Order of importance

In my first year at LDSBC, when I was 40, I wrote one paper for a Communications class I registered for. Only one because I dropped the class pretty darn quick when I figured out how much homework I'd have. I had enough to undo me as it was with 15 credit hours, working part-time; and with three boys on the loose, housework aplenty and a business on the side. More than enough. I used to stay up til way after midnight back then writing assignments for English 111, a class I didn't drop. These are times I remember (no, relived) this week when I cleaned out a file drawer and found my essays. Date: 1996. Reaction papers, all, to published essays I had to read in my English class.

And the one Communications paper I titled Understanding People.

Fly me to the moon...  hello. I sat on the couch gazing, reading, absorbing my work, a million miles - even a light year - away, and when I looked up from it I blinked and stared, amazed to see my walls at my own address, and the clock just a'ticking over the mantel.

Just a cool experience. (You're done now here; that's all. Unless you're dying to go on with a little from Understanding People)
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It's about appreciators. We need appreciators in this world. We need to be appreciators. How else then can we understand people? Take me, for example. I want to feel important. I'll cop out and say it's because I'm an oldest child, but I've learned how vital it is to every person on the planet. I've learned it from self-help books, people-watching, raising kids and praying. I'm not saying I want importance, but I want to feel important. Maybe the best way to talk about it is to remember that we've come from God into a realm and into bodies that keep us isolated from one another. As we interact, all but the most outward part of us remains hidden. Some of us purposely hide ourselves; some of us just don't know how to get out. The point is, we interact based on what we see and assume we know the rest. In assuming we know about each other, I think we don't take into account the basic and universal human needs: To have variety in our lives, to love and be loved, to feel important, and to be understood.

Maybe that's what I should have said before: I want to be understood. I know I'm important. That's why I sing, I am a Child of God and talk to myself about things on the way home from school, and (yes) write awesome English papers, all with the same conviction. I hope every person grows up knowing his own worth, but imagine the well-being generated by that person's genuine efforts to understand someone else's inherent qualities. How supremely productive and rewarding - for the individual and the community!

The process is this: I know the only thing that shows on me is attitude and behavior. I will express it honestly. Additionally, I will open up, explore what might be hiding and bring it to light. I will articulate my inadequacies as well as my talents, my challenges with my achievements. I will become less and less afraid to operate out of my comfort zone, thus freeing my (many) inhibitions. This and more is all the work I do for myself because "myself" is where I live. But I live as one among you who make up the community; here's the rest of the process, the best:

I know the only thing that shows on you is attitude and behavior. I see that, and will interpret it without guile. The rest is hidden from me; I will not presume to know it. But remember, I want to know you. In a thousand ways I will thank you for sharing yourself with me as you can, your inadequacies as well as your talents, your challenges with your achievements. I will become more and more your friend, aware at the same time of this process that carries us in an upward spiral toward a relationship. My part in the process is to faithfully understand you. I already know how important you are; that has come from knowing the truth about myself. Remember, I seek that knowledge continuously. Our relationship is you loving you and me loving me; you knowing you and me knowing me; then, we loving we.

I can choose to appreciate. I can appreciate effort, impeccable style, remarkable computer skills. I can appreciate awkwardly spoken words and expressions in my own language, and eloquent expressions in awkward languages. Appreciating short circuits attitude and behavior, and takes me straight to your heart; and if you will let me in, I have the best chance in the world to understand.

Shy guy

Landon's always been shy with me when he's come to my house or I've gone to his. He has no memory of me from visit to visit so we have to start from scratch every time. AGH! Here's that kind of timid look, snapped last summer in Utah. Dig the long hair. I haven't seen him since then, so over a year, and I'm very excited to go to Minnesota in a few weeks when Erin's baby is due and see both the kids and the new baby. Landon's third birthday was yesterday. He talks to me on the phone when I call, so I hope he'll just throw himself into my arms when I arrive. Check out Erin's blog for pictures of his birthday - he got Cars underwear!

Love trilogy

I've been an interested bystander in the hoopla surrounding "Pride and Prejudice" recently. Or for not so recently with Jenny, who's always been a Jane Austen fan - devoted. There's literature these days termed fanfic, short for fan fiction, right, and Jen said you'll love it when in Utah this summer she handed me Volume 1 of the "Fitzwilliam Darcy, Gentleman" trilogy.



"Pride and Prejudice" from Darcy's point of view, written by Pamela Aidan. Ms. Aidan gets highest marks from me. I shan't give you a review. There's oodles of fine reviews online - interesting stuff in itself. I will say that for me the whole trilogy is an impeccable read! I finished book one on vacation and put books two and three on hold at the library in Warner Robins when I got home. Almost two months ago. Book three arrived two and a half weeks ahead of the other. (Did it come from, what, Tennessee or something? The nether lands.) Anyway, I wouldn't read it before book two... then read them both in a rush this month and have just finished all. Just this morning. I like this in the last book:

He loved her. It was as simple and complicated as that. The simplicity lay in the nature of his love, for it was centred [English spelling] upon Elizabeth rather than himself or his desires and arose from the deepest wish to be the one whose privilege it was to do her good all her days. The complication lay within him. He could not make her love him or arrange for it as he did all his other concerns. He could only show her who he had become and was becoming . . . . and hope.

Wow. I read that and remembered the page number so I could come back to it. What'd'ya think? Love centered on someone else, you of course, rather than myself or my desires; a deep wish to be the one whose privilege it is (great language) to do you good? Always? Wow. And . . I cannot make you love me, my "to do" list - only show you who I am, and, taking your sincere feedback, who I am becoming. And certainly hope.

So it's Saturday and College Game Day is on, which I love listening to while I putz around the house or work on the computer. It's from the fastidious and regal world of the Regency and Darcy and Elizabeth in love (finally) that I go today to the rough and tumble of college (whoot whoot!) football and the SEC.

2 year-olds

Nerve wracking

Kent's slowly but surely feeling better. A week ago he rubbed a spot on his upper back, flexed and grimaced. After two days of straight pain even using a heating pad, he took Ibuprofen for the first time in, oh, 37 years (it ulcerated his stomach then, and he swore off it), and stayed on that and ice for two days. Thursday afternoon he came home half day early. Friday he went to a chiropractor hoping for a major body contortion, but the doctor would do only a little adjusting saying his muscles are in knots and spasming, and to get off the ice and back on heat - the best help. Uh, no. He kept up the Ibu and heating pad and now was in bed or on the couch. Half day Friday and all Saturday and Sunday. Saturday afternoon he got a blessing, went to his early meeting Sunday morning and came right home. He said he almost went crazy trying to sit still in the meeting. He nearly cried the pain has been so insistent.

Monday he dressed for work, tied his shoes and said, "Don't know what to do now." He knows about Ron, the guy that cured my back pain a month ago with trigger point work on the massage table. I said, "Go see Ron."

Long story short, he did. Signed up for an hour massage (under duress; we talked about this before he left for work), and turns out Ron worked on him way longer. I'm impressed. Kent liked the quiet room and soft music; much better than the rap at the chiropractor's office. The guys talked the whole time Kent said, him yelping when Ron drilled sore spots - there were five bad ones, not one. One or two times he about came off the table. Careers, sports, gardening, health, massage, families, etc. Kent now knows how to prevent worms on our broccoli or pumpkins in detail. Hoops and mesh.

Anyway.

They're fast friends and Ron has done Kent some good for the hour's fee. He'll go again next week. (Zounds!) "Wann'a know what caused this back pain?" Kent said to me when he got home from work Monday, hours after the session with Ron. "Doctrines of Salvation."

"What?"

Ron says Kent being an accountant, working the 10-key and keyboard with his arm raised uncomfortably during the day, hasn't caused his pain. Him shoveling trenches in the garden last Saturday hasn't done it. What's done it is reading in bed.

For well over a month or more like two, Kent's been reading Doctrines of Salvation, and admires the time of evening when he can prop himself on bed pillows for long stretches with this tome. (Book, big book.) Before that, way lots of books too. Always on the pillows on the bed. Ron says his muscles have been stretched unnaturally over time. He's had little pains in his shoulders all along, but the bigger muscles in our backs protect these traumas, Ron says, and they go untended. When the big muscles get knotted and spasm, there's nothing but PAIN.

You should see Kent now - two nights sitting ramrod straight on the couch with his book. He just finished The House of the Lord by Talmage and is now into Teachings of Gordon B. Hinckley. It's funny, poor guy, except it isn't. This week of pain has been for us both, pardon the pun, nerve wracking.

Puppets

Becky Rhoden pulled a soft bag from her purse this morning after Seminary and said, "Sister Holbrook! I want to show you this!" One by one she pulled from it handmade puppets she and a friend have made this weekend. They're for a school report on the Canterbury Tales. She lay them on the floor and I ohhhed and ahhhed (I'm the perfect person to show cute little things to) over these little piggy puppets. See the hag that turns into the princess? Way original - a lot of work stitching and pasting and fussing around. They're coming to life in her Lit class today.



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Hang in there, Bear.

Homemade

Garrett, 6 weeks

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From the Fall 2008 Quilts and More, isn't this crayon bag cute?



And this? Lotta' pockets. (Cute fabric.)



And . . . a reusable drawstring shopping bag? Don't know, maybe.



You can make one - they're easy projects. I love fabric. I love this magazine. And I love bags.

Testimony in art

Yesterday and today the seminary students did an art/teaching project. Each student chose at random a letter from the statement The Sabbath is for man (which has 18 letters in it for the 18 students) and I gave them a paper and markers and instructions. We read in Matthew about the Savior talking to the Pharisees about the Sabbath, and in Mark or the JST for Mark 2:27 where two objectives of the Sabbath day are given very plainly - to rest, and to glorify God; the instructions for the activity were to artistically render their letter on their paper (draw it, right?), and write on the paper a principle or statement starting with that letter that pertains to the Sabbath. They would speak about that to the class for two minutes on Friday.

That's today. The drawing (and ensuing chaos of course) all happened yesterday. Today, armed with their talks and tape for hanging their letter, they came to the front in turn to teach. Nicole was first to start, with "T."

She was not there. (You see how this went.)

However her letter was, as she had left it with me after class yesterday saying that in all probability she wouldn't be in class today. I was prepared. We passed hers by giving a nod to the "Testimony-strengthening activities" which would have been her presentation.

Everyone took their turn. Samantha wasn't there yesterday and had to make it up as she went, drawing and all. She did F. Others who weren't in class yesterday didn't come today, but all who drew (but Nicole) came. Hurray! Kathryn drew a couple of letters and we filled in as a class. I took N (for Natalie, they said). To make this many-student saga short, they were stupendous and I thought it was a blast. We confirmed a statement in art and in testimony. The kids are a whiz at the gospel; it wouldn't be a short post if I elaborated all they talked about and how it made us feel. The spirit was present and was the teacher.

Here's pics.

2x click to see the writing if you like...




uh, last part of Sabbath . . . BATH . . .McKinley made a musical note A instead of the alphabet letter.



I love this job.
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Three years ago - yikes - Joser was only four months old. Yesterday he called me on my cell. "Hi, Nana," he announced. "Would'joo wike to come to my house tonight, Nana?"

"Wowee!" I said. "I can't come tonight."

"Would'joo wike to come to my house next time?" All confidence.

Back three summers ago I was a little wonky with my camera (aw, still am, he he) and just handed it off to Jen for pictures of the baby. This she grabbed, a slightly blurry look as he turned on my lap to see her. It's my fave.



Pene pasta is cooking in a big ole pot on the stove. To be taken in a half hour to Children's Friend with bow-tie pasta (in the bowl) and two pecan pies for Fun Friday lunch. A little something to do this morning besides vacuuming or dusting or studying. Got the radio on.

Faces

I have this category in my photo file under the Hales pics called FACES. Mike's got the best mug shots in the pile. Had to scrap one.



Did I post this already - sorry if I did. Seeing Mike reminds me I scrapped colander-head here.

Healing

Jenny first told me about a thing that happened to a couple, Stephanie and Christian Nielson, a few weeks ago; a plane crash that didn't take their lives but burned them. They're in the hospital in Arizona. More than this I don't know. Well, I know they have young children.

I found Stephanie's blog and looked here (link) a minute. I'm just still looking to understand who she and her husband are but am as interested in her sister's blog (link) where there are updates about their conditions and how the family's doing, including their children. I don't know Stephanie's sister's name.

It's a newsy and touching read post to post and I looked through these today interested and after awhile, prayerful.

I read this, something their brother posted, again without really knowing what's happened or how things are:

The doctor gave us some good news today - Stephanie's facial surgery went well. They worked on her hands and her face. They were able to preserve her ears and nose. There is some concern about skin and some other things, but he seemed very straightforward and encouraging. I think Mom and Dad were thrilled. My sense is that Stephanie has been given a choice: she could move on and do some great work on the other side, or she could stay here and make a new life from this accident. To me, it feels like she's made the choice. I know it's been devastating, but I feel like she's coming back. I am very encouraged and proud of Stephanie.

And this from the sister:

Lucy and I cleaned up the kitchen while our husbands occupied the children in our gigantic covered-in-astro-turf playroom."I miss Steph," she said as she reached up above her head to put away a cookie tray. I thought about it. I didn't feel the same. In fact, in this past week I've felt my sister near to me, sometimes when chaos consumed and always in very quiet moments. As my mother whispered in my ear one week ago as we took that fateful (FATEFUL!) long (LONG!) trip through the desert to Utah, "Steph will be wherever her children are." And with that, I felt an extra arm around my shoulder, as if my gracious little sister was assuring me that she'd be along for the ride. I know that Stephanie's body is working on survival. I know that a portion of her spirit resides there, keeping her heart beating, allowing for her body to heal, but I cannot deny that she is also here till raising her chickens through her sisters.
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I don't ask why about things so much. Not as much as I used to. Pain and joy - it is. Like a stiff neck and a deep tissue massage. Our God wants us to have all that He has, and this is part of it.

I guess when you feel like there's lots to say because your heart is swelling and something needs to be said before it breaks; when you've come through several days waiting for a friend to pass away (we have) and watch his family hold on for dear life to all they know is true and good, but let him go; when good friends come all of a sudden to your house to stay (they did) who you haven't seen in a blue moon and it's good to see them and you visit til you're exhausted; when you look at yourself in the mirror the next morning before you leave for the funeral, this you know:

God is good. [insert lump in throat] God is the Master healer. When with a sore neck you lay yourself on the table waiting for the touch of the Master's hands, when he tells you it's going to hurt at first, well, it does.
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postscript: It's November 20, 2012 and I'm re-reading this post. And taking liberties... adding pictures of Stephanie and Christian and family as they are these days.

2009


2011


2012


Baby Charlotte, "Lottie." 2012

Artsy

This is such an artsy page for me. Who better though to cast in an ethereal setting than Karen! She probably wishes dad hadn't left photos of her doing yoga stretches in his laptop when I got it from him - I'm happy though to have pictures of all my brothers and sisters, and have been wanting to do a page on her for a long time. I browsed days ago through images of Karen and Chris and the kids and had a whole different thing going on as I started working on one - hence, messing around with the photo of her and her sister and their kids at the skating rink, a few posts below. (Fun.) Nothing I came up with captured what I really wanted - total girlishness  I'm happy after some time and while Kent watched football yesterday to have pulled in pics I like and created a fairy tale page. Totally girl.

Cover girl

Amy said it first when I e-mailed this to her - its like a magazine cover! Well it is - and if there's anyone as news- or magazine cover-worthy as Ames in the family, don't know who it is. Braces off, hair short, sporting a skinny little body because she walks miles most days pushing the boys in the stroller and because (here's an idea) she eats healthy, Amy's looking fab this summer. I love how this picture she took of herself and sent me (tweaked to get her freckles and her eyes to stand out) shows her off. It doesn't hurt that Amy works like a hero. She's a goer and a doer. Admittedly she has a full schedule, but she deals with the ups and downs of it like we all do - moving through it. Many days it shows in this happy face. I'm uber proud of this cool mom.

Fussing around

Look what I can do! Oh brother, that's silly, I feel kind of (baaahhh) sheepish, but really, it's a new thing I can do, so hey! I moved Spence over by his mother

from this picture



to this one.



So it took some figuring out. I remember years ago when I was writing music, because I don't know how officially, I would hold a pencil in my teeth and plant all ten fingers on the notes in a chord and kind of sit, paralyzed, memorizing what I was doing. It's a wonder my toes weren't on the keyboard, too. Anyway, then I'd release a few fingers and jot down a chord on the manuscript paper. Progression by progression. What a mess. Moving darling Spencer was like that. I have just enough savvy about Photoshop Elements to be daring and try really hard things. So this morning I cut and pasted and duplicated and erased and cloned and sat a bit memorizing what I was doing, clenching the mouse and biting my bottom lip. It works! All of that! Dig the red-haired lady over Karen's shoulder in the original [delete]. And, oooh, Karen should have a reflection in the glass technically. I just realized it. I moved not only Spencer, but the wall. Ouch, I'll try it: Duplicate just her, move that to left into the window, cut her in half, turn her around so she's mirror image, and lower the opacity and feather the edges, right? Sheesh.
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DO I love Smittenkitchen.com or what? There I've been the last 10 minutes or so. Here I've stayed gazing at pictures that make you just want to eat the monitor. Classic Brownies by Cook's Illustrated, which I've subscribed to a few years and recently quit, thinking I'm running amok with recipes and articles I can never digest - really - are touted among other delites at Smitten Kitchen, including raspberry breakfast bars, a new post. Divine. Enjoy!

Classic Brownies - Cook’s Illustrated Be sure to test for doneness before removing the brownies from the oven. If under baked (the toothpick has batter clinging to it) the texture of the brownies will be dense and gummy. If over baked (the toothpick comes out completely clean), the brownies will be dry and cakey.

1 cup (4 ounces) pecans or walnuts, chopped medium (optional)
1¼ cups (5 ounces) cake flour
½ teaspoon salt
¾ teaspoon baking powder
6 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped fine
12 tablespoons (1½ sticks) unsalted butter, cut into six 1-inch pieces
2¼ cups (15¾ ounces) sugar4 large eggs1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position; heat oven to 325 degrees. Cut 18-inch length foil and fold lengthwise to 8-inch width. Fit foil into length of 13 by 9-inch baking dish, pushing it into corners and up sides of pan; allow excess to overhand pan edges. Cut 14-inch length foil and, if using extra-wide foil, fold lengthwise to 12-inch width; fit into width of baking pan in same manner, perpendicular to first sheet. Spray foil-lined pan with nonstick cooking spray.

2. If using nuts, spread nuts evenly on rimmed baking sheet and toast in oven until fragrant, 5 to 8 minutes. Set aside to cool.

3. Whisk to combine flour, salt, and baking powder in medium bowl; set aside.

4. Melt chocolate and butter in large heatproof bowl set over saucepan of almost-simmering
water, stirring occasionally, until smooth. (Alternatively, in microwave, heat butter and chocolate in large microwave-safe bowl on high for 45 seconds, then stir and heat for 30 seconds more. Stir again, and, if necessary, repeat in 15-second increments; do not let chocolate burn.) When chocolate mixture is completely smooth, remove bowl from saucepan and gradually whisk in sugar. Add eggs on at a time, whisking after each addition until thoroughly combined. Whisk in vanilla. Add flour mixture in three additions, folding with rubber spatula until batter is completely smooth and homogeneous.

5. Transfer batter to prepared pan; using spatula, spread batter into corners of pan and smooth surface. Sprinkle toasted nuts (if using) evenly over batter and bake until toothpick or wooden skewer inserted into center of brownies comes out with few moist crumbs attached, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool on wire rack to room temperature, about 2 hours, then remove brownies from pan by lifting foil overhang. Cut brownies into 2-inch squares and serve. (Store leftovers in airtight container at room temperature, for up to 3 days, or, ahem, in the freezer until your resistance gets the better of you.)

Such good things

I've had a happy twenty minutes or so on the phone with Marcia. The happiest of the day. I am, I think, among women, so rich! I had a feeling to call her, wanted just to hear her voice; didn't know she would have so much to tell me. She told me about the Twin Falls temple dedication and the youth extravaganza that happened a night before it (above).

I asked a few questions as Marcia, getting excited, then more excited, gave details about members in the stake setting up the rodeo grounds in Twin as the arena for the extravaganza; about the fourteen stakes involved, each with hundreds of youth; about individuals who wrote songs and choreographed dances, those who built a stage and sodded the whole place, directed traffic and altogether participated. 3,500 youth from fourteen stakes!

She told me about the theme - Living Water - and just about cried describing the presentation by these hundreds of children, each group in turn, costumed and having the time of their life. David her son had his teeth whitened recently and when he came out during the Italian performance (dancing his heart out by the way) most of what she saw was his teeth!




She loved telling me how President Monson, President Eyring and the other Apostles who came especially loved the tribute, and how they smiled and smiled. Maybe they were having the time of their life!


She described sitting with Brent and her children in the celestial room at the dedication of the temple; how they cried; how they none of them have words, really, after, to describe how a building becomes a temple at last. I know they've watched it come to pass from the very beginning, when the spot of ground was desert.



I'm so glad I called. Nothing I've written much helps you feel how happy I am these few minutes as I write. I'm leaving for a seminary meeting in Macon in a while and needed to eat before I go, so I opened the fridge and got out leftover vegetable soup. Kind of bland really, but wow, I smelled it and put a bowl of it in the microwave to warm and just about bubbled over with gratitude. Here's a good dinner after being fed already with love and appreciation and excitement and, well, it must be the spirit or something but the soup is outstanding. I reached for it out of the microwave and almost burst into prayer out loud thanking Heavenly Father for such good things.

Darling boys

Joseph and Andrew, June 2006

Georgetown

A few more pics from our trip. We drove Sunday afternoon to Georgetown, an hour up the coast from Charleston. Walking over the marsh at Morgan's Point...



... and pampas grass.



A 500 year-old live oak.



Monday morning in fog,



we walked another pier



actually the old road across the Peedee River that's now not in use.



The locals come to either portion to fish. They hang mesh baskets (containing chicken backs) by twine off the sides hoping specifically to lure crabs. This guy showed us his morning catch.



Other interested parties on the pier.



By now it was time for breakfast - at the Thomas Cafe we ordered three pancakes with warm syrup and an omelet stuffed with shrimp and crab and cheese with creole sauce, and divided it. Oh, and grits and biscuits and jelly.



Wandered Front street, which was deserted really at 9:30. Lots of shops and eateries.



We turned behind the buildings and walked the length of Front street on the river.



With Hurricane Gustav landing on the Gulf coast yesterday morning, SC was overcast and rainy and breezy. A perfect day for walking, albeit humid, but not great for pictures exactly. About the time we were getting in the car to start home, Front street came alive - but we were spent.

Kent liked Georgetown more than Charleston. We've never been to a town that has so many old, old homes. Many in the historic part of this city were built in the mid-seventeen hundreds. The majority in the 1800's and some at the turn of the century, the last century. The live oaks had to have been planted then too - their limbs and branches and leaves have made tunnels over the streets. Too shaded to take pictures in, and breathtaking. Let me have trees in my neighborhood always, wherever I am!

We did a lot of walking in both places - we like getting up close rather than being in a trolley, bus, or horse-drawn wagon and hearing from a tour guide. A great vacation - I loved the Magnolia Gardens and historic section of Charleston. 6 1/2 hours home in some rain and one super-duper gullywasher. Tired. I always come back to the same thing in the end - I love being in my own bed.

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A piece of work, Brady McKasson