Happy Birthday Dad!

Victor Ernest Orris, 1948

I don't think there's anything my dad can't do. He's smart, gentle, kind, and handy. Here are a few of the things he's done over the years, in no particular order:

• He taught me how to sail a boat, and the rules of the road for sailing. He also used to crew for a friend of his for sailboat races.
• He got me through my math classes.
• He built our first color television (anyone remember Heathkit?)
• After he retired he took up pottery. He had his own pottery wheel and kiln. I have a pot he made where he used some lace from my wedding dress fabric to make the glaze.
• He taught me how to drive a stick shift. That may be when his hair started turning gray.
• He had a few jokes he told that we loved. He would repeat them cheerfully anytime we asked.
• Most importantly he taught me high moral values, and what it means to be a man of your word.

Here are two memories I have with my dad that I treasure:

1. I was probably four or five years old. I wasn't in school yet, and I didn't know how to tie my shoes. It was a Saturday, and my mom was gone. I woke up from a nap and wanted to go outside to see my dad, who was working in the yard. I knew I was supposed to wear my shoes outside, so I put them on.

Dilemma: They were tie shoes, and I didn't know how to tie them. And, I knew for sure if your shoelaces weren't tied, you were likely to trip and fall over them. So, I needed my dad to tie my shoes, but I had to have my shoes on to get to him. What to do??

Solution: I did know how to tie a double knot. So I proceeded to tie the laces of both shoes all the way to the tips of the laces in double knots.

I was so proud as I went outside, problem solved! I then went to my dad, and asked him to tie my shoes. I can still remember the look on his face as he gazed spellbound at my shoes. Then he sighed, rolled his eyes, and untied all those knots just so I could have my shoes tied in bows.

2. My mom used to tell us, "If you don't put that (insert personal possession here) away, I will throw it away!" When I was in high school I had an old pair of stinky, holey tennis shoes and I left them in the living room one day. Sure enough, Mom gave the usual line. I thought, okay, I don't want them anymore anyway. So I left them on the living room floor. She put them in my room. I put them in the living room, she put them in my room. Then it became a game - my dad would hide the shoes, then when I found them I would hide them. One time the shoes were tied to my steering wheel when I got in the car to go to an early band practice. One time they put them under my mattress (I am not a princess. It took me awhile to feel them.) I in turn put the shoes in various places. Once in the liquor cabinet tied to a bottle of booze. But the best place I ever hid them was in my dad's briefcase. He set it down one morning right before he left for work and I quickly stashed the shoes in there. Then when he got to work he went straight to a big meeting. He opened his briefcase to get his papers out, and there were my shoes. He said he had a grand time explaining that one!

Then I took the shoes for PE one day - I can't remember why - and they were stolen out of my locker. Otherwise we might still be hiding them from one another.

My dad is the greatest. I am so lucky to have him. Thanks for all you've done for me Dad.

Sorry, I don't do laundry

Those could have been words Ray might have said to me when we first got married. True, he doesn't do laundry. In fact in the twenty-nine and a half years we've been married, he's only done the laundry one time, when I was gone for three weeks taking Audrey to college.

I had Audrey, Debby and Beth with me, and the two Ray's were left home alone. Mid-trip I got a call from Ray, asking how to work the washing machine. Now, this is a man who can figure out how anything works by looking at it - heaven forbid an instruction manual should get in the way. I had to laugh, and realized then (10 years ago) that he'd never done the laundry since we were married. He's still only done it that once.

Does that bother me? Not in the least. Ray is a much harder worker than I am. I'm sure he's mopped our floors more than I have, and he cleans bathrooms like nobody's business. Just today, in fact, he mopped all our tile floors (and there are a lot!). What a treat for me. Yup, just like I said, he makes every day feel like it's my birthday.

Happy Birthday to Ray!

It's Ray's birthday. He's been gone all day, but we're going out to dinner tonight with his parents - it will be a fun way to celebrate.

Ray got up and left very early this morning. I went back to bed, and eventually I heard some whisperings:

"Sh. Sh."

"Sh. Sh."

I didn't open my eyes. I thought the boys were in the hall just outside my room. Then I heard more whisperings, revealing that at some point they actually were in my room:

"Sh. We need to say Happy Birthday to Pa'a!"

Then loud voices receding to the kitchen:

"Mommy! There's no Pa'a in his bed!"

I was sorry he wasn't there to have the boys wish him a happy birthday, but it was sure a fun way to start my morning.

I love Ray. The first of his birthdays that we celebrated together was actually before we were dating. It was the summer we first knew each other, as lifeguards at Hueneme High School Pool. A bunch of the pool staff got together and we went to Farrell's Ice Cream Parlor to celebrate his 18th birthday. 34 years later we're still celebrating his birthdays together. I wrote some fun things about Ray here in last year's post.

Actually, Ray makes me feel like every day is my birthday. I'm so blessed to have him!

Evening Conversation

Tonight after dinner I went out to weed in my vegetable garden. I've got Austin and Matthew here while Audrey is cleaning and packing up her place, getting ready for their move. They came out with me to help/wreak havoc. I banished the boys to the other part of the yard to play with the balls or on the hammock because they were beginning to pull out the small amount of legitimate vegetation I have growing.

From around the corner I hear Austin begin to wail. Then I hear the following:

Matthew: Austin, I sorry! Austin, stop crying!

Austin: I caaaan't stop! (imagine great fake sobs). I huuuuuurt!

Matthew: Austin, I sorry! Austin, stop crying! Austin, don't tell G'ma!

Me: Austin, come here and bring me the stick (which I knew without anyone telling me was the problem).

Austin: G'ma, Matthew hit me with the stick.

Me: Bring me the stick.

Austin: Matthew! G'ma wants the stick.

Matthew: Don't tell G'ma!

Austin is now beside me. Matthew comes around the corner within about 15 feet of me and Austin.

Matthew: Don't tell G'ma!

Me: Matthew, bring me the stick.

Matthew: (looking at me like I'm not supposed to be able to hear him) I not talking to you G'ma. (looking now directly at Austin as if I'm not right there) Austin, don't tell G'ma!

I got the stick, and within about two minutes all was back to normal. Not calm, but back to normal.

Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father by John Matteson

Whew! I finished it. This book was more of an undertaking than I expected it to be.

Now, I love all things Louisa May Alcott. I've been to her house twice. I've read nearly all her books. I find her life and her family very interesting.

That's why I'm a little disappointed in this book. It was somewhat pedantic (an ironic adjective as you will soon see). The book bogged down in sheer language for me. I had to laugh when Matteson criticizes Bronson Alcott's excessively overwrought writing. He says Bronson was not able to write anything plainly and succinctly. Then Matteson himself uses words like autochthonous, and solipsistic, to name just two. For a while I felt like Matteson was trying to imitate Bronson Alcott in his own writing.

From the title, I would have thought the book would have had Louisa as the primary focus, but Bronson was the predominant personality, and I thought Matteson's portrayal of Louisa was almost always from Bronson Alcott's point of view. A more accurate title would have been Eden's Outcasts: the Story of Bronson Alcott and his Daughter.

That said, I liked finding out more information than I already knew, although I was surprised at how much of it I did know. The bibliography contains some books that I would like to explore and learn more from - not just about the Alcott's, but also their associates.

Did it deserve the Pulitzer Prize that it won? If the award was given for sheer research, then perhaps. If given for the writing, I don't think so.

Garden Pleasantries

No whining today. Just some rejoicing in a good harvest. I went out to the garden to reap what Joseph has sown, and brought in a variety of vegetables. They are so delicious. Ray ate a tomato and said, "It tastes like they grow already salted exactly right." There is nothing like a fresh, warm tomato straight off the vine. Talk about your ideal comfort food!

We have an abundance of tomato plants, thank heavens. This is just a small fraction of one plant, with some green tomatoes showing. We will be able to have gazpacho, tomato & cucumber (also grown in the garden) salad, tomatoes with basil (in the garden also) and mozzarella. Hmm, the possibilities are endless. Below is the first watermelon I've seen. Four days ago it was not even as big as a tennis ball. Today it is bigger than a softball. At last something is going right in the yard!!

Here (below) is what I pulled out of the garden: two yellow squash, two zucchini (I've already frozen 14 cups of grated zucchini for future zucchini bread), a cucumber, and various tomatoes. It will greatly enhance our dinner.

Bon appetit!

Cash for Clunkers

We decided to take advantage of the Cash for Clunkers program. We turned in our "clunker" and got a new car.

I guess clunker is a relative term. Our 1994 Jeep Grand Cherokee looks great from the driver's side. Certainly not like most 15 year old cars. The passenger side has a few visible reminders of past driving mishaps. The interior is in great shape. It certainly does not get good gas mileage, and it was going to cost quite a bit to get the body fixed. So, we turned it in.

The car has more sentimental value to me than monetary value. It was only the second new car we ever owned. Ray drove it most of the time, because I was hauling little children around in our van. Then it evolved into the kids' car (hence the visible reminders) that they drove to high school. In 2001 we sent it off to college with Audrey and Debby to be their transportation at BYU. The rule was they paid for gas and oil changes, and if they fought over the car, it was going to come back to Washington. We never heard of any fights, and the car never came back to Washington. It stayed and all the kids have used it while at BYU. A friend once questioned why we sent that car with the kids, and not our older 1990 Jeep. Ray said - it's safer, has more airbags, automatic 4 wheel drive. I want my children protected.

The good side of the car... 1994 Jeep Grand Cherokee

What did we buy? Another Toyota Camry. Now we're a two Camry and one Ford F250 family. We got our older Camry(2002) from my parents about a year and a half ago. It's the top of the line Camry. Our new one is very nice, but middle of the line. It's an SE - which is the sport version. Don't let Ray tell you that I'm the one who picked out that style. I told him I was indifferent. He certainly was not indifferent. I must say it's a fun car to drive.

The new 2010 Camry SE

Now I've got to get my plates transferred from the old Camry to the new Camry. I am not indifferent about BOOKS.

Party at Gma's

Audrey and Joseph are gone for a couple of days, so I've had their kids here. It's been quite an adventure!

They arrived yesterday afternoon. All went well until bedtime. The boys started out sleeping in the library, but that quickly dissolved into a fiasco, so Austin stayed in the library, and Matthew slept in the music room. Then they settled down quickly. That way they're upstairs, close to us, but not in our room. Elizabeth is in a port-a-crib in our closet. We had a great night - everyone slept long and well.

Today we had some fine adventures in the backyard. The boys found a bird nest (actually a round shaped bunch of dried weeds), then went sailing on a pirate ship (which to the untrained eye might appear to be a simple hammock). Matthew rowed with his oar (stick), and Austin kept the sails so they were full and not luffing in the wind (a jumprope). It was great fun.

Later we went for a short drive in the car, and when we got home we all sat down to watch Disney's Robin Hood together. Now we are headed upstairs to have Pa'a's famous buttermilk pancakes for dinner. Mm-mmm, delicious. Soon after that will be bedtime again (not that I'm counting down the hours). Then tomorrow morning, Audrey and Joseph will be back.

I marvel at times that I did this myself - four young children - and never thought anything of piling everyone in the car, or strategizing when I could fit in a shower, fitting in meals and snacks, and sort of staying on top of things. Well, the staying on top of things part might be an improved memory.

The pirates at sea.

Austin reeling in the mainsail

Matthew keeping an eye out for enemy ships

Elizabeth, safe and sound on land, wondering what in the world her brothers are up to

Not for the Faint of Heart

I swore I would not whine about working in the yard this summer. Of course, swearing never got me anywhere.

In my life I have had many great gardening gurus to influence me: my dad, Carl Marsing, Marsha Porter, Debra (a budding guru), and of course the great Joseph, my son-in-law. You would think some of that influence might have rubbed off on me. Not so.

It seems the great bane of my spring and summertime is the yard. Those weeds multiply and replenish the earth faster than I can even think about eradicating them.

A couple of things I have learned and re-learned this summer:

1. Wishing weeds away doesn't work.

2. Pretending weeds will not grow doesn't work.

3. Desiring to have weeds gone is not enough. It requires many hours of hard work.

This summer I've had some good help. That's probably why I haven't whined so much. My son Ray comes out and helps me any time he's home when I'm working in the yard. I also have the niece of a friend of mine come help me once a week for an hour or two. She's twelve, and a very hard worker.

But still. They just keep coming, and growing larger and larger. Some days I feel like I'm in an old B-movie horror film: The War of the Weeds. The weeds are winning the battle as well as the war. They grow ever larger and will soon take over the earth. I'm sure of it.

This morning I was in the yard for an hour and a half. Tonight I was back out for another two hours. Here's my major problem at this moment: Joseph the Great planted our vegetable gardens this year. They are wonderful. He grew the starts, and got it all planted and ready to grow. There is one whole planter devoted to herbs. Well, in my delusions, somehow I must have dreamed that because Joseph planted it all, there would be no weeds. Oh, my sorry, sorry mind. I went out this week, and the weeds have overtaken the herbs (knee and thigh high, I'm embarrassed to admit). I began to pull the weeds. Here's the problem: there are so many that I'm afraid I may be getting rid of the herbs too. Joseph needs to come and show me what's good, and what's not. I'm trying to only pull what I absolutely know are weeds. It seems to be everything! I found myself smelling a weed after I pulled it to see if it smelled like an herb. Then I realized how backward that is.

I am overwhelmed. I was ready to burst into tears tonight, just me in the weeds, when Ray (husband) came out. He said, "Wow! It looks great!" then he said, "you've worked hard enough tonight. Come in and relax." He helped me up and carried all my stuff inside for me. It was a boon.

I still feel like crying when I think of having to get back out there and finish it.

How soon will it snow?