Grandkids on a Sunday Night

These are the discarded dolls, mostly boys, outside the grandkids playroom. Who decided the fate of those involved in the doll massacre?
Why, these darling little girls who call themselves "angels" and are wearing light stick halos. Notice the winning girl dolls in the background.
What's up with that frog in the box? Sadie can push the button and then dance to "Jeremiah was a Bullfrog." Sadie can really bust some great moves.
Toby was banned from the playroom along with the dolls, what with being a boy and all. He was especially enamored with the light sticks and doesn't seem to be taking it personally.
Grandpa bought some beading kits for his favorite little ones. TJ gets a bit of help from his mom to put together a great piece of neckwear.

Prior to the later inside pictures (grandma finally thought to grab her camera;) this gang of five had watered their pea and nasturtium pots, hung out in the greenhouse, eaten dessert at the outdoor cafe, floated some ducks in the pool, and helped grandpa light a fire in the outdoor fireplace. Our 80 degree plus days were chased out by a wind from the north today, so everyone soon chose to be inside.

The party is over . . .

I packed up my camera this morning but in the midst of doing, forgot to use it at the event. Things went very well and there was so much help. The yellow roses are the best and prettiest part of the remains. The aprons were a big hit. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone tomorrow - and just four more months until Nathan!

Latest project - Relief Society Aprons

I am in the process of making four of these aprons for stake enrichment meeting on Saturday. Some thoughts on my new calling. Planning is so different. It is more like planning for a wedding reception or other big event. Make 1200 invitations, plan and buy food for 300, centerpieces for 30 tables, etc., you get the idea. The women I work with are amazing and I am learning so much. It is good to be "anxiously engaged."

Parallel Lives

Sometimes you feel like you know another person pretty well. You have lived in the same neighborhood for umpteen years, attended the same church, and interacted on many levels. Then you find out how little you really knew about them and more surprisingly that you are more alike than you imagined.

This morning, Glen and I attended the funeral of Grandpa Toone at the Westwood Chapel. He had spent his last month in Mike and Carol's home after falling and breaking his hip in December. Mike's father was born in southeastern Idaho where his family farmed. He was in the Army Air Corp during World War II where he met his wife who was also serving in the Corp. They started a family and farmed in Idaho. He had been ill while a young man with scarlet fever which had damaged his lungs. By the late 1950's, his lungs couldn't deal with being a farmer and a doctor told him that he must move to a drier and warmer climate. They sold their farm and loaded a cattle truck with all their possessions and moved to Mesa in 1960. Does this all sound a bit familiar?

When I went to LaNell's mother's funeral last year I also learned that her family moved from Idaho to Mesa in the 60's. And so I've learned that people I've known for twenty plus years and assumed to be lifelong Mesa people, are really hardy (or maybe not so hardy) Idaho people whose parents just wanted to be warm and live near a temple, just like me.

Historical fiction that has it all . . .

Lots of laughs, plenty of suspense, and the ability to bring one to tears are all available in Christopher Paul Curtis' latest book, Elijah of Buxton. I recommend this book. I have loved books written by Curtis since his very first, The Watsons Go to Birmingham, 1963. That book was a Newbery Honor Book as is this one. His second book, Bud Not Buddy, won the Newbery Award. All of this authorship is pretty amazing given that his first job of 13 years was attaching doors to autos in a factory in Michigan. I heard Curtis speak at a conference some years back and he credits his wife who as a nurse offered to support them for a year while he wrote. He would go to the public library everyday to sit and write in the children's section. That is also where he wrote Elijah. I love his strong characterizations and ability to give his characters a unique voice. Ultimately this book is about HOPE. Buxton is a community formed for and by former slaves in Canada. It is the terminus for the Underground Railroad and a place where they can indeed be "free." Hope is found both figuratively and literally in this book.

http://buxtonmuseum.com/index.htm

Now for some of my reflections on HOPE. In my reading and study of the Book of Mormon this year, I am once again brought to some of my favorite quotes and musings on hope. Years ago in a Sunday School class, Pat Arnett shared the following which really entered into my heart:

FAITH
Faith - Faith in God
Hope - Faith in Ourselves
Charity - Faith in Others

So simple, yet so clear, it as stayed with me over the years.

Neal A. Maxwell, who always spoke and wrote so well, has a conference talk in the Nov. 1994 Ensign entitled "Brightness of Hope." I want to share just a part of that address.

While weak hope leaves us at the mercy of our moods and events, "brightness of hope" produces illuminated individuals. Their luminosity is seen, and things are also seen by it! Such hope permits us to "press forward" even when dark clouds oppress. Sometimes in the deepest darkness there is no external light - only an inner light to guide and to reassure.

Daily hope is vital, since the "Winter Quarters" of our lives are not immediately adjacent to our promised land either. An arduous trek still awaits, but hope spurs weary disciples on.

Those with true hope often see their personal circumstances shaken, like kaleidoscopes, again and again. Yet with the "eye of faith," they still see divine pattern and purpose.

By pressing forward, we can stand on what was yesterday's horizon, thereby drawing hope from our own experiences. Hence Paul described how "tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience: and experience, hope" (Romans 5:3-4). . .

Genuine hope gives spiritual spunk, including to deserving parents drenched in honest sweat from being "anxiously engaged." . . . Giving parents never give up hope!

So long Mitt

It's over. It's really over. Today Glen spent quite some time removing the Mitt Romney sign from the back of my car. First, he blasted it with the hair dryer. Not much success. Slowly he scraped and peeled it away. I finally, after stating that it was his problem 'cause I didn't put it on, offered him a rag and some rubbing alcohol. That finally did the trick and helped to dissolve the adhesive. I managed to catch some of the action with my camera at the end.
He then moved on to his car. The hair dryer worked like a charm. I guess the bumper sticker on his chrome bumper was plastic based. It peeled off in one easy piece. We are now Mitt free.

Day Fifteen

Now that you are done with the "14 Days of Love," perhaps I should share the history. This was not my original idea. We moved next door to Tina Ray in 1984 at 606 N. Windsor Circle. She taught a little class at homemaking meeting (now enrichment meeting) telling about her 14 days of love. The red papers are from that class, and everyone is welcome to look at them. I keep it in the "Valentine Drawer" of the cedar chest. She had many ideas, not just treats. Sometimes it's easier to just do treats. I found these red plastic heart boxes at Michael's. Each child had a box with their name on it. Often the treats came from Walgreen's when they went on sale in January. I took a branch from Tina's yard when they pruned some trees and painted it white with gesso. It stood up in a canning jar full of small rocks. I used a square piece of fabric and some ribbon to make a covering for the jar. It was as an Easter tree as well with different fabric and ribbon. I hung hearts on the tree to make a Valentine tree with the boxes underneath. I really enjoyed doing the "14 Days of Love." During my teaching years, Valentine's Day was my favorite holiday to celebrate with the children. It seemed so nice to see them sharing "the love." In the bottom of the boxes I wrote, "Always full of love" for the children to see after the treat was removed. Alas, the white tree met it's final demise at the hand of Matthew when he broke off all the branches. I always planned to make another, but never did. I hope that your families enjoyed their 14 days!