Someone Keeps Smashing My Icons

When Johnny first came home from a college course early in his education and told me about planned obsolescence, I not only didn't believe him, I disagreed with him vehemently. "That's crazy; people take pride in their work; they'd want it to last forever." Not only has personal experience over the last 40 years proved him correct, I now believe that the demise of appliances/apparatuses happens so prematurely that one could safely say they all come with their own built-in spontaneous abortion.
In just the last month, my vacuum cleaner quick sucking, my carpet shampooer quit sucking, and the door at the H&W building quit closing on its own. Deciding it was high time to have my chimney cleaned because for the past three years, I have relied heavily on heat from my wood burning stove--in fact my kitchen and my bedroom where the heat rises are the only rooms warm enough to survive without triple-layered thermals, I called a chimney sweep. I joked a few times about how lucky I would be to have a visit from a chimney sweep--chim chim cheree. Not only didn't he levitate to my roof top, he did present me with evidence of a chimney fire and told me tiles were broken on five different levels and I needed a thirty five hundred dollar chimney repair. He also told me two thousand dollars would pay him to clean up the carcases in the crawl space under my house. (Squirrels, rabbits, cats, and bats.)
I called another chimney sweep and he says he can't see any cracks but won't put his reputation and liability on the line to assure me I don't need the chimney repair. So, I've decided to put it off at least for a few months. And the mighty hunter of all things weird and gross, yes, I'm talking about Jaren, has volunteered to excavate my pet cemetery when he comes at Christmas. I've mentally put about six thousand dollars back in my dubious budget. Good trick, since it wasn't there in the first place.
My bedroom has undergone a transformation since it became the only habitable place in my house during the winter. I've moved in Johnny's huge desk with computer, printer, stereo, etc. I've moved in a small table and sewing machine and all the accouterments that go with sewing. I have a large canvas for the placing of the names of ancestors in a huge pedigree chart--the names aren't there yet but the concept and canvas are. And I have a camping area on the floor for sweet little grandchildren who want to stay overnight. Literally there now exists only a walking trail through my bedroom. But if CPS were to come in, I'd be safe because I could shew the children to their own home, and there are no pet droppings upstairs (just in the crawl space, I'm told.)
This information is relevant to the next event in the corruption of my belongings. A little over a week ago, intending to enjoy a nice leisurely bath, I was dismayed when my hot water would not turn off. I went through all the machinations with good rather than nefarious intent. I dismantled the faux crystal knob getting down to the all important sticky up thingy which I plied with all my strength. I finally got it to the point where it was only dripping one drop per second. I even hammered on the all important thingy but could not do better than one drop per second. Drat--now I need a plumber, but I don't want to pay a plumber and I can't have a plumber walk through my bedroom without a major rehaul. (That would consist of hauling everything into another room because it has no other home and has to live in my bedroom until Jaren writes a best seller and I can once again afford heat.) I decided to procrastinate that decision. However, the next bath came and now my faucet is dripping at three drops per second.
Also, I was sick last week so cleaning my room was out of the question. Actually cleaning is completely out of the question, I just have to wait until I decide I've poured enough money down the drain that I'm going to swallow my pride and call a plumber.
I was born bare foot and have never found an inducement to wear shoes in my own home inside or out. Therefore my feet regularly get filthy. When this gets bad, I quickly jump in my bathtub, turn on the hot water, scrub my feet with a loofah on a stick and jump back out again. Sunday, I was nearly ready for church when I decided that in spite of a bath the night before, my feet needed a rewash before I put on my shoes to go out the door. I jumped in the bath tub and before both feet hit the porcelain remembered that I could not turn on the hot water; there was not enough time to turn it off. With a little groan at the loss of a creature comfort, I looked down at another creature. There was a monsterous hobo spider in my bath tub. (I thought those suckers couldn't climb upstairs.) I quickly jumped back out of the tub. When I told Jaren about the event, he wanted to know if I did a tuck and roll. I did one once when I saw a hobo in the big room and though it was probably my greatest move ever, I didn't repeat it at this time. I thought it made a lot more sense to get out of the bath tub rather than roll around in the tub with the hobo. I dashed out of the bathroom and grabbed an empty cardboard roll out of a Christmas wrapping paper package and went back and beat that hobo, and beat that hobo, and beat that hobo and then flushed the slick down the toilet.
Did I mention that the turn-off valve to my water is down in the crawl space?

A Kip Hartvigsen Citing

I have been seriously side-lined by illness for a little over a week. Sorry to all you who have waited with the proverbial bated breath for a new post.

I saw Brother Hartvigsen at church two weeks ago and relayed all the messages that were given to me for him--from Gillz and from Spooky. He was really happy to hear the kind things you said about him. He remarked that a teacher seldom gets that kind of positive feedback directly; he was grateful to receive the compliments second hand. He talked of the delight of having you in his class.

Later, in Sunday School, he made a comment which I think is very salient. We were studying in Acts, Chapter 20 about Paul's farewell to the Ephesian Elders and his concern that they would fall away after he was gone, not there to lead and correct them. In verse 30, he says,"Also of your own selves shall men arise, speaking perverse things, to draw away disciples after them."
A quote was read from Harold B. Lee stating that the word perverse in that setting did not carry the connotation that we currently apply but rather intended to refer to things that divert or distract one from that which is correct. At that point, Kip made this comment,

"I recall having read once in a priesthood manual that one of the reasons we are to attend church each Sunday is to correct the false impressions that we may gain during the previous week, caught up in a world where we encounter on a daily basis so much that is false and ungodly.
It seems to make sense to me then that one reason we are admonished by our Church leaders to read scriptures every day is for the same reason—to correct the false impressions we gain as we live in a fallen world, except our correction through scripture can come to us each day rather than just once a week."

I appreciated this as I struggle now with the recognition that a good portion of my life has already passed and I want to make choices for my future that are of eternal import. I feel similar to James' comment when he stated, "...Maybe how short a time I have to gouge this earth deep enough people will know I was here. So many little things could take me before my dreams/ambitions are fully realized." I don't have time to be diverted.

I heard recently that people of this younger generation seem to have an inate understanding that they have a lot to accomplish in a limited amount of time. That supposedly is why "kids" today are so strong-willed. And why it's so imperative that they "will" to do those things that are significant eternally.

Well, I guess a week in bed tends to make one reflective and make one's post didactic.

So, this week I read Of Human Bondage (no underlining capabilities?) and am dismayed that I've not read it before though at times I've wanted to slap Philip for his repeated idiocy in falling for Mildred's manipulations. This prompts a question to all you English majors. Outside of the scriptures and any church books, what book would you say is a must read?

Things I Wish I'd Done

I just had my 60th birthday. For some people that might be traumatic. For me, it's been coveted for the last three years. Turning 60 means reducing my workload and actually having time for things I want to do. Things which strangely include cleaning my house as well as finishing baby quilts for four year olds, dedicating more time to genealogy and name extraction, reading, writing, and spending much more time with my amazing grandchildren.

Beginning the 7th decade of one's life is also a time for introspection. One of the steps in AA is to do a personal inventory. While I am not an alcoholic, I find doing some of the twelve steps a good way to monitor my course in life. However, I am still in the celebratory mode and wanting to ease into self-examination, I thought I'd list things I wish I'd done.

The first thing on my list was wishing I had earned my degrees before I had a family. I wish I'd known and practiced the child raising techniques then that I know now. I think I could have been a better mother; I know I'm a better grandmother because of the education I've received (coupled with the knowledge that many things have no eternal importance.) But maybe I gleaned so much from my education because of the experiences I'd had in raising six children. I've wished I had more education so my many long hours of employment would reap a greater financial reward. Yet...I wouldn't have the six children I have if I'd gone to school first. Whom would I give up? I guess logically, the "fixins" that became my first three children would have slipped by unnoticed. So, bag that wish. I wouldn't trade all the education in the world for my children. And who knows, if I had been different, would my children be as strong, as resilient, as masterful as they are. I guess I wouldn't trade anything. My children are stalwart, contributing members of their respective communities and are loved by many people.

Therefore my first realistic wish involves my grandchildren. After Olivia was born, I became fascinated with her beautiful hands and their delicate movements. I wish I had started early and had done a photographic journal of my grandchildren's hands.

I thought I would have a really long list. The other things I wish I had done can still be done--like scuba diving in the Red Sea and biking the Oregon Coast. I want to introduce my grandchilren to some more of my loves, most of which include water sports.

I guess I wish I'd watched more sunsets.

The sunsets I've included come from Tucson (first and last), Rexburg from my front yard (second) and the third on a beach near San Diego.