The Older I Get the Less I Know

I have had a revelation! This might not seem like a lot but I am very often a social idiot, so I'm glad I've had my eyes open at least. Anyway, here goes: Manners, or ettiquite, protect us from the unpleasant consequences of faulty assumptions. Or, as my "interpersonal communications" teacher taught in high school, "When you "ass u me" you make am "ass" out of "u" and "me." Recently I had a neighbor (neighbor A) talk to me and as we spoke it became apparent that another neighbor's (neighbor B) actions or lack thereof were driving her crazy.
It's hard to condense everything into a brief version but basically the Neighbor B had assumed that Neighbor A didn't care at all if B's kids were all over the play equipment or if B's husband took it upon himself to "fix" the broken equipment so that his kids could play on it safely. After all, she assumed because no one ever said anything no one cared and because the slide hadn't been fixed right away it wasn't going to be fixed unless she did it. Or maybe I'm just assuming what B was thinking. The point is, if everyone had good manners, permission would have been asked before the equipment was played on or fixed. There were a few other issues of irritation we discussed but ultimately they all came down to assuming a person felt a certain way or had a particular motiviation which might not have even been the case. But if people had just behaved in a mannerly way--asking permission, respecting privacy, inviting others and not asking "nervy" questions, then many assumptions which are probably wrong would have never been made. So maybe I need to check out a Miss Manner's book so I can brush up on my behavior.

Speakers

A couple of months ago, I was in a service station restroom with Goose, when all of a sudden, we heard a loud voice boom into the room. Goose looked all around and wanted to know who was talking. I told her the sound came from the speaker. "Speaker," she said. Well, a few weeks later, a similar thing occurred in a Costco restroom. "Speaker." Well, it has recently come to Goose's attention that there are speakers everywhere, and I know she wants me to tell her how they work. The more I try to explain, the more I realize that I haven't the foggiest notion of how speakers do what they do. But she is so excited about them--"They make me happy" she said smilingly to me and Beulah as she was looking at the speakers dotting the ceiling of our chapel. And happy is a good thing to be.

Tales of a Goose and Which Mr. Rochester?

Goose was just standing in front of a mirror, holding up one of Beulah's necklaces, and swinging it back and forth. She was singing to herself, "Necklace, necklace, necklace, breaking necklace, breaking necklace, necklace is all gone, necklace is all gone." At that point, I retrieved the necklace and saw that in fact it was not broken (but not for lack of trying!).

She is noticing that everyone has come home today with candy. No one's stash is safe, I'm afraid. My adventures in babysitting have been going pretty well. The little girl I watch is very sweet and easy. Today, she and Goose played pretty well together. I find I am grateful that I seem to have two of everything--two strollers, two zip-up lunch boxes, two stuffed elephants that we can pretend are babies. I did "preschool" this week with the two little girls plus three others. It was much less structured than when I did it with T-Bone and Beulah, but seeing that Goose isn't even three yet, I'm not too concerned. She didn't handle it very well and was very upset when the other girls wanted to sit in her booster chair. I don't think she could identify the letter "Q" if our lives all depended on it, in spite of my best efforts.

Husband and I are halfway through (waiting for Netflix to ship the other disc) the 2006 Masterpiece Theater version of Jane Eyre. I think I have seen at least

one (Orson Wells)

two (William Hurt)

three (Ciaran Hinds)

four (Timothy Dalton)

versions of it so far besides the current one (Toby Stevens)

and it amazes me that I can still be interested in the story. I am not sure what my favorite version is, because I can't remember the William Hurt or Orson Wells ones very clearly. The sexual tension is the best in the Ciaran Hinds movie, especially when he pulls her closes and growls something along the lines of, "I can feel that you want me." I do believe he is the best Mr. Rochester. I'm not sure I approve of the man, of course, being that he wants to drag the pure Jane into a bigamous marraige, but I like his passion.

Okay, I've wasted way to much time harvesting pictures for this excursion and now I am done.

Morning Update

Today Goose woke up early and Husband got her and brought her into bed. Fortunately she fell asleep again and everyone was able to sleep in. She is currently writhing around on the floor.
T-Bone and William are playing something downstairs invovlving their castle legos.
Boon Dog is still here.
Janey is enjoying an extra long sleep in; she finished up her science fair project last night.
Beulah is sleeping in but when awake is contemplating the shape of her eyebrows.
Husband's knees are recovering from our trip to the office yesterday when we glued the the trimmed carpet pieces to the wall. It looks MUCH better now.
I am wondering if I'm going to make breakfast cake this morning. I probably will, and here is the recipe:
2 c. flour (we like whole wheat)
1 T. baking powder
1 t. salt
1 c. sugar
1/3 c. butter.
Mix the above ingredients (I actually use my bare hands; using a pastry cutter would be better but I don't have one) until the butter is pea-sized.
Add:
2 eggs
1 c. milk
1 heaping T. sour cream
1/2-1 c. berries.
Put in a 9 x 13 pan.
For the topping:
Mix 1/2 c. brown sugar, 1 t. cinnamon, 1/3 c. flour and 1/4. butter (add a lot more brown sugar, because everyone always wants more. Or maybe just double everything; I always kind of wing this part) until crumbly. Sprinkle on top of the cake and bake for thirty minutes at 375.
Lately the topping has been sinking in. I think it's a result of the type of wheat I use. I'm not much of a presentation person so it don't care where the sugar is as long as I can taste it. :)

Just a Touch of Perspective

A couple of weeks ago we were playing a family game (Ticket to Ride, I think) and Beulah was at the computer, working on her homework and dabbling with Facebook and listening to music. All of a sudden, I realized that she was on one of those websites that allows you to play whatever song you want. I had to take over and I made her play all these songs from my youth that I used to love and be moved and invigorated by and I'm sad to report that Johnny Rotten has lost his appeal for me. I mean, the music we heard, "Rise," was accompanied by a video that 's probably 20 years old and in it he looked like a worried old lady. Nineteen years ago, I loved the man. I saw him in concert three times and once I even smuggled in a queen sized sheet emblazoned with the spraypainted words "WE WANT YOUR BODY" to one of the shows and tried to unfurl it from my nosebleed seat to get his attention. But back the music. The song just wasn't as exciting as it used to be. The same went for "Lie to Me" and songs from Front 242. I wonder what's changed in me? There are some songs from my youth that still get my blood going: "White Lines" by Grandmaster Flash will always, always be fun to dance to and last week in the car I heard the RUN-DMC version of "Walk This Way," and I turned up the volume all the way and loved it all over again (good thing it was in the dark so no one could see me dancing and trying to sing in my seat--not a pretty picture.) But I guess a lot of the songs that I thought were politically interesting or intellectually challenging really . . . aren't. Or maybe I'm just trying to be cool in a different, thirtysomething way.

Well, life has is challenges but it's still pretty good. I'm reading a book that has transported me to a different time and place and that's always fun.

Well, I'm off to meet with Beulah and her counselor to chose 9th grade classes. What fun!

Time

I often find myself wasting time and that goes against my philosophical outlook. Rationally, I understand that there are only 24 hours in the day and that every moment you let escape is one you can never again have. Yet I use my time so poorly. Part of it is that I don't like a lot of structure. I like to to have wiggle room (on my own terms, of course, please don't subject me to your needs for wiggle room). I find that the more things I have to do in a day, the shorter my temper and the more tense I become. Maybe it's because I'm inherently selfish and just want to do what I want to do. . . . Yeah, that's probably it.

I keep thinking about learning more on the computer so I can make my blog cuter or get into Beulah's stuff and find out what she's doing, but again that requires time and discipline. And I find that when I'm trying to make things cute on the computer I really want to start from scratch and do it all my own way, which takes FOREVER of course. (I once spent I don't know how many hours trying to make a newsletter cute, and in the end it would have been so much nicer and quickly done if I just used an available templete.) I think I have a need to create that I simply have to channel into something that is practical and useful.

On another note, the funeral for my grandma was lovely. It was so good to see all the family, and I really enjoyed hearing everyone talk about what a great lady she was. I kept seeing the RS ladies darting back and forth with food, working and cleaning to make sure everything was nice. As we were eating, it occured to me that everything I put in my mouth was made by someone who donated their time and substance out of love, and I felt so grateful and resolved that from now on, when there are funerals happening I will be sure to bring something.

Twila, Part 2

Well, I got the call this morning that my grandma passed away last night. I know she is in a better place and with her family and friends who went before her. I want to just share a few memories and thoughts: Whenever she and Grandpa would come down to my childhood home in San Diego, she would make Cream Puffs and fill them full with vanilla pudding. She gave us coins from her purse. When my younger brother's leg was broken and he was confined to a body cast, she made tapes of herself reading books so he could listen to them (I would listen, too, of course). She wrote me faithfully while we lived in Scotland and I was lonely for correspondence. She made fun salads with baby shrimp and jello. I spent most of my Thanksgivings while I was at college with her and Grandpa, and she would always make a good meal and then hurry to clean it up--without the benefit of a dishwasher. Before we ate Grandpa would always look at her and say, "Well, I suppose I ought to say it," and she would look at him with a feigned reservation and say, "I suppose you should," and then he'd say, "Well, it's good to get a square meal for once." She liked to make cookies and peanut brittle at Christmas. She liked looking after her those who were in need and would pick up the mail for her ailing neighbors. The last few years before she left her home in Downey she would bake angel food cakes for funerals. She claimed to buy them by the case. She and Grandpa were always busy in the shop, making things for people--building desks, beds, shelves, and blocks. Whenever we visited her in her new home, the kids would always get out the blocks to play and she'd look at them and say, "That was a good toy that we made. I don't know how many hundreds of boxes of blocks we made out in the shop." She was proud and grateful for her children and she especially liked Husband, because he would always help clean up after meals without being asked. She didn't care much about material things and was generous her substance. She liked to go for rides in the car and enjoyed doing word search puzzles. She crocheted when she was younger and made afgans and rugs. She was always cheerful and fun to visit, and had a paper taped to her wall that said "I am determined to be cheerful and happy in whatever situation I may find myself. For I have learned that the greater part of our misery or unhappiness is determined not by our circumstance but by our disposition." What a wonderful lady, the world needs more like her.