Whoppers & Time Travel

Isn't it interesting what things trigger certain memories in us?
For instance, there is a lady where I work who always has a well stocked candy jar at her desk, so that when anyone is lagging on the job, and needs that extra little burst of energy that only a little sugar rush can give, it's always there to help us finish out the day. (I found out another reason why she does this when I had the opportunity to substitute at her desk a little bit - it gets really lonely in there, and that candy lures people in so there's always someone to talk to!)

Anyway, I digress - the other day, when I "visited" the candy jar, there were some Whoppers in it (not the usual fare) so, not caring what the fix was - just needing one, I bit into them, and was immediately transported back to junior high, when I used to "forge" notes from my parents so I could leave campus at lunch time and spend all my lunch money at the little candy store on the corner.
(So sorry to have to shock and disillusion you this way, don't worry - I was caught, punished, and turned away from my life of crime!)

- But that's not the point - the point is how this little piece of candy had the power to bring back a certain moment in time with such complete clarity! I didn't realize how long it had been since I had experienced this certain flavor!

It reminded me of one of those "portkeys" from Harry Potter - where all you have to do is touch it, and you go soaring off to another time and place...

Even now the mere smell of "dotted swiss" fabric always reminds me of Easter, and my mom spending the whole night sewing fluffy little dresses to surprise me and my sisters.

There are certain songs that come on the radio, that take me back to those good old days of high school, and "dragging main" with that first boyfriend....There are also those mournful ballads that remind me of my first big heart break!

"Time travel" is not only possible, but it happens randomly every day - you just have to stumble across the right "portal."

Sheetcakes and Eyeballs

Something that was said in church today made me think some former neighbors, then later when I got home, my daughter was researching job openings online, and I was reminded of these neighbors again, because of a job suggestion the husband had given me once...
OK, before I lose everyone completely - a little background material...Harriet and Paul were about as unlikely a couple as there ever was. She was an educated, cultured Jewish girl from New Jersey, and he was an LDS National Park Ranger from Idaho. They met when they were both working at Independence Square in Philadelphia. I could go on, but probably shouldn't since they aren't around anymore to re-butt.
Anyway, they were delightful neighbors! Paul was heavily into Boy Scouts, and somehow he found out that I had a "crafty" side, and because he had been almost completely blinded (by an accident involving fireworks), he would often call on me to help whenever he needed some creative project done.
My first experience with this was when he called me on the phone and said - I need you to make me a sheet cake. I hemmed and hawed a bit, (because I am not known for my baking!) but finally agreed. He came to the door carrying a bundle of white fabric. He told me that he needed me to draw a huge cake on it ("sheet" cake...) because someone in the Scout leadership was being honored and they were going to give it to him. So I took a marker and drew him a wedding-type layer cake the full length of that sheet - and I literally giggled the whole time I was doing it!
I did several other projects for him and his family - everything from painting the scout emblem on a trailer that they hauled their supplies in, to painting a delicate floral design on a beautiful head-board that he had made for his daughter, I did merit badge signs for him to take to the National BS Jamboree in Washington DC. It was almost always something surprising and unusual that made me smile.
Like the time he asked me to paint bricks on the chimney of a doll house he had built for his daughter for Christmas. I agreed without much thought, thinking it would be a small project that could be done in a few hours, but when he brought this doll house to my house (in a truck!) it was about 4 feet wide, and 5 feet tall! It took up nearly half of my kitchen. (luckily we had no furniture in there at the time, because we had just replaced the flooring)
Where do the eyeballs come in you ask? (silly reader, because now I'm going to tell you!) One day I ran into him just after he had been to pick up a new prosthetic eye (he lost one in the accident)...and he said "I just found the perfect job for you!
He said he had gone into the (lab? where does one go to pick up artificial eyes?)...anyway, he said there were a bunch of people sitting there painting these eyes, and I thought of you!
(Question - where does one go for training to paint prosthetic eyes? I would totally do it if I had a clue!)
The giving wasn't totally one-sided. I was given many silly Boy Scout awards for my service. (I cherish my "button" gear award!) These dear neighbors always came to visit with a fresh baked loaf of bread every Christmas, and again on the night before I checked in to the hospital for my heart surgery they were there, wishing me the best, with that bread still warm from the oven.
They since have re-located to Philadelphia. I miss doing those fun projects for them -they always made me smile! And I sure do miss these wonderful neighbors!

Opportunity missed

Last night, I ran across an article I had clipped from an old CK (yes, I'm still cleaning that room. Oh Honey, this will go on for days!) The title of the article was "Generations of Love" and talks about chronicaling children with their grandparents. As I picked it up, a feeling of...guilt?...remorse?...I'm not sure, just that feeling you get when you know you missed out on an opprtunity that will never come again.
When my mom was in the hospital, one day I was there visiting when my son and his family came in to visit also. One of the nurses came in during our visit, and after inquiring of my mom who we were, she said "Oh - 4 generations!" The thought occurred to me then that I should try to get a picture of this before it was too late (you see, mom was dying of bone cancer) but I struggled with whether that was the right thing to do or not. Mom was not a vain person, but she always took pride in how she looked, and she was not at her best here in the hospital, with little chance of things improving. There was that whole issue of "is this how she would like to be remembered?" There are cultures who believe that if you take a person's photo - you steal their soul, but can there also be times when by taking their photo, you steal their dignity?
So I continued to struggle, and she continued to decline, antd the photo never got taken.
It would have been nice to show that photo to my grandaughter, and tell her how much her great grandma loved her, and when she had struggles with her memory, and didn't recognize some people who came to visit, she still always remembered her.
Sorry, not the happiest of posts - but this is where my mind has wandered to today.

Champagne Wishes...

I was cleaning my "crap" room tonight, (supposedly for my crafts, but every other thing that comes in the house that doesn't have a home, ends up here) and I found this picture that I saved from a brochure a couple of years ago.
This is my "Dream House". We sort of stumbled our way into it on one of our anniversary trips to St. George. We were out of things to do one day, so we decided to go look at model homes in the area. (Yes, we are boring enough to think this is fun!) The first place we stopped at, I told the - (hmmm... what do you call those people who just sit in the house and wait for people to come and look?) ...anyway, I told that person that we were getting close to retirement age, and would really like to live down here, which is completely true...I didn't tell her that we were up to our eyeballs in debt, and would be lucky if we get to retire to the KOA in Dogpatch USA...but you have to make chit chat with these people to make them think you are really interested - you know, so they don't kick you out!
So, that is how we spent the afternoon - driving around to all the new housing developments looking at model homes. As we went along, my husband jumped on the band wagon with the "chit chat," except, the way HE told it - we owned the condo we were staying in, (owned by the company he works for, and they let us use it for free, or we wouldn't even be here!)...and we were wanting to "trade up" to something bigger that the family could come and stay in. (Ah men, you gotta love them!)
This was the last house on the tour - and definitely the best! First of all - you had to go through a courtyard, oh, it was beautiful! No lawn to mow - it was all brick & stone, with a beautiful fountain in the center of the courtyard. The house had all natural stone floors, a two story curved fireplace, 2 kitchens, and there were 4 bedrooms, one in each corner of the house, so everyone could be sent to thier corners! I won't even mention the movie theater in the basement, complete with leather lounge chairs! The back of the house faced a gully (which means NO NEIGHBORS!) It had a huge window that looked out over those deep red cliffs that I love so much down there! In the back yard (no lawn here either) was a small swimming pool, and over built right into the cliff was a hot tub. It had an overhang with a waterfall, so you could sit under the falling water as you lounged, looking over your private gully, and out to those gorgeous red cliffs!
Oh - and I forgot to mention - out in the front courtyard was also a little (there was a special word for it, but I forget...cochina?) anyway, it was a whole separate apartment type room, complete with it's own kitchenette and bath.
Boy, do I want this house!
We had a blissful day thinking that someday, maybe we really will move down here, (not in THAT house, not at $1.5 mil.! but somewhere...) Then, the next day on the drive home, hubby started saying...well, you know we could never really do it - how could we leave our kids, and I want to live close to the grandkids, blah, blah, blah,. I told him "just stop right there! I know what you're saying is true, but I like this dream, and I want to keep dreaming it!!!"
So, I tore this picture out of the brochure - it's probably as close to owning it as I'll ever get.
(But don't you love it?)

In Search of Sunflowers and Other Lost Things...

One day, about a month ago, as I was grocery shopping, I wandered past the plant & flower section back behind the produce (confession; I always do this. I just love seeing what flowers are "in season" each week - their beauty and color always brightens up this drab chore for me.) Anyway, this particular day, there was the most wonderful array of Sunflowers!...These were not your everyday run-of-the-mill sunflowers. These were the ones with the deep reds and oranges, and there were also some exotic ones with that fluffy yellow "fringy" stuff in the center.
They were so gorgeous, and I dearly wanted to take them home with me, but, alas, it was also one of those "end of the paycheck, must be practical" days, so I left, sunflowerless, but vowing to return soon to purchase (dare I hope?) maybe even 2 bunches of sunflowers to delight some boring ordinary corner of my home.
...Just as you suspected, the next time I returned to the store...and every time since, (and every store since) there has not been another sunflower to be had.
This type of thing seems to be happening more and more often to me these days.
Just this week, I created a scrapbook page that needs just a short length of dark brown ric-rack in order to be finished - we are not talking about triple-plated titanium here, just a little piece of plain old ric-rack! But search as I might, I have not been able to locate any. Surely a common everyday item like this still exists?!
...But aparently not in Utah County!
Ah, the lovely things I could create, if only I didn't have to spend all my time searching...
*Sigh* :(

(No, the photo isn't my local grocery store, it's Pike's Market in Seattle, but I loved the sunflowers there too!)

Schpeils on Wheels...

Ok, so I was reading through all my posts the other day, (always in search of that ever-present typo) and I realized - if I didn't know me, and had to judge my personality solely on what's printed here - I would never guess that "this person" had a sense of humor! ...and I do! I have a delightful sense of humor! Thousands of...well, dozens - ok, well, at least one person has mentioned that to me at least once...
So it's time to lighten up a bit...
I was reading a friend's blog (a very brilliant friend!) and in one of her posts she was comparing herself to a vehicle - saying that if she were one, she would be a dumptruck (!) Well, if she were in fact a dump truck, she would be a sushine yellow one, with scrolly black detailing, plenty of shiny chrome, and a super hydrolic lift,...ok, I'd like to go on, but I really have no idea what goes into a dump-truck. What I'm saying here is that I think she's cool.
She made this comparison, making it sound as if it was a bad thing, like it would be so much better to be a racy, fire-engine red convertible...but you know - those kind of cars are the first ones the police notice when they are speeding, they often get smooshed up, because people make them go faster that it is prudent to go - and they wear out, and go out of style much more quickly...
Personally, I am thankful for dump trucks! Imagine if you will, a road construction crew, having to shovel gravel hauled by a little red convertible - modern travel would be at a stand-still! Who is it who is always there to clear off the road when mother nature dumps 4 feet of snow in 2 hrs. time? (Ooops! she mentioned she hates shoveling snow too - sorry!)...but really, who's going to do that? Huh??? Not those little convertibles! They can't even get out of the driveway!
Ok - let's look at it from another angle - if say, I were a vehicle...I would be an old '52 "Rambler," it may have looked nice once, but those days are over never to return again. It is stashed away in the back of the scrap yard where no one can see it anymore, because it is an embarrassment to others of it's kind. It's wheels are rusty, and don't move at all anymore without making that horrible grinding noise that makes everyone turn around and cringe...the best it could hope for would be to be re-furbished and displayed in an auto show, but alas, the old Rambler was never noteworthy enough to even be classified as a "classic."
So, my dear friend, there are much worse things than being a dump truck. Be glad for the day that God in his wisdom created you to be strong, useful, dependable, and to have an essential place in society, and can not be replaced by anything (or anyone) else!

9 * 11

Ok, I've been listening and reading everyone's "where I was when it happened" stories today, so maybe it's time to share mine...
I was trying to get Jenny to hurry and get ready for school. (She was in 4th grade at the time) She was sitting at the bar eating her bowl of cereal, and watching tv, I walked in as the news bulletin was playing...I remember just being stunned as I saw footage of the airplane hitting the first tower. At first, I thought I was seeing previews for a movie or something, because it was so surreal! As I watched, it became more and more eveident that this was an actual event unfolding before my very eyes! My chin dropped, as did my stomach... I was glued to the spot where I stood. I felt a kind of fear that I have never experienced before in my life! My young innocent daughter looked up - she being from a generation where "special effects" are an every-day fact of life, and she lauged. I stopped her immediately - my first thought being, how do I tell her what's happening, without scaring her to death - but this was not a laughing matter - people were dying as we watched. There is no way to even begin to describe the feelings I had as the towers started to fall...
I remember as they replayed the events over and over on the news all day, it felt like it was happening over and over...the fear and sadness was just overwhelming and oppressive.
As I drove my daughter to school, and myself to work - it just felt wrong to be going about my normal routine...at work, the atmosphere was somber - no idle laughter, or casual chit chat today. Customers were few, and also very sober.
On the day that was designated a national day of prayer and rememberance, a candle light vigil was held at the local park. I am usually not a "joiner", my family just doesn't usually do things like this, but I felt that we had to be there this time - even though it happened thousands of miles away - it was deeply personal to all of us!