Coronavirus

Coronavirus

Monday March 16: Husband took our last shopping trip going to Wal-Mart first early in the morning. By that time, food also started disappearing, but he found everything on our list. When he got to Costco, the line doubled back serpentine-like. As the store opened, it was 3 lines deep. He said the people were upbeat in line and things went smoothly. He got what we needed there also. Luckily we didn’t need toilet paper.

Tuesday March 17: We wore green in honor of St. Patrick’s Day. Restaurants are closing, nothing but take-out. We were busy getting settled into our new routine. Husband & I took our usual morning walk, but I didn’t pet the friendly neighborhood dogs like I usually do. Had to keep an acceptable distance. Our daughter who teaches jazzercise came home and told us they are closing as well.

Wednesday March 18: Husband did our income taxes. I mopped the floor and did some writing. It was raining, so no walk outside. Instead of going to a restaurant for our monthly family dinner, everyone had their own pizza, and we met on a cyber room for a virtual dinner. One bonus, our son and family, who live in Washington, as well as granddaughter in Utah were able to join us. A fun time was had by all.

Thursday March 19, 2020: Found aphids circling the pot of one of my roses that are getting ready to bloom. Attended my cyber critique group. Got some writing done. Daughter did an evening run to Costco when we heard Governor Newsom told everyone except essential personnel to stay home from midnight tonight. Got some writing done. Husband’s working on his genealogy.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the details. Suffice it to say, today is June 14, 2020, and things have started opening up. June first, I ventured out for the first time to do our shopping. Our daughter that’s living with and her husband have done all of our shopping since my husband’s last shopping trip to Costco. Having our daughter and her family have kept me on an even keel. Their toddlers, ages 3 and 1 ½ years, keep us upbeat. This is a strange time, and I hope the mess will continue getting better.

I don’t like having to wear a mask when I go out, but it is what it is. So much has happened in the last 3 months. More than I could go over in this already lengthy post including protests and riots.

We’ve had 2 grandchildren married, and several graduations: 1 from college, 1 from high school, 1 from middle school, 4 from elementary school.

Christmas Decorations

The tradition of setting up Christmas decorations isn’t a mere chore. It’s more than making things pretty. Manger scenes and such can remind us of our Savior Jesus Christ, but that’s not the focus of this post.

For me, decorating brings memories of loved ones some of whom have moved on from this life. Other  items bring warm memories of times past. I’ll mention just a few in this post:

This angel, for example—I was helping clear out the apartment of an angel on earth who had moved into eternity. I met her when I first moved here and was new at church. She brought me under her wing and took me to women's activities outside Sunday meetings, encouraged me and my husband to attend adult activities and sat by me in the women’s meeting. After I was settled, she moved on to the next new person and then the next, and the next. I could go on about her service to others, but this post isn’t about her. When I was helping the family clear out, I admired this Christmas angel, and her older sister told me I could have it. I balked at first because it looked expensive, but she explained her siblings all wanted it, and that it would save hard feelings if she gave it to me.

Another special memory comes when I take out this manger scene, my older children painted it when they were little. Although not perfect, it’s a treasure. I planned on expanding it yearly, and that worked the second year, but the store where I purchased the pieces, went out of business by the third year, and I never found pieces the same size. But that’s okay, it’s a snapshot of that time in our lives.

On the other hand, sometimes we need to let go of small treasures. Two years ago, I let go of the decorations our children made in elementary school. They were falling apart. My children had been trying to convince me to do that for a few years, and they were right. It was time to move on. The decorations had fulfilled their purpose, and no longer added to the beauty Christmas tree. I didn’t even remember who made which ones, anyway.

We’re letting go of another item this year—the string of blue outdoor lights. They are part of our Christmas tradition; however, they’re so old my older brothers hung them on a tree in front of my childhood home. Any electrician or fire fighter would have a fit if they saw them. Did I mention my youngest child is in her 30s?

Setting up Christmas decorations can bring out poignant memories of the past. It’s more than fun work and making things pretty. It’s a time to reflect on what’s important in life. What we need to cherish, and what we need to let go of.

National Novel Writing Month

“Are you doing NaNo this year? This was a popular question in my writing circle throughout October, the unofficial prep time for NaNoWriMo. My answer is no. It’s great for those who find the pressure of writing 50,000 words in one-month exhilarating.

I can see its value. I had a scene I couldn’t get right, so I wrote 2,000 words in one sitting. It pressed my muse/imagination to the limit, but I finally had what I thought was a bad idea written out. A bad idea was better than a blank page, right? Naturally it took a lot of tweaking to smooth out the wrinkles, but the basic idea turned out to fix my problem.

One of the big difficulties in just pressing through for me is that I find it nearly impossible not to rewrite. That’s one of the rules of the game. No going back and editing. Press forward ever forward. Remind yourself you can fix it later. They have a great support system in place, but it doesn’t work for me. I edit my texts, messages, and everything else I write. When my children were in school, even excuses to the teacher when they were sick. It just isn’t in my DNA.

For those of you reading my blog who are in the middle of it, keep going, you can do this. I’ll cheer you on, just don’t expect me to join you. 

Halloween in Years Gone By

“What was Halloween like when you were a little girl in the 1950’s?” My grandchildren may ask. Many of the traditions were the same as today, but several have changed, some a lot.

When I was growing up, many of our neighbors made homemade treats like popcorn balls and cookies which we ate without fear. There wasn’t such a thing as mini candy bars. However, not everyone gave out the big ones. Taffy, small Tootsie Rolls, and sticks of gum were popular. I remember peanut butter flavored taffy with a bit of dried out peanut butter inside was at the bottom of my desirable list. Do they still make that stuff? They did when my children trick or treated. I traded that away 2, 3, or more to one, so did my children.

I used paper grocery bags to put my candy in. Greedy children sometimes used a pillow case. I went with friends in their neighborhoods. We only had one old lady about a block away year around. The rest of the neighborhood had summer cabins or empty lots except one couple that came up for summers only.

My mom made me fantastic costumes, most of which had another purpose. My Alice in Wonderland dress was suitable for school without the apron, of course. Then there was the year I had panda pajamas, but I didn’t wear the hat with ears to bed. My children scrounged whatever they could find in our costume bag. Trick or Treating is still the same when children go house to house. No such thing as Trunk or Treat back then.

Tricks were still done on occasion like soaping windows or other mischief, nothing damaging. Some of the older boys in our small mountain village found an outhouse to put in the middle of the main cross roads every year. I’m sure my brothers took part in that tradition when they were teens. The one that was 5 years older complained about how hard it was to find abandoned outhouses.

Halloween is a fun holiday that brings fond memories as long as things don’t get out of hand.

Does Grammar Matter?

Grammar rules are changing, always have. But how far is too far? I was taught never to start a sentence with “and” or “but.” I just did that. Today it’s acceptable. However, we need to know the rules so we know how and when to break them. Here are a few of my pet peeves:

I’ve heard young authors say that commas just get in the way, so they don’t use them at all. Is that really wise? Unless he/she only wants to self-publish, they won’t get anywhere with a traditional publisher. It also leads to confusing sentences. The baby has a bottle rubber ducky rattle and shoes. Is that a “bottle rubber ducky rattle and shoes,” a “bottle, rubber ducky rattle, and shoes” or a “bottle, rubber ducky, rattle and shoes?” All three conjure up different items. The only item the reader knows for sure is the shoes.

When I’m reading in past tense and come across words like: ago, tomorrow, yesterday, and such, it pulls me out of the story. Those terms convey speaking in present tense. I use: before or earlier, the next day, the day before, and such. Dialogue is different. The author is quoting what was said.

I was taught all foreign words are italicized, even the ones we use every day. (Okay I’ll admit we underlined them in the days before computers, but the same rule applies.) Words like via, and others I can’t think of right now.

Then there are the words that have similar meanings that are not interchangeable. The one I hear the most often is the misuse of “less.” It’s often used when it should be “fewer.” Less cannot be counted, fewer can. Examples: less money—fewer dollars, fewer calories—less fattening, I could go on, but hopefully I have made my point. If it can be counted, it should be fewer—if not, it should be less.

Grammar changes, and always will, but let’s not come off as less educated than we are.

Potato Chip Rock

Potato Chip Rock

Re-starting my blog once more:

I had a grand adventure a couple of weeks ago with my son that I’ll start with. Next week my post will focus on writing.

Have you ever heard of Potato Chip Rock? Didn’t think so unless you live near Poway, CA. One more bucket list item checked off. I hadn’t even heard of it until I moved away from that city. The hike is a 2 mile trek up Mt. Woodson.

My son Brian was my guide. It’s the toughest 4 mile hike I’ve ever gone on. 

We hiked through beautiful terrain.

I made myself notice the beauty every few minutes when I stopped and gasped for breath.

We climbed 1,300 feet in elevation in the 2 miles up.

Potato Chip Rock deserves its name, and I wish I could have had my picture taken on top, but I couldn’t climb up the crack in the rock necessary to reach it.

I waited my turn in line, but when I needed to raise my knee to about waist height especially in that small space, my back said, “Don’t do it.” I didn’t. Still worth the hike.

The descent was easier, but by then my body was telling me “enough!” Brian made sure I drank enough water all along the way, and gave me a granola bar for calories before starting down.

I was surprised I didn’t have sore muscles the next day. My calves were burning on the way up, and the top of my thighs on the way down.

Was I disappointed that I couldn’t go to the top of Potato Chip Rock? Yes! But not devastated. At my age I’m thankful I could take the journey with my son. 

One on one time with any of my children is always special. 

It’s an adventure I’ll always remember.

I can do hard things, but I still have to be smart, and know when to let it go.

Giving Thanks

Today’s the day we remember to be thankful. It’s common to go around the table and mention what we’re thankful for. It’s usually the big things, Mom & Dad, healing, food, modern conveniences, health, a child’s teddy bear, home, and so forth.

This post will point out different ways to find gratitude. For one week, notice everyone and everything that helps, encourages, or lifts your spirits in any way: The clerk in the store that smiles at you, the spouse that says “good morning,” the Face Book post that makes you smile, birds singing in the trees, trees, the sun shining, the Face Book post that inspires you, the clouds that bring needed rain or snow, and on and on. See how many you can find in one day. It doesn’t matter if it gets silly, nobody will know except you.

Living a life filled with gratitude will make us happier. Look for that silver lining in the cloud hanging over you. Even if you have lost a loved one, ponder the joys they brought into your life. Find someone else with trials, and lift their spirits. Lift the person you think least needs it. Chances are they also have a heavy load to carry.

Joy and happiness are born of Gratitude. Gordon T. Watts

In-Laws

I don’t get telling in-law jokes. My late mother-in-law was a dear woman. We never had a cross word. My late father-in-law was always cordial if distant. Perhaps it was a cultural thing. My sister-in-law, as in my husband’s sister, has always been cordial. She was still a teenager when Dan & I got married. She didn’t say much, but I always felt welcome in their home. We don’t see her very often, but we have a good experience when we do.

            My mom as a mother-in-law? I can’t speak for my husband, except to tell one experience we had early in our marriage. We were selected to as one of the couples to play The Newly Wed Game at a church function. My husband was asked, “Who the weirdest person you two know.” I don’t know how long he took to ponder, but his answer was my mother. When it came my turn to answer the same question, the whole group inhaled, and didn’t exhale until I gave the same answer. There was no other answer. Years after her death, we’d both still give the same answer. Love her very much, but she had some very strange ideas. No room to discuss those here.

            Moving on, my sister had the audacity to marry my elementary school principal. (She’s 18 years older than I am and is still living, however, Don passed a few years ago.) Thankfully I didn’t get sent to the principal’s office except for not completing class work and having emotional trauma. He was fun to be around. One problem I had was trying to remember to call him Mr. Venne at school, but to call him Don at home.

            My late sister-in-law, Lois, played a big role in my life. She was pregnant with their second baby, and their first was 1 year old when the man Mom was going to marry eloped with someone else a week before the wedding. The house we’d been living in was rented to someone else. We’d been living on welfare, and that was cut off. If it hadn’t been for she and my brother Mom & I would have been homeless. They took us into their small home where we lived for 9 months while I was in the 8^th grade. Mom took in ironing while looking for a job. She found employment babysitting and cleaning house for a family with 3 boys. Lois was a steady hand during a difficult time of my life. One thing she taught me that I still remember is, “Buy clothes that are tight enough to show that you’re a lady, but lose enough to prove you are.” I could do a whole post on her. She was always there for me when the chips were down.

            What can I say about my other sister-in-law Vinnie? First thing I remember where she helped me: Soon after she married my brother, she told him that at 18-years-old, I was too old to be swung around like a little girl. She’s only 1 ½ years older than I am. I could also do post on the help she’s given me. Not as much in my late teen years because they didn’t live close to us like my other siblings. We lived in the same town for several years after I was married, and she was always there for me, supporting me when I felt inadequate as a young mother. She married my brother when she was only 16-years-old, so she had more experience. Yes, they’re still married. 

Writer Preparedness

           No matter where we live, we’ve been told to prepare for natural disasters whether hurricane, flood, fire, earthquake, blizzard or something else. Most often having a 72 hour kit and with the necessities for 3 days on top of the list. We don’t usually think about being prepared with our writing in mind.

            I’m sure you know the first rule. Backup. Backup. Backup. But do you backup consistently?

My preferred method is using the cloud if you can afford it. It isn’t that expensive. I have several reasons why it works for me. First of all, it’s automatic. Every time I make changes—boom it’s there. Secondly, it’s not in my house. An external hard drive, won’t do you any good if it’s near the computer when disaster strikes and you aren’t home, or don’t have time to take anything but the clothes on your back.

Another method is sending your writing to an out of town/state/country contact. I did this in 2003 when the Cedar Fire hit our area. We self-evacuated because we lived a couple of blocks south and west of the cross roads for the evacuation area. I sent all of my writing to a writing buddy in England who happened to be on-line at the time. This became valuable a few years later when I couldn’t find the most current outline for the semi-autobiography I dabble in between novels. He salvaged it out of his old computer.

You can also use thumb drives, re-writable CD’s & DVD’s. Whatever you do, backup often, and have it somewhere besides in your house.

Also, keep your favorite books on writing with your grab and go items in case you have a few minutes to gather important papers, pictures and such. Especially if they are out of print, marked, or hard to find. Keep a list of the books you have and the authors so you can replace them if needed. This can be on paper with the important books, or on your chosen backup device.

In short, a clear safe backup plan can save you tears and that hollow feeling of losing hours of work. You may attempt to re-write what you have, after all those are your stories, but they will never be the same. I know about that too. In the long ago days BC (before computer) I had several hand written chapters of a speculative fiction novel that was tossed out. I’ve tried to re-write it, and have done some of it, but it isn’t the same. The characters aren’t the same. I may or may not ever finish it. It’s especially true for non-fiction and research.

So my friends protect your work. Have a plan in case Murphy takes his hand at your work. Foil him with preparedness.

Farewell AOL

It’s been a long run, and for the most part it’s been fine, sometimes even great. We came on board in the late 1990’s. You were young and popular at the time.

            I gained a lot from your Writers Club. I attended over a dozen various writing chats and honed my writing skills. I still have contact with 2 of the people I knew back then. It’s sad to let go of Joyfulbee8. It was fun being called Joy. I wondered at the time if I would turn around in a crowd if I heard someone call out, “Joy.” I’ll never know.

            My husband cut his e-mail baby teeth on your service. You helped him shake hands with the technological age outside of his job. We stuck with you even when the rest of the world laughed at us.

            Today, I deleted you from my life. Another phase put behind me. I must admit I’ll miss your news. It was fun not knowing what the next click would bring: real news, fake news, who’s dating/cheating with whom, interesting tidbits, foods to eat/avoid and more. Never read about celebrities unless they’d passed on, or most of it, but it was fun glancing through anyway.

            We put up with your slowness, and other quirks. However, to ask us to PAY for the service no matter how much better you say it’ll be. Forget it. You won’t even tell us how much the “small monthly fee” is until we sign up. I don’t buy anything on the shelf if the price isn’t posted, no matter how much I want it.

            I’ve been trying to get my husband to leave you for quite some time now. You hit him where it hurts—in the pocket book. It’s worth the frustration, hours, and technical questions changing e-mail addresses to be rid of you once and for all.

            Don’t get me wrong. I liked AIM when several of my friends used you. My favorite was the Writer’s Club. I even hosted a chat for several years. But now I say farewell for good. I wish I could find out what percentage of customers you’re going to lose. The few people I know who clung to AOL are also leaving.

            I bid a fond/not so fond farewell.

Joy

Writing Dilema

            A potter finishes his/her pot, paints it, and puts it in a kiln. Once fired, it’s done. Once an artist applies the last stroke to a painting, it’s finished. When I create counted cross stitch or Swedish weaving projects, after working the pattern, it’s complete. Not so with writing. Writing is never finished. There simply comes a time the author sends it out. There are always improvements to be made. That brings me to my current novel.

            I’m at a crossroads with my Latter-day Saint romance, Hidden Heritage. Do I send it out next month, or wait until I go to Time Out for Writers conference in September and make even more changes? Either way I’ll work on something else this summer.

That presents another dilemma. Do I edit the completed Escape from Fire, or fill in the partial Car Crash? Maybe I could even dig out Divine Love and its sequel Diane’s Story. Then there’s always my semi-autobiography.

            But I digress, back to the topic. With writing, like in music, there’s always room for improvement: This sentence might be better if I use a fancier word. Perhaps that sentence sounds too pompous. A paragraph may need more description. Another one slows down the narrative with too much description. Would this scene work better later in the story? Does that dialogue sound realistic? The list goes on without end.

            Beta readers are valuable with their opinions, but they’re just that—opinions. Don’t get me wrong, I love the improvements made when I have beta readers.

Whether novel, or note I find better ways to say things nearly every time I go over stuff, even my Face Book posts. One of my college professors said, “Writing is never finished. Just send it out there.” He told us about a famous poet that had 2 or 3 versions of the same poem in print. How do I know if it’s time for Hidden Heritage?

            I don’t expect the reader of this post to tell me. You haven’t read it. I’ll decide when I finish this time going through it. I already have the dreaded Synopsis, query letter, and such because I’ve sent it out before. Naturally I made changes in those as well.

Mom's Birthplace

The first day of our trip to Iowa was emotional for me. We visited the place where Mom was born in 1905, Valley Junction Iowa. I knew the town had been swallowed up in Des Moines, but I wondered if I could find an old map that would tell me where it had been. When I checked, I found out it’s a thriving historical district.

The cement sidewalks were made of wood planks in those days, and the streets made of dirt. Mostly horses and buggies drove down those roads. Autos had been invented by then, so I assume there were a few around. Mom always told me she grew up in an amazing world that went from horse and buggy to men on the moon.

This picture is of me with my husband Dan and son Brian.

As I wandered down the street, I wondered which brick building had been the candy store. When Mom and her friend managed to get a dime each, they went to the candy store. Mom bought a handful of chocolates because they were so delicious. Her friend bought a full bag of cheap candy. They went back to the farm and savored the chocolates first. Then they would dig into her friend’s bag which would last the rest of the day.

Grandpa Stacy worked as a farm hand, so there wouldn’t be a record of their residence. The farm would be paved over by now anyway.

In 1910, her family was still in Iowa, but by 1920 they had moved to Missouri where she finished growing up. I don’t know how old she was when they moved.

The town hall was finished the same year she was born.

It was a fascinating experience with a feeling about the past I can’t describe. I never knew Grandpa Stacy; he died 3 years before Mom and Dad were married. Grandma lived with us until I was 9-years-old when she passed on.

Escape from Fire (Pizza Night)

Today I thought I'd post a tidbit from my novel Escape from Fire:

Mara opened the door and her niece, nine-year-old Celeste, burst through with a big hug, her six-year-old brother Eric tackled her from the other side, and they all landed on the floor with two-year-old Leanne climbing on top of them.

            “Mara! What did you do to your hair?” Lydia’s disapproval came through loud and clear.

            “Donated it to Locks of Love,” She enjoyed the perplexed look on Lydia’s face, a mixture of irritation and amusement. However, she felt a little guilty for not having told her before she came.

            Graham, Lydia’s husband was out of town for business, so he couldn’t make it. Lydia stood with her mouth open, not speaking while the rest untangled themselves and stood up. Lydia gave Mara a hug and said, “That’s so like you to help children. You can grow it out again.”

            Mara shook her head, “Not on your life. I don’t have headaches any more. That alone is reason enough to keep it short.”

            “But it’s so much a part of you.” Lydia reached out and stroked the ends of Mara’s shorter locks.

            Mara stepped back, “Not anymore.”

            Lydia glanced at her children. “Well, you sure look different.”

            Celeste piped up, “I like it. You look prettier. Put on makeup so I can see how pretty you look.”

            Mara gave her another hug, “I think you want me to put some on you, and paint your nails.”

            Celeste looked at her nails, “Cool.”

            “We’ll do that after dinner, but it’s time to make pizza.”

            Lydia’s children loved coming over to Aunt Mara’s for pizza. She made individual sized crusts and baked them until they barely started to brown. She also made sauce from scratch. She kept left over crusts in her freezer, and made pizza for a quick meal more often than she wanted to admit.

She took the toppings out and set them on the table: pineapple, olives, onions, tomatoes, bell pepper, Canadian bacon, sausage, and pepperoni. Mozzarella cheese finished it off. Eric loaded his with pepperoni and added one olive in the middle. Celeste put on everything except the bell pepper. Lydia added pineapple to Leanne’s, and put everything on her own. Mara used pineapple and olives on one side with pineapple and Canadian bacon on the other.

            The scent of pizza filled the room while the children ran around the cabin checking to see what Mara had saved from the fire. The deer were there along with the framed pictures including the large photo of the ocean her grandmother had taken that had hung over the fireplace.

            Eric tugged on Mara’s hand. “I want to go see where the house burned down.”

            “Me too,” Celeste chimed in.

            Lydia gave them a mommy look. “I’m sure Mara’s seen it enough times. Besides, it’s going to be dark soon.”

            “Maybe tomorrow?” Celeste had hope in her eyes.

            Lydia and Mara glanced at each other before Lydia responded. “Maybe we could go help clean the property with Helping Hands, if it isn’t on a school day.”

            Mara grabbed them into a big hug. “I’m glad you’re interested in my property, but I want to think about other things right now, okay?”

            “Like eating pizza?” Eric pointed toward the oven.

            Mara spread a beach towel under Leanne’s chair. The wooden high chair her grandfather had made out of scraps had gone up in smoke, but she was big enough to sit at the table on a phone book. That highchair was one more irreplaceable thing. It cost zero dollars, but was priceless.

            After they finished the pizza, Mara turned to the children, “I bought a couple of games yesterday, who wants to break them in?”

            Eric looked worried. “Why do you want to break new games?”

            Lydia turned to him. “To break in is an expression that means to be the first to use something. You’ve heard about breaking in horses.”

            Eric said, “Oh, that kind. I want to, if it isn’t a spelling game.”

            Mara took the games out of a cupboard. “One rule, this evening’s for fun. No more mention of the fire. I want to think about other things.”

            Celeste looked at Mara. “What about makeup and painting my nails?”

            “Your mother and Eric can break in Bople while we do that.”

            “Only four colors?” Celeste glanced at Mara. “Oh, I forgot.” Celeste’s eyes filled and she swallowed hard. “I like your whole bunch of eye shadows.”

“I forget sometimes too.” Mara picked out hot pink for her toenails, and Celeste chose the red. When the nails and makeup were finished, they joined the others in the living room.

            Lydia turned to her children, “Why don’t you two have some cookies and watch Leanne while I look at Mara’s room.”

            Mara knew why Lydia wanted to see her room without the children. She wanted to ignore the request, but knew Lydia meant well. She’d always looked up to her big sister, but her motherly attitude was getting worse since their grandparents’ death and becoming more and more aggravating. Sometimes she wanted Lydia’s suggestions, but not all the time, especially when she didn’t ask.

            It’d been like that all of her life. She remembered their mom telling Lydia not to be so bossy when they were little. She’d been twelve and Lydia almost sixteen when their mother died of the flu. Their father had died six months before that of double pneumonia.

Their grandparents had finished raising them. Mara didn’t need mothering any more. She needed an equal sister to lean on, part of the time, but she wanted the support to be mutual, and Lydia never asked her for anything, not even a cup of sugar. They reached the bedroom door. Mara gripped the handle for a few moments before opening it.

            Lydia looked around, “Your room’s cute.”

            Mara closed the door and put her hands on her hips, “You didn’t bring me in here to look at my room. What is it? My hair cut or do you also want to know whether I’m going to sell or not like the rest of the world?”

            Lydia brushed her fingers through her sister’s shorter hair, “You don’t look like yourself.”

            Mara retorted, “I’m not the same. Running from a fire’ll do that to you. I thought a lot about my life while driving down that smoke-filled road even with a stranger in the car.”

Kanarraville Falls

I loved this hike with my husband, daughter, and her son. It’s a moderate to difficult hike, but not horrendous. Part of the hike is on a path, and some through the water. The first time you need to choose, chose the water. If not, you’ll find yourself balancing, or sitting down and scooting across a pipe over a ravine. (Our pictures of it didn’t come out.) Do not attempt if there is a chance of rain. I wouldn’t even if it was a 5% chance.

This is the first of 2 ladders. My 6-year-old grandson climbed it with Mom right behind.

The second one was, as my grandson said when he saw it before us, "torked." We by passed that one.

If you live in southern Utah, or plan to visit there, I highly recommend hiking Kanarraville falls. Wear good shoes. Special shoes made of hiking in water are recommended, but I did fine with my new running shoes that have very good traction.  It’s more adventurous than the Narrows in Zion, what’s more it’s free. Just take the Kanarraville off-ramp from I 15 between St. George and Cedar City. Follow the road east to the town. Look for the small sign that points the way.

Don't Leave the Porch Light on

We’re Empty Nesters at last. I have mixed feelings about marrying off the youngest. Not that I feel that way about the marriage, I’m delighted with my new son-in-law, and all is as it should be. I’m just feeling odd about the emptiness right now.

All totaled, my husband and I have lived alone with just the 2 of us probably less than 2 years our entire married life if you don’t count our mission. I know this post is a jumble. That’s okay, that’s how I feel right now.

Daily life isn’t that different, our daughter was rarely home. Sometimes we saw her in the morning before she went to work, and at night we often had family prayer with her after she came in. She was here a little more often than that, but not much.

Her room is nearly empty. All that’s left is the furniture, and they can’t move that until their apartment is finished. I’m itching to create my sewing/craft room. Still, I feel empty when I look in and don’t see her dozens of shoes, etc. It has filled up a little with wedding presents for now.

Her bathroom is also empty. Thankfully, she left the bathroom rugs. I don’t think hot pink is her new husband’s idea of decor. I didn’t plan to, but I moved my makeup into it because she has much better light.

What are we going to do with left-over treats when she isn’t here to take them to work?

I won’t see her friends any more.

I’ll miss her smile, and talking to her even if only for a few minutes here and there.

I’ll miss the evenings she and her friends came over to watch TV and play games.

The house is too quiet.

Going back to another reason the house seems so empty. I’m thankful our daughter that moved in with us when we moved in was here when we arrived home from our 9 month trip with her 2 children (one was born while they were living here). Those first few days I really missed the patter of little feet and childish voices even if we could at last set up our office in what had been the grandchildren’s room.

When they moved out, I missed having a “dish fairy.” Her husband always did our dishes. If he was home, he removed them from the table as we finished eating and washed them. The pans were already done. Sometimes when we got home for a later than usual dinner, he had something ready for us. He is a great cook, and has cooked as a chef for restaurants. He often worked the night shift, so we also left the porch light on for him.

It was great to have adults to talk to in the house as well as the charming grandchildren. There’s much more, but I don’t want to write a novel. This post is too long as it is.

Yes. We are in a better state, and the children are as well. Life marches on. I try to live like my mother said, “Enjoy each stage of your life while in it. Don’t waste your youth wishing you were older, or your older years wishing you were younger.”

I miss leaving the porch light on, but hey, we are saving on electricity. Now to tell you why we spent so little time as just the two of us in our marriage:

Our eldest son was in a hurry to get here, and was born a couple of months short of 1 year after we were married. We were alone for a short time after our youngest started college and before we went on our mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for 1 ½ years in Thailand. During the last 5-6 months of that time, our son lived with us so he and his family could watch our house while we were gone.

We were alone while remodeling the kitchen and bathrooms so we could sell our 2 story house. We were also in an apartment for 5 months while looking for a house. When we moved in here, we had the pleasure of welcoming our daughter, son-in-law, and their 1-year-old daughter with us temporarily. That’s why we almost always had to leave the porch light on. He worked the evening shift, and wouldn’t get in until the wee hours of the morning.

We asked them to stay a little longer than they had planned so they could be here while we went on a 9 month road trip. When we got back, our youngest daughter had come back home. That brings us back to last Friday, and her marriage that now leaves us with our empty nest, and hardly any need to turn on the porch light. 

48 Years of Marriage

My husband and I had our 48^th anniversary last month. A few ideas on how to make a marriage last:

Becoming one in the Biblical sense of the word doesn’t mean you feel the same way about everything. For example: You may have very different taste in movies. Dan goes for the adventure type of movies—when a movie is “R” rated, he’s disappointed. We don’t see “R” movies for any reason. At the same time, I relish the idea because I don’t like that type of movie with a few exceptions—Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and maybe a couple more. I know when to close my eyes like when Indiana Jones and What’s Her Name tie themselves to a pole. I don’t open them until the music changes, or when Luke falls into the pit with the monster.

It’s rare indeed when we both order the same thing at a restaurant.

We do agree on politics with very few exceptions, and even then it’s in the details, not the overall scope.

Having the same spiritual goals is imperative. Do you read scriptures and pray as a family? Maybe not quite imperative, but it can be extremely difficult if you aren’t on the same wavelength.

When you come together in marriage, bring some of your family traditions, and allow your husband/wife to do the same. There is no right or wrong. Christmas can be especially difficult. If you both feel strongly about how your family did things, it can lead to arguments. Either one will dominate and the other will feel put upon, or you will end up with the same fight every year. It's also VERY important to develop new traditions that don't belong to either family. These are your very own.

Both people need to give some in all aspects. Wives, if your husband is a huge sports fan, ask enough questions that you can follow the game with at least moderate interest. Husbands, your wife will be much more willing to attend sporting events if you will take her to the type of entertainment she likes.

I could go on and on, but I won’t. The most important thing is to work together, and spend time together. Also have time when you do individual things. The children will one day leave and you don’t want to be living with a stranger.

Resolutions

Mondays come fast. I had something planned for today, but didn’t make the time to prepare it last week, so I’m on to plan B, my opinion on making New Year’s resolutions:

Making goals is a good thing. The start of a new year is a good time to do so, and to reflect on the ones you made the previous year; however, you can make goals or re-fresh old ones any time.

When you slip, don’t tell yourself you are a failure. Start again, that day. For example, if your goal is to exercise daily, and miss a day, don’t give up. Go for it the next day. (Okay, I’m going to do my Yoga as soon as I post this.)

Without goals, we can drift with a vague “I’ll do better” attitude. That doesn’t help much. At least for myself, I need to be more specific than that, something measurable. Kick discouragement out the door.

One example: I made the resolution to get regular on this blog January 1^st, but didn’t get to it until last week. I could mope and make even more excuses, but I won’t. Here it is. See you next week.

Starting up Again

I’m back. I had major computer problems (hard drive crashed). After I finally got a new one, I had difficulties with it and one of my sons-in-law fixed several issues, but he didn’t have limitless time. Who does? The holidays hit, and I knew that when my computer geek son came down for Christmas he would be able to fix the rest. He did, but I still kept procrastinating starting up the blog again.

How easy it is for us to put things off. “I’m already behind; one more week won’t matter, next week for sure! Everybody else lets their blog go for awhile.”

January is almost over. NO more procrastinating. Monday Morning Grandma is back! I enjoy writing this blog. Once I have one of my novels accepted, I will revert this blog to concentrate on my writing. I plan to create another one titled Monday Morning Grandma and keep it up. I like the freedom this venue affords, I can write or post pictures about anything I want. 

Here are a few pictures of the day we got snow. People who have lived here 30 + years said they haven't ever seen it snow. Enjoy.

Monday Morning Grandma--Small Stuff

Lap top is in the shop, and I didn't know I could only access this part of blog from this screen name. Sigh. I want my lap top back. At least I figured it out today.

It’s interesting to think of the small ways others have touched our lives. They teach us lifelong habits. A few of mine are below. As you can tell, my brother Bob taught me a lot. The important, serious things I’ve learned along the way belong on a different post.

Bob taught me: The correct way to eat an apple is to circle around the middle first, then eat the top and bottom parts. When you butter toast, be sure to cover every crumb to the crust. The best way to get every bit of corn on the cob is to lift the kernels out one row at a time with your bottom teeth. (I don’t do that anymore because it takes too much time.) I didn’t realize until this year when we visited him I also learned how to eat a sandwich—crust first. That gets rid of the crust then you can eat what he calls “dessert” or the middle with all of the goodness and without the crust.

This isn’t just about my brother; I learned habits from others as well:

I remember having lunch with some high school friends when they insisted I try ketchup on my French fries.

I learned to be cynical about commercials from a high school friend.

I now only use ½ of a can of water when warming up canned condensed soup (more flavor). I learned that when going to junior college at institute of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I won’t bore you with any more. I’ll bet you can think of people who have influenced you in small ways.

Monday Morning Grandma: Food

Sorry I'm a day late, but my computer is having hiccups. 

Food: We all eat. Most of us want to lose weight. We know we need to eat healthy. What to do, what to do?

Let’s see what the “experts” say:

High carb

Low carb

High protein

Vegetarian

Vegan

Meat is the best source for protein

Gluten free

Wheat is the staff of life

Drink milk

Avoid dairy

Avoid 5 fruits that make you fat

Sugar is poison or a drug

The list goes on and on …

In my biology class I learned sugar does not turn into starch then fat. Why would doctors test for sugar levels by handing you an empty container if it’s stored as fat and not eliminated? Sugar and fat combo is a problem—burn sugar, store fat. Studies using sugar and placebo prove sugar does not make children hyper. (How do they react when they get a toy they’ve wanted?) Sugar does cause cavities, and replaces nutritious food, so sparingly is in order.

My mom drank so much carrot juice her skin, especially the palms of her hands, turned orange.

Moderation is in order.

Sure there are special diets for certain ailments, and stay away from foods you are allergic to.

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I try to follow the Word of Wisdom which is found in the 89^th section of the Doctrine & Covenants some basics:

Abstain from tobacco, alcoholic beverages (also included by modern day leaders: illegal drugs, yes that means marijuana), tea, & coffee. Consume: wholesome herbs, fruits, meat sparingly, & grain.

I use this as my guide when looking at special diets.