“If you read a lot of books you are considered well read. But if you watch a lot of TV, you're not considered well viewed.” -Lily Tomlin

I finished reading Condoleezza Rice's book, Extraordinary, Ordinary People last night. It was enjoyable, educational and insightful.

I was particularly fascinated by her insider's recounting of the fall of the Berlin wall, of segregated Birmingham through the eyes of a well-loved child, and making tough financial cuts while provost at Stanford.

A few weeks ago I read Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence. Ms. Wharton has been described as one of America's greatest writers. She was the first woman to win a Pulitzer for fiction. She is an extremely talented in her ability to tell it like it is. Her observations of the natural man are the best I've read. This book deals primarily with the disastrous consequences of completely bowing oneself to social expectation. I agree that we ought to make our own well informed decisions, but where the author and I differ greatly is that I believe we ought to make our decisions and then consult our Father in Heaven whether or not they are what he would have us do. If her main character had done this, his life would have been so much better! (And she probably wouldn't have won the Pulitzer). She is stating a message, a cautionary tale if you will. Well written, it really made me think. It certainly isn't my favorite book, but I do appreciate the fact that it caused me to reflect on life and things that I value.

I am currently reading Wild Nights (Nature Returns to the City) by Anne Matthews. I've just started it, but I LOVE IT. This non-fictional book is about wildlife returning to New York City. She writes about deer in Manhattan, a corn field growing in a median strip in upper Broadway, and my favorite so far "By 1999 coyotes and wild turkeys had began to roam Central Park. ("How did they get there?" demanded The Wall Street Journal. "Crosstown bus?"

Ms. Matthews divides her book into 3 sections, summarized by me as
1: nature's return to the modern city
2: the historic struggle of nature vs. man in NYC
3: possible outcomes of nature returning to the city

So far her writing is gripping, humorous and educational. She really knows how to tell a story, and I'm really enjoying it.

"Extraordinary, Ordinary People"

I have been reading a lot lately.

I guess I've always been an avid reader, sometimes moreso than not. Anyway, I am currently reading Condoleezza Rice's memoir "Extraordinary, Ordinary People". It is fascinating, and I am really enjoying it. I put it on hold at the library as soon as I heard it was coming out, and just got it a few days ago. She is extraordinarly adroit at painting a picture of the segregated South without at all singing the victim. In fact, I'll quote her:

"All these elements - extended family, community, schools, and churches - conspired together to convince me and my peers that racism was "their" problem, not ours. Whatever feelings of insecurity or inadequacy black adults felt in the appalling and depressing circumstances of Jim Crow Birmingham, they did not transfer it to us. For the children of our little enclave, Titusville, the message was crystal clear: We love you and will give you everything we can to help you succeed. But there are no excuses and there is no place for victims."

I love this book so far, and recommend it highly. She is a fascinating person.

Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong!

I grew up in the most beautiful place on earth. It used to be much more rural than it is now, but even so it is such a quaint, soul soothing area. Coming up and over the mountain highway and seeing that first view of my home town is a little glimpse of heaven.

As we were coming into town, I commented to Mr. A.H. how things had so drastically changed since I lived there. New buildings, new developments. It really feels a bit like Park City spilled over the mountains. I told him that when I was younger, we pretty much knew everyone. And, even if we didn't, it sure felt like we did because wherever we went people would wave. (There is something refreshing about rough old cowpokes throwing up their hand in a friendly greeting as they pass by in their 2 ton pickup).

Anyway. We stopped by a few stores before heading to Mom's. I had forgotten how hospitable and pleasant Heber is. We heard small town talk and uplifting greetings. Teenagers held the doors open for us. People buying their things would pause for a quick chat. Isn't is wonderful when people greet you, really wondering how you are doing? When they pause to hear the answer? Part of my soul still hangs out in Heber and I find it each time I go back. Sigh.

Thank Heavens Mom and the gang still live there. An anchor!

Time flies on wings of lightning

I was browsing the top 100 albums at Amazon yesterday and came across The Band Perry. They've got a song with a gorgeous melody, however, I have wondered about the message it's trying to convey. What does "If I Die Young" really mean?

The tune itself is rich and flows easily. The vocals are outstanding, and I love the arrangement. It's just the lyrics. So, I turned to a source of many of today's answers: google. It turns out, a lot of other people wondered the same thing I did. Is this song about suicide?

I tried to find out what the band themselves had to say about it. (They wrote it). I couldn't find anything on their website or otherwise.

We never know when this life might end. Some have goodly, old lives watching their grandbabies, and even great grandbabies, grow up. Others are taken in infancy. One message this song may be sending is that we should enjoy each day, and love those around us, because we never know when that last day will be.

At some point or other I think it's only natural to ponder life, its duration. Mortality is such a fleeting thing, "...time passed away with us, and also our lives passed away like as it were unto us a dream" Jacob 7:26. I think it's true that "Time flies on wings of lightning".

It is an especially tender subject when we lose someone we love.

Sometimes we are faced with situations or events that seemingly lend themselves to impossible solutions. We can't find a way out, and may be tempted into thinking that the only true way to free ourselves is to leave this mortal life behind. This life is a time for us to prepare to meet God, and flippantly severing our gift of mortality in a moment of sorrow leaves only devastation for those left behind and uncertainty for the future. I think that one of the reasons the Lord arranged the necessity of sleep is because when we awake the next day it gives us perspective on the events of the days before. Sometimes we need to take a step back and separate ourselves from the situation in order to gain clarity. Suicide may be thought about and planned for years, but in its finality its consequences are eternal. Satan would have us believe there is no other way out. When we feel like we have no other options we can be sure that it is one of his evil snares. I know that through obedience to God's commandments we can find peace in this life, joy and rejoicing. Jesus Christ came down to this earth to atone for our sins, and only He can cleanse us from feelings of dispair.

This song really got me thinking. The topic of suicide is such a tender one. Two of our young, sweet neighbors ended their lives this way. I have known others that also chose this path, and I have seen the absolute devastation it brought their families. Sometimes these choices affect generations to come, with loved ones following the example set years before.

Many of us have wondered if those around us care. We may be hurt by the actions of others or by events beyond our control. "Wouldn't they be sorry if I were to die?" Perhaps they would reconsider their actions and how they had treated us if something were to befall us. But why should we feel like we have to control the consequences of other's actions against us? Thank heavens we can leave these things in the hands of God. He has numbered our days. He knows us perfectly and loves us perfectly regardless of who we are. We can change only ourselves, and sometimes we have to start by changing our perspectives.

Sometimes when something appeals to us we try to imagine that it's not what it really is. How expertly the devil wraps his vicious traps in the prettiest paper and adorns them with cloaks of splendor. So, regardless of what people may say the song means, I know I don't want my daughters listening to it and wondering.

This beautiful tune, misinterpreted or not, may be the last song some of their fans ever hear.

Let us rejoice in this beautiful life and be grateful for each moment we have. Let's get out there and bless others and love those around us!

And then...

I was just reflecting over the year. There were a lot of blog-able things that should be mentioned:

First of all, Mr. A.H. was sprayed with a fire hose on the 4th of July. You should have seen his face! (He was in a tug-o-war game celebrating the independence of our country). Coincidentally, Nina and Ls were also sprayed, but had much less reactionary reactions.

Actually, that event was so memorable I can't recall what else should be mentioned.

Jalapenos and other household hazards

I heard a few weeks ago on NPR that in Mexico, some people put cooking oil on their hands when handling chili peppers in order to protect themselves from the capsaicin. I have had unfortunate run-ins with this nefarious chili component in years past. I love making chili, so this easy remedy sounded like the answer to all of my pepper problems.

In fact, I tried it just after hearing about it. And sure enough, voila! it worked like a charm. I even put it through a truly rigorous trial and handled the peppers as I was cutting them! No burning! Success! That is, at least, until I washed my hands and handled the unwashed-jalapeno-cutting knife. :-(

So anyway, today I decided to make my signature chili. I always make a gigantic batch (8 cans of beans! 3 cans of tomatoes!) and therefore am not shy about adding plenty of jalapenos.

Today I searched the fridge and found only 1. :-( Oh well, it was nice and juicy and I just love that little zing! I neglected to use the oily hand method, and opted instead for a plastic bag. Unfortunately, this gave me less control of the knife, and as mentioned, the pepper was juicy and by the way, did you know that juicy peppers can squirt when cut?

"AUGH! Mr. A.H.! I just got squirted in the eyes with capsaicin!!!"

I ran to the sink and quickly doused myself with water. I could tell that my supportive and very sensitive husband was suppressing a laugh. I then ran to the bathroom sink, because of course that water is much better for this type of emergency. Mr. A.H. quickly followed. I looked up after my curative efforts and *FLASH* Mr. A.H. to the rescue!

Instant karma, however, is still alive and well:

Gram

My sweet Gram passed away on October 13.

I'm sure that nothing I could think to write here would come close to expressing how terribly I miss her, or what an amazing woman she is. I find traces of her in most every aspect of my life. She really influenced me tremendously, and I am so grateful for her stalwart example.

Gram passed away one week after her 98th birthday. She was never one that I would refer to as 'old'. That just was not a word that came close to describing her. She was so full of vim, so active and hard working her entire life. She was always actively engaged in some good cause or other. She is so loved by all who know her.

My Gram is such a quick witted, funny person. She has the best memory of anyone I've ever known. She could still recite The Fox and the Crow, in French, that she learned more than 80 years ago in school. Her gems of wisdom continually come to mind as I go throughout the day. It has always been that way, I have always greatly admired her.

She always loved learning. A few nights before she passed away, she had seen a television program about molecular biology and mold and had called up my Mom to warn her that if she ever found mold on a loaf of bread, to throw it out because the whole thing would be contaminated!

I loved walking into her home. She was always so happy to see us, and always made us feel like we made her day just by being there. She would tell us stories about her life, the people she loved and knew, and she could remember the names of all involved! She remembered names of neighborhood figures she knew as a child, the grocer, her teachers, her friends and acquaintances. I am amazed by her brilliant mind!

I have so many stories I love and charish about her. I couldn't have asked her a better grandmother. In deed, she certainly was, and is, the best grandmother ever. I miss you, Gram.

So, I am like, totally related to Adam

Our family has finally rejoined the microwave get-in-an-instant age of Internet. Mr. A.H. has signed us up for high speed (1.5!). We used to have only dial up, which carries its own mysterious physique. To quote a teenager whom I talked to a few years ago about our, ahem, slower connection of the past, "Dial up? They, like, still make that?"
Before I would turn on the computer and get it started, go get a snack, come back and tap my foot at the computer that was still loading, eat my snack, go get the newspaper and read it, log onto blogger, stare at the ceiling, go get a drink, do the laundry, chase children... you can see why I haven't written in a month. Who has that kind of time? NOT ME. We've had this Internet for 5 days and I've been on twice, and it is SO much faster. I can actually post pictures once again on the blog. (Coming soon).
Last night I thought, "Ooh, now's my chance to catch up on some genealogy!" So I signed up for the new family search and was amazed! How cool it is! And, I am happy to report that someone has traced my dad's mother's side of the family all the way back to Adam! True. I spent way too much time tracing it back by clicking arrows to verify family rumor that it has been done. It has. I discovered that I am related to Opchanacanough, the Indian chief that captured the Pilgrim John Smith (Jamestown) and was subsequently captured and murdered. I am also related to
Jehosephat, King Solomon, Bathsheba, David, Anna (the cousin of the Virgin Mary), plenty of Kings, princesses, sirs and on and on. Apparently, when you are related to an infamous Mormon historical figure (as I am related to John D. Lee of the Mountain Meadow Massacre fame- this has been verified by myself and other family historians), it is "easy" to find your roots.
I am, needless to say, skeptical of this all-the-way-to-Adam thing and have already found suspicious areas that need to be verified. (By the way, go ahead and look up Adam and Eve, at least through the John D. Lee line, and be amazed).
There are so many things I'd like to do, but Time! That precious commodity that flies on wings of lightning, laughing.
So it may be a while until I find out if it is true or not if I am actually related to Indian chiefs, kings, prophets and Adam. Wait. I think Adam has already claimed me. Good. One down...

Meemers

Mr. A.H. and I are having a little quiet time at the children's hospital.

We're in the waiting room while little Meemers is in surgery. This is her 5th surgery. She is 5 months old.

The last 4 surgeries have gone well. We're grateful she has such a wonderful surgeon.

Our sweet little baby girl.

It's easy now to forget that when she was born she was hooked up to all kinds of things to make sure she was still breathing well and getting enough oxygen. We had to get up every 3 hours and suck her nose out with a machine, and then change the lead on her pulse oximiter. We didn't get a lot of sleep.

I still listen for her breathing at night. And I am grateful for every moment we have with her. She is so precious. And so funny! She started playing with the anaesthesiologist's face when he picked her up to take her back.

Sweet little Meemers.

Renraku

* We don't have soda in our house very often. Like never. I thought that for this reason Ls would be tickled pink to have some. Instead, I caught her pouring orange pop into our recycle bin. I ruined her fun with a reprimand.

* NiNa just finished swimming lessons. She is part fish, you know.

* Meemers rolled over today for the first time! Ya~a~a~y! And, even better, I caught it on video. I have now caught all three of my daughter's first rolling over experiences. I think I must have a kind of soon-to-roll-over-ESP.

* And, speaking of ESP, both Gram and Mr. AH say I must have some kind of spider sense, as Mr. AH calls it, because I can always sense when there is a spider within close proximity to me (meaning anywhere within 40 yards). Just yesterday I was drying off from a shower when I felt someone watching me. Sure enough, the window was cracked just an inch and there was a big, hairy, hideous spider peeping at my hygienic activities. I did the most prudent thing I could think of, given that I was taken off guard and rather arachnophobic, and slammed that window shut. Unfortunately, it didn't expire the fellow. That had to wait until Mr. AH got home.

* Mr. AH is amazing and got a scholarship. :-)

* Gee, I thought there would be more to report. Meh.

Perhaps I can report back next time on the exciting exploits of our recent letterboxing. Cheerio!