham Young, "Who will be my champion?" He responded, "Eliza R Snow." While that isn't what she hoped to hear, I love the message. If you aren't your own champion, who will be?

The tradition continues

When the folks were alive, we would often gather at Maddox for dinner. It has been years since the folks could join us, but tonight we continued the tradition. Gary was here on a skiing trip for three days. Cherri made the three hour plus trek from Idaho in a blizzard. Craig and I (and spouses) filled out the table. Ashley represented the nieces and nephews. It was a great time. I'm sure mom and dad were looking down and craving that trout and the raspberry butter.

If it were fair, it wouldn't be a test

I was reading Lone Survivor (before I had to return it half read because of language). He talks about the various tests of endurance the SEALS were asked to endure in their training. In addition to physical stress, they were asked to endure emotional trials. One day there was a room check. One of the SEALS had spent hours getting his room perfect. When it came time for room check, he found that his room had been trashed. An instructor had sneaked through the window, trashed the room, and then exited - only to enter later and given him heck for having an uncleaned room. The explanation for doing such a thing was something like this: physical challenges are one thing, but what gets to you are the emotional ones. The very unfairness of the situation is what made it a particularly telling test. Could they endure unfairness and be able to get past it?

I have thought a lot about that. We do A, B, C and expect to get D. When we get Q instead, that is difficult to get our minds around.

Crying in WalMart

With cell phones, you can be absolutely anywhere when you get that phone call. Yesterday, I got one of those calls while I was in WalMart. The tears sprang to my eyes and coursed down my cheeks while I stood, glued in one spot in the produce department. Now, when I'm talking on the phone, I'm oblivious to everything around me. [When I had young kids, they took advantage of that fact. I'd often find them dancing on the table when I hung up the phone.] I decided I couldn't possibly decide whether to pay $2.78 for spinach while I was talking on the phone, and motioned for Steve to push the cart along. After my phone call ended, Steve pointed out the others who had seen my distress and been concerned. In WalMart of all places. Who would have guessed? I must say that I live in a pretty incredible place - with caring, supportive people - even in WalMart.

Day by Day

I love these thoughts...

Todd Christofferson writes, "In the 1950s my mother survived radical cancer surgery, but difficult as that was, the surgery was followed with dozens of painful radiation treatments in what would now be considered rather primitive medical conditions. She recalls that her mother taught her something during that time that has helped her ever since: “I was so sick and weak, and I said to her one day, ‘Oh, Mother, I can’t stand having 16 more of those treatments.’ She said, ‘Can you go today?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, honey, that’s all you have to do today.’ It has helped me many times when I remember to take one day or one thing at a time.”

Joseph McConkie states: As we venture out, we would like a ready source to tell us how to handle every difficult situation. But that is not the Lord’s system. It is not the design of heaven that we be rescued from all difficult situations. Rather, it is the Lord’s will that we learn to handle them. The sense of being overwhelmed is very much a part of the journey. The power with which God clothes us in His holy temples does not imply that our journey will be an easy one.

It's just not practical

When Mom used to take the kids shopping for their birthday, she never asked what I thought they should have. She only asked them. Lots of times they would come back with gifts that had no practical purpose. With all the things they could really use, it was hard to watch them come home with yet another knickknack. However, it gave me pause. I realized that gift giving, like most things I did, was drenched in practicality.

We went to Music Man this week. It was performed by a local community group. Two of our ward members were in it, but I didn't know that until I got there. It was quite enjoyable. Harold Hill was played by a young fellow whose family runs Pickleville Playhouse (T.J Davis). In reading his bio, I was struck by the fact that he had gone to dental school for a year, but because it wasn't "risky enough" he came back to a Northern Utah career in theatre. He was good, but, honestly, can anyone make a career in theatre in Northern Utah? Pickleville does well in the Summer, but summer is short at Bear Lake. I was impressed with the total lack of practicality of his plans, yet had to admire someone who throws caution to the wind and follows his dream.

Today two students came to me with a question. For over six months they have been trying to solve a problem that they thought up. It goes something like this. You have a paragraph with all the spaces and punctuation thrown out. You want to recreate the paragraph using only a dictionary of words. They kept talking about "It was the best of times the worst of times" being parsed as "I twas the best oft i me ..." They didn't want to use anything like sentence construction. They were excited with various forms of searching and backtracking that they had used. I gave them a few ideas for solving the problem and convinced them that any type of greedy scanning (looking for shortest word or longest word) wouldn't work in all cases, so they had to settle for finding the most likely candidates first. They seemed pleased with my suggestions and went on their way. I was plagued with the thought that they had spent six months working on a problem that no one else wanted the solution for (including me). Yet, I had to admire them for living the (albeit nerdy) dream.

Grandchildren are the love affair of old age

I'm reading a book by Reeve Lindbergh called "No More Words" about her mother's last months. She quotes her mother, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, as saying, "Grandchildren are the love affair of old age." I love that - and echo those sentiments. What wonderful, amazing grandchildren I have.

At another point, Reeve says, "When I was grown and had my own daughter, and reveled in the ecstatic connection between me as nursing mother and my baby at my breast, my mother watched and us told me, "it is, of course, the only perfect human relationship."

A good friend loaned me the book, and had underlined her favorite passages. How fun to enjoy it doubly as I see what she loved as well.

What's New?

This has been a week of new experiences. Last night the Utah members of our family went to see Wynton Marsalis at Kingsberry Hall. We agreed to go because everyone else was going, and Brandon was so excited about it. When I heard one of Wynton Marsalis' albums where he sounded like an elephant, I was less that excited. HOWEVER, I really quite enjoyed the performance.

On Saturday, we went to a youth (ages 9-19) Shakespeare performance of MacBeth. Our friends, the Cutlers, had two of their kids in it and they had been very involved in making costumes. I was curious, "What kinds of kids want to do Shakespeare? What kind of adults think that is a good idea?" I don't even like Shakespeare, but I found the whole idea of kids memorizing such complicated lines fascinating. I really enjoyed seeing the kids get into their parts. It was fun!

Shocked Disbelief

I gave my RS lesson today - taken from Todd Christofferson's CES talk. There was one quote I added that I just love.

Ann Kidd Taylor ( with Sue Monk Kidd) (Traveling with Pomegranates) Right before I left on that college study tour to Greece, my boyfriend of four years, the one I thought I would marry, called and broke up with me. Out of nowhere.

“One day you’ll find someone and he’ll be the luckiest guy in the world,” he told me. I think he intended for this to make me feel better, but come on, the luckiest guy in the world and he didn’t want to be that guy. I sat on the blue sofa in the apartment in a state of shocked disbelief— what birds must feel after flying into windowpanes. That was followed by a period of pure heartache.


I loved that thought. It seems like I've been hitting a lot of windowpanes lately. Shocked disbelief is definitely the feeling.

Traveling with Greg

Traveling with Greg is like a step back in time – when all things were possible, life held nothing but grand alternatives, and energy level posed no barrier. Traveling with a sixty one year old man is cautious, measured, and predictable. Traveling with Greg is limitless. He studies the Lonely Planet guidebook and maps out the day. People stop him multiple times to ask directions. Of all the people on Roman streets, they pick him to query. Is it the confidence that he exudes? Is it his six foot five frame that gives him the edge over the rest of the crowd? Is it his clothing that speaks of comfort with his surroundings? Is it his travel bag slung over his shoulder or the map committed to memory that evokes trust?

As we look for a deli with authentic Italian food, Greg studies the menu not just the food in the window. He concludes, “Too much of a tourist trap. A real Italian restaurant wouldn’t serve egg drop soup.” We settle on an incredible restaurant at a fraction of the 70 Euro price we see at many sites. When interacting with the waiter, he never misses the meaning despite the thick accent.

He travels like a seasoned tourist – devouring multiple plates of food at the all you can eat breakfast at the hotel, pocketing the packaged toast and Nutella for a snack, and filling his own water bottle (rather than paying upwards of five dollars a bottle for ‘water without gas’ available on the streets).

Having read the guidebook, he is able to give insight on whatever you are viewing – from the concrete used in the Pantheon to the reasons for the caverns under the Colosseum. He is a delightful traveling companion. How lucky I am that he volunteered to come along.

Wishes on Trevi Fountain

At Trevi Fountain, you throw in a coin for good luck. Legend has it that you should throw two coins over your shoulder into the fountain; one coin grants your wish and the other ensures your eventual return to Rome. I only threw one coin - so I guess I'm not coming back, but I wished for all of you - so if good things start to happen, you'll know why. They say they recover $4500 per day from the fountain! That's good luck to somebody.