Circus World

Apparently The Land of Cheese is also home to the winter quarters of the circus. (This amuses me greatly because who would choose a winter habitation where it snows? I thought the whole point was to get away from the freezing white stuff.) Rocketgirl's husband - for the life of me I can't remember the acronym I picked out for him and my cheat sheet in at home - works for a very nice organization and the company picnic was last Saturday at Circus World. Being the classy man that he is, I was included in the party and got to go too. It was totally awesome. I am just the kind of girl who loves the circus. The animals, the performers, the wagons, the ring, the food. And of course the company; Rocketgirl and spouse, Sunshine and Woody and the crazy nice people that are everywhere out here.

This is the hand stamp that let me in and seemingly does not come off:

As is to be expected, Sunshine was far more interested in the stuff her size:

And she loved the "monkey bars," though I wonder if her parents didn't get some ideas from this exhibit:

She got a kick out of the fun mirror too:

I'm a little miffed that I wasn't allowed to take pictures of the actual performances. I know why - flashes and all that bug the animals and can blow someone's concentration - but still, it's hard to describe the elephant that could walk on a ball - these are the elephants post performance:

The baby who was just learning:

Or the 'brothers' that flipped each other with their feet - without pictures. The main event was held here:

While we waited for lunch, and Woody got a nappy change, Sunshine and I wandered around the historical wagons:

This was right before I saw that sign that said, "don't touch the wagons." Oops:

There was a duck situation as we were crossing the bridge:

You have got to admit she is a freakishly photogenic child:

She must get it from her parents:

Certainly not from her aunt:

Other than the aforementioned diaper incident, Woody looked like this most of the day:

He was unimpressed with the circus. He did not emerge even for this lovely moment:

This is me, and Circus World was awesome.

Babies Don't Keep

Part of this poem was on my mom's wall my entire growing up but I never realized it was so long. And I'm not sure if I like it as much in the full version. So let me know your opinion.

Song For A Fifth Child
by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue.
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.)
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due.
(Pat-a-cake, darling and peek, peekaboo.)
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo.)
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait 'til tomorrow,
For children grow up, I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.

The six bolded lines were all I thought there were until I looked it up for the author. I liked it's simplicity and the full version seems more complicated somehow.

This is me, thinking about babies a lot lately.

They Say That Even Clams Do It

Called Tarzan tonight for our ritual talk that we have started since I am out of town and he told me that he found two ladybugs on the cucumber plant that hangs from the back porch and they were apparently getting it on. Who knew?

This is me, knowing more than I needed about bugs.

Ode To A Friend

It seems less than it is to call RHM merely a friend. Even 'my best friend' doesn't seem like enough. Stupendous isn't adequate either, but she is all of those things. Commenting on her service for others and desire to help doesn't really convey the reality of being on the receiving end. But I have, more times than I can count. But she keeps doing it. And it has not been the easiest year for her. What with the budget situation and the cutbacks - fortunately she got to keep her job - and then so many family members getting sick and/or passing away.
I am so proud of her strength and compassion and concern for others especially in the face of such personal trials.
I am just super impressed with her and can't really explain the depth to which I admire her.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

You're a marvel, RHM, you really are.

This is me, Happy Birthday to you.

Thousands Of Words

Gratuitous pictures of the new bebe and company. Just because I can. These were from yesterday or Going Home Day as it shall be henceforth be known. Hot mama:

Baby socks are just so small:

(And before you punch me in the face for saying something so silly, consider that one of Woody's socks fits only my big toe. Yeah. I know.)

Sunshine is still fascinated by her baby brother:

(As much as she thinks about him that is. Which isn't too often. It will be interesting to see their relationship develop. Wait until he steals her hairbrush or rips a favorite book. She'll notice him then.)

All prepped and ready to go:

So really, what is up with car seats these days? I realize it is a good idea to buckle your kid in and smaller persons need more involved arrangements but is this really necessary:

To take this adorable thing home:

This is me, keeping you apprised of all the minute details. You're welcome.

Don'cha Know?

The Land of Cheese is a very neighborly place. I have never seen such friendly people in all my life. I'm a little creeped out actually. In The Jungle one does not usually meet the eyes of EVERY SINGLE PERSON ON THE STREET. Most of them are involved with looking in the gutter for change, being on a cell phone, an ipod or talking to the crack whore who is propositioning them or rejecting their entreaty. I was very used to the anonymity. Here, people - and by that I mean all the people you chance to pass on the sidewalk, glance at in the store or have to deal with at the post office - want not only to look at you and smile but at the VERY least tell you to have a nice day. The more adventurous ones want to know about the kid you are leading by the hand and isn't she a darling (she really is) and where are we headed. Others want to know how long I'm in town - since it's quite obvious that I'm not from around here what with my constant searching the streets for quarters - and what's the occasion and is The Jungle really as wild as they have heard? It's quite a different feel to the public than I am used to.
The ones I have cause to meet in a more formal way treat me like a bosom buddy upon the first meeting. I'd been invited to the local play group, book club and peanut butter party (Apparently some of the kids have really severe allergies so once a year their parents get together and eat a lot of peanut butter infused items) five minutes after being introduced to some of the girls at church.
Don't get me wrong, it's adorable and certainly makes you feel welcome and included - I feel so special - but it's unusual because I don't feel like I've done anything to be special about yet. I've only just met them.


This is me wondering if there's something in the water?

Tarzan's Third Post

Man what a rush this last couple of weeks has been. First Jane and I get back from taking care of Grandpa and started addressing the stockpiled concerns of our lives. I had a job interview at College of the Canyons for an online library instructor position. I honestly have to say I really enjoyed it. Preparing for the interview gave me the chance to reflect on my career to this point and I like what I see. I created a short online demo class and practiced answering hypothetical questions. The interview itself felt very natural. I seemed to have a good rapport with the interviewers and really enjoyed demonstrating what I know. Even if I don't get the job, I'm glad I tried out for it. Though my chances could be better than I had hoped. I talked with one of my character references today and she mentioned that College of the Canyons had gotten in touch with her last week for a character reference about me. So at least I made the first cut.
After the interview, I organized a field trip to the Huntington Library for my Academic Decathlon team. Jane was a big help chaperoning about 8 students around the museum complex. Everything went well and I think they enjoyed themselves while learning something. That evening we drove down South for some wonderful sushi with my mom who had relieved us down at Grandpa's. We had some wonderful sushi and even better conversation at a local sushi restaurant that Jane and I discovered when we were there in July. Good memories.
Then I had to pack my camping stuff because I was going with the young men from the ward to a week long LDS themed Boy Scout summer camp. I have very mixed feeling about how that experience went. I was very impressed by how well my boys did and how hard the stake leadership worked to pull the whole thing off. I was very disappointed to see how poorly the camp was run though and absolutely enraged at some of the ugly things that happened at a camp full of LDS youth. I'd go into more detail here but I keep swearing whenever I think about the details and I know how Jane fells about me using profanity. In short there was good, bad and decidedly ugly at camp. Of course the bishop wants me to speak for 10 minutes about the camp next week in church. It'll be a strain but I will have to sanitize my recollections.
Now I am home which seems very empty without Jane. I miss her much and am happy to call her every day. It helps that I am busy trying to get done as much as I can in the last little bit of my summer that is remaining. So much to do and so little time.
On Sunday I read an article in the LA times about how easy it is to find information about people using the Internet. I decided to Google myself and was pleased that not much stuff came up. I was very surprised to see a link to the site Rate My Teacher. I followed the link here and was floored to see that some students had actually rated and commented about me as a teacher. Its all anonymous and shouldn't be taken too seriously, but the comments posted there really touched me. Someone actually noticed that I'm trying to make a difference. I felt like I was on cloud 9 for the rest of the day.

Whew, I've been busy and very happy to be so.

The Baby Is In

In the past I have mocked people who drool over a newborn and post seven thousand pictures of her/him doing nothing but laying there sleeping or crying but...I am now one of them. So if you need to mock me then I totally understand. In fact I sort of want to mock myself a little bit. But he really IS so cute and tiny - like the grande burrito at Chipotle - and he does smell good and I really do want to take photos over and over hoping that one of them will convey the feeling of actually holding Woody and smelling that fresh from heaven scent. (Have I made you gag yet?) If you couldn't have guessed, Woody is my new nephew. He made his entrance into the world at 5:16 this morning, 6lbs 14ozs, 20" long and soo adorable. (I really will try to not say that too often.) Rocketgirl was totally fine playing violin last night and then around 10pm, bam! Have some contractions. Which she did. A lot of them apparently. But she was magnificent - from all accounts as I wasn't there - and looked totally hot doing it:

But I find it hard to hate her since she produced this:Mother and baby:

Father and son:

Proud parents:

Sunshine meets her brother for the first time, asking "Is he real?":

Happy family:

Aunt Jane meets Woody at only a few hours old:

This is me, as close to a newborn as I have ever been. And it's awesome.

Good Advice

Reader's Digest is one of the greatest publications EVER. Ever. I mean, think about it, it's small - and therefore portable - the articles are divided into "chapters" so you can leave it if you have to; there's a great variety of information, it comes every month, not every week or anything, so there's time to enjoy it all and if you have to run off for other things you're not likely to fall behind; it's timeless - it's the one magazine at the dentist or doctor that is not out of date even if it's years old - and the jokes are funny and mostly true and I don't think I've ever seen the same joke twice. I read a LOT of Reader's Digest. A lot a lot.
So imagine my delight when Rocketgirl's edition arrived this last week. And it did not disappoint. Besides an article about Brad Paisley:
Who is totally yummy - I don't think I've ever said that about a guy before - and the bit about teaching your cat to shake hands there was another bit about advice; how to give it, what to do with it when it's given to you and there were some really great 'reader-tested life advice' submissions. Some of my favorites:

• Live your life so the preacher doesn't have to lie at your funeral.
• Love people. Use things. Never confuse the two.
• Do what is right, not what is easy.
• Never burn a bridge. Just shut it down for renovations for a while.
• Put the peanut butter on the bread before the jelly.
• Choose what is wise rather than what is fair.
• Live through it or die from it - you choose.
• If you don't have the money to pay for it, don't buy it until you do. (If only more people, including states and nations used this one.)
• Try to look unimportant. The enemy may be low on ammunition.
• Never give yourself a haircut after three margaritas.

There are way more that are just as great. If I used yours, thank you! I really loved it. What more can I say? It's a great magazine.

This is me, with the words of advice from Reader's Digest.

T Plus Three Days

How good of an aunt am I, I ask you, if at a trip to the zoo I can't manage to get one picture of Sunshine OR Rocketgirl? I know right? Not so good. It just seemed that the animals were more inclined to stay still enough for the 1/2 second required to make the shot. Sunshine, being two, needs no justification and Rocketgirl was determined to walk the baby right out. Turns out that was not as easy as it sounds. So instead, I give you the animals at the local zoo in the middle of The Land of Cheese. A bear:

The llama named Yoda:

The llama named Maya:

An enclosure of deer:

Close up:

A goat:

The pig was not available for comment, the wolf was sleeping behind a tree and the bobcat was pawing at something on the floor on the other side of the cage. Then there were the ever adorable prairie dogs:

As I told Rocketgirl, I love all things small and furry. She thought that was hysterical though I still can't figure out why. This is a photo taken by Sunshine if that absolves me of any negligence:

This is me, there's still no baby, so we went to the zoo.

O Tarzan Where Art Thou?

So this whole being away from Tarzan thing is harder than I thought it would be.
(Do not misunderstand me - I love Rocketgirl, we're having a great time catching up and complaining about the dude who won't come out, Sunshine is marvelous and I am finding things to do. It's not that I am having a terrible time here, because I certainly am not. I'm even sleeping great.)
It's also not like Tarzan and I haven't ever been apart before. We've been lucky, I know, in that there aren't great long stretches of time when we are separated. Thank goodness neither one of us has to travel for our jobs, but he's had work retreats, there was the funeral, I went to The Frozen North and stuff like that. And even if I were at home, he wouldn't be. Scout Camp doesn't pack up until tomorrow. So why am I missing him so much?
This is new to me, and maybe that says a lot, but I've never felt like there was a hole, and actual gaping hole, in my person if Tarzan wasn't with me but now I do and it's weird. I have things to do, he has things to do, I call him, he calls me, every day, even if he has to climb to the top of a mountain out in the wilderness to get cell phone reception. It's only ten days and then I will be home again. What is my deal?
I wouldn't admit this to anyone but you Internets - I know you can keep a secret - but I cried when we hung up the phone today. Please realize, I am not That Girl. I don't cry at weddings, or funerals, or movies, or when something sweet happens. I don't even get blurry if an animal dies. I am not the girl who cries at the drop of a hat, or even when the hat is thrown in her face and the brim almost pokes her eye out so she'd be blind forever. I am the type of girl who pops the person who threw the hat in the face, not the one who cries about it, but there I was, sniffling, blinking my eyes really hard and dousing my face in cold water so I could go upstairs again.
What is happening to me?

This is me, missing Tarzan a whole freaking lot.

Nothing Yet

Well, it's been two days now and there have been a lot of contractions but none in the pattern and timing that would indicate the eminent arrival of my next nephew. Rocketgirl is so irritated by the situation that she's about ready to reach in and pull the kid out. I don't recommend she do that but I can imagine the frustration. Especially since she isn't getting a decent night's sleep either.
In the meantime I feel a little bit extraneous. Sunshine is adorable but she's two and Rocketgirl has been taking care of her for years now, so she doesn't really need me. I can make dinner but that's only two hours in a day and then what? We really need this kid to arrive so I feel like I'm earning my keep.

This is me, waiting.

I Made It

It was a much less stressful trip than I was panicking about last night let me tell you. In fact it was probably the easiest trip I have ever taken and that is saying something. I don't have any real horror stories about airports and security. The airlines lost my luggage once but I got it all back a day later. Since I started carrying the written prescriptions for everything with me I have not been stopped once at the security checkpoints, so here's me getting on planes with sharp metal objects and liquids more than 3 oz at a time NOT in a plastic baggie. I am a rebel I tell you, a rebel!
The first leg of the trip was the longest and the most amusing. I was seated in the last row in the plane - which would have been super annoying if they hadn't fixed it so the seat could in fact recline. Thank goodness - between two guys. One was probably in his 50's and real nice. The other, on the aisle was a teenager, couldn't have been more than 17 and this was his first flight ever. Holy smokes I have never seen such a nervous person. Men, in my experience, try to be all macho and tough and nothing-bothers-me around women. Especially when they ARE nervous. So this was quite a change of pace. Once the plane started it's engines, every little bump or ping or beep or thump had his head between his knees hyperventilating and him deciding he wanted to get off. I tried to talk him through it, distract him like, but he was way nervous. Eventually he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up, huddled his head under my arm and stayed like that for about an hour. I am not above playing the mother figure to any guy, just like I flirt or bully or whatever they want in the moment, but this was a tad overplayed I thought. Parts of it were cute and amusing and other parts were just annoying. Most of the annoyance was because I wanted to go to sleep. I had planned on getting at least four hours in a row and I might have been just a tad cranky. I hadn't had any sleep at all last night though. As I was packing I started to get really anxious about getting up on time. The flight was at 6:40am and the shuttle people, morons, were scheduled to come at 4am. If I have to get up before 8:00am then Tarzan needs to be my alarm clock or it just ain't gonnna happen. And Tarzan just happened to be gone to Scout Camp Monday morning so I was on my own and the thought came to me that I would have a lot of time just sitting on the planes and laying over between and why didn't I just stay up until 4am and then I would not miss the shuttle. So I did, and I didn't and I made it here with no mishaps other than tiredness. And once the guy - who's name I still don't know - calmed down I did sleep, and again at the airport and then again on the second plane. All in all it was all right. Rocketgirl is still pregnant, though she doesn't want to be, and Sunshine is a doll. Their house is gorgeous and there's just a ton of room everywhere. It's a little rural but after The Jungle's humanity 24/7 this is going to be fun.

This is me, in The Land of Cheese.

These Things Just Write Themselves

So I'm packing to go and see Rocketgirl at her new house, help with the baby and all, play with Sunshine, you know...and while I'm waiting for the last load of laundry to dry I'm sitting here wondering what to write, not really coming up with anything. Then I walk into the bedroom and this is what I see:

(That's a yawn BTW, not a ferocious snarl.) But apparently she was not too concerned with my running to get the camera as this was the next shot:

Is it just that my clothes smell good? Or is it that there's a lot of them in a pile? Or is it just a soft pile to sleep on? Or is it just that she likes this place on the bed better than the rest:

This is me, getting ready to go.

Cynic Is My Middle Name

You might think I am a horrible person after reading this post and if that's so then I'm sorry. That's not how it was supposed to come out. I promise. First watch this:

And then tell me what you think. Is it totally unromantic of me to first wonder what sort of connection he must have to Disneyland that this could be arranged AND THEN coo at the adorableness of it all? (I don't really coo but you know what I mean.) Am I a cynic to wonder how they got it filmed and arranged and who are all those people singing and dancing rather than sigh and imagine myself in Erika's shoes? And who ARE all those people? Are they family? How much money did that cost? Why don't more people do it? These are the things that I think about when watching videos of this nature. No romance in my soul. I suppose I lucked out that Tarzan isn't an exhibitionist.

This is me, less than romantic today.

The Plants That We Planted

I've alluded to our upside down plants in a previous post or two, but here are some actual pictures of our tomatoes:

Coming soon to a salad near you:

Apparently the grape tomato seedling was the strongest of the two types in the pot because it seems that is what we are getting the most of:

Can anyone tell me if the leaves on the top of the cucumber plant are supposed to get all brown and dried like this:

The whole plant IS getting bigger:

And the leaves at the end of the vines are awesome and green:

So maybe it's an out with the old and in the with the new thing? Maybe I need to water it more? I water them both every single day - which is kind of a record for me - but the one disadvantage to the upside down thing is that the water all runs out if it isn't needed right away. Maybe this is as big as the cucumber will ever get:

Thankfully the cats have not appeared to notice the wavy, chewy things hanging down next to their food bowl:

Famous last words I expect these to be...

This is me with something growing on the back porch.

Spamalot

So.
Spamalot.
Tarzan and I saw Spamalot last night. That, my friends, was an experience. Sooooo very different from Fiddler on the Roof, and yet, not any less enjoyable. Just different.
Really different.
There was a lot more audience participation than any other play I've ever been to. And there were parts I suspect were ad libbed. One scene in particular - with the Knights Who Say Ni - the actors were cracking up, on the stage and not in a rehearsed manner. I think that bit went farther than it had previously. It was hilarious. The whole show was. As the Playbill suggests the musical is - lovingly - ripped off of the movie but since the author is the same for both I suppose it's okay. A few bits went too far I think. The French scene was quite excessively crude and the female costumes were very Vegas-esque but the underlying point was there and it was very well put together. I've heard it said that comedy is harder than drama and I suspect that this sort of comedy - with a lot of non-sequiters - is even harder than that. The timing has to be spot on and I think this touring company managed it well.
That Eric Idle is a funky fellow. Some kind of crazy genius.

This is me, and I figure the African swallow came for the show and the coconut for a snack afterwards.

And That Was How It Was

This has been quite a week. Such a week that I did not even make mention of Tarzan's first AND second posts. Yay Tarzan! They were both well received and for that I thank you Internet peeps. From the nature of these first two I suspect Tarzan's posts will be heavily esoteric; thoughtful, well researched and insightful but for the day to day nonsense you will have to rely on me. Such is the way of the world.
As for the week's events; we have seen two shows - Tarzan and I saw his cousin in a very amature production of Beauty and the Beast last Friday night. It was darling; especially the tiny little kid who played Gaston, and played it to the hilt. If there were Tonys for amature, I would give it to him. He sold that role and he was about half the size of the girl playing Belle - Tarzan's cousin had that part and did excellently - and ATL and I saw Fiddler on the Roof with Topol. That man has to be nearing 80 but he was Tevye and it was awesome. He got nearly 5 minutes of applause when he first stepped on the stage and it was like coming home to watch him. No changing the role, no hamming it up, nothing to indicate he'd done this over 2,500 times before on stage and screen - you heard me, twenty-five HUNDRED times. That's a lot. He played it straight and so genuinely I totally believed him and wanted it to come out differently for his sake, though I knew it wouldn't. That's a good show.
AND THEN Tarzan and I will be seeing Spamalot tonight. so excited. (When am I not excited to see musical theater I ask you?) I am sure it will be very different from Fiddler on the Roof, but no less interesting and enjoyable.
What else did we do? Lessee, we visited Gamma and GOM - same ol' same ol' there - went to the beach - whole 'nother post there with the swimsuit story - groceries, cleaned the house, had some friends over for dinner, trimmed the bushes etc. back, fed the plants and the cats - I think Belle may have wandered off from our possession too - whoever is taking my cats needs to stop it already - did some laundry...oh yeah and trucked over 200 grapefruit out to my parents' house. Grapefruit from GOM's tree, which were just going to go bad since he can't eat that many and no one else around is either, and to my parents so my mom can bottle them up for my father to drink all year round.
You know, the usual.

This is me, summing it up.

Firsts

I was reading this on Lola's page and since it's been a while since I did a meme,
I stole it.
These are my firsts. Copy and paste into your own blog, blah, blah, blah you know the rest.
1. Who was your FIRST prom date?
It was his prom not mine - I didn't get invited to my prom - but Ryan Cowley was fun and sweet and we had a good time.
2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love?
No. It was junior high, a long way away and I was not as mature then as I am now and probably scarred the poor boy for life.
3. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink?
The closest I come is having a beer poured ON me at a party in college.
4. What was your FIRST job?
My first real job, other than babysitting, was for a sandwich place. Still can not abide mayonnaise to this day because of the huge vats we had to scrape it out of.
5. What was your FIRST car?
Tarzan and I were both on the title to the first new car either one of us have ever had. A 2000 green Saturn. I've never held the title to a car all by my lonesome.
6. Who was the FIRST person to text your today?
7. Who was the FIRST person you thought of this morning?
[sniff] No one has. [sniff sniff] Actually I don't text a lot.
8. Who was your FIRST grade teacher?
Mrs. Susan Percy. She asked me to read Clifford to the class when she had to go to the office for something. I tried to show off and read upside down like she did, but it wasn't very successful.
9. Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane?
Believe it or not, my first airplane ride was when we left The Frozen North for The Desert. I was 17.
10. Who was your FIRST best friend and do you still talk?
Thanks to the wonders of Facebook, I have caught up with my first best friend. We live worlds apart now and likely won't be best friends the way we were but she's still awesome and doing awesome things and I'm glad I know about it.
11. Where was your FIRST sleep over?
Probably across "the path" at Emily's house.
12. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today?
Tarzan. He's the first person I talk to every day. It would be weird if I didn't.
13. Whose was the FIRST wedding were you in?
Other than my own...I haven't really been in a wedding all official and stuff. I'm usually the wife of the brother or one of a bunch of sisters.
14. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?
Kissed Tarzan and went to the bathroom. Mine is a calm and peaceful existence.
15. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to?
Raffi. I was 6 and the kid across Rural Route #1 and I went with his mom to see Raffi in concert. It was awesome. He sang Baby Beluga AND the Teeth Brushing song.
16. FIRST tattoo?
Never even thought about getting one.
17. FIRST piercing?
Considered it, but I pierce myself enough every day to bother getting permanent ones.
18. FIRST foreign country you went to?
Does the U.S.A. count? It was foreign when I visited in the ninth grade.
19. FIRST movie you remember seeing?
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It was pouring rain and we had to run from the car to the theater and then run back and we still got soaked.
20. When was your FIRST detention?
I never had detention per se, but I was "excused" from class until I could stop laughing.
21. Who was your FIRST roommate?
ATL was the first I remember...oh you mean other than sisters? That would be the girl who already had a boy over and undressed when I started moving my stuff in. Wish I could remember her name.
22. FIRST thing you think of when they ask the one wish question?
I wish people weren't so stupid. And I wish I had enough money to solve the problems of all those close to me.
23. FIRST thing you want to learn if given the chance?
To play the piano.
24. Did you marry the FIRST person to ask for your hand in marriage?
The first person to ask me seriously, yes. The others were just messing around.
25. What was the FIRST sport you were involved in?
Intramural floor hockey. It was awesome.
26. What were the FIRST lessons you ever took?
Horseback riding. I was 5 and the pony was Spot.
27. What is the FIRST thing you do when you get home?
Kiss Tarzan if he's here, and then put my purse and keys down.
28. Who will be the FIRST person to post this?
Maybe RHM, maybe Rocketgirl, maybe no one.

This is me, with a decent meme.

Let My People Go

Tarzan likes to watch The History Channel and sometimes I watch too. I don't always care about war machines and stuff, but this week we have a very interesting quasi-documentary called The Exodus:Decoded. The premise is this one guy trying to prove that the Israelites' exodus from Egypt really happened. He's got scientific evidence of the ten plagues and reasons for the parting of the Red Sea and for all happenings in the Bible. I have always been a fan of moderation and I think religion and science can work together with no ill effects so I like to watch and see what they can come up with.
I am sure it is not supposed to be, but I am finding this one highly amusing. And not for the reasons one might think.
I am not as amused by their desire to find physical proof of the Bible as by James Cameron being listed as an expert in the subject and talking like he knows stuff about archeology and Biblical happenings.
Amused that they never ask anyone from the LDS church to be a religious scholar on the Bible but they ask dudes who hang out in mountain caves what their professional opinion is.
Maybe because of James Cameron being part of the deal the special effects are amazing and the soundtrack is similar to The Bourne Identity.
And I guess the thing that makes me laugh the most is the narrator talks to us in such reverent tones it's like he expects the bush to still be burning when he walks up Mount Sinai.

This is me, watching some dude in the heat and the sun and not wishing I was there.

Tarzan's Second Post

It is the nature of the teaching biz that I am continually certifying and taking exams to maintain my professional status. As time goes on, the state of California keeps adding on new requirements for teachers. Its a constant headache and if you don't keep current, you can't work as an educator. When I started teaching, I had to pass the CBEST, MSAT and RICA exams in order to qualify for my teaching credential. I didn't have to take the CTEL, which measures your ability to teach students with limited English skills. As a librarian I'm always partnered with another teacher and since they were required to have the CTEL, librarians weren't required to take that exam. Well last year Sacramento decided to change the rules and require librarians to take the CTEl also. This caused much concern amongst my colleagues seeing as the CTEL is a three part exam that takes 8 hours and concerns teaching skills and contexts librarians don't usually use. I spent all my Saturdays in May taking classes to prepare for CTEL 1 &2. I had to miss the class covering CTEL 3 because it conflicted with my brother's wedding in April and there was no question of my not attending that blessed event.
I took the test on June 13 and the unofficial results were posted online last night. I hadn't been able to take the class for CTEL 3 and a lot of the material on CTEL 1 & 2 was material I hadn't worked with since I taught kindergarten. If I didn't pass the tests, I could either take about $3,000 worth of college courses or try to pass the tests again in December. Failing that I'd be fired for non compliance with the Ed code. Sigh...
So I was thrilled to see last night that I passed all three exams. I was worried, but apparently Jane seems disgusted that I would consider doubting myself. I'm grateful for her confidence but it wasn't a sure thing. So now I can stop worrying about losing my job because of the CTEL and just hope LAUSD doesn't decide to eliminate school libraries as a cost cutting measure.

The Last Post From GOM's House

Boys and girls, as we near the end of the final day here at GOM's house, let us remember that it might be better to follow Tarzan's advice; to die young and leave a beautiful corpse.
Oh yeah, Sesame Street has nothing on me.
Let's spell cranky together, C-R-A...
I had a thoughtful post in the works about what I learned and how the care taking has progressed over the course of this month, but I think instead I will leave you with this morning's escapades. It's so much more indicative of the time spent with Tarzan's grandfather.
I came down this morning shortly after 6am. I have noticed a gradual creeping forward of the time I am required to be up in the morning - I was told 7am was the requirement before we started this gig - but whatever, small concessions right? Now usually GOM beats me to the bathroom where he waits until I can procure a new undershirt and diaper and then we start with the teeth and the socks and the clothes etc. On two occasions he actually slept in until almost 8 and I was at a loss as to what to do for two hours.
But not today. I came down and the bathroom light was on so I figured business as usual.
Not so.
I turned from the bathroom - it was empty - to find GOM sitting in his regular chair, reading a newspaper. With a terrible thought blossoming in my mind I asked:
"Do I want to know where that paper came from?"
His answer; "I couldn't remember what day it was, so I went out to get the paper."
He went out to get the paper.
He went OUT to GET the PAPER!
I couldn't decide if I should shriek for Tarzan or laugh hysterically at the image that quickly supplanted the thought that had been in my brain. (I ended up sputtering incoherently.) This cranky, old, man who has me fetching things all day long, who needs help in nearly every aspect of his limited daily routine, walked out the front door at probably 5am which is getting lighter but is surely not full light yet, down two, TWO, steps, to the end of the walk, picked up the paper and returned, up those same two, TWO!, steps. All with his walker and wearing only his night attire, which consists of less than I wear to bed on a regular basis, and only slightly more than I wear when Tarzan and I are getting it on.
So with that thought burning it's way into your minds, never to be removed, I leave you to the rest of your day.

This is me, say it with me everybody, day twenty-one of twenty-one.

Tarzan's First Post

It is with some reluctance that I grudgingly enter the blogosphere. I'm a very practical person who really doesn't care much about what I or others have to say most of the time. Additionally while I am enthusiastic about the Internet as a labor saving device, I consider most social networking devices such as blogs, Facebook, Twitter etc. to be little more than attractive wastes of time. At the same time, I have felt the need some time to create some sort of record. I have a lousy track record with journals so I'll give blogging a try.
I read two online items that left a possibly unjustified impression on me. The first was an excerpt from the book by Larry Barkdull, Rescuing Wayward Children, posted on Meridian magazine which can be found here. It provided a cold, no nonsense analysis of the forces arrayed against us on this world complete with citations. While I enjoyed the piece and look forward to reading the book, it didn't contain anything I really didn't know already for the most part. Yes I know that this is the most wicked of all the worlds God created. Yes I know that Satan hates us on a deep, personal level and wants all of us screaming in pain and dead yesterday. Old Crackey is having a great deal of success in this endeavor which pains God greatly. What was new to me was the effect the powers of darkness here on Earth have on the rest of Heaven. This is referred to in DC 38:11-12.
11 For all flesh is corrupted before me; and the powers of darkness prevail upon the earth, among the children of men, in the presence of all the hosts of heaven—
12 Which causeth silence to reign, and all eternity is pained, and the angels are waiting the great command to reap down the earth, to gather the tares that they may be burned; and, behold, the enemy is combined.
In other words this place is so bad that it shocks the watching hosts of heaven into painful silence and they are all really, really itching to come on down and dispense some Old Testament style retribution on the tares infesting this miserable rock. Its nice to know that my sometimes lack of patience with the wicked or as I sometimes call stupid people is shared with a host of divine beings.
That however isn't the point that stuck with me. Later on Barkdull went on to discuss the great and abominable church found in 1 Nephi 13:4-9. Verse 5 states this entity's mission statement.
And the angel said unto me: Behold the formation of a church which is most abominable above all other churches, which slayeth the saints of God, yea, and tortureth them and bindeth them down, and yoketh them with a yoke of iron, and bringeth them down into captivity.
Joy, what can Brown do for you? Anyways Barkdull goes on to analyze this scripture with the following, "In the language of war, Nephi describes an organized effort to slay the saints." Satan of course is the one doing the organizing and he does both that and the slaying by any means possible(physical or metaphsical). Once again nothing new here, but I liked Barkdull's phraseology and the thought bounced around in my subconscious.
The catalyst for today's lengthy musing arrived in the form of an MSNBC article I read titled "Mexican cartels target polygamist Mormon sect". At first I cringed as I always do when I hear the phrase Mormon sect. A lot of weird, disreputable things have been done by splinter groups and I'm honestly a bit gun shy on the topic. This group seems normal enough though and they are certainly living in a world of hurt. Its turns out this particular group decided to immigrate to Mexico 60 years ago instead of giving up polygamy. They've established a nice little, prosperous colony for themselves and have maintained their culture, language and interestingly enough their citizenship in the northern Mexican state of Chihuahua. Well the rampant violence the drug cartels have been inflicting on the rest of Mexico lately has started to rain down upon this colony in the last few months. Members of the community are being targeted as sources of ransom money by criminal elements. Meredith Romney, one of their bishops and a distant cousin of Mitt Romney was just kidnapped as an object lesson. The article goes on recount how community leaders who protested this crime wave became the target of a grusome home invasion kidnapping/execution to silence them and teach the community a lesson.
Reason number gosh I can't count that high that I am never going to Mexico. Now I know that this is a splinter group and 1 Nephi 13:5 doesn't exactly apply here, but its close and I can easily see the same thing happening here in the urban jungle I call home. If it happened in Missouri in 1838 it can happen here. I'm afraid that I am more realistic than pessimistic when I say its not a matter of if that sort of thing will happen here, but when. Next time I go home for the holidays I think I'll look up my brother QC and get some pointers on basic firearm usage for home defense. The South Central Jungle has become home and I'm not running from nobody. I just need the proper tools for that particular job though I pray mightily that I will never need to use them. I sometimes feel like a modern day Ammon living here and look forward to enjoying the balmy climate of the 'Hood for a good long time. Jane and I have made our tiny abode into a delightsome refuge, a veritable piece of heaven on earth if you will. The more I come to appreciate what we have here, the more I want to defend and hold on to it.

Phew that was a lot to get off my chest. It feels good to write though. Maybe this blogging thing isn't so bad after all.

Three Little Words

Best. Sushi. Ever.

This is me, we had the Tobiko and it was excellent.

Kazunoko Or Tobiko?

In celebration of it being our next to last day - and having to be somewhere really shortly after leaving here tomorrow evening - and ALSO the fact that we haven't killed GOM, Tarzan and I is havin' some sushi tonight.

This is me, hoping GOM doesn't expire while we're out and ruin a perfect record.

Should He?

Question:
Would you support an entry by Tarzan? He's been getting some pressure from family and other sources to post some musings on living life in The Jungle but he's still on the fence. Some Internet love might push him over to our side and then you'd know I am not making any of this up.
So leave your opinion on whether Tarzan should put up a post or two on this here blog.

This is me, with a question for you.

I Think Not

There are many times during the day when GOM can't get to the phone so I've developed a short, sweet method I can deliver automatically enough that it sounds like I know what's going on. I say, "Hello, GOM's residence, this is Jane." Usually it is the nurse or the shower lady or a doctor or one of his kids. They know me, know where GOM likely is and it's all good. On occasion it is a telemarketer. I try to be polite to telemarketers. It's not my house for one and they are just doing their job for another. Usually they are polite enough to say they will call back when he's out of the bathroom. If they persist, or want to talk to the lady of the house, I tell them Mrs. GOM is dead. That never fails to get an "I'm SO sorry." Click. Once it got me the offer of prayer - I said sure, everyone needs prayers, right?
Yesterday though, totally took the cake for telemarketers. It went down nearly exactly like this:
"Hello, GOM's residence, this is Jane."
"Is GOM available?"
"I'm sorry he's not available at the moment, can I take a message?"
"No, we can try back at another time. Is this the beautiful and talented wife of GOM?" (I am so not making this up.)
"You've got to be kidding me...(apparently he wasn't kidding me) I'm his granddaughter."
(So much easier than explaining that my husband is the oldest son of GOM's oldest daughter.)
"...Um, granddaught -" Click.


This is me, day eighteen of twenty-one.

Home Stretch

This is it boys and girls...the final lap of the marathon race...the anchor leg of the relay..it's all up to this final runner...she can see the finish line...the taste of victory is in her mouth...it's all or nothing now...the crowd is on their feet, they're cheering, they're going wild...there's nothing left to do but...
Spri-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-int!!

This is me, day seventeen of twenty-one.

Chicken Or Egg?

I have come to realize that I don't like to sleep alone.
Not that I can't sleep alone in a bed - goodness knows I would never sleep at all if that were the case because when Tarzan is in the throes of a new computer game there is no such thing as sleep for him and I just can't function that way - but I don't like to be alone in the house.
I'm not sure if it's because I never have...
I am the oldest of nine children. There was never a night in my eighteen years at home where I ever slept alone in the house. Then I went to college and had roommates for five years. With one or two exceptions - like all nighters in the studio - they were always home to sleep, sometimes more often then I. After college, I lived in a boarding house type deal for the summer and I was alone in my room all the time, but never alone in the house. Then Tarzan and I got married and he's always been there. Thankfully neither one of us has to travel a lot because I wouldn't survive.

...Or if I never have because I don't like to...
A drunk guy wandered into our house one night when I was a kid - no one locked the door in that neighborhood in The Frozen North; people might die if a freak summer blizzard took them unawares and they couldn't find shelter - and I awoke to the sound of my mother calling frantically for my father. I am much like my father in that we are not morning people and neither of us wakes up well. I distinctly remember the grumbling, inaudible sound of my father herding this guy out the door and then stumbling back to bed. He barely even remembered the event the next morning, but I lay awake the rest of the night, freaking at every little noise.
Then, in college, my roommate left the sliding door to the patio unlocked one night and some guy came in and then into my room. I was asleep and I don't remember much; only rolling over in bed, feeling something duck towards the floor, rolling over and poking him in the shoulder and asking what he was doing. He freaked, and ran out, which then woke me up the rest of the way. We reported it to security and the police but I didn't have my glasses on and he had his hood up so there wasn't much of a description.
...and when the cat woke me up in the middle of the night Wednesday and I was all alone in the house - my Thursday volunteer situation, you recall, has me at our house on Wednesdays so I can be on time while Tarzan stays with GOM - I couldn't go back to sleep, twitching at every noise - like the cat walking across the papers on Tarzan's desk - and I began to wonder why I was so weirded out by being alone in the night. It wasn't just our neighborhood because when Tarzan had jury duty and he stayed at our house and I was with GOM I had a similar freak-out. Lesser degree because GOM was downstairs but he wouldn't be much help if some weirdo climbed the tree in the front yard and came in the wonderful balcony that runs the front of the house. These are the things that run through my mind in the middle of the night when I am all alone in the house.
Thoughts?

This is me, wondering if I ever got over being scared of the dark.

Any Day Now

I would like to say I am learning a lot and having a rewarding experience caring for Tarzan's grandfather. And I suppose I have learned things. There are a few family secrets that have surfaced; one that is not a secret to anyone though GOM is convinced none of his kids know it. I tried to tell him that I thought the great-grand kids knew, it is so not a secret but he refused to consider that.
Yet as we near the middle of our third week I can safely say it's not really a rewarding experience. Not in the way one usually thinks of rewards. It's definitely necessary and very important that we were able to do this, and we're happy to do it. But not for GOM's sake. Think the grumpiest, most ornery, cantankerous old person from any movie.
I'll trade you.
No, this mission is for Gamma and her siblings. We're here so she be with MusicMan while he does very important family history work on the other side of the world. We're taking these four weeks so that one of Tarzan's uncles can have a month off. He's been living here since January, almost non-stop, and for that my hat goes so far off it gets burned up in the earth's atmosphere. And after her trip, Tarzan's mother will be coming back here; not back to her house, not to relax, not to get ready for school - she's a teacher - but here, to stay with her father as much as she can before she has to go back to work. (And I think she'd back me up on the grumpy qualification.)
Now, I love my mother-in-law, I really do. It's always fun to go to Gamma's house. She's a very well intentioned hostess, she plans tons of things to see and do, she's super animated and always really excited to see us and of course there is the hot tub in the backyard. But I don't think I have ever been so glad to see her as I will be a week from the day after tomorrow. Do not be surprised if my shriek of happiness is heard 'round the world...Happiness and thankfulness. And a little awe. Of all the things I expected to happen, I could not have anticipated the levels to which my respect, appreciation, understanding and admiration of her would rise to after this stint down here at GOM's house. Thanks Gamma, for being so strong.

This is me, day fourteen of twenty-one.

It Worked

Tarzan just got back from jury duty and told me we have blossoms on the tomato plant in the upside down planter thingy on the back porch! I feel validated.

This is me, with some hope for a fresh home-grown tomato before my birthday.

Weird Dream #29

So I dreamed a dream last night, all alone in the gigantic bed that belonged to Tarzan's grandparents. (All alone because Tarzan has jury duty this week so he's staying home until it's completed.)

In this dream,I was in the military - possibly navy but i don't know why I think that - and at basic training in New Jersey, I met Amanda Tapping - of Stargate SG-1 fame, though her name was not Amanda, or Samantha as she's known on Stargate. And can I just say, though I saw her first as Helen on Sanctuary:

I much prefer her look as Samantha Carter on SG-1:

But my dream. I met Amanda Tapping and we became friends but then got deployed to different places. Fast forward a few years - and I mean that quite literally, suddenly it's years later - and I'm going to a 'function' that I know she will be attending. I push through the crowd until I am right behind her and say hello. She turns around and appears surprised and overjoyed to see me. She hugs me fiercely, says "I love you," and can we find somewhere to be alone. I suggest her place or mine and she chooses mine. We leave the party and trundle through the cold and snow to my apartment building where we go through this elaborate elevator trip to my floor. Since we left we haven't said much to each other but I have the feeling she wanted to leave a certain impression with people at the event and that we're only going to be friends from here on out. We get to my apartment and I realize that I haven't told her I'm looking after my grandfather - hmm, wonder where that came from? - and I had left him in the care of a guy from church while I went out. She rushes in ahead of me, offering to help, just as this guy comes from the other room, and then I woke up.

This is me, with an oddly structured yet not unpleasant, weird dream.

My New Philosophy

God is great, [root] beer is good and people are crazy.

The House Always Wins

Who bet that I'd have trigger finger again?
Ding ding. You win the prize!
Which is...a phone call from me when my thumb is fixed and I can dial it again. (Don't say I never gave you anything Internet peoples.)
Yes, I once again had to go back to the doctor - the one only three years older than me with the bald-on-purpose head who has seen me so often for a condition someone my age is not supposed to have this much and he might have been flirting with me not in an overt way but slightly more than usual way - and I received a Cortisone shot in my right thumb for the second time. If there's a third occurrence in the same finger/thumb I will need surgery. And frankly, that freaks me out a whole lot. I do not want him - even if he is cute for a bald doctor - to have to cut my thumb all the way to the bone and then slice the sheath that holds my tendon to my bone open.
This does not sound like a fun afternoon.
And the amusing thing is my left thumb - the one that started all the trouble - hasn't had a single episode since it was Cortisone-ed over a year ago. Who knew my mouse thumb worked harder than the hand I write with?

This is me on a much too familiar basis with the plastic surgeon.

There Are No Ticks On Me

It's a select few who might see the advantage of this but I count it a blessing.
Remember how I expounded on the beautiful-ness of Tarzan's grandparent's bedroom and the glorious air circulation? We have had to cease and desist sleeping with the balcony door open because Tarzan was being eaten alive at night by the 'skeetos. I first thought he was dramatizing a little because *I* had only one small bite after nearly two weeks down here. But then he showed me his legs and feet and, poor boy, it looks like the chicken pox has him again there are so many red and itchy bites. And I realized that this happened when I was a kid in The Frozen North. My siblings would get bit and not me. It seems that bugs can "smell" to a small extent and choose not to suck the blood of a diseased person.
It would not have been my first choice but since it is the lot I drew, I shall make the best of it.

This is me, with the upside to being diabetic.

Status Report

As we begin this second week of caring for Tarzan's grandfather all by our lonesomes I feel a lot more relaxed about the whole thing - despite my not getting up this early this consistently since the year before I stopped working.
Some of it surely is that GOM didn't die last week despite some serious whining. It is amazing to me to see the similarities between Tarzan and his grandfather, it's like they are the same person at different stages of life. And one of those similarities is their inability to deal with pain or illness. When GOM feels good then all is sunshine and roses and we're so nice to help him out and there are promises of money and gifts - NOT why we are helping let me just make that clear - and he's on top of the world. On the less than stellar days, if something hurts say, or when he feels poorly, all I hear is why doesn't the Lord let him die and maybe he needs to take morphine to end it all and he's no good to anyone, every move is punctuated with a loud aching groan and on and on and on.
I had not heard any of that previous to last week.
Either my afternoons with GOM had been all good days - unlikely so many in a row - or his pain medication was better, or I was less stressed because I was going home at the end of the day. I'm inclined to go with the last option. Last week I was worried every breath would be his last and I'd have to explain it to the family.
This week I am much more certain GOM will be fine until Tarzan's mother gets back from Europe. He's having a good day today, and now that I know the bad days are more mental than actual physical deterioration, we just remind him that he doesn't have to live if he doesn't want to, but it's not up to us to say. It's all him. That usually makes him rescind the "kill me now" statements.
Plus breakfast this morning: "the cereal [Cream of Wheat] was perfect."

This is me, on day seven of twenty-one.

Not All Bad

Random page from a random book in Tarzan's grandparent's bedroom. (Which, by the way, is AWESOME. Excellent air circulation, with a porch. I am so jealous.) This book, Safeguarding Motherhood was written first in 1949 and then republished in 1950, 1953, 1958 and 1962. I didn't know that when I opened it though. It just looked like an old book and it was blue. This was on the first page I opened to:
They say that man is mighty,
He governs land and sea,
He wields a mighty scepter
O'er lesser powers that be.
But a mightier power and stronger
Man from his throne has hurled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

This is me, thank you William Ross Wallace, for that.