We spent last week in Utah visiting our daughter Maleen, her husband Tyler, and there three and a half daughters. We had a wonderful time, but it was a tough drive down as I had fallen and hurt my leg just minutes before we left. We drove straight through (15 hours) and my leg had really stiffened up by the time we got there.
We had originally planned to drive straight through on the way home, but after thinking it over, we decided it would be best to split the trip up, with a good night's sleep in between. Therefore we left Saturday night and drove for about 5 hours to Jerome, Idaho. We had a reservation at the Best Western there.
We got there shortly before 11:00 and by midnight we were all in bed, snoozing gently away. And then, at 2:00 am, every fire alarm in the whole hotel went off. The noise was incredible. I am usually pretty groggy when woken up unexpectedly, and I was still trying to figure out how to turn of the alarm clock, when Bill informed me it was the 'fire' alarm instead.
We both hurridly got dressed (once I had extricated myself from my CPAP machine), and Bill went to work trying to wake up Timmy (who had incredibly slept through the noise), while I decided to go up to the front desk to find out what was happening. When I arrived the official looking firemen (lots of them!) quickly shepherded me outside. I could only hope that Bill and Tim would find their way out as well.
I ended up sitting on one of the steps of the firetruck, next to a lady who had been on the second floor (we were on the first). She said that she had heard her grandchildren coughing, and one of the hotel employees confirmed (later) that the problem had started on the second floor. The same hotel employee went off to the other entrance to see if he could find Bill and Timmy, so we eventually were reunited. I was highly amused to notice that although Tim had gotten his shirt and shoes one, he had forgone his pants and grabbed his bag of GameBoy stuff instead. He had a baby's blanket wrapped around his nether parts and looked cold and scared.
Shortly thereafter all the hotel guests were herded towards the back of the building to the large conference room. It was still pretty cold, but at least we had chairs to sit in, and tables to lean our weary heads on. Some people opted to crash on the floor, with kids in and around them. The head fireman was walking around and around testing the air. A few of the people who were still coughing were ushered out to be examined by someone with medical credentials, and I later heard that a couple with asthma actually went to the local hospital to be checked out (they were OK).
The fireman was very patient and talked with anybody who wanted to ask a question. One of the little girls asked him a few questions, and he put on his gas mask so she could see what it looked like. I don't know how we got on the topic, but it turns out he is quite the hunter and he was telling me which wild game meats are good. He says the best is mountain lion (wow - I wouldn't have guessed that!). Although he has never eaten bear himself, he warned me that it is even fattier than pork and has to be cooking on a grill where the fat can drip down onto the coals.
Shortly before four they announced that we could return to our rooms as the hotel had been aired out. The rumor at that time was that one of the guests on the 2nd floor had released some sort of chemical. Apparently there was a big rap concert in town that night, and lots of dubious characters had flocked into town. There were several arrests (earlier than our incident), and they thought this was connected.
We wearily settled back into our beds, and just after I got to sleep again, the phone rang. It was the management making sure that we had turned off our air conditioner so we wouldn't get any circulated air into our room. Thanks!!
Needless to say, we weren't all that rested the next morning. Further questioning elicited the fact that the problem had been a truck parked next to the hotel that had been leaking ammonia. Since ammonia is very light it had risen and been sucked into the vents at the top of the hotel, causing problems in the upper rooms first. They asked the truck to move (duh!)
The only good thing that came out of this is that the hotel did not charge us for the night - so we stayed there for free. Not only that, but this is probably a story that we will talk about for years!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
April Fools Day
Neither Bill or I are really into April Fools jokes any more, but Tim certainly wants part of the action. In the brief time I had with him this morning before he went to school, he tried several 'April Fools'jokes - but he was so obvious about them that even he realized I wasn't being fooled.
However, it got me to thinking about some of the jokes that have been pulled on me in the past (when I was a child), and some of them were real lulus - and took a lot of thought on the part of the person who crafted them.
My earliest memory was from elementary school when my mother calmly announced that all she was putting in my lunch box was a large, raw turnip. I take food pretty seriously and I was VERY upset until she April fooled me.
When I was twelve and we were living in England, my Dad woke me up with the news that my dreaded headmistress from school (a real terror) was on the phone to talk to me. I picked up the phone with a pounding heart and absolute dread, but there was nobody there. They tried it on my brother (he was scared of his headmistress too), but he refused to go to the phone. He said she could get at him at school, but not at home! I got even with my father later when I sweetly asked him if he'd like a cup of coffee and then put salt instead of sugar into it!
However, I have to admit that the best joke ever played on me was done by my uncle Jim, who happened to be visiting us that April. I was a teenager then, and belonged to the Columbia record club (yeah - we had records back then, CD's had not been invented yet). That April 1st I received a letter from them informing me that they had picked a select few of their members who would be eligible to receive EVERY SINGLE RELEASE for the next year ABSOLUTELY FREE. My obligation would merely be to listen to each record as it arrived and send them a critique on it.
Needless to say, I was out of my mind with delight about this. The letter further stated that they couldn't offer this opportunity to very many people, and if I didn't return the enclosed acceptance card, they would give the offer to somebody else. But there was no card with the letter!
I went absolutely bonkers. I was on the verge of calling the company to tell them they forgot to put the acceptance card in my letter, and to please, please, please not take me off their list. At this point my mother casually asked me who had signed the letter. "The president of the company" I answered impatiently. "And what's his name?" my mother pressed on. I glanced back at the signature. "A. Prellful" I answered. And then it suddenly hit me.
"A. Prellful" = April Fool
I was absolutely devasted and very upset at the time, but looking back on it, it was probably the best joke ever played on me. Although, the time my aunt gave me a book written by John Lennon with the signature 'John' inside comes a close second. Being a little older and a little more suspicious, I asked her if it was actually signed by John LENNON. She laughed and admitted that it wasn't, but that it HAD been signed by someone named John. In my family, we don't save everything for April Fools day. Any day is fair game!
However, it got me to thinking about some of the jokes that have been pulled on me in the past (when I was a child), and some of them were real lulus - and took a lot of thought on the part of the person who crafted them.
My earliest memory was from elementary school when my mother calmly announced that all she was putting in my lunch box was a large, raw turnip. I take food pretty seriously and I was VERY upset until she April fooled me.
When I was twelve and we were living in England, my Dad woke me up with the news that my dreaded headmistress from school (a real terror) was on the phone to talk to me. I picked up the phone with a pounding heart and absolute dread, but there was nobody there. They tried it on my brother (he was scared of his headmistress too), but he refused to go to the phone. He said she could get at him at school, but not at home! I got even with my father later when I sweetly asked him if he'd like a cup of coffee and then put salt instead of sugar into it!
However, I have to admit that the best joke ever played on me was done by my uncle Jim, who happened to be visiting us that April. I was a teenager then, and belonged to the Columbia record club (yeah - we had records back then, CD's had not been invented yet). That April 1st I received a letter from them informing me that they had picked a select few of their members who would be eligible to receive EVERY SINGLE RELEASE for the next year ABSOLUTELY FREE. My obligation would merely be to listen to each record as it arrived and send them a critique on it.
Needless to say, I was out of my mind with delight about this. The letter further stated that they couldn't offer this opportunity to very many people, and if I didn't return the enclosed acceptance card, they would give the offer to somebody else. But there was no card with the letter!
I went absolutely bonkers. I was on the verge of calling the company to tell them they forgot to put the acceptance card in my letter, and to please, please, please not take me off their list. At this point my mother casually asked me who had signed the letter. "The president of the company" I answered impatiently. "And what's his name?" my mother pressed on. I glanced back at the signature. "A. Prellful" I answered. And then it suddenly hit me.
"A. Prellful" = April Fool
I was absolutely devasted and very upset at the time, but looking back on it, it was probably the best joke ever played on me. Although, the time my aunt gave me a book written by John Lennon with the signature 'John' inside comes a close second. Being a little older and a little more suspicious, I asked her if it was actually signed by John LENNON. She laughed and admitted that it wasn't, but that it HAD been signed by someone named John. In my family, we don't save everything for April Fools day. Any day is fair game!
Friday, March 21, 2008
Mutant Power
When you hear the term 'mutant power' it probably conjures up mental images of X-men and comic books. You know - fantasy stuff. What if I told you that mutant power really exists? And that our family has it? Hard to believe, isn't it? But true!
Of course, it doesn't let us fly, or throw cars over buildings - oh, no. Nothing like that. Instead, it works very hard at making people forget us, or for things to go wrong.
My own mutant power goes way back. I can remember a certain birthday party when I was in elementary school where I invited every kid in the class - and only one showed up. (Okay - maybe I just wasn't very popular.) But this has carried over. Bill and I can remember parties we've had where we've invited over 30 couples, and only one showed up. When we ran into the others, it turned out they had 'completely forgotten' about it - even though we had called to remind them the night before!
And this is quite a powerful force we're dealing with as it even plays havoc in the Temple! The day that we first went to the Temple and were sealed together, the brother who was supposed to do our sealing forgot about us and went home. We had to wait until another brother was free. Now THAT is some strong mutant power! I can remember having a calling for over 6 months before they remembered that I needed to be set apart for it.
Why am I bringing this topic up at this time? Well, Bill had a real runaround with it yesterday when he tried to mail off my play to the Church Script Submission department. The mailing place printed up the label, but instead of saying 'Church Script Submission' it had 'Church Cathedral' instead. They tried several more times, and kept getting the wrong title.
You know how zip codes have two parts to them? Suddenly, just about the time they got that first part right, the zip code started printing as one long number. Since there is a deadline on getting this there, Bill wanted to make absolutely sure that the address was correct and it wouldn't be sent back as undeliverable. They tried several more times with no luck in getting the zipcode to separate into it's component parts.
Then their computer crashed. Mind you, by now Bill had been there for over half an hour trying to mail a simple package. They told him to just leave it and they'd sort it out later, but Bill was far too smart to fall for THAT. He insisted he was going to stay right there until they got the label right and he knew it was in the mail.
Persistence paid off, and the computer came back up, and they finally managed to print the label correctly (although, as Bill pointed out, we have no way of knowing if the barcode is correct!). I do have a tracking number, so we'll try to make sure it gets to it's destination. However, poor Bill spent almost an hour there. We're hoping the mutant power is as exhausted as he is and will give us a break for a while!
Of course, it doesn't let us fly, or throw cars over buildings - oh, no. Nothing like that. Instead, it works very hard at making people forget us, or for things to go wrong.
My own mutant power goes way back. I can remember a certain birthday party when I was in elementary school where I invited every kid in the class - and only one showed up. (Okay - maybe I just wasn't very popular.) But this has carried over. Bill and I can remember parties we've had where we've invited over 30 couples, and only one showed up. When we ran into the others, it turned out they had 'completely forgotten' about it - even though we had called to remind them the night before!
And this is quite a powerful force we're dealing with as it even plays havoc in the Temple! The day that we first went to the Temple and were sealed together, the brother who was supposed to do our sealing forgot about us and went home. We had to wait until another brother was free. Now THAT is some strong mutant power! I can remember having a calling for over 6 months before they remembered that I needed to be set apart for it.
Why am I bringing this topic up at this time? Well, Bill had a real runaround with it yesterday when he tried to mail off my play to the Church Script Submission department. The mailing place printed up the label, but instead of saying 'Church Script Submission' it had 'Church Cathedral' instead. They tried several more times, and kept getting the wrong title.
You know how zip codes have two parts to them? Suddenly, just about the time they got that first part right, the zip code started printing as one long number. Since there is a deadline on getting this there, Bill wanted to make absolutely sure that the address was correct and it wouldn't be sent back as undeliverable. They tried several more times with no luck in getting the zipcode to separate into it's component parts.
Then their computer crashed. Mind you, by now Bill had been there for over half an hour trying to mail a simple package. They told him to just leave it and they'd sort it out later, but Bill was far too smart to fall for THAT. He insisted he was going to stay right there until they got the label right and he knew it was in the mail.
Persistence paid off, and the computer came back up, and they finally managed to print the label correctly (although, as Bill pointed out, we have no way of knowing if the barcode is correct!). I do have a tracking number, so we'll try to make sure it gets to it's destination. However, poor Bill spent almost an hour there. We're hoping the mutant power is as exhausted as he is and will give us a break for a while!
Monday, March 17, 2008
Isn't it odd?
We have become so used to some of the oddities in our movies and TV shows that often we don't question the validity of what we see. Let me give some examples.
Take fist fights. When the script calls for a good old-fashioned rip-roaring fist fight, the protaganists slug away at each other for what seems like hours. No matter how brutal the blow, they stagger back to their feet, ready for more. On the other hand, when the hero is in a hurry, or quiet and stealth is needed, a single bash to the face, and the antagonist is down and out cold.
And markmanship. The villains are usually terrible shots, and the hero(s) run through a literal hailstorm of bullets without a single scratch. But when the hero turns around to return fire, every shot hits the mark and the villains fall like flies. Of course, that's why he/she IS a hero, but sometimes it seems a little far-fetched.
It was my father who pointed out that if you don't want anybody to see you, bend over as you run. After he mentioned this, I started watching for it, and sure enough, when people are running from tree to tree to avoid being seen, they bend over, as if this will somehow conceal them.
It was also my father who mentioned that he would hate to be young and handsome, because according to the commercials, those are the only people who have dandruff and bad breath, etc. And speaking of commercials, why does the voice of a celebrity carry so much weight? I mean, I can understand if a famous basketball player touts his new Reeboks - after all, he uses them. But why should his opinion on toothpaste, or car salesmen, etc. be of any more worth than the average man?
Back to oddities in story plots, have you ever noticed that even though the main characters might be in a terrible hurry, they can always find time to stop and talk or have a little romance. Now, is this really true to life? No matter how attractive I might find somebody, I can't imagine stopping for a little spot of smooching when the most deadly villain in the world is hot on my trail. Maybe I'm just not romantic enough.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who has noticed such anamolies. I would love to hear what YOU have noticed that seems a little odd.
Take fist fights. When the script calls for a good old-fashioned rip-roaring fist fight, the protaganists slug away at each other for what seems like hours. No matter how brutal the blow, they stagger back to their feet, ready for more. On the other hand, when the hero is in a hurry, or quiet and stealth is needed, a single bash to the face, and the antagonist is down and out cold.
And markmanship. The villains are usually terrible shots, and the hero(s) run through a literal hailstorm of bullets without a single scratch. But when the hero turns around to return fire, every shot hits the mark and the villains fall like flies. Of course, that's why he/she IS a hero, but sometimes it seems a little far-fetched.
It was my father who pointed out that if you don't want anybody to see you, bend over as you run. After he mentioned this, I started watching for it, and sure enough, when people are running from tree to tree to avoid being seen, they bend over, as if this will somehow conceal them.
It was also my father who mentioned that he would hate to be young and handsome, because according to the commercials, those are the only people who have dandruff and bad breath, etc. And speaking of commercials, why does the voice of a celebrity carry so much weight? I mean, I can understand if a famous basketball player touts his new Reeboks - after all, he uses them. But why should his opinion on toothpaste, or car salesmen, etc. be of any more worth than the average man?
Back to oddities in story plots, have you ever noticed that even though the main characters might be in a terrible hurry, they can always find time to stop and talk or have a little romance. Now, is this really true to life? No matter how attractive I might find somebody, I can't imagine stopping for a little spot of smooching when the most deadly villain in the world is hot on my trail. Maybe I'm just not romantic enough.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who has noticed such anamolies. I would love to hear what YOU have noticed that seems a little odd.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Counting the Syllables
Most of the time I don't think about how many syllables there are in my name. Most names are pronounced with the same number of syllables that they have - although there are exceptions. Cholmondely, for example, is pronounced "Chumley". Patricia officially has four syllables, but when pronounced "pa-trish-a" it just sounds like three.
So why am I bringing this up? Well, it all has to do with a strange coincidence. My daughter, Maleen, has three little girls. The first child is named June - a name with only one syllable. The second daughter is named Robyn - a name with two syllables. The third little girl is named Ivory - a name with three syllables. I'm sure she and her husband didn't have this in mind when they picked out these names.
They are now expecting their fourth daughter - and as far as I know they haven't picked out a name yet. In accordance with custom, they SHOULD pick a name with four syllables. I am therefore going to give a few suggestions as to what might be a good name:
Esmeralda
Euphemia
Isabella
Philomena
Hermione
Alexandra
Gabriella
Elizabeth
Victoria
Wilhemina
Ophelia
Lucretia
Persephone
Cinderella
Desdemona
Henrietta
Thomasina
Lavinia
Virginia
Marietta
Alicia
Carolina
Angelina
Cecelia
Josephina
Pollyanna
Letitia
Venetia
Frederica
Titania
Veronica
So how many other four-syllable names can YOU think of that they could pick from?
So why am I bringing this up? Well, it all has to do with a strange coincidence. My daughter, Maleen, has three little girls. The first child is named June - a name with only one syllable. The second daughter is named Robyn - a name with two syllables. The third little girl is named Ivory - a name with three syllables. I'm sure she and her husband didn't have this in mind when they picked out these names.
They are now expecting their fourth daughter - and as far as I know they haven't picked out a name yet. In accordance with custom, they SHOULD pick a name with four syllables. I am therefore going to give a few suggestions as to what might be a good name:
Esmeralda
Euphemia
Isabella
Philomena
Hermione
Alexandra
Gabriella
Elizabeth
Victoria
Wilhemina
Ophelia
Lucretia
Persephone
Cinderella
Desdemona
Henrietta
Thomasina
Lavinia
Virginia
Marietta
Alicia
Carolina
Angelina
Cecelia
Josephina
Pollyanna
Letitia
Venetia
Frederica
Titania
Veronica
So how many other four-syllable names can YOU think of that they could pick from?
Friday, March 14, 2008
Are you a whisker?
When I think of the word 'whisk' in relation to cooking, I have this wonderful mental picture of a pioneer woman, or a sweet motherly grandmother, vigorously whisking away a cake mix or some other sort of goodie in a large bowl. The whisk has become very popular in the last ten years or so, and several recipes call for the mixture to be 'whisked' instead of merely stirred.
When I was growing up, I don't think I ever even saw a whisk. When you needed to stir something, you used a large spoon - or an electrical mixer with a spatula to scrape the sides. It is something I became rather adept at, as I proceeded into marriage, motherhood, and the necessity to cook on a daily basis.
Since whisking is now the rage, I have dutifully bought myself several whisks in different sizes. I have to admit that they do mix things very well, and frequently do a better job than just a spoon. However, I cannot for the life of me see how people can use them effectively without spraying some of the contents of the bowl all over the kitchen. I have to use them very slowly and carefully in order to not spill. That mental image of the pioneer woman vigorously whisking away is either a myth, or she had skills that are beyond me.
Are you a whisker?
When I was growing up, I don't think I ever even saw a whisk. When you needed to stir something, you used a large spoon - or an electrical mixer with a spatula to scrape the sides. It is something I became rather adept at, as I proceeded into marriage, motherhood, and the necessity to cook on a daily basis.
Since whisking is now the rage, I have dutifully bought myself several whisks in different sizes. I have to admit that they do mix things very well, and frequently do a better job than just a spoon. However, I cannot for the life of me see how people can use them effectively without spraying some of the contents of the bowl all over the kitchen. I have to use them very slowly and carefully in order to not spill. That mental image of the pioneer woman vigorously whisking away is either a myth, or she had skills that are beyond me.
Are you a whisker?
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Prayers, please
I know it's been a long time since I posted anything. Part of that is because I just can't keep up with the clever things that my younger daughter is always posting - and part of it is because I don't have a lot of time. However, the major reason is that our older daughter has been having some major medical problems, and I have really been tied up with that.
I am not going to go into all the gory details, but she has had two surgeries in the last 2 months, and is in pain much of the time. We aren't sure if her health insurance (Medicare) will cover the second surgery, so she's worried about money as well. I have been going over to her place every morning and reading to her, but it's mostly just to keep her company and let her know that I care.
So I would ask you to keep her in your prayers. She doesn't have a very cheerful outlook on life most of the time anyway (she IS on social security disability for depression and anxiety attacks). This has made things worse.
However, the cheerful blogs from my younger daughter give me hope that there is happiness in the world, and that maybe, someday, my older daughter will get a bit of it too.
I am not going to go into all the gory details, but she has had two surgeries in the last 2 months, and is in pain much of the time. We aren't sure if her health insurance (Medicare) will cover the second surgery, so she's worried about money as well. I have been going over to her place every morning and reading to her, but it's mostly just to keep her company and let her know that I care.
So I would ask you to keep her in your prayers. She doesn't have a very cheerful outlook on life most of the time anyway (she IS on social security disability for depression and anxiety attacks). This has made things worse.
However, the cheerful blogs from my younger daughter give me hope that there is happiness in the world, and that maybe, someday, my older daughter will get a bit of it too.
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