Thursday, January 19, 2017

Love for Country

    Ed comes down this morning all decked out in his patriotic sunglasses. "What's the occasion?"
    "The inauguration tomorrow," he explains. "I love this country and the freedoms that we enjoy."

     I love this country and the freedoms that we enjoy too. This is my patriotism and feelings expressed best by others: 
"I listened as they called my President a Muslim.
I listened as they called him and his family a pack of monkeys.
I listened as they said he wasn't born here.
I watched as they blocked every single path to progress that they could.
I saw the pictures of him as Hitler.
I watched them shut down the government and hurt the entire nation twice.
I watched them turn their backs on every opportunity to open worthwhile dialog.
I watched them say that they would not even listen to any choice for Supreme Court no matter who the nominee was.
I listened as they openly said that they will oppose him at every turn.
I watched as they did just that.
I listened.
I watched.
I paid attention.
Now, I'm being called on to be tolerant.
To move forward.
To denounce protesters.
To "Get over it."
To accept this...
I will not.
I will do my part to make sure this great American mistake becomes the embarrassing footnote of our history that it deserves to be.
I will do this as quickly as possible every chance I get.
I will do my part to limit the damage that this man can do to my country.
I will watch his every move and point out every single mistake and misdeed in a loud and proud voice.
I will let you know in a loud voice every time this man backs away from a promise he made to them.
Them. The people who voted for him.
The ones who sold their souls and prayed for him to win.
I will do this so that they never forget.
And they will hear me.
They will see it in my eyes when I look at them.
They will hear it in my voice when I talk to them.
They will know that I know who they are.
They will know that I know what they are.
Do not call for my tolerance. I've tolerated all I can.
Now it's their turn to tolerate ridicule.
Be aware, make no mistake about it, every single thing that goes wrong in
our country from this day forward is now Trump's fault just as much as they thought it was Obama's.
I find it unreasonable for them to expect from me what they were entirely unwilling to give."---Author unknown.

Someone wrote: 
Mormon "values" should have prohibited support of Trump.
And in a nutshell, that’s my premise.

Amy’s friend, Shawnee Loris-Sawyer shared Valerie Williams blog and wrote:
This is a classy guy and a great role model to parents, fathers, and husbands. Our upcoming orangutan has said his own daughter is hot and he would date her etc. BARF!!!! I don't get how the GOP makes being anti-abortion the only family value that's important.
Political views aside, it’s hard for anyone to deny that President Obama is a dedicated parent. Alongside the First Lady, he’s raised two daughters in the public eye for the past eight years without a single misstep. Now, in his last address before leaving office, he pays tribute to these amazing girls and reminds us that the title he’s most proud to hold will always be that of “dad.”
In last night’s farewell address, President Obama made many Americans emotional for more reasons than one, but possibly his most tear-jerking moment was when he spoke of his daughters, Sasha and Malia.
First, he praises Michelle, calling her not only his wife and the mother of his children, but his “best friend.” He says, “You took on a role you didn’t ask for and made it your own with grace and grit and style and good humor. You made the White House a place that belongs to everybody. And a new generation sets its sights higher because it has you as a role model. You’ve made me proud. You’ve made the country proud.”
Someone pass the tissues, please. Like, the entire box.
As if that wasn’t heart-wrenching enough, he then speaks lovingly of Sasha and Malia, making pretty much everyone cry, including Malia. The Dad-in-Chief says, “Malia and Sasha, under the strangest of circumstances, you have become two amazing young women, smart and beautiful, but more importantly, kind and thoughtful and full of passion. You wore the burden of years in the spotlight so easily. Of all that I’ve done in my life, I’m most proud to be your dad.”
As the President became choked up, so did the crowd. Watching Malia wipe tears from her face as she listened to her father’s words, it’s clear to anyone watching that this family has an incredible amount of love for each other, along with an unshakable bond. Despite eight years of vile hatred lobbed their way, the Obamas have maintained an unprecedented level of class and grace, never stooping to the level of their detractors. And there’s no question that the gracious example of the President and First Lady is the reason Malia and Sasha have grown from sweet little girls into such admirable young women.
When Obama speaks of the “burden” they bore, it’s hard to imagine what they’ve had to read about their family over the years. But with parents like theirs, they came through it with flying colors.
And not that we needed more proof of the Obamas being amazing parents, but we got yet another example last night of the values they’re instilling in their girls when Sasha was absent from her father’s farewell address. Social media noticed she was missing and began to speculate, but it turns out, the younger Obama daughter had a very teenagerly reason for not being there; she had an exam this morning that she needed to study and rest up for.
Could they be more grounded and normal?
We’ve had the most shining example of loving parenting and family life from the Obamas for the last eight years. We will miss them dearly for a number of reasons, but mostly, we will miss having a first family that people from either side of the aisle could be proud of. A constant reminder of what an American family should be.
Thank you, Obamas. From the bottom of our hearts.


Trump has me searching for a new religion
By Garrison Keillor January 17 Washington Post
And so the Boy President heads for Washington to be sworn into office, pumping his fist, mooning the media, giving the stinky finger to whomever irks him, doing his end-zone dance, promising to build the wall, cut taxes, create jobs, provide great health insurance for EVERYONE and send his son-in-law to the Middle East to solve that little problem, and the rest of us will sit in a barn and keep ourselves warm and hide our heads under our wings, poor things. Discouraging.
So I’ve been shopping around for a new religion to see me through the next four years. Too many of my fellow Christians voted for selfishness and for degradation of the beautiful world God created. I guess they figured that by the time the planet was a smoky wasteland, they’d be nice and comfy in heaven, so wotthehell. Anyhow, I’m looking around for other options.
Buddhism involves way too much sitting still for my taste; the Dalai Lama basically says, “Be gentle. Listen to the universe. Live in the moment. Let happiness flow through you.” And I think to myself, “This man has never had children.” Hinduism includes sacred cows, and my experience with cattle makes it impossible for me to revere them; they are stubborn and stupid, and letting them wander loose in the streets — why? Prime rib is their proper destiny.
Islam is great and so is Judaism but they’re so complicated! You can’t just walk into a temple and listen to a holy person and burst into tears and throw yourself down on the floor, as you can with Christianity, and say, “I believe!” and get dunked in water and, shazam, you’re in.
And spirituality is no go for me, like what you read about in books with sentences like “Creativity is the journey of channeling connectedness and realizing the potentiality of being.” Don’t want that. I want a religion.
At the moment, Zoroastrianism is looking good to me. Compared with other religions, it feels comfortable, something a guy could get used to. (It has nothing to do with the masked adventure hero Zorro, by the way. Or his ass.) Zoroastrians believe in one Great Almighty Spirit of Good who is in combat against evil forces, and Goodness prevails in the end. There is no self-flagellation or staring at the sun or snake-handling. In the afterlife, you will basically reap what you sowed in life. If you were industrious, generous and kind, you’ll be okay, and if you lied and cheated and didn’t pay your bills and plastered your name on big buildings, beware.
If I embraced it, I’d be one of the few Zoroastrians in Minnesota and I could start my own First Reformed Zoroastrian temple and pretty much write my own ticket. This is a huge advantage over the old system of adopting the religion of your forefathers. My parents were Bible-believing Christians, but I don’t get the parable where the latecomers get the same pay as the early birds and also the part about lust in your heart being the same as committing adultery itself: Where did that come from? A Christian who believes in those things is not going to be a happy person.
My religion would be a gentle faith that believed in the sacredness of leisure. Napping as a form of prayer. You worship the Lord by sitting on the porch and sipping iced tea and dozing off over a good book. Baseball is part of Reformed Zoroastrianism, and the number three, and Ferris wheels and deep-fried cheese curds. A tolerant religion, but it would come down hard on tailgaters and the writers of technical manuals and people who butt in when you’re busy working. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” they say. Well, then don’t, okay?
But then I stop and think about all the work involved in starting up a religion and deciding on dogma and having mystical visions, and proclaiming the truth to people who don’t care, and dealing with the oddballs and misfits who’d be attracted to the thing, and I think, “No way.”
So I am left with Confucianism, accepting the sacredness of confusion. Life is messy and it always has been. We work hard to earn money, we neglect our health and then we pay the money to restore our health, meanwhile we forgot how to enjoy life, so what good is health anyway, and now 80,000 people in three states have elected a president who can’t focus on anything for more than a couple of sentences and who contradicts himself every other day. So it goes. Have mercy.

Saturday, January 14, 2017

A Melancholy Day

On Friday, I awaken from my hour nap thinking what a wonderful day this has been.
Getting up before 7, I do my stretches. Read the newspaper. Mop the kitchen floor while canning turkey broth. Fix breakfast for Ed and a breakfast for the road for me. I wanted to leave at 9 but it was 9:20 by the time he was ready. We stopped at the lab at Tanner Clinic to have a blood test. My doctor wouldn’t renew my thyroid prescription without checking my blood. Three-day holiday weekend coming up, I wanted to get it done as I’m running out of pills. By some miracle, we barely set down before my name was called. The parking lot was packed; the waiting room was full. I thought we might be there all day. She was efficient and we were off to the gym. I forgot to eat my breakfast on the 5 minute ride to the gym so I sat in the car to eat it. I told Ed to go ahead and go upstairs and start his machines. I have to eat slowly so food doesn’t get caught in my throat so I was at least 10 minutes eating my piece of bread, a boiled egg and slice of cheese. Ed was waiting in the lobby. By now, it’s 10 AM. Swimming laps starts at 10:30. Elliptical, treadmill, bike. Off to swim.  Oh, oh, all lanes full. Ed was waiting in the first lane with the old man swimming next to him. I asked the young fellow in the next lane if I could swim with him. His mother talked to me and asked me how I got Ed to swim so good. She said she’d been watching him for over a year. I kept waiting for the guy in the lane with Ed to finish but I only had four more laps when he did. After showering, we met in the weight room and did our weights, getting home at 1 PM exactly, according to Ed’s request. “I’ve only got about an hour,” he tells me when I suggest we meet in the weight room.
I have lunch and fix Ed’s lunch. He watches his programs until 2. I checked my (no) messages and Facebook and go in for a nap.
I compared the way I feel this day with the way I felt on Wednesday. A wasted day. Full of regret.
My visiting teachers came at 9. Usually, they go to Berdeen at 10. I didn’t find out until they were leaving that Berdeen had back surgery and they were taking dinner in that night. I didn’t have a watch. It did seem like they were staying a long time. It was 11:15. Ed hadn’t even eaten breakfast. He had patiently waited in his swimming suit in his room so he wouldn’t bother them. We quickly had breakfast but he thought it was too late to go to the gym so we decided to play games for ½ hour. I ran up to change my clothes and was gone so long he gave up on me. I felt so badly as I saw him shut the door to his room. I had let him down. He had counted on me.
I did a little vacuuming but mainly moped around for the rest of the day. Brooke came over to help DeRay install a gas line to the stove so we couldn’t even watch TV. I didn’t do the vibrator. I did call Alison (90-years-old) and check to see if she was dead since she didn’t send me a Christmas card and I had been concerned about her. (Anymore, she only sends Christmas cards to people who send them to her, which is what I do; so we’re at an impasse.)
We didn’t go to the gym on Monday because Ed’s cold was so bad; we didn’t go on Tuesday because R.C.Willey was coming to install the new stove (but couldn’t because of gas and electricity problems).  We planned to go on Thursday but he came down in this pajamas saying, “I listened to the traffic report and I’m not taking any chances.” Snow and ice on the roads. So I cleaned the kitchen and three bathrooms and felt vindicated and OK about the day.
Why was Friday a good day and Wednesday a bad day? I rarely visit with people. It’s not a sin. I go to the gym routinely. Missing a week is OK. Am I messed up? Do I feel that devoted to Eddy that I have no life of my own? I don’t know what’s wrong with me. All I know is that Friday made me happy and on Wednesday I was melancholy and miserable. 

Monday, January 9, 2017

Overnight

Last night 

This morning.

     According to Channel 2 News, some places in the valley the temperature was 52 degrees at 10 PM last night. Here it was around 45 degrees. In January? The middle of the winter?  After we've been -7 and -17 and like that for a week.
     You can see the pond in our backyard from the sump pump. So far no flooding in the basement. Keep thy fingers crossed.




 Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
Kindly don't let it melt too fast and seep and stream into our basement.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

The Chosen Few

According to Brooke, being chosen to attend Stake Conference in the Bountiful Regional Center (formerly Art Linkletter’s Theater in the Round Valley Music Hall) is based on how high your attendance is at Stake Conference. Most everyone in Davis County used to go to the Regional Center for Stake Conference, but it became overcrowded so they started the percentage criteria.
Of course, Fruit Heights, with perhaps the highest church attendance in the church, still goes to the Regional Center; while our less “faithful” neighbors in Kaysville and Layton have to hold Stake Conference in their local Stake Centers.
Today freezing rain is forecast, on top of a foot of snow.  Who are the chosen ones? The ones who can drive a block or two to a Stake Center or the ones who have to drive 20 miles on the freeway in freezing rain?
Just askin’.
Sure the seats are softer;
and you can pretend you're watching Brigadoon.
Still. . .
Last night:
Centerville Police Department
     It appears that a very humid storm is approaching which will likely cause light snow this eve followed by freezing rain tomorrow. We have been told to expect the most freezing rain between noon tomorrow until noon on Monday, resulting in about ¼ to ½ inch of freezing rain. This storm may result in power outages, hazardous walking and driving conditions, the possibility of falling tree branches, and localized flooding.
Please make plans now to limit your exposure to this hazardous storm. Have a supply of food, water, medication and other needed supplies in your residences. Consider how to conserve and safely obtain heat in your homes and apartments. Do not travel or walk outside during this storm unless absolutely necessary. Report overflowing storm drains. Fuel up your cars today and have ice melt on hand. Mountain valleys will be hit especially hard, avoid traveling. Please check on elderly or special needs neighbors and relatives. Today is the time to prepare. Thank you and please be safe.


Saturday, January 7, 2017

Multi-tasking

I can massage my head;
while rotating my ankles
40 times in one direction,
then 40 times in the other;
breathe long slow breaths;
and think about fixin'
ham, hashbrowns, and eggs,
with relish from Mama's recipe,
for breakfast.
Oh yes, and orange juice.
Four things at the same time.

Not bad for an 80-year-old, eh?

Then I throw up;
but that's another story.

Thursday, January 5, 2017

Snow Day

They built a house
It's 16 degrees.
What are you doing out here?
Before our hike.
 well, got all the trusses up
 while Amy and I trudged through the hollow
 well, Amy skied and I snowshoed.
Yes, we broke the trail. 

   
  

  


  
 After.  
  

 Exhilarating, I don't care what anybody says. 
So Verla, who lives in Cache Valley, posted yesterday on Facebook.
Snow on her deck at 3 PM
At 9 PM.
 Our snow gauge,
indented where I put a casserole dish on it to cool.
A pot of turkey broth on deck.
 Our Mailbox - I think

And I thought the first snow was
thrilling?

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

Amy Vacations in Bryce Again

Amy and K'Leena went to Bryce for Christmas vacation and to celebrate Amy's birthday.







 "Well, I'm in heaven," Amy posts on Facebook. "Don't see any reason to come back down."
"How'd you get there?" I queried.
"Hyundai & a credit card."
It's that easy?

Amy came home while we were out shopping.
"Gnocchi said he didn't get any tuna all the time I was gone," 
Amy whined as we walked in the door.
"Gnocchi lies," I protest.
"He had a can of tuna just this morning;
he's had his liter scooped nearly every day;
he was let in and out on demand;
got treats every time he came in."
Liar, liar, your pants are on fire;
your nose is as long as telephone wire.