Provo Tabernacle Goes Up in Flames

It's a pretty sad day when a landmark like this is destroyed by fire.  It's so easy to think these treasures will be around forever, that they're often taken for granted. 

ksl.com - Provo firefighters still fighting tabernacle fire (Gallery Viewer)

Christmas Surprise!

My friend Jane from Macon sent me this.  Enjoy.  Many times. 

Oh. My. Goodness.

A prize to the person who finds the most mistakes in this comment that I found written in response to an article in the Deseret News.  Is it the curse of being an English teacher or is it just me?  Please, please, PLEASE tell me this is just a punctuation/capitalization/usage satire or I think I'll quit my job FOREVER!  And then there's the content.  And the grammar.  And, the announcement to everyone and their dog that he's a Mormon, to boot!  

Help me, Rhonda. 

"It's LDS Church leaders that strongly urge "moderate" (that's a liberal term by the way), approach to illegal immigration reform, not all Church Member's and American Citizen's. I refuse too participate with that thinking. Utah must obey all the written law's of the land and "NEVER" ever adopt a phony illegal humane approach to this reality, reflecting on their culture, history and spirit of inclusion. Right now Utah don't respect the rule of law and support law enforcement's professional judgment and discretion. They try to turn "federal code's" into minor State civil violations stuffed into Bill's in Congress along with earmarks and pork. while they oppose policies that unnecessarily separate families and deport the parent's, when they have the right to take their "welfare kid's" along with them. Utah don't really acknowledge the non-economic role illegal immigrants play while real American workers and taxpayers pay for while they are here. That's my view, like it or not. And I'm a Mormon also. Plus a true conservative that does not hide the truth's."

Normal

Ever read the children's book called Too Much Noise? 

That's how I feel tonight. 

Strip away one bronchial infection, one two-week trip to Italy and Switzerland, the writing of 36 individual lesson plans for various substitute teachers, the finding of a substitute teacher for one primary class (for two Sundays--from the airport), one pacemaker for my mother, one relative moving in with us, one daughter's wedding reception in our back yard, one wedding, one wedding dinner, one bridal shower, one loved and lovely bunch of extended family members staying with us for the one wedding, several of other people's wedding receptions, one 3-hour BYU class every Tuesday night, one trip to the ER, one adverse reaction to an antibiotic leaving two shins to look like they had [really] bad razor burn (for over a week!), two afternoons and evenings of parent/teacher conferences, two or three soccer games for one grandson, one husband with anemia, one daughter and her family unexpectedly moving from PA back to Utah, one house-hunting trip for the movees, one daughter moving back home (if only for a month), one garage filled with college-student stuff, one attempt at trying to be helpful by taking a meal into another family (but taking it to the wrong family), the start of one school year, the missing of three days of school for illness (I never had a sick day before now), three days of school for a wedding, and six days of school for a trip....and the packing of all of the above into less than one 8-week period....Strip all that away and what do you have?  You have normal, but what used to feel like Too Much Noise!

Instead, on this first day of back-to-normal in less than 8 weeks, all I had to do (bronchial infection nearly gone) was get up at 5:30 a.m., unload the dishwasher, make the bed, eat a bowl of cold cereal, water the plants, wash my hair, and go teach my classes.  Piece. Of. Cake.  Ahhhhhh.  I LOVE normal.  Shoot me, please, if I ever complain again!

Advice

If you're eating almonds out of one hand and you have an extra-strength Excedrin in the other, try to remember which hand holds which so you don't pop the pill in your mouth and chew it like a nut. 

Friends and Family Days

Dear Friends and Family,

We're going through closets and all the stuff in them as we prepare rooms upstairs for paint and new carpet. Here's the latest discovery: 3 perfectly good vaporizers. We don't need three.

1.  We've had one here for years.

2.  The Professor bought another one when he was at Notre Dame.

3.  Sometime BN (before Notre Dame), he got up in the night here, unable to breathe, but couldn't find ours so he went to the store and bought another one. In the middle of the night!  (I can't really blame him for not waking me. I mean, which is easier? Going to the store or waking me to ask where the vaporizer is?  Do not answer that to my face, please.)

So, like I said, we don't need three. Anybody want/need one? If not, they'll go to DI.  Because we're on good terms with DI this month.

Love,
Nicea

Next up:  Hammers, screwdrivers (one can never have too many Phillips head screwdrivers), gloves, flashlights and other multiple purchases*. Amazing what you can find when you clean. Here's the success story of the summer so far: I found my favorite umbrella.  The red one.  It was in the bottom of my white purse.... IN THE LINEN CLOSET in the upstairs hallway!!!  I should have known it would be there, right? Because most people store their handbags with the sheets and pillowcases.

Love,
Nicea

*On the subject of purchases.  I'm pretty good at buying the occasional birthday/wedding/baby gift.  It's getting them into the hands of their rightful recipients that brings me down.  So, if your name is Megan or Brian, Jeff,  Max,  Rebecca (formerly Gilbert),  Melanie Elison**, or Annie (formerly Pinegar***) you might want to come over and pick up your gift.  It's taking up space. 
N.
 
**Sorry Ab.  We'll make it up to her when you come in September. 
***Melanie - This plant's gonna die.  Get over here!

Memorial Day Weekend - Part 2

Nevermind.

Memorial Day Weekend - Part 1

Mt. Timpanogos was there.  As always.  Firm.  Like the song says.

And so were some very special military people when we said goodbye to Papa on Friday.  He was 85.  We're told that only the best are selected to pay tribute to fellow soldiers at their final resting place.

They're dignified.  And solemn.  And the way they handle the flag!  The ritual makes me feel secure.

I wanted to salute them.  Like these men saluted Papa.  He had served in the Navy as a young man.

And this older soldier!  Such dignity!  I'm SURE he's part of the Greatest Generation.  But I'm afraid he might never know how much esteem we hold for him.  I really don't think there's a human way to communicate that to him.  Can we EVER adequately thank him (and his comrades) for everything?
He kinda looks like my dad.

They presented the folded-up flag to Fred.

These three granddaughters were present.  Blake came.

And little great granddaughter Perry, too.

She liked the chairs.

Announcing the Winner

And Natalie wins the post naming contest by a landslide!! The winning title is (drumroll please) "Getting Old Sucks". This title was selected from among thousands of nine other entries. All hers. Thank you, Natalie, for playing. Thanks, too, to all other commentators for indulging me at my momentary pity party. And now, we shall not speak of this again.

Until next time.

Untitled - See Below*

Not that I expect it from anyone, but if you ever DO go back into the comments on my blog (or anyone else's, for that matter) to see if someone has responded to a comment YOU made, and if you happen to have done so on my previous post about The Professor's birthday, then you may be calculating my age based on his comment.

Or not.

(While I think this is all about me, you are under no obligation to agree.)

In either case, allow me to explain.

It's much like a story problem in math. I am a certain age. I am 3 years older than The Professor. On his birthday, I thought it would be fun if he pretended, just to me, that he was older than I am. You know, to be nice. It was a chivalrous thing to do.

I thought it was a private matter.

And I'm sure he did, too.

However, when he thanked everyone for the birthday wishes in his comment on my post, he divulged the fictional age he had decided to adopt (in all his chivalry), inadvertently triggering a train of thought that any curious person reading his comment would, I assume, think: "Hmmmm. If X equals The Professor's age and Y equals the Number of Years Older she is than he, then The Professor's Wife's age equals X + Y or ______.

ANSWER: Let me be clear: I'M NOT OLDER THAN 61 FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!!

I am, right now, a little sensitive about aging.

Sorry. I can't help it.

It's not that I have anything against old people. From the perspective of a 12-year-old, I am one. (Geez, from the perspective of a 50-year-old, I am one.) But still....

It has more to do with the fact that, as the years fly by at rakish speeds, I realize how impossible it is to have it all together all at the same time. Just when you figure out some bit of wisdom and start living it...wupp! There go the knees! You've almost figured out how to forgive and forget (Forgetting. Well, now, that's not so hard, is it?) and...flurp! There go the abs. Become more compassionate...blimey! You got jowls. You know what I mean?

But it's especially bad today because it's spring so I'm not wearing long sleeves. AND THE BACKS OF MY ARMS ARE FLAPPING IN THE FREAKING BREEZE!!!
I didn't even master any new insights before that happened. The flab just butted in line.

I hate it when flab butts in line.


*Please feel free to make suggestions. Best title submission wins a prize and the honor of having his/her title grace this post.

Wishin' and Hopin'

Today is The Professor's birthday. Thinking about it on ordinary days, it's a pretty good thing. Because most birthdays are. Good things, I mean. But there's this one, stinkin' little detail: He's younger than I am. So every year I wake up on his birthday wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and prayin'....that he'll be older than I am. But every year it's the same dang thing. He just can't seem to catch up with me.

Happy Birthday, Professor.

Chatting Up The Professor

This post is alternately called When a Parent Needs to Know and Where She Can Find Out.

It is customary for a young man to ask for the hand of the young woman he wants to marry.  Typically this is done by seeking out the father of the future bride.  For the hand of our first-to-be married daughter, Jeff went to The Professor's office and proceeded to make his case.

Apparently it was a grueling experience.

 For the hand of our second to-be-married daughter,  Blake went to The Professor's office and proceeded to make HIS case.  According to him,  The Professor has been improving his techniques over the last six years.

This information and the accompanying photos were recently exchanged between our two sons-in-law on Facebook.  So, thank you,  Facebook.   When a parent needs to know what's really going on, there is no better place to look than on you.

This information may also explain why both Jeff and Blake had to have surgery before their respective weddings. 

I love it when the universe reveals its secrets.

Oh, and Daughter-To-Be-Married #3, you may want to encourage any interested young men in the future to just pick up a phone.  Or better yet, have them submit a brief.

The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs and Other Meaty Matters

This afternoon I finished an absolutely magnificent year-long educational experience that I didn't want to end. It was my school district's associates partnership with BYU (cohort number something-or-other) for inservice teachers and administrators. I met some incredible colleagues from throughout the district and read some mind-expanding, thought-provoking literature that I know I wouldn't have picked up on my own had it not been assigned to me. (My reading tends more toward recreational titles like Alexander McCall Smith's The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs.)

But I digress. Another post for another time.

Three of the aforementioned 2-day-long education sessions took place at The Canyons Resort in Park City. Which brings me to my reason for living writing this post:

Where should we hold the 2011 Stimpson Family Reunion next summer?

I have a suggestion: The Westgate Hotel at the Canyons Resort. (NOTE: This is intended only to light up the discussion board, not to dictate anything to anyone.)

One thing I liked about The Westgate was that summer rates drop dramatically to $149 per night for a really nice room that

1.   sleeps 8 [2 king beds and 2 queen pullouts],
2.   has 2 full kitchens and 2 family rooms,
3.  4 flat-screen TVs,
4.  2 two-person [or four-person-if-you're-into-that-sort-of-thing-but-you'd-better-not-be--not on my watch] jetted tubs,
5.  2 two-person shower/saunas, and
6.  a door that can be closed to divide the 8-person space into two separate, more private spaces (4 people in each).

On site also are indoor and outdoor swimming pools, a workout room, and then some other amenities that cost extra but I can't remember them right now--your typical resort stuff like a spa and hair salon--you know the stuff.

Photos here.

There are lots of things to do in the summer in Park City.

It gets us out of the heat, were we to hold the reunion around the 4th of July like we did for a few years in the past.

If Grandma maintains her current mobility, she could come to it and stay at our house for a few days before and/or after, as could anyone else traveling some distance. (We have sleeping beds for 10 adults plus as many floor spaces for children as needed.)

Bren and Teresa live in the area now. Bim and Krista have relatives in the area. Greg and Shawn have relatives in the area. Coy and Scott have relatives in the area. Kevin and Jamie have relatives in the area.  Coy's and Scott's dogs have relatives in the area. 

We are in the area.

Throwin' it out there.  Right atcha.

It was just your typical Cinco de Mayo

Until these two came for a visit.  Texting and talking on the phone would have made them pretty boring visitors.

If it hadn't been for the exciting news they were spreading!
 




 





























Save the date:  September 17.  

 

Things I Heart

Can't stop thinkin' about tomorrow...and who and what I love.   

The beginnings of my list:







the smell of new books

red roses

warm sun on my back

little boys

little girls

funny people

little kids speaking Spanish

a good haircut

a warm shower

a comfortable bed

road trips

a clean car

my family

folded towels

shiny windows

the scent of carnations

bean and cheese burritos

clean sheets

ironed pillow cases

emails

blog comments

typing

the smell of leather

mint fields

a pine-scented forest after rain

dusk

sunrise

starry skies

kindness

thunder storms

grandkids

summer

falling snow

restful sleep

a good challenge

the smell of fresh-cut grass

my job

good neighbors

NPR

50's music

dark cherry chocolates

fancy restaurants you can wear jeans in

humor

new shoes

creativity developed and shared

homemade noodles

Italy

people's individualism

a good novel

warm feet

chewing gum

 Excedrin

learning new stuff

cute umbrellas

forgiveness

Mom

waking up at 6 a.m. to breathing in my face and "Gwamma, are you awake?"

fresh herbs and the smell of thyme

driving across the Blue Mountains

the ocean

train rides

getting off the airplane

pretty driver license pictures (never had one)

Costco

the end of a workout session

babies' smells and soft skin

clean teeth

cousins' dinners

family reunions

the end of a workout

bruschetta

watermelon

rosemary topiaries

fresh tomatoes

designer fabrics

a good cry

chips and salsa

hearty back scratches

Ground Hog's Day - 1987

Are you ready to celebrate another birthday on this blog already?
Alrighty, then.  Some tidbits for you.

She made lists to plan her parties.  Lists of invitees.  Lists of presents.  Lists of games to play.  Lists of party favors.  Weeks before the actual day.

But first.....May I re-turn (la, la, la, la) to the be-gin-ning?

IN the beginning,

while we awaited her entrance into the world, the OB/GYN called in the stork team:  about five specialists who stood waiting to take her away the minute her head peeked out.  The only positive sign she gave them was a heartbeat.  So for five extra days after her mother was discharged from the hospital, she had to stay.  And her mother made trips back and forth to feed her.

Hospital gown, fashionable IV and ankle bracelets = evidence that this girl was destined for future employment at... Nordstrom?

Her mother was especially good with a camera even back then.  

Who can find the baby?

 She potty trained herself when she was three.  She's five in this picture. 

I just threw that in.

 Watch her grow into her two front teeth. 

See?  Growing, growing. 

 Almost there.

 Ah.

 She has arrived.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MANDA SUZI!

You light up my life. 

She's a Woman Half My Age

January 31, 1980 at Kaiser-Permanente Hospital in Los Angeles.

Two months later, Nicea to Grandma Sue:  "She's such a good baby.  Is something wrong with her?

(Keep in mind that she followed her hyper older brother into this world.

So her mother was still trying to gain some perspective. 

And equalibrium.) 

Indeed, Annie was a good and nice little girl.

Who grew into a good and nice little teenager.

 

 

And a good and nice young woman after that.

This year and this year only, I'll be twice her age.

After that, the eternities move us closer together. 

I like it.

HAPPY 30th BIRTHDAY, Annie Lizzy!

Oh, my word!

Jamie taught me this game before she got married.  Before she finished midwifery school.  Before she even went on her first date with Kevin.

So, while it's not exactly an ancient relic, you might say it's been around for awhile.

There are some days when I play it for a couple of hours straight.

Because it's a good escape for me, and arguably more productive than watching TV.  Besides, I've already seen all the CSI's, all the Criminal Minds and all the Law and Order SVU's.

And I'm not really into The Bachelor or Desperate Housewives.  Though I did take a little spin with The Real Housewives of Orange County and their counterparts in New York City and New Jersey.

But that was just a flirtation.  I'm over it now.

But I may never, ever be over this again!  It may be my one laurel, the one I'm going to rest on. 

Three oh one, oh five oh.
I took pictures because I didn't think you'd believe me.

Fat Cheeks: The Prequel

For Jana. 

Forgot I Did This Post Last Week

I was looking through some photos from last winter. From 360 days ago, to be exact. Just shy of a whole year.

January 4, 2009 looks eerily the same as today*.

Pretty. But has anything changed?

I hope so.

I hope I'm a little smarter about some stuff.

I hope I'm a little wiser.

I hope I know how to love a little better, am a little more forgiving and a lot less judgmental.

I know I weigh 27 pounds less. Okay, 19. I put 8 back on since last June.

Backslider.

But the Oreos are all gone as is Ceri's fudge that Grandma sent. We all know the only way to dispose of that stuff is to eat it and I was dutiful. And now I'm a little less tempted.

BRING IT ON, 2010!

*Post actually written December 31, 2009.