Young Love

This may come as a surprise, but Jeff was not the first great love of my life. 

In terms of longevity and passion, which would seem to be a reasonable way to assess things, there were three.

One ended badly and is still a bit of a sore point.
The last one, of course, is Jeff.

And then there was my first, when I was sixteen.

His name was David.

We dated for a year and I loved him madly.

He was a guy and I don't know if he was as smitten. There was, after all, surfing and hunting and sports and all kinds of other things to compete for his attention.

So, after 30 years of marriage, is it taboo to talk about him?

Hope not, 'cause here we go!

There are only, as far as I know, two photos in existence of David and me.
He has one of them.
This is the other.

David was a tease and full of the joys of life. I don't ever remember him being mad or moody. He loved the outdoors and working hard and having adventures. At school, he used to help me carry my book bag, which was a sign of true devotion. At Saturday night movies (at our afore-mentioned high school) we held hands, even though it was illegal. I loved his family too, who seemed larger than life to this little English girl. Then, after a year of completely dominating my life, his family moved back to the States.

I was, of course, heartbroken.

For a long time, I used to dream of traveling to the States to visit him, but this was 1972 and the dream was far out of my reach.

We wrote for a few years, passionately at first and then not so much. I loved others and so did he.

Then, in 1976, my best friend and I came over to the U.S. David was serving a mission in San Jose and I spent a day with him. We had become friends, which was the best surprise of all!

A few more years went by and we ended up marrying within three months of each other.

Fast forward 30 years.

I often wondered what became of David but no one seemed to know. Then I found out he had moved back to Vernal, his home town. When Mark and I decided to visit our friend Debbie in Vernal, the temptation was too much. I did a little research (everyone say, all together, ZABA SEARCH!) and found David's address and phone number.

Scary thing, the internet!

It took a few days to pluck up my courage, but Wednesday night I called him.

His wife answered the phone and was as pleasant as could be. She said he was out but that he would call me back.

I didn't think he would.

Then, Thursday night, when I had just about given up, the phone rings.

It was he.

He was tickled that I called, having had no idea of where I've been for the last 30 years. He invited us all to stay with them when we got to Vernal.

So we did.

Yes, that is me, with David and his delightful wife, Cathy, forgetting to suck in our stomachs.

We spent many hours reminiscing...

...about the time David fooled me into thinking he was giving me an opal ring for Christmas. When I opened the box (after an almost sleepless night, due to great excitement) and read the little note that said "Ha ha, fooled you!" I was so mad that I hardly spoke to him the rest of the day, even after he gave me a beautiful opal necklace.

...or the time he lied to me about his birthday and I planned all kinds of special things and it was the wrong day. And month.

...or when we rode out to Pirongia on motorbikes and he inadvertently left me there. 

Yes, he did come back to get me upon discovering that I wasn't at home, but it was getting dark and I was in tears. And mad. Even though it was mostly my fault.

I told him how embarrassed I am, in retrospect, of how hard I sobbed in the back seat of our friends' car on the way back from the airport when he left. All 90 miles. He said, Yeah, my shirt was sopping wet!

We pored through our yearbooks and I filled him in on all the scandalous doings of our mates from school. Made us feel quite boring, comparatively speaking.

When I commented that David is the only boyfriend with whom I remained friends, he said, It's because we never broke up.

I said to Cathy, That was so generous of you to offer a room to your husband's old girlfriend.

Yes, she said, I dare not tell my girls, they'll think I'm crazy!

Only a woman secure in her husband's love could do that, don't you think?
And do you know the finest thing of all? 

Absolutely the most outstanding thing?

Cathy and I are kindred spirits.

We have so much in common that it is eerie, from being piano teachers of like styles and our ten-year-old hysterectomies to our similar hobbies and food tastes. 

She is, however, much nicer than me.

She is also a very good Bishop's wife.

Cathy wants to come and visit me in Oregon.

So, I don't know, is all this weird?
It felt more like serendipity, which is my most favourite thing in the whole world.
And just in case you're wondering, Jeff is okay with it all.
I think.
But he never reads the blog, so I guess it doesn't matter!

Weird and wonderful things sighted on I-84

My Mum tells me (quite frequently) that when you get old you spend a lot of time reminiscing. Well, I must be getting old, because ever since the 50th anniversary reunion of my Alma Mater a couple of years ago, I seem to be stuck in nostalgia mode.

You see, Church College of New Zealand was an unusual experience, being a church-sponsored, co-ed boarding school. Those of us who thrived at CCNZ forged some formidable bonds. Not only did most of the students live together, but we had our faith in common and our social lives also revolved around school and church activities. In the last two years, I've been in contact with friends whom I had not seen in about 35 years. It has been exhilarating and sometimes sad, seeing the direction that life takes people. Or people take their lives.

One of those friends is the gregarious Mark, who sat next to me in three of my five classes in Seventh Form. He lives with his wife and two little kids in an Arab state and was planning a U.S. trip. We have several mutual friends in Vernal, UT, and decided to meet up and drive together to Vernal for our very own mini-reunion. Mark and his wife, Grace, spent a day at our house, recovering from jet lag, and early Saturday morning we hit the road. We stopped for gas and breakfast at a truck stop in Troutdale and saw some interesting sights. You might want to click on the first photo to see a clearer picture.

This old renegade wasn't shy with his opinions and was proud to have his picture taken! You can put it anywhere you want, was his reply when I asked him if I could put it on my blog. I love people who are undaunted in their beliefs.
Especially when they agree with me!

Then, in the same parking lot, was this strange view.
A baby's car seat, perched on top of a van, with no perceptible restraint system.
I'm still wondering about that one! It reminds me of when Jeff would tire of a baby's crying (usually Jon) and roll his window all the way down so that the gust of air rendered him or her speechless. What a guy!

Then, of course, the obligatory sojourn at Multnomah Falls, an Oregon icon...

...which partly explains our almost-midnight arrival in Vernal.

That, and Mark's unfortunate inclination for driving at the speed limit.

By the time we arrived, Grace was grumpy, Mark was exhausted, and I had just about eroded his good nature with my chatty efforts at keeping him awake and my repeated offers to drive.

Luckily, our hosts were still awake and happy to see us.

More juicy bits to follow.


Warning to my kids: you may not want to read tomorrow's post.
Just remember, your Mom was once young too.

Tuesday Tunes

Summer concerts in the park.
Some people are all about the food.

Some are about the booze.
Oh, and don't forget the Farmers' Market.

Me, I'm all about the music.

Tonight, Igor's Jazz Cowboys at the park, on a perfect summer evening.

With Bethany and four of my favourite kids.

Come and see what you missed.

Or were you there and saw me making a fool of myself?

Daniel did not deign to dance, but sat wrapped in a blanket, eating his free popcorn.

Then Sule Wilson, the percussionist, started a conga line.

I was right there behind him.

Natalie was game and tripped along beside me.

Kenzie was embarrassed.

So was Josh.

A new high note, don't you think?

Embarrassing my grandkids.

I'm the one in the old lady straw hat.

And yes, of course I bought a CD!

Gracias amigas

I kinda like to bike. In the summer, when it's not too hot, I bike around town as much as I can. It makes me feel virtuous for not using fossil fuels and I optimistically think that it also uses calories.

Although the second thought may be fallacious.

Sometimes I ride just for fun, or exercise, or both.

My favourite riding buddy is Ellen, of  The Other Foote fame. 

She rides a little bit faster than me so it challenges me.

Which is good. 
Most of the time.

Brenda came along this time. 

Brenda, whose middle name is Superwoman.

We were riding a lovely winding road through farm country. Things were going pretty well until we passed the rose gardens and picked up a sweet chocolate Lab, who thought his ultimate destiny in life was to be our riding companion. Brenda picked up some speed and the Lab matched her, pace for pedal. The faster she went, the faster he went, tongue hanging out and spraying slobber as he slipped her adoring sidelong glances.

"I love you, I love you, I love you. I want to run with you forever and ever and ever."

Ellen and I hung back, laughing all the way and me wishing I was clever enough to take photos on the fly. Only I knew if I tried I would end up in an ignominious heap on the side of the road. We were a little worried that maybe someone would miss him, but he stoically ignored our pleas for him to Go home.

A rather fast mile or so later, we were passing a couple of houses surrounded by fields and out ran not one, not two, but three rather fierce-looking dogs, barking and baring their teeth. Brenda kept pedaling fast, Ellen found hidden reserves (apparently) and there was I, surrounded by snarling canines.

I yelled at them, but they were un-fazed.

I was afraid that they would lunge at me and knock me off my trusty Trek, so I slowed down, all the time yelling at the dogs and my so-called friends.

Eventually, I got far enough past their house that they let me go free. 

The dogs, not my friends.

So-called friends.

When I finally caught up to them, the so-called friends, they told me that it was the fate of the slowest rider to deal with mad dogs.

Gee, I guess I forgot to read that memo.

Chocolate Lab stayed with us for a bit longer and then decided we weren't fun any more.

Or something.

Heck, I decided we weren't any fun any more.

Some of us didn't want to face the dogs on the return trip, so the consensus was to do a loop. In my imaginary loop, we would follow the highway (the nice, flat highway) back to the car.

But no, I was misled. 

We did the big loop home. 

The longer, hillier loop. 

Against the wind. 

Shanghaied, I call it.

I moaned and complained all the way.
I know it was only sixteen miles and for some of us that is only a stroll in the park, but me, I have to fight for every mile of it. 

If, if, I say, I go riding with these two again, I shall carry mace.

For the dogs, you ask?

Sure, that's it. For the dogs.

Here we are, mission completed, looking about as bad as we ever look.

Sweaty, flushed, bedraggled.

Brenda, of course, hardly broke a sweat or ruffled her hairdo.

P.S. Hi girlfriends, did you like it? See you next week? I'll bring the mace.

P.P.S. I am off to Utah with one of my CCNZ buddies and his wife, to see a couple of other friends whom we have not seen for 35 years or more. Should be interesting. I'll keep ya posted.

Orts of the week

Crossword puzzle makers love the word. Ort. It means a small scrap of food left over after a meal. The list of synonyms is rather delightful. Atom, butt, chicken feed, ship, crumb, dab, dash, division, dollop, dose, dot, dram, driblet, drop, droplet, end, excerpt, flake, fraction, fragment, grain, iota, item, jot, lick, lump, minim, mite, modicum, moiety, molecule, morsel, niggle, ounce, parcel, part, particle, peanut, pinch, portion, sample, scale, scintilla, scrap, scruple, section, segment, shard, share, shaving, shred, slice, sliver, smidgen, snatch, snip, snippet, specimen, speck, splinter, sprinkling, stub, stump, taste, tittle, trace, trickle, trifle, whit.

I often complain about the foibles of the English language, but think how colourful our prose would be if we consulted the thesaurus more frequently. Although, I have to admit, I fail to see what some of the words in the list have to do with an ort. And why is Spell check not recognizing the word ort? 

It's been a hot week and for some reason, although I've been thinking lots of deep thoughts (really, I have!), they haven't translated into any action on my part, blog-wise. But here, if you care, are some of the things that are still rattling around in my brain.

I finished Traveling with Pomegranates, by Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter. I loved her books, The Secret Life of Bees and The Mermaid Chair, for their "mothering" themes as much as her storytelling skills. This book alternates chapters between mother and daughter, telling of their travels together as well as the growth of their relationship and their individual struggles to know themselves. While I don't have much patience for Sue's ideas of feminism and female deity, I like some of her thoughts on finding wholeness by accepting the old woman she would some day become. I don't admire George Sands or even think I would have liked her if I had met her, but I do like this statement of hers that was quoted in the book. The old woman I shall become will be quite different from the woman I am now. Another I is beginning. This is how I feel sometimes.  Maybe having Mum living with us has made me more aware of how I have changed with each new season of life and I wonder what the next change will be like. 

The nights have, thank goodness, been fairly cool and the mornings pleasant. I walked out of the front door one morning and saw several perfect spider webs in the last stages of construction.

See how his (her) little feet (hands) are pulling on the web filaments.

One night, I thought the sunset looked promising. We can't really see the sunset any more from our back yard. Our neighbours have built a big old second story that blocks the skyline and their trees just keep getting bigger. What's with that? So I walked down the road and had to climb the pile of dirt and weeds that road construction left behind before I could really see. The reality was tame, so I clambered back down the pile and was almost back to my house when I turned around and saw this...

....so I clambered back up the pile of dirt and got my photo.

Sunsets change in a heartbeat.

I hope you appreciate it.

My Mum is only here for another five weeks. In some ways, I am excited to have my house back to my selfish little self. But a part of me is sad and wants to take care of her for the rest of her life. 

I am conflicted about many things.

My buddy Lori gave me these exotic day lilies a few years ago and this summer they have come into their own, which almost makes up for losing one of my hibiscus plants. The best things in my garden first grew in Lori's garden. 

I am currently reading In Defense of Food, by Michael Pollan. I may write a whole post on some of his findings and ideas, because they confirm some of my long-held beliefs about the food we eat in America. As in so many other subjects (can you say "global warming"?) scientists tend to promote their opinions as fact, in this case to the detriment of the health of whole generations of Americans and, increasingly, the world. A few examples are margarine (the "healthy" spread), eggs, low-fat foods, and dietary fat. If you want a good reason to eat less processed and unnatural food, read this book and you will find it. You'll thank me later. Another book related to this topic is Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, by Barbara Kingsolver. She is rather liberal but eminently sensible on the subject of food.

Now, if I could just learn to love my vegetables.

Bethany and the kids came over a couple of times this week. 

Josh became captivated by the bin of cars and spent a few quiet moments in the living room.

I really enjoyed church today. I go every week, but I have to admit that some weeks it's just out of habit. Then once in a while I am rewarded for my constancy by some actual upliftment. The Sacrament Meeting topic was Hope. The speakers all tied faith and hope together and told stories of real people and their own experiences and feelings that made me feel truly blessed to have hope in the resurrection and that all things are in God's hands. One speaker quoted the words of Be Still My Soul. I love the hymn, but it is hard to think about the words when I'm singing them, or, more often, accompanying on the piano.

Be still my soul, the Lord is on thy side;

With patience bear thy cross of grief and pain.

Leave to thy God to order and provide;

In ev'ry change He faithful will remain. 

Be still my soul, thy best, thy heav'nly Friend

Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

And then, in Relief Society, I had been asked to teach the lesson on the atonement, which I found to be a daunting task. But this morning, I latched onto the horizontal aspect of the atonement, that is, showing Christ's love by reaching out to our fellow men. And sisters. Which opened up a whole new level of understanding to me, even though I knew it before. There is so much pain and suffering in the world and we can be God's hand  in others' lives.

So there was that. A little glimmer of gospel understanding in my sometimes skeptical life.

Tonight, we had a dessert social.

You know I love dessert socials, for the camaraderie as much as the sweets. And there was this sweet little guy making eyes at Jeff.

 

Life is uncertain...

...eat dessert first. Ernestine Ulmer.


It's true, I am a social creature, in spite of Jeff's efforts to the contrary. So on Saturday night, we had a party. It was a kind of an un-4th of July party, complete with no fireworks. Here was how the invitation read:
Come and eat scrumptious food, engage in scintillating conversation, and not watch fireworks with us on Saturday night. Jeff will fire up the barbie and we'll try to keep the mosquitoes away. This is an evening for adults, so bring your spouse. Small babies are allowed. We love small babies. Bring a favourite side dish or dessert if you want, like salad or baked beans. We'll supply the meat and buns.


I was a maniac all day Saturday, cleaning house and tidying up the garden so that everyone would think that my house always looked at least this good. I put chicken thighs in Tupperware, one in honey chipotle barbecue sauce and the other in teriyaki sauce, so that the flavours could ripen. I defrosted several different kinds of sausages.  I cleaned a mountain of strawberries (always with the strawberries!) so that we could eat them with homemade ice cream. I grilled up a bunch of Walla Walla onions and red peppers. I went to the store to stock up on cans of pop.  I made a double recipe of hoagie rolls shaped into hamburger and hot dog buns. 
Oh, and did I mention that the main bathroom's toilet broke on Thursday so I also had to spiff up our bedroom so that people could walk through it to get to the only working toilet? 


So Saturday night rolled around and Sandi was the first to show up, minus her S.O. who was off shooting rats in Eastern Oregon
Don't ask.
She was toting a couple of extra  chairs and a delicious rhubarb/blueberry custard cake that I had given the "okay" on. I had a strawberry cake in my neighbour's fridge (no room in my own) that I was also planning to serve, but I figured, what the hey, can't have too much dessert!
Right?
Then Lori and Lige arrived, with a delectable blackberry cheesecake pie thingy.
Yahoo! we exclaimed, that looks yummy.
And Doug and Ellen walked in, carrying some gooey chocolate-y Texas sheet cake.
Mmm, we said, laughing.
And Steve and Sue came bearing tasty gluten-free tollhouse bars.
Then Bryce and Brenda delivered the ice cream makings, as per my request.
And Laurie and Dave walked around the side of the house and came up to the deck bearing a cooler filled with ice for the pop and.....a watermelon!
Anne and Justin came with a scrumptious cake, decorated as a fruity flag.


Wait a picking minute!
What part of "side dish" do you guys not understand?
I guess I never should have given the word "dessert" any space at all.
So we ate meat and buns and dessert.
With lots of condiments.
Which, come to think of it, is just about my idea of heaven!


Oh yes, Betty and Bill turned up late (which if you know Betty is not unusual but they had a good excuse, Bill having nobly attended a pre-party Imax showing of Eclipse with his nuts-about-Twilight wife) and thoughtfully provided an ambrosial fresh fruit salad. Which could almost count as vegetables.
We decided that at the next party, everyone will probably bring salads, which won't be half as much fun.


Several people requested the hoagie roll recipe, so here it is:
Hoagie Rolls
5 1/2 tsp yeast
3 c warm water
2 tbs sugar
1/4 c oil
1 tbs salt
8-8 1/2 c all-purpose flour.

In mixer bowl, dissolve yeast and sugar in water. Let stand about 5 minutes. Beat in oil, salt and flour until a soft dough forms. Knead until elastic, about 5 minutes.
Cover in the bowl 45 minutes, then punch down and divide into 18 pieces. Shape into ovals (or circles for hamburgers) and place 2" apart on a greased baking sheet. With scissors, cut a 1/4" slash on each (or not, if for hamburgers) and let rise for 20 minutes.
Brush with water and bake at 400 degrees for 13-18 minutes till golden brown. Cool on racks.


We love to slather these with pulled pork, which is the easiest thing in the world to make. Just put a pork roast (and maybe some onion and sweet peppers if you're feeling fancy)  in the crock-pot and cook on high for about 5 hours, by which time it should be tender. Shred with a fork, remove the worst of the fat, and stir in a bottle or more of your favourite barbecue sauce. This summer I really like Baby Ray's, because it's been on sale everywhere! Cook without the lid for another hour or so to evaporate some of the liquid and intensify the flavours. Bring out the heavenly rolls and dinner is served!

Independence Day, added upon

Let music swell the breeze and ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break, the sound prolong.

Happy Independence Day, on this cold and windy 4th of July, from this ex-pat Brit/Kiwi and my favourite little Peruvian boys.