Within the past few years, my oldest sister decided to go back to school get her Master's degree. She wasn't sure what she wanted to at first, debating between astronomy/astrophysics and history, but she ended up landing on history.
After taking some of her courses, she found herself writing a lot. Even before she started her second degree, she enjoyed writing, so this didn't come as too much of a shock. I think she had a bit of shell shock with the amount of writing that she had to do.
Because she knew I was a writer, she asked me to look at some of her papers that she deemed more important than others. While I am no expert, I have spent quite a few hours writing and editing things. And after getting to her last course, she found herself writing a thesis. I told her I would be happy to look at it for her, and she accepted (with a bit of a sigh of relief, I think).
I'm happy to say that today I edited the final draft. She will be doing a few tweaks on the paper, and then submitting it before Monday. Over the past few weeks, a lot has been going on in her life, but she plugged through it. Some of her kids probably thought she was crazy, especially after she locked herself in her bedroom and read the whole paper (around 100 pages) aloud. But she felt a bit vindicated when I suggested it to her. In fact, you might even say she dangled those words over her kids head with a bit of a crazed look in her eye.
Needless to say, she has come a long way in her writing. Her final draft was very well organized and written. I know that she will do great, and that there will be no problems getting the thesis through all the hoops that come along with a Master's degree. I'm quite proud of her.
But the most fun of the whole thing (for me, and possibly for her) is the fact that I got to learn about some misconceptions that I had believed all my life about the birth of our nation. Even though John Smith and Pocahontas got married, and the pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, there is part of our history that never gets talked about. This is the influence of the Dutch on the New World.
The Dutch were the actual founders of New York, and many of the traditions that they brought to the New World are actually what has shaped the American Dream to what it is today. You can thank the Dutch, and not the English, for creating a place that encouraged diversity and equality (even among women). They also created the entrepreneurial spirit that can be seen in New York City today.
So, if you want to get a bit more of a taste of this, or learn more about it, feel free to visit my sister's blog and learn some more. While right now, she doesn't have a whole lot detailed on her findings (as the thesis isn't published yet), I hope that this will encourage her to get back in the swing of things on her blog and writing again. If you would like to learn more about New Netherland (the real name of New York), then feel free to send any and all questions her way.
I am of the unbiased opinion that she is quite the expert on the subject. When her book comes out, I'll let you know. Remember, you heard it here folks!
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Remembering Gramps
Here is a man who spoke four words to me over the course of time that I knew him. When I was at his house one time, he asked of me, "You been here before?" Even though this was the only personal message I have received from this man, I still learn from him quite frequently.
Five years ago, he passed away. Wifey's grandfather left quite a legacy. When we spend time with Wifey's grandma, conversation naturally goes towards the good times she had with Grandpa. When we talk about parenting with my in-laws, tales of Grandpa come up as well. But I see a lot of Grandpa in my father-in-law. They each play the banjo equally well.
Here's to remembering Grandpa, who in his last days ate only black licorice.
Here's to remembering Grandpa, who in his last days ate only black licorice.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Like Grandma, Like Grandma
My maternal grandmother was someone that I never knew very well. She lived in another state and was well over the hill by the time I came around. We would make a yearly (if not more frequent) procession to drive down to Hyde Park, Utah and move in for the duration of our stay. My parents never told her that we were coming, because if they did, she would fret herself into a tizzy, but enough food to feed Wifey's extended family for Thanksgiving, even if we were only staying one night.
Grandma was also hard of hearing, and also had trouble seeing well. For this reason, she had a fire bell above the telephone that would let her know that someone was calling. If that wasn't enough, she also had a light that would flash. Often, that wasn't enough. I wondered as a child if I inherited her eyes. Because of my interest in music, I prayed that I didn't inherit her ears.
Grandma had an intriguing house. Everything was compact except the living room that greeted you when you entered the main doorway. When I think back on it, it had a bit of a European charm to it. She collected blue glass of most shapes and sizes, and these could be found displayed proudly throughout her house. While I am sure that these pieces were well crafted, I wasn't too interested in glass cups and vases at the ripe old age of 10. I wanted the toys.
To get to the toys you had to walk into the very back bedroom (which was generally poorly lit) and open the door to a closet. This closet was my own personal doorway to Narnia. All of the toys there, including board games, seemed to be relics from another age. There were some I recognized even though the illustrations were completely foreign when compared to the versions at home on my shelf—for example, the Monopoly guy looked less affluent, but still quite well-to-do. Grandma had actual Tinker toys, old dolls whose eyes shone brightly enough to be creepy, and wooden toys that were most likely hand-made by a skilled craftsman who was trying to earn a few extra dollars in a time preceding any I had known.
The thing I remember most about Grandma's house was the food she would make. She always toasted a whole loaf of bread for breakfast, even if there were only six of us. If we were there the next day, she would throw the same pieces of bread back into the toaster the next day. I think she couldn't see well enough to tell if it was toasted. She always had pineapple juice as well. We would always search for the pineapple juice. I remember one particular night that my brothers got in a bit of trouble because they were rummaging around to find it, and she happened to get up to use the restroom. Since the only restroom in the house was adjacent to the kitchen, it was kind of a dead giveaway.
But the thing that will always go down in infamy was Grandma's cereal. She would stock up on all sorts of cereal because she found a good deal at the store. While she was very frugal, living through the depression, she kept quite a bit of food on hand so in case she needed it, it would be there.
The funny thing was, I don't think Grandma ate cold cereal. I remember one particular time when I was eating a bowl of Rice Cripsies. I always liked to read the back of the box to figure out what I could learn, and happened to run across the copyright date on the box. I was probably about 10, and was shocked to see that the box had been printed before I was born. Even more shocking, it was best used by the date before I was born as well. I think I mumbled something about not being hungry, and drank my milk so that Grandma wouldn't feel like I was wasting precious food.
Which brings us to the point of the story...
While we were over for dinner at my parent's house the other day, Mom was making a meal. I told her to sprinkle a little bit of garlic in it to see if Dad would notice. Dad and garlic are not good friends—well, Dad and spices in general aren't good friends. Mom only uses half as much taco seasoning in the meat when she makes tacos. And even then, he drowns the meat with other condiments and hopes that he doesn't get heartburn.
Mom nonchalantly told me where the garlic was. I pulled out the battered container of McCormick brand garlic, and was brought back to her mother's house and that bowl of Rice Crispies.
My first thought was, "Wow! This is really old," followed by, "Mom really doesn't use a lot of garlic, does she," followed with a smirkful, "I bet Dad is happy about that."
And then I got the idea to turn the bottle over to see exactly how old the jar of garlic could be.
Yes, this garlic label was printed the year I was born. I could not find any marks imprinted into the paper to tell me a best-if-used-by date. I don't know if those things were even in place when I was born. If they were, did spices fall into that category?
Before I let myself go too crazy with all of this, I walked over to the pot of simmering spaghetti sauce and sprinkled a dash or two in.
The best part of it all was the fact that both Mom and Dad mentioned how good it was. Dad didn't even get heartburn. I'm starting to wonder if the Ph.D. has some unresolved psychosomatic issues. But you know what they say—it takes one to know one.
Grandma was also hard of hearing, and also had trouble seeing well. For this reason, she had a fire bell above the telephone that would let her know that someone was calling. If that wasn't enough, she also had a light that would flash. Often, that wasn't enough. I wondered as a child if I inherited her eyes. Because of my interest in music, I prayed that I didn't inherit her ears.
Grandma had an intriguing house. Everything was compact except the living room that greeted you when you entered the main doorway. When I think back on it, it had a bit of a European charm to it. She collected blue glass of most shapes and sizes, and these could be found displayed proudly throughout her house. While I am sure that these pieces were well crafted, I wasn't too interested in glass cups and vases at the ripe old age of 10. I wanted the toys.
To get to the toys you had to walk into the very back bedroom (which was generally poorly lit) and open the door to a closet. This closet was my own personal doorway to Narnia. All of the toys there, including board games, seemed to be relics from another age. There were some I recognized even though the illustrations were completely foreign when compared to the versions at home on my shelf—for example, the Monopoly guy looked less affluent, but still quite well-to-do. Grandma had actual Tinker toys, old dolls whose eyes shone brightly enough to be creepy, and wooden toys that were most likely hand-made by a skilled craftsman who was trying to earn a few extra dollars in a time preceding any I had known.
The thing I remember most about Grandma's house was the food she would make. She always toasted a whole loaf of bread for breakfast, even if there were only six of us. If we were there the next day, she would throw the same pieces of bread back into the toaster the next day. I think she couldn't see well enough to tell if it was toasted. She always had pineapple juice as well. We would always search for the pineapple juice. I remember one particular night that my brothers got in a bit of trouble because they were rummaging around to find it, and she happened to get up to use the restroom. Since the only restroom in the house was adjacent to the kitchen, it was kind of a dead giveaway.
But the thing that will always go down in infamy was Grandma's cereal. She would stock up on all sorts of cereal because she found a good deal at the store. While she was very frugal, living through the depression, she kept quite a bit of food on hand so in case she needed it, it would be there.
The funny thing was, I don't think Grandma ate cold cereal. I remember one particular time when I was eating a bowl of Rice Cripsies. I always liked to read the back of the box to figure out what I could learn, and happened to run across the copyright date on the box. I was probably about 10, and was shocked to see that the box had been printed before I was born. Even more shocking, it was best used by the date before I was born as well. I think I mumbled something about not being hungry, and drank my milk so that Grandma wouldn't feel like I was wasting precious food.
Which brings us to the point of the story...
While we were over for dinner at my parent's house the other day, Mom was making a meal. I told her to sprinkle a little bit of garlic in it to see if Dad would notice. Dad and garlic are not good friends—well, Dad and spices in general aren't good friends. Mom only uses half as much taco seasoning in the meat when she makes tacos. And even then, he drowns the meat with other condiments and hopes that he doesn't get heartburn.
Mom nonchalantly told me where the garlic was. I pulled out the battered container of McCormick brand garlic, and was brought back to her mother's house and that bowl of Rice Crispies.
 |
| Age-ripened garlic |
My first thought was, "Wow! This is really old," followed by, "Mom really doesn't use a lot of garlic, does she," followed with a smirkful, "I bet Dad is happy about that."
And then I got the idea to turn the bottle over to see exactly how old the jar of garlic could be.
 |
| Aged-ripened circa 1981 |
Yes, this garlic label was printed the year I was born. I could not find any marks imprinted into the paper to tell me a best-if-used-by date. I don't know if those things were even in place when I was born. If they were, did spices fall into that category?
Before I let myself go too crazy with all of this, I walked over to the pot of simmering spaghetti sauce and sprinkled a dash or two in.
The best part of it all was the fact that both Mom and Dad mentioned how good it was. Dad didn't even get heartburn. I'm starting to wonder if the Ph.D. has some unresolved psychosomatic issues. But you know what they say—it takes one to know one.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thanksgiving Fun
You know that Thanksgiving is a great time to spend with family. We were planning to see one of my brothers and his family, but they had a few hitches which didn't allow them to come up from Utah. Hitch number one happened to be a "blizzard," and yes, I do use the term loosely. There was supposed to be a really bad snow storm. Granted, it did close one of the passes for a day or so, but it ended up being a lot weaker than El Nino. Hitch number two happened to come in the form of a sixteen year old girl who couldn't put down her cell phone to stop texting and just happened to be surprised when she ran into a minivan.
Oops.
Interesting tangent—the three car seats all had their belts cut after the crash by authorities. Evidently if a car seat has been in a crash it cannot be put back into a car, and this is how it is enforced. There were no injuries, so the crash wasn't that bad, but I hope that the young lady who was driving the other vehicle realizes her mistake and doesn't text anymore while driving. It's poor form.
My sister-in-law's parents were going to come too, but they ended up having unexpected company, so that left four people (and one Munchkin who spit out every piece of turkey that was placed in her mouth, even when veiled in things she really liked) to attempt to polish off an 18 pound turkey. We gave it our best, but ended up taking home quite a bit of turkey for ourselves, as well as leaving quite a bit for my parents. I wonder if we'll have turkey with them on our meal next Monday?
We had a very nice day with them. Munchkin wasn't feeling that well because she is teething again. We have found that she is drooling a whole bunch. With her othersix seven teeth that she got, we didn't have to worry about the front of outfits being wet. But the drool is really coming on with the pointy ones on top. My brother-in-law who is a dentist might correct me the next time he sees me on what those teeth are actually called. Canines, maybe?
But back to the day.
Munchkin took a short nap, dinner was delicious, and Wifey got her Christmas fix by putting up the Christmas tree with Mom while Dad tried to teach Munchkin how to say, "Bah Humbug." By the end of the day, she was able to say, "Bah," and Dad was putting up the lights on the tree.
Munchkin didn't know what to think about the tree at first. My parents have a fake tree, and when we pulled out all the pieces and laid them on the floor, she started scowling and complaining. I think she got the impression that we were taking up the space where she normally plays, and she didn't like that. After the tree was up with all the ornaments, she warmed up to the idea. She walked around the tree and touched, with one tiny outstretched finger, each of the ornaments that were hanging low enough for her to investigate. The more fragile ones were hung higher, but the wooden ones were down where she could explore.
At the appointed hour, we left to go have dessert with Wifey's extended family. I felt bad on the way over there, because as we were leaving, I noticed that Mom was a bit misty. I think that it was just one of those times where she really didn't want the day to end. She was having a good time, and with most of her kids grown and moved away, she doesn't get the opportunity to see them as much as she might like. In less than a year, they will probably be traveling the world to go see the kids and grandkids. We are glad that they are serving where they are, but we know that sometimes it is hard for them to not be able to see family.
So, on this day after Thanksgiving, I can say that I am grateful for family. We had a great day with my parents, followed by a great evening with Wifey's extended and immediate family. It is a pity that not everyone can experience the joy of family. As Christmas approaches, take the time to make sure that you are able to get your family near you.
Oops.
Interesting tangent—the three car seats all had their belts cut after the crash by authorities. Evidently if a car seat has been in a crash it cannot be put back into a car, and this is how it is enforced. There were no injuries, so the crash wasn't that bad, but I hope that the young lady who was driving the other vehicle realizes her mistake and doesn't text anymore while driving. It's poor form.
My sister-in-law's parents were going to come too, but they ended up having unexpected company, so that left four people (and one Munchkin who spit out every piece of turkey that was placed in her mouth, even when veiled in things she really liked) to attempt to polish off an 18 pound turkey. We gave it our best, but ended up taking home quite a bit of turkey for ourselves, as well as leaving quite a bit for my parents. I wonder if we'll have turkey with them on our meal next Monday?
We had a very nice day with them. Munchkin wasn't feeling that well because she is teething again. We have found that she is drooling a whole bunch. With her other
But back to the day.
Munchkin took a short nap, dinner was delicious, and Wifey got her Christmas fix by putting up the Christmas tree with Mom while Dad tried to teach Munchkin how to say, "Bah Humbug." By the end of the day, she was able to say, "Bah," and Dad was putting up the lights on the tree.
Munchkin didn't know what to think about the tree at first. My parents have a fake tree, and when we pulled out all the pieces and laid them on the floor, she started scowling and complaining. I think she got the impression that we were taking up the space where she normally plays, and she didn't like that. After the tree was up with all the ornaments, she warmed up to the idea. She walked around the tree and touched, with one tiny outstretched finger, each of the ornaments that were hanging low enough for her to investigate. The more fragile ones were hung higher, but the wooden ones were down where she could explore.
At the appointed hour, we left to go have dessert with Wifey's extended family. I felt bad on the way over there, because as we were leaving, I noticed that Mom was a bit misty. I think that it was just one of those times where she really didn't want the day to end. She was having a good time, and with most of her kids grown and moved away, she doesn't get the opportunity to see them as much as she might like. In less than a year, they will probably be traveling the world to go see the kids and grandkids. We are glad that they are serving where they are, but we know that sometimes it is hard for them to not be able to see family.
So, on this day after Thanksgiving, I can say that I am grateful for family. We had a great day with my parents, followed by a great evening with Wifey's extended and immediate family. It is a pity that not everyone can experience the joy of family. As Christmas approaches, take the time to make sure that you are able to get your family near you.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Is Marriage Dying?
I ran across this interesting article today that talks a lot about marriage and how people view it. It is kind of sad to me that people don't find it as important as it once was.
While I realize that times change, it makes me wonder what other changes we will see over the course of the next forty years. Will that number jump another ten percent over the next forty years, showing that half of the US population doesn't think marriage and families are important?
I think of all the things I would miss out on without a family, and it would be a lot less fulfilling. Sure, having a family can be hard at times, but it can also be very rewarding. Without a family, I wouldn't have a little girl who is excited for me to pick her up every day when I get home. Without a family, I would have someone to go everywhere with when I need a friend. Without a family, I wouldn't have a full-time confidant.
You might be saying that you can experience all of these things outside of a family, but I beg to differ. I think that you can get close to experiencing these things, but that they won't be as fulfilling without the framework of a family to be the underpinnings of everything we are. Family shapes us, whether we want it to or not. It has been my experience that friends come and go, but that family is always there.
I love you Wifey!
While I realize that times change, it makes me wonder what other changes we will see over the course of the next forty years. Will that number jump another ten percent over the next forty years, showing that half of the US population doesn't think marriage and families are important?
I think of all the things I would miss out on without a family, and it would be a lot less fulfilling. Sure, having a family can be hard at times, but it can also be very rewarding. Without a family, I wouldn't have a little girl who is excited for me to pick her up every day when I get home. Without a family, I would have someone to go everywhere with when I need a friend. Without a family, I wouldn't have a full-time confidant.
You might be saying that you can experience all of these things outside of a family, but I beg to differ. I think that you can get close to experiencing these things, but that they won't be as fulfilling without the framework of a family to be the underpinnings of everything we are. Family shapes us, whether we want it to or not. It has been my experience that friends come and go, but that family is always there.
I love you Wifey!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
A Thankful Bah Humbug
Last weekend, I was driving around and happened to turn to a local radio station because all the other ones were playing dumb songs. I was shocked (and a bit appalled) that they were already playing Christmas music.
I am not anti-Christmas by any means. I enjoy that time of year (especially if we are graced with enough snow to play in), but I always am a proponent of having Christmas be smaller. I am fine with the fact that we have lots of family coming and going, as well as having to jump from my family events to Wifey's family events since we are lucky enough to have them both in town. I am fine being out among the hordes of shoppers. What really gets my goat is when people start celebrating the holiday before Thanksgiving.
We have a holiday that is based around being grateful for the things we have. I have a hypothesis that if people really spent the time to remember what they had (instead of what they want) that they would be a lot more content. This is why I get so up in arms that people overlook Thanksgiving so much. I think that the Spirit of Thanksgiving is actually what people are looking for when they so frequently reference the Spirit of Christmas—being kind to others and including others. Thanksgiving is about remembering what is truly important. If you remembered what was important to you, you might be a bit more giving throughout the year.
But enough grumbling.
Because that month between Thanksgiving and Christmas always seems to get sucked into some time black hole, I always enjoy ways to simplify Christmas. I am not always good at those things (like getting shopping done early), but I do like figuring them out.
This is why I was delighted to find a blogger who makes a non-traditional advent calendar each year. Instead of having a candy to open each day, you get an envelope each day that tells you something to do. You can fit it in to your own schedule and do things that are meaningful for your family. It struck me as the perfect way to reclaim some of your time from that cosmic time black hole.
To make it even easier on you, this blogger has links to templates to make envelopes to make. I am sure that everyone who has ever been involved with crafts can find some scrapbooking paper lying around. Plus, you get an opportunity to take some time with your family.
If you are looking for something to do besides watch football while you are lounging around Thanksgiving afternoon, this project might be a good alternative.
I am not anti-Christmas by any means. I enjoy that time of year (especially if we are graced with enough snow to play in), but I always am a proponent of having Christmas be smaller. I am fine with the fact that we have lots of family coming and going, as well as having to jump from my family events to Wifey's family events since we are lucky enough to have them both in town. I am fine being out among the hordes of shoppers. What really gets my goat is when people start celebrating the holiday before Thanksgiving.
We have a holiday that is based around being grateful for the things we have. I have a hypothesis that if people really spent the time to remember what they had (instead of what they want) that they would be a lot more content. This is why I get so up in arms that people overlook Thanksgiving so much. I think that the Spirit of Thanksgiving is actually what people are looking for when they so frequently reference the Spirit of Christmas—being kind to others and including others. Thanksgiving is about remembering what is truly important. If you remembered what was important to you, you might be a bit more giving throughout the year.
But enough grumbling.
Because that month between Thanksgiving and Christmas always seems to get sucked into some time black hole, I always enjoy ways to simplify Christmas. I am not always good at those things (like getting shopping done early), but I do like figuring them out.
This is why I was delighted to find a blogger who makes a non-traditional advent calendar each year. Instead of having a candy to open each day, you get an envelope each day that tells you something to do. You can fit it in to your own schedule and do things that are meaningful for your family. It struck me as the perfect way to reclaim some of your time from that cosmic time black hole.
To make it even easier on you, this blogger has links to templates to make envelopes to make. I am sure that everyone who has ever been involved with crafts can find some scrapbooking paper lying around. Plus, you get an opportunity to take some time with your family.
If you are looking for something to do besides watch football while you are lounging around Thanksgiving afternoon, this project might be a good alternative.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Tsunami Warning in Idaho
Tonight I wished I would have listened more to the radio. The skies were quite overcast this evening on my drive home from work. I had the radio on long enough to hear that there was going to be a winter storm warning issued in the higher elevations of Idaho, with some other (and much less severe sounding) storm warning for the valley. After grinning a bit to myself at the possibility of snow, I turned off the radio and called Wifey to let her know I was on my way home.
Sometime between the time we finished our grilled cheese and tomato soup dinner (can you ask for a better meal on a cold, overcast day?) and about 7:00, the rain started to come down. It didn't come down very hard, as Idaho is a desert region. In fact, there wasn't even that much of it. Little did I know, there was going to be a tsunami coming my way in a few minutes.
Wifey asked me to go give Munchkin a bath. She is one who enjoys her bath time. You can say things like, "splish splash" and watch her lightly tap the water. An occasional drop might escape the tub, but Munchkin doesn't like to be splashed in the face, so it is pretty calm. But tonight was different—she must have been feeling her oats.
It all started with the filling of the tub. As the water was pouring in, I placed her into the tub. She scooted close to the stream of more than tepid water coming from the faucet so she could stick her hand in it. She just kept turning to me while smiling and babbling, getting a kick out being able to play in the water. The water went off, and she started her normal exploration of the various floating toys, going from foam blocks to rubber ducks to bath books and back again. Then she landed on the container that we use to wash her hair.
This is one of those plastic containers that looks like something you might fill an iron with before pressing your shirt, although much more colorful (unless you are ultra chic and have some modern iron that is more of a design piece than an iron). Ours came with the baby bath that we used to use. It has a nice spout and holds enough water to wash off the soap, so we still use it.
Anyway, Munchkin picked up this container and started to pour water out of the spout per the usual custom. After several attempts of mimicking a waterwheel, her arm was getting tired. Being the smart cookie she is, she decided that she needed to use both hands. She picked up the full container as it proceeded to empty directly on her face.
This is the first time I have heard Munchkin let out an audible gasp. I think it startled her to have a small deluge of water directly on her face. I was interested to see if she would cry because she was startled, but beyond the gasp, I didn't get any reaction. She didn't even look my way. Little did I know, she didn't look at me because she wanted to start the mischief.
Now that her face was completely splashed, she really didn't have any inhibitions in the tub. The normal coaxing from me, "splish splash" was accompanied by larger arm windmills than I had previously seen. Pretty soon, she was turning circles in the tub while flailing about. I could tell she was having a good time, but the water was starting to get colder, so I laid her down to start the washing process.
Then the tsunami hit.
Munchkin likes to kick in the water. Tonight, she started kicking the second I laid her down. I got the washcloth soaped up while the tide started to rise. It subsided momentarily while I attempted to get one leg at a time soaped up, returning twice as strong after both legs were covered in suds. A dull roar, much the same as you might expect when approaching a class five rapid while rafting, roared in my ears. As I started working my way up to wash the rest of Munchkin, she started opening her eyes and mouth very wide while speaking in a very excited, low voice. For those of you who don't have the opportunity to hang out with Munchkin, when she gets excited, she pulls out her husky, low voice to let you know of her glee instead of a shrill, girly noise. It is pretty funny. That voice was working just as actively as her turbocharged legs.
She was even so enthralled tonight by her tidal wave abilities that she let me wash her hair without any protest—there was no pulling away, no batting at my hands, no trying to pull the washcloth from me—nothing. It was amazing.
Needless to say, I wished that the National Weather Service would be a little bit more descriptive in their less severe storm warnings to include exactly what I might expect to see. It is nice to know that a storm is coming, but if the National Weather Service would have let me know that I should expect a tsunami warning instead of a downgraded winter storm warning, I might have dressed in a slicker instead of a long-sleeved sweater.
Sometime between the time we finished our grilled cheese and tomato soup dinner (can you ask for a better meal on a cold, overcast day?) and about 7:00, the rain started to come down. It didn't come down very hard, as Idaho is a desert region. In fact, there wasn't even that much of it. Little did I know, there was going to be a tsunami coming my way in a few minutes.
Wifey asked me to go give Munchkin a bath. She is one who enjoys her bath time. You can say things like, "splish splash" and watch her lightly tap the water. An occasional drop might escape the tub, but Munchkin doesn't like to be splashed in the face, so it is pretty calm. But tonight was different—she must have been feeling her oats.
It all started with the filling of the tub. As the water was pouring in, I placed her into the tub. She scooted close to the stream of more than tepid water coming from the faucet so she could stick her hand in it. She just kept turning to me while smiling and babbling, getting a kick out being able to play in the water. The water went off, and she started her normal exploration of the various floating toys, going from foam blocks to rubber ducks to bath books and back again. Then she landed on the container that we use to wash her hair.
This is one of those plastic containers that looks like something you might fill an iron with before pressing your shirt, although much more colorful (unless you are ultra chic and have some modern iron that is more of a design piece than an iron). Ours came with the baby bath that we used to use. It has a nice spout and holds enough water to wash off the soap, so we still use it.
Anyway, Munchkin picked up this container and started to pour water out of the spout per the usual custom. After several attempts of mimicking a waterwheel, her arm was getting tired. Being the smart cookie she is, she decided that she needed to use both hands. She picked up the full container as it proceeded to empty directly on her face.
This is the first time I have heard Munchkin let out an audible gasp. I think it startled her to have a small deluge of water directly on her face. I was interested to see if she would cry because she was startled, but beyond the gasp, I didn't get any reaction. She didn't even look my way. Little did I know, she didn't look at me because she wanted to start the mischief.
Now that her face was completely splashed, she really didn't have any inhibitions in the tub. The normal coaxing from me, "splish splash" was accompanied by larger arm windmills than I had previously seen. Pretty soon, she was turning circles in the tub while flailing about. I could tell she was having a good time, but the water was starting to get colder, so I laid her down to start the washing process.
Then the tsunami hit.
Munchkin likes to kick in the water. Tonight, she started kicking the second I laid her down. I got the washcloth soaped up while the tide started to rise. It subsided momentarily while I attempted to get one leg at a time soaped up, returning twice as strong after both legs were covered in suds. A dull roar, much the same as you might expect when approaching a class five rapid while rafting, roared in my ears. As I started working my way up to wash the rest of Munchkin, she started opening her eyes and mouth very wide while speaking in a very excited, low voice. For those of you who don't have the opportunity to hang out with Munchkin, when she gets excited, she pulls out her husky, low voice to let you know of her glee instead of a shrill, girly noise. It is pretty funny. That voice was working just as actively as her turbocharged legs.
She was even so enthralled tonight by her tidal wave abilities that she let me wash her hair without any protest—there was no pulling away, no batting at my hands, no trying to pull the washcloth from me—nothing. It was amazing.
Needless to say, I wished that the National Weather Service would be a little bit more descriptive in their less severe storm warnings to include exactly what I might expect to see. It is nice to know that a storm is coming, but if the National Weather Service would have let me know that I should expect a tsunami warning instead of a downgraded winter storm warning, I might have dressed in a slicker instead of a long-sleeved sweater.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Grrrr and YEAH!
Today was one of those days at work that you would just prefer not to have. I found out that a project I was working on was not getting the results the project manager wanted, and she was waiting on me, while I was waiting on her. I thought I had my point across, but I guess not. I thought I understood the project, but she had a bit of a different take on it. Oh well, you learn from your mistakes, right?
To make the day better, we went out to dinner tonight with my parents. It is Wifey's birthday tomorrow, so feel free to drop by her blog or say hi to her on Facebook. I am sure she would like that. She is big into birthdays.
Dinner was at Chili's, which was delicious. Both of my parents polished off a half rack of ribs (individually). I had the steak fajitas, Missy had the chicken tenders (because she can get corn on the cob with it), and Munchkin had a few goldfish crackers, a graham cracker, some minor shavings from a crayon, a fry or two, as well as a healthy dose of ice cream. Munchkin loves her ice cream, and Grandpa loves to feed it to her.
We are going to have the big hoopla tomorrow with the dessert and the presents and such, but I just wanted to give her a little something to be excited about tomorrow when she reads this post.
I am glad that I was able to be lucky enough to marry someone as great as Wifey. Although we can be polar opposites at times, we fit together as well as two adjoining puzzle pieces. She puts up with my craziness, yet shares a bit of her own. She drags me to things that I don't want to go to, but helps me to have fun in spite of myself. She does an AMAZING job with Munchkin, and I know that there is a reason why kids have moms—they couldn't do very well without them. It is fun to come home to have Munchkin excited to see me for a few minutes, but as soon as she knows I am sticking around, she is more than happy to go back to her mom. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
I am grateful that Wifey wants to be a housewife. In a world where being a business woman is sometimes more important than being a mother, I am grateful that she finds being a mom important enough to sacrifice a career for the welfare of our children. It is something that I always hoped that my wife would want to do, and I know that she wouldn't have it any other way.
Thanks for all you do, Wifey!
I love you!
MR
To make the day better, we went out to dinner tonight with my parents. It is Wifey's birthday tomorrow, so feel free to drop by her blog or say hi to her on Facebook. I am sure she would like that. She is big into birthdays.
Dinner was at Chili's, which was delicious. Both of my parents polished off a half rack of ribs (individually). I had the steak fajitas, Missy had the chicken tenders (because she can get corn on the cob with it), and Munchkin had a few goldfish crackers, a graham cracker, some minor shavings from a crayon, a fry or two, as well as a healthy dose of ice cream. Munchkin loves her ice cream, and Grandpa loves to feed it to her.
We are going to have the big hoopla tomorrow with the dessert and the presents and such, but I just wanted to give her a little something to be excited about tomorrow when she reads this post.
I am glad that I was able to be lucky enough to marry someone as great as Wifey. Although we can be polar opposites at times, we fit together as well as two adjoining puzzle pieces. She puts up with my craziness, yet shares a bit of her own. She drags me to things that I don't want to go to, but helps me to have fun in spite of myself. She does an AMAZING job with Munchkin, and I know that there is a reason why kids have moms—they couldn't do very well without them. It is fun to come home to have Munchkin excited to see me for a few minutes, but as soon as she knows I am sticking around, she is more than happy to go back to her mom. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
I am grateful that Wifey wants to be a housewife. In a world where being a business woman is sometimes more important than being a mother, I am grateful that she finds being a mom important enough to sacrifice a career for the welfare of our children. It is something that I always hoped that my wife would want to do, and I know that she wouldn't have it any other way.
Thanks for all you do, Wifey!
I love you!
MR
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Sisters
I always knew that there was something special about sisters. But one thing I didn't know was that you are happier if you have one. Don't believe me? Ask the New York Times.
I have a double dose of happy in my life, as I have two sisters. They also served as surrogate mothers at times. If ever I got in trouble with my mother, I knew that I always had a sister or two to go be around to make me feel better. I can remember my oldest sister getting married when I was only six, and not being sure if she would still be my sister. Luckily, she married someone who was willing to adopt me as a little brother and introduce me to all sorts of fun fantastical things.
My not-so-oldest sister ended up sticking around with her family in Boise until I was in college. I can remember going to lunch with her right before they moved my freshman year in college and wondering if all my siblings would move away to another place.
So far they all have.
But one thing is sure—whenever I get to spend time with my sisters, I treasure that time. We don't have to talk (although we usually do), but I am glad to have two great sisters who I know will always be there for (and in spite of) me.
I have a double dose of happy in my life, as I have two sisters. They also served as surrogate mothers at times. If ever I got in trouble with my mother, I knew that I always had a sister or two to go be around to make me feel better. I can remember my oldest sister getting married when I was only six, and not being sure if she would still be my sister. Luckily, she married someone who was willing to adopt me as a little brother and introduce me to all sorts of fun fantastical things.
My not-so-oldest sister ended up sticking around with her family in Boise until I was in college. I can remember going to lunch with her right before they moved my freshman year in college and wondering if all my siblings would move away to another place.
So far they all have.
But one thing is sure—whenever I get to spend time with my sisters, I treasure that time. We don't have to talk (although we usually do), but I am glad to have two great sisters who I know will always be there for (and in spite of) me.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Introduction to Technology
When we were over to dinner at my parent's home this past week, my mother showed me a small card that she was very impressed with. It had a column with text in it that was next to a piece of clip art. My mind immediately started thinking of how to make it, and then quickly got bored because of the simplicity of the task.
After dinner was over, I mentioned to Mom that I could easily show her how to make something like that. She looked at me a bit skeptically, but took me up on the offer because she wanted me to install their scanner on the computer.
Before I go any further, let me tell you two stories about Mom that will help you understand her interactions with technology in the past.
Dad was a college professor in the Education department, and as part of that work, he started some of the first computer labs on campus (Funny aside: I now work with someone who helped him establish those first computer labs. Small world.). Dad was used to drawing things in Basic and typing up reports for his thesis and dissertation, so computers weren't anything that caused him worry. But Dad has his way of doing things, and if you stray from that path, you aren't doing it right, even if it yields the same (or better) results.
We had an Apple ][e at home for a personal computer. If you don't know the type, think of a large, dusty-gray looking box with two disk drives under a green and black monitor, and that is pretty much it. You had to have a 3 x 5 floppy disk inserted in disk drive 1 in order to get the thing to do anything of value. Mom helped Dad type up some of his reports and things, so she was a good typist. But if she ever needed to do anything beyond typing, Dad would start to explain it. Once he had an suspicion—even an inklink of a suspicion—that she was going to do something wrong, he would say (in a not so calm voice), "Ah, don't do that!"
Needless to say, Mom gets nervous about using a computer. She once called me to ask me if she was in trouble because she had just gotten an error message that told her that she had performed an illegal operation. Poor Mom....
My second story illustrates just how limited her interaction with the Internet has been. One day, she mentioned to me that she wanted to find some illustrations from children's books. She had never been on the Internet besides checking email, and I didn't really count that because they didn't even have a web-based email account. I brought Mom to the Google homepage.
Having grown up with this technology, I asked her to start typing in what she wanted to look for. She said books for kids, so that is what she typed in. Of course Google returned over nine million entries. I showed her the amount of entries that she had come up with, and she was floored. And then she innocently asked me, "Well, how am I going to get through all of these links?" I told her to get through them by using more search terms. I suggested maybe using art or artwork in there as well.
So what did she do? She erased the books for kids entry and put in artwork. I did a mental facepalm, and then told her to put all of those terms in. She just sat there and said, "Oh. You can do that type of thing?"
Don't let these stories fool you. My mother is very intelligent and capable. She just has never really had the opportunity to play around on the Internet, and because of her introduction to computers via my father, she is reluctant to just play on the computer.
I told Mom that I would show her how to make the card, and then let her do one while I was there. At my suggestion that she try one herself, she laughed and rolled her eyes. I opened up Pages for her, and showed her how to make a quick card using one of the existing templates in about two minutes. She kind of blinked, a bit surprised that it was over so fast. I could tell that she hadn't ingrained what I had just showed her—despite the fact that she was taking meticulous notes on a sticky pad that was nearby—so I had her take the drivers seat.
She opened up Pages again, and we started looking through the templates. She quickly said, "Now, I don't remember which one you used. Why don't you tell me?" Instead, I asked some leading questions, and she selected a different template after recognizing the one I had used. She put the picture that she wanted in, and then I showed her how you can zoom in and use a mask to highlight part of the picture.
I had to help her pull her chin off the floor. Not only was she amazed that she could zoom in and out, but she was amazed that she was doing it. I had her do a few more copies on the same template while I was there, and then we went to go get the cows in. On our way outside, she walked up to Dad, starting to tell him excitedly that she could make a card with a picture and writing, and that you could zoom in and out, and focus on one flower from the flower bed, and that she could do it all herself. Dad just grinned, and threw out a characteristic, "Wait a minute. You know how to do all that?"
For those who don't know Dad, he was joking. If I ever got a 98 on a test, he would ask me why I didn't get a 100. That is just how he is.
Mom indignantly retorted, "Yes. I did three in there just now. John showed me how."
Still grinning from ear to ear, he turned to me and said, "Don't teach her too much. I might not see her anymore."
Now that I have introduced Mom to technology, I am sure that next time I go over there that she will have some cards printed up on photo paper awaiting my inspection. The fire has been lit, and it is going to start consuming her until she can get everything down. And I'll be glad to be there to help.
After dinner was over, I mentioned to Mom that I could easily show her how to make something like that. She looked at me a bit skeptically, but took me up on the offer because she wanted me to install their scanner on the computer.
Before I go any further, let me tell you two stories about Mom that will help you understand her interactions with technology in the past.
Dad was a college professor in the Education department, and as part of that work, he started some of the first computer labs on campus (Funny aside: I now work with someone who helped him establish those first computer labs. Small world.). Dad was used to drawing things in Basic and typing up reports for his thesis and dissertation, so computers weren't anything that caused him worry. But Dad has his way of doing things, and if you stray from that path, you aren't doing it right, even if it yields the same (or better) results.
We had an Apple ][e at home for a personal computer. If you don't know the type, think of a large, dusty-gray looking box with two disk drives under a green and black monitor, and that is pretty much it. You had to have a 3 x 5 floppy disk inserted in disk drive 1 in order to get the thing to do anything of value. Mom helped Dad type up some of his reports and things, so she was a good typist. But if she ever needed to do anything beyond typing, Dad would start to explain it. Once he had an suspicion—even an inklink of a suspicion—that she was going to do something wrong, he would say (in a not so calm voice), "Ah, don't do that!"
Needless to say, Mom gets nervous about using a computer. She once called me to ask me if she was in trouble because she had just gotten an error message that told her that she had performed an illegal operation. Poor Mom....
My second story illustrates just how limited her interaction with the Internet has been. One day, she mentioned to me that she wanted to find some illustrations from children's books. She had never been on the Internet besides checking email, and I didn't really count that because they didn't even have a web-based email account. I brought Mom to the Google homepage.
Having grown up with this technology, I asked her to start typing in what she wanted to look for. She said books for kids, so that is what she typed in. Of course Google returned over nine million entries. I showed her the amount of entries that she had come up with, and she was floored. And then she innocently asked me, "Well, how am I going to get through all of these links?" I told her to get through them by using more search terms. I suggested maybe using art or artwork in there as well.
So what did she do? She erased the books for kids entry and put in artwork. I did a mental facepalm, and then told her to put all of those terms in. She just sat there and said, "Oh. You can do that type of thing?"
Don't let these stories fool you. My mother is very intelligent and capable. She just has never really had the opportunity to play around on the Internet, and because of her introduction to computers via my father, she is reluctant to just play on the computer.
I told Mom that I would show her how to make the card, and then let her do one while I was there. At my suggestion that she try one herself, she laughed and rolled her eyes. I opened up Pages for her, and showed her how to make a quick card using one of the existing templates in about two minutes. She kind of blinked, a bit surprised that it was over so fast. I could tell that she hadn't ingrained what I had just showed her—despite the fact that she was taking meticulous notes on a sticky pad that was nearby—so I had her take the drivers seat.
She opened up Pages again, and we started looking through the templates. She quickly said, "Now, I don't remember which one you used. Why don't you tell me?" Instead, I asked some leading questions, and she selected a different template after recognizing the one I had used. She put the picture that she wanted in, and then I showed her how you can zoom in and use a mask to highlight part of the picture.
I had to help her pull her chin off the floor. Not only was she amazed that she could zoom in and out, but she was amazed that she was doing it. I had her do a few more copies on the same template while I was there, and then we went to go get the cows in. On our way outside, she walked up to Dad, starting to tell him excitedly that she could make a card with a picture and writing, and that you could zoom in and out, and focus on one flower from the flower bed, and that she could do it all herself. Dad just grinned, and threw out a characteristic, "Wait a minute. You know how to do all that?"
For those who don't know Dad, he was joking. If I ever got a 98 on a test, he would ask me why I didn't get a 100. That is just how he is.
Mom indignantly retorted, "Yes. I did three in there just now. John showed me how."
Still grinning from ear to ear, he turned to me and said, "Don't teach her too much. I might not see her anymore."
Now that I have introduced Mom to technology, I am sure that next time I go over there that she will have some cards printed up on photo paper awaiting my inspection. The fire has been lit, and it is going to start consuming her until she can get everything down. And I'll be glad to be there to help.
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