Stupid Things I do

Here are some of the risky behaviors I regularly engage in:

• I wash my Pampered Chef Stoneware with soap and water.
• I put my good knives in the dishwasher.
• I put my workout clothes and my swimming suits in the dryer.
• I keep my hot water heater temperature set really high.
• I use bleach in my laundry.
• I wear my running shoes till they wear out.
• I let my children watch Spongebob Squarepants.
• I don't get gas until the gas indicator light comes on.

And on and on it goes. You can see that I don't really live on the edge if those are my risky behaviors, as most of these things are fairly low on the risk scale in terms of actually harming someone. I've never tasted soap when I make brownies. I used to work in a restaurant and the good knives went in the dishwasher with no ill effects. I've had most of my running clothes and my swimming suits for years and years and they seem just fine. I survived hours and hours of Bugs Bunny and Gilligan's Island as a child with no noticeable effects. I've only run out of gas twice in my whole life.

But, as Dr. Phil always says, if you continue to engage in risky behavior, something bad will happen to you. So in general, I'm a rule follower. But in some ways, I reflect the generation I came from, when there were less rules and safety habits than there are today. Today something bad did happen, and I can't sweep it under the rug or lie about it, so I'm just going to get it out there and be done with it. This one is serious. I wish it were funny, but it's not.

I sometimes let Evan (and all the kids) practice starting the car. I did it when I was a kid. My youngest has done it many times with absolute success and no problems whatsoever. Until today. This morning, he finally had trouble with the process and ran the car into the garage door. Smash. Full on. Fortunately, the only casualties are the garage door and a very upset kid. No injuries, no damage to the car aside from a little paint. And, oh yeah, my confidence as a mother. I feel like such a stupid, stupid person for creating the conditions for him to have this bad experience. I'm ashamed. But it will be worse if I try to yammer and stammer some other story when it comes up in conversation that we're getting a new garage door or why there is paint all over my bumper. So here it is. The stupidest thing I do came around and put me in my place. I put my child at risk. I went against my prime directive. Now I have to try and be grateful that everything is really okay and move on. We actually needed a new garage door. Someday this will be part of the family lore, and his brothers are going to laugh as soon as they hear about it. But first I'm going to go cry under my covers.

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Book Review: Banker to the Poor: Microlending and the Battle Against World Poverty

Banker to the Poor: Microlending and the Battle Against World Poverty
By Muhammad Yunus
Adult
Non Fiction
Documentary/Biography

This is the story, in his own words, of the man generally acknowledged as the Father of the Microlending Movement. This is a system of helping people out of abject poverty without state-fun welfare and in a way that turns a profit and allows the borrowers to move up in the world rather than stay dependent on the lenders. I was already sympathetic to this movement, so I was thrilled when my online book group chose it as our March book. I found it very readable, in spite of a few dull parts about the business side of things. He is a passionate man, and I was inspired by his willingness to do something rather than nothing. He literally started lending money with the change in his pocket. From that instance grew the Grameen Bank Project, which was sort of an extension of his work as an economist at a university in Bangladesh. The current Grameen Bank is now a worldwide operation. The thing that amazes me is how little is needed by the borrowers to make a real difference in their lives. They use the capital to start businesses or buy materials to manufacture something they are skilled at, etc, and these (mostly) women can start to turn their lives around with the equivalent of 30 or 40 dollars. I feel strongly that the welfare state as it is currently operating in the United States does more harm than good in the long run, and I would love to see Dr. Yunus' principles put into practice everywhere there is someone who needs a hand up, not a hand out. If you think you might be interested in something like this, check out Kiva. While not exactly the same thing, I also like the Perpetual Education Fund, an outreach program of the LDS Church.

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Book Review: The Other Side of the Sky: A Memoir

The Other Side of the Sky: A Memoir
by Farah Ahmedi, Tamim Ansary
AKA: Good Morning America: The Story of My Life
AKA: The Story of My Life: An Afghan Girl on the Other Side of the Sky
Young Adult
Non Fiction
Memoir

Okay, so why all the alternate titles? This book was published in several different forms after the author won an essay contest sponsored by Good Morning America. They are all exactly the same.

This is the story of Farah, a young Afghan girl, and her amazing life as a survivor of war, loss and the machinations of a world completely beyond her control. It is definitely written in the style and tone of a teen (she was in high school when she wrote it), so it is not a complex read but it is memorable nonetheless. Her story is astonishing in its scope and drama. It moved me to tears, made me angry, caused me intense admiration and kindled in me a desire to make a difference in some way for people like Farah. I also learned much about the culture and people of Afghanistan in the time of the Taliban's rise to power, including the fact that the term Burka is an incorrect name for the veils worn by the women there. It is a timely read, and well worth it.

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Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

I'm so glad to see the sun and the blue skies this afternoon. The gray days of an Eastern Spring will eventually give way to the brassy-bright days of summer, but in between, it's nice to get a few afternoons like this one. This morning I was cold and just wanted to stay in bed. Then the sun came out and I'm looking forward to being out in the wind and sun while I watch Evan's lacrosse practice this afternoon. I'm also glad I have this knitting project to work on during the changeable days of spring. These colors just make me happy.

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One More from California, and a Bonus Flashback

One of the best things I was able to do in California was see my darling friend of my teenaged years, Beth. She moved in to this area when we were in our early teens. I can't remember if I was thirteen or she was thirteen but anyway, most of the good memories I have of the years after involved this wonderful gal. When she married, she eventually settled in California. She still has family out here, so I've been fortunate to see her every so often when she's out here, but this, to my shame, is the first time I've gone all the way to see her. The best part about a friend like this is that even when you can count on two hands how many times you've actually been in each other's presence over the last 2o+ years, and your lives get so busy that even Christmas cards become spotty, the love remains. When we get together, it is so easy to be together-to feel close and to feel that same trust. I really feel like if we lived close together, we would still have that same, comfortable pal-ness that comes with familiarity. She will always love me, come age, miles, life circumstances, and everything else, and I the same. That is a blessing.

These were both taken the summer after my senior year of high school. Not so flattering, but I like how it shows how much we liked to be together. I have no memory of the circumstances that gave rise to the image below, but yet, there I am on the floor.

The one above was taken about 18 years ago or so, with Beth holding her oldest.
The one below was taken last month, with Beth holding her youngest.

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Four from the Trip

Here are a few images from my trip last month. Finally. I'm posting them in no particular order, a few at a time, so it will not be a strict travelogue. More like a collection of memories. Enjoy.

These photographs are all from Le Grand, California, at the home of my friend Gwen, a fellow knitting teacher:

I love all the big trees in Maryland. Really I do. One thing we are missing though is horizons. We see the sky in bits above the trees. It has its own kind of beauty. I love contrasts, however, and in California, in the middle of the San Joaquin Valley, you can see for miles. So, while the eastern sky looked like this one morning: The western sky had this lovely surprise at 6:30 am: I could see the entire arc of this one-from one side of the sky to the other. It was magical. I felt like I could run over and actually find the end of it.

Gwen lives on a beautiful farm in a tiny town almost smack in the middle of California. She lives in the house her great-grandfather built. Rather than experiencing smog and traffic, I gazed out the window of an uncrowded train as it rolled from Bakersfield to Merced through blooming fields of almond trees. It was peaceful and quiet. This is the scene outside my friend's kitchen window. We all need a little of that sometimes.

Sunset over the farm. It was a blissful two days.

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Why Do You Have a Diary?

To keep secrets from my computer...

Oh, what would I do without Dwight to make me guffaw. It is almost painful sometimes to watch The Office because Michael is such an idiot, but if I didn't watch, I would miss lines like that. Now, what it says about my character that such humor can make me laugh like a maniac, well, I just don't know. I just wish I had a reason to use that line in conversation sometime in my life. Really. Unfortunately, my computer knows all my secrets because they are all on a computer, even the really secret ones. I guess that leaves me in a state of weakness of which Dwight would surely disapprove, but I'm not nearly as interesting as he is, so I'm not worried.

Anyway, here's the real reason I have a diary:

I still haven't gotten the photos from my California trip off the camera. It's coming though. I am determined to write about the whole trip.

I'm sad about my pal Cami moving away, but I don't want to write about her as if she is deceased or something. The depth of emotion that I feel for that girl would surely come out sounding like a eulogy, and good heavens, she's only in Utah, not on the Pitcairn Islands. Suffice it to say that I love her to pieces in every way and am grateful that the internet will keep us in touch. Can I leave it at that? OK.

Spring is surely coming because 9 days ago I was in shorts and flip-flops, then in the middle of last week, I was in full winter woollies, now I'm in a jacket and my feet are feeling claustrophobic in socks and clogs. The Daffodills are sprouted, the Bleeding Heart has come up, and the Peonies are at the red asparagus stage. (That's what peonies look like when they're just coming up, really.) I have all afternoon on Wednesday scheduled to work in the yard, cleaning out the beds, moving stuff around and figuring out where to put some new vegetable beds. This Saturday is the actual Equinox, so things will happen fast, especially if the rain continues.

We cleaned out our storage unit, and I have until April 30 to get rid of everything that we brought home because Jeff will need a place to sleep at that point. His basement bachelor pad is completely overrun. It has been both disturbing and energizing to see what was in there. Part Christmas morning, part "What was I Thinking???" The good thing about living as though I survived the great depression is that if someone needs something, I usually have it. Really. Ask me the next time you need something, as long as it's before April 30th.

And then there's the books, darn it. I have such trouble getting rid of books. They are such lovely objects, and each one holds the promise of worlds yet undiscovered. How can I get rid of a story I haven't delved into yet? Or condemn a favorite, well-worn old tome to the recycling pile just because I have a shiny new edition of it? Even if the cover is ripped off and 6 pages are missing from the middle, it has all my notes from my first college reading in the margins!

Okay, see, I am starting to sound mentally ill. It's not that bad, just 30 or so boxes left, and I'm making good progress. 3 boxes a day at least is my goal and I'm sticking to it. Dumpster day is coming soon to our neighborhood, and I'll be ready! I've been very brave about getting rid of stuff and very reluctant to keep things that I haven't thought about in 4 years.

Last week, my sister and her family came in from Kentucky. She was on her spring break from teaching at Eastern Kentucky University and came home to try to finish up her Doctoral Thesis in preparation for her defense at Gallaudet University. If getting a PhD is like a birth, then she is in transition, feeling the urge to push but they're telling her not to because she's not quite dilated all the way. She'll get there, but these last bits of the process are painful, even for me just watching. In spite of her being super-busy and not really able to visit, it was good to see her kids--my kids have definitely been suffering from cousin withdrawal.

Also last week, I looked down at my beeping phone one morning to find a text from my pal E. Those text messages are always good news because she is great about inviting me out for good fun. Half the time I'm busy and have to miss out, but that day, I could actually meet her for cocoa at Starbucks and it made my day to see her. I'd been a bit down and laughing with a kindred spirit is a sure-fire cure for that.

Saturday found me sleeping in like a lazy bum, then heading out to see a wonderful Irish Dance show. I was so inspired that I got out my fiddle for the first time in months and pretended to play all the fiddle tunes I know. It was fun for me, if not for those who had to listen. Why is it that people like me secretly wish we were Irish? Well I am a wee bit, but not really enough for authenticity. I do enjoy pretending though.

Yesterday brought an afternoon spent with a lovely woman I met 14 years ago, but have seen relatively few times since then. We met in a quilting class way back when I was pregnant with Evan, then kept up though knitting classes at the shop where I work. We always feel a kinship when we're together, but we live an hour and a half apart, and we both live normal, busy lives that revolve around family. She has been faithful about keeping in touch and as a result I always think of her as a friend, not an acquaintance. She makes handcrafted soaps, and I have a bar of her creation that I'm loathe to unwrap and use up because it is a reminder of her. I keep it on a shelf with other sentimental keepsakes from friends. Anyway, I'm so grateful that we got to spend some time together yesterday and share a bit of our lives. It was relaxing and fun to be with someone to whom I could talk so easily. Thanks friend!

In other news, all is mostly well. Late winter tends to be a time not so much to experience as to be gotten through-the world is waiting for the next big thing, and everything seems a bit paused and slow. I have my days of slogging through the mud, then my days of soaring through the blue skies, and that is about all I can ask-enough of the one to balance out the other.

So, there you have it-all my secrets-not safe from anyone, least of all my computer.

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Be It Ever So Humble

I am so glad to be home. I was gone from my family for 10 days. I'm so glad to be back in my own house with my own children. I love being here in my own kitchen, listening to the new U2 Album, eating Wednesday Night Chocolate in my jammies and enjoying a snickerdoodle or two leftover from youth activities. I'm glad it was me that took Evan to get his retainer and that I was here to laugh with him about his new, temporary lisp. I'm grateful that I could touch my daughter's head to see if her fever is broken and talk with her about whether she's feeling well enough to go back to school. I'm happy that I was here when that other kid, you know-the alleged one, got home and needed emergency cookies for the activity he was in charge of. It felt good to be able to whip up a batch and have every one pitch in and help out. My trip was awesome, don't get me wrong, and that post is coming as soon as I get unpacked and get the photos uploaded, but right now I'm going to snuggle in and enjoy that singular sensation that reminds me that I have a ridiculously good life right here, right now.

It's true, friends, there really is no place like home.

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Yay!

Today I find myself unexpectedly at my brother's house in the Phoenix area. I have been in California since the 22nd of February and was supposed to be home yesterday. Instead, the weather decided otherwise and during my brief stop in Phoenix, my flight home was cancelled. I was able to get on a flight for Tuesday and decided to just go with that and take the time to spend with my family. Hard to complain about the delay, even though I've been gone from home just about long enough. In spite of such a long absence, my family has done very well without me, which, rather than making me feel like I'm not needed, makes me happy that they have learned enough to function independently when they need to. Yay them! And Yay! for my awesome sister-in-law for welcoming me to her home for two days with absolutely no notice. And Yay! that I get to see my new baby niece when I thought I wouldn't see her till Christmas! And yes, even Yay! for the snow. I hope it will still be there when I get home. It is always nice to have a little actual winter weather to help one anticipate the spring even more. Of course I'm not currently in the middle of it, so my apologies to those for whom the snow is a frustration.

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