Answers to Photo Tag

I've been absent from blogging for a while, partly because of computer problems, and partly because of me problems :-). But, I looked over a couple of drafts and decided to post this one. So, for those of you who have been holding your breath, here are my answers to the Photo Tag posted on July 27 below:

Age: I just loved the picture. I'd never thought of that situation from a baby's point of view. :-)

My maiden name: This is a baseball signed by one of my favorite third-basemen in the business. I took a chance and left the signature in tact. If you can decipher his handwriting, the name is there. But is it his first or last name we're looking for? And are you sure? :-)

Place I would like to visit: No kidding, I would LOVE to "Get my kicks, on Route 66." Beginning to end. In a Mustang convertible.

Favorite object: Even though my mother thought it was absolutely sinful to call a piano an object, ("A piano has a soul, Judy!") it is definitely my favorite object. Sorry, Mom.

Favorite food: Moist chocolate cake. Coming in second, anything other good chocolaty thing. I don't like wasting calories on knock-offs. But, that doesn't mean I don't ever do it. :-)

Favorite color: Blue

Where I was born: Check out the letter on the mountain. It's a Y. I was born in Provo, but I grew up in the Salt Lake valley.

Where I live now: In a little part of heaven.

Best friend's nickname: My hubby's name is Robert.

My first name: The shoe is "Judy" from the "Oh Deer" line. Good catch, Jen!

First job: I worked for my uncle's engineering firm in SLC as a secretary, and therefore usually wore office-ready clothes to college, as I went to my job downtown directly from class (sometimes I'd change in a back room). One day, a day I happened to be dressed for the office and wearing nylons and heels, my uncle announced that I needed to clean all the garbage cans. If you have ever been around engineers, draftsmen, ink . . . Well, I did it. But that was my last day there. My sweet older brother gave me permission to quit. Sheesh.

My grandmothers' first names:

Lorette. This is a photo of a French basilica called Notre Dame de Lorette. Apparently the land it sits on was a strategic site during WWI. See how fun this game is?

Ellen. Either the ship in the picture, winning a race, or Dame Ellen Macarthur ON the ship, who is apparently quite the sailor in Britain. At first I thought it was the name of the ship, but when I looked for more pictures, I learned about this woman who is quite the celeb in England.

College degree: English, hence what seemed to be 24/7 reading.

What I was doing right then: Yes, Mia, I'm afraid I wasn't feeling too well. I found this drawing of a little dog entitled "Sick and tired of being sick and tired." I loved it. I'm not a patient sick person.

And there you have it!

Mr. Pope

While I was pursuing my college degree in English, I studied many authors. Among these was the great Alexander Pope. I liked reading Pope. He had the knack of saying a lot in a few words. Four short lines from his famous Essay on Man made a profound impact on me. I have never forgotten the message, though I often had a hard time quoting the lines exactly. I wonder. How could a secular writer, often regarded as the greatest writer of the 18th century, pen thoughts that would be pertinent to those of us living in the 21st century? The answer is fairly simple: Truth is truth. And Alexander Pope nailed it.

Many times since my college days I have heard this phrase quoted by people I admire in many different settings. I believe the last time I heard it over the pulpit was when Gordon B. Hinckley referenced it. During the last little while I have finally memorized it, so that I have it at my fingertips when I need it. That's how important I think the message is.

Occasionally I like to share words such as these which have made an impact on me. Pope's writing may seem a bit awkward to some, but once his cadence and his particular use of the English language is learned, (and it doesn't take long), he is easy to understand. See if his message strikes a chord in you. (The word "mien" is defined as "appearance" or "demeanor".)

Vice is so frightful of a monster mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

Photo Tag

My Dad often used the phrase " . . . going from the sublime to the ridiculous." Well, comparing Thankful Thursday's post against this one, it sort of fits. However, one thing my Dad knew how to do in a spectacular fashion is to laugh at life. He would have loved this little quiz, Jen. So, thanks for tagging me.

This tag idea was amazingly fun, and it also took quite a bit of ingenuity. It was a top-knotch brain teaser. I'm still trying to figure out a couple of YOUR image-answers, Jen, and I think I know you pretty well. Clever girl. Everyone who wants to try it, consider yourself tagged.

Here's what to do: Google-search images of the answers to the following questions, then pick your favorite image. The images can be obvious, cryptic or clever, whatever you choose. Post them on your blog as shown. If you'd like, try to figure mine out. (Please abbreviate or deftly disguise maiden or last names!)

My age:

My Maiden Name:

Place I would like to visit:

Favorite object:

Favorite food:

Favorite color:

Where I was born:

Where I Live Now:

My Best Friend's Nickname:

My first name:

Bad habit of mine:

My first job:

My Grandmothers' Names:

My College Degree:

What I am doing right now:

Thankful Thursday

May I just say that I love this idea. The credit goes to Mia, and I hope it's ok if I tag along. I need every opportunity I can find to reflect on the blessings in my life. So, first of all, thank you, Mia.

Today is the 24th of July, also called Pioneer Day, and is a holiday particular to Utah. It celebrates the arrival of the Mormon pioneers to the desolate Salt Lake Valley after long, arduous travels by wagon and handcart. They settled there and began to build a dwelling place which today is undeniably beautiful. So on this day my thoughts naturally turn to my heritage, my ancestors, and the great gifts that are mine because of them.

My great-grandparents on my father's side joined the ill-fated Martin handcart company who became stranded in Wyoming in a wicked, early snowfall. Many in this company did not survive. Mine were fortunate enough to be among the rescued and taken to shelter in the Salt Lake valley. My great-grandparents on my mother's side traveled by wagon train. During the journey, the family was stricken with disease, and the children were left as orphans, entering the valley alone. They were then assigned to and adopted by families already settled there.

I often wonder if I would have had the courage to leave comfortable surroundings and head West to the unknown. I honestly do not know. But I do know that I owe my great-grandparents my love, my allegiance, and my everlasting gratitude for their stoic perserverance. I hope that my life will, in the end, reflect their sacrifice.

Hello, Bloomin' Tuesday!

Today, I've chosen to show some late-bloomers in my yard. Below are my daisies, which bloom about three to four weeks after I see other daisies in our neighborhood. They are a distinct petite variety that you can have shipped from Burpee, Inc.

Also, my late-blooming day lillies are here. They, too, are a Burpee product, and bloom in July. They are a true day lily, in that each blossom blooms only once and is gone the next day. You can see the blooms that are ready to pop tomorrow.

On to fence climbing blooms. I love to cover my fences in beautiful vines and blossoms. Below is a beautiful orange trumpet vine. It works extremely well for rounding out the "squareness" of fences, but it can get away from you if you're not careful. It's worth the trouble.

In a few more weeks, I'm going to share what I do with my favorite ground cover, Snowcap, sometimes called "Bishop's Weed", when it has had too much of our 90-100 degree weather and generally changes from its beautiful green to a rather ugly brown. Some people really don't care for this ground cover because of its penchant to sunburn. But I do something radical around the end of August, or whenever I see too much brown. I'll be letting you know what that is, and what happens.

Go to Ms. Green Thumb Jean's to sign up to participate in Bloomin' Tuesday or to see other Bloomin' Tuesday posts.

All-Star Break

Some might think I'm a demure, artsy sort of girl, but, come to think of it, maybe not so much. (I'm suddenly remembering myself on numerous occasions chasing our dog down the street with a piece of pizza to get him to come back home. Demure. Yep.)

In any case, I feel compelled to memorialize my antics while Bob and I were watching the Home Run Derby last week. For those of you who don't follow Major League Baseball, (or didn't drive a son to three million games from the time he was four until he could hop the bus with the high school team), I'll explain that the HR Derby is part of Major League Baseball's All-Star break. During this break, all the teams take a breather for about four days and do some pretty fun stuff for their fans and charity. Then, the teams play the last part of the season on the way to the World Series in October.

Included in the events are an all-star Fanfest, a Legends and Celebrity softball game, an MLB all-star batting practice, the above-mentioned all-star Home Run Derby, and it culminates in the yearly MLB all-star game. All events are open to any fans of any team who are able to obtain tickets. This year it was held at Yankee Stadium, the last big hurrah for that field. (A new stadium is being built next door.)

Anyway, while we were watching the Home Run Derby, a little quiz began to unfold itself in my mind. Obviously, there was a pause of a minute or two as a new player walked to the batter's box and prepared to hit as many home runs as he could within a certain number of pitches and/or strikes. As each player stood at the plate and squared up to try for a homer, I squared up and, how can I say this delicately and not give the wrong impression, inexplicably began to analyze their legs.

Now, usually I'm drawn to broad shoulders, so this was kind of new territory for me. But, pretty soon, I had fashioned a game for myself, trying to guess how tall the players were by eye-balling the length of their legs. I'd study each player's legs, guess his height, and then look up his stats on the MLB web page. I had Bob's laptop handy, so I could do this rather quickly. (Checking out baseball players' stats? Please. I'm a pianist and an English major.) But of course none of this activity was my fault. (See reference to the three million games cited above.)

At first, I sort of talked to myself. "About five-nine," I'd say quietly. Then I would check the laptop. Wow. I was pretty darn close. I continued my guessing. Pretty soon, my voice took on an umpire's shout of "You're OUT!" as I continued to guess. "Six-two!" I blurted, loudly. "Huh?" Bob replied. "I'm trying to guess heights," I said. "What?" he asked. "I'm trying to guess their heights by the length of their legs." "Oh. Are you watching them hit?" Very funny. I kept on going.

The next batter took his place. I sized him up. "Six even!" I yelled. "What?" Bob asked. "I told you, I'm guessing heights." "Oh. Sure." This was getting fun. I eyed Justin Morneau's legs. He plays for the Minnesota Twins. "Six-four!" I said. Bob, having tuned me out and now on full auto pilot, said "Hmmm." Undeterred, I continued. I didn't care if I no longer had an audience. Now, I was on a mission. "Six-two!" Pause. Laptop check. "Correct!" "Five-eleven!" Laptop check. "Right-o!" Now I was British. And on it went.

If I'd been on a TV game show, I would have taken home some serious cash. Amazingly, I was 100% correct on the guys who were 6'4". Go figure. More amazingly, Bob didn't tell me to knock it off. Obviously, he's a very patient man, and I'm in need of help. But in the end, I had to put my personal game on hold, as one of those 6'4" dudes, Josh Hamilton of the Texas Rangers, hit 28 straight home runs in Round 1. Incredibly, he paused at about number 18 to sign a baseball for a little boy or two. Josh put on a fabulous, unbelievable show. It was a landslide record.

Guessing heights aside, my favorite part of all-star week has always been the Legends and Celebrity softball game. The oldsters still certainly have the "it" factor. This year's game was absolutely, complete fun. I was too busy laughing at the guys calling the game and at the players themselves to do anything but enjoy. They played like there was no tomorrow. Seeing some of those oldsters slog around the bases somehow gave hope to us all. And the celebs? It was obvious that they were having the time of their lives. The fans were loving it, especially the young ones with dreams of stardom in their eyes.

It's called America's Pastime for a reason, folks. And I'm kooked, er, hooked.

Friend

FRIEND

A friend is one to whom you can pour out
the contents of your heart,
chaff and grain alike,
Knowing that the gentlest of hands
Will take and sift it,
Keep what is worth keeping and,
with a breath of kindness,
Blow the rest away.

--Anon

Scott and Bo, and Lessons in Love

I was sorting through some old snapshots the other day, and I came across this one of Scott and our Beagle, Bo. This was taken in 1993. Scott was 5 and we'd had Bo about a year. In spite of my lackluster desire to have a dog, it's easy to take one look at Scotty's face and understand why I couldn't say "No!" to that. And so Bo's been a family member ever since.

Fast forward to July 2008. Bo celebrates his 119th in dog years in July. When Scott left 18 months ago, I watched him say a sweet goodbye to his canine friend. Neither he nor we thought Bo would make it another two years when Scott would return home. But there he is, much slower, much grayer, much quieter, sleeping a lot. Occasionally, we wonder if he's just waiting for someone.

Here's a photo that Scott sent us this week. He's holding a Beagle that he says reminds him of Bo. Although Scott is much older, taller, and wiser than he was in the first picture, the grin in this photo is amazingly similar to the one in the 1993 photo. There's still an incredible amount of enthusiasm and love in Scott's face. Now, however, much of it belongs to people who live in small, slightly run-down homes, with whom Scott now spends his time and loves with all his soul. And, conversely, they love him. From what I'm told, they'd let Scott have their Beagle in a heartbeat.

It's Tuesday, already?

The only bloomin' flower that I can claim as my own is the one in the first photo, and it is truly lovely. It's my first try at growing Columbine, and though it is a little timid in our heavy clay dirt, I love the simple, lacy beauty. I tend to plant what I know will grow well in the climate of central Utah--bedding annuals. So I'm excited that my first try with Columbine is alive, and I hope to see it take off next year. It just might, with some bloomin' love.

The next four photos are a bit of a cheat, perhaps. I hope it's not against the rules to submit snapshots of flowers my neighbors have. I'm not even sure what the following beauties are, but I really did enjoy a lovely walk with my camera. Perhaps someone more knowledgeable can identify them?



I'm pretty sure the flowers above are bell flowers. Good guess? They are beautiful! I love the fact that my neighbors have greener thumbs than mine!

TTFN!

Go to Ms. Green Thumb Jean's to sign up to participate in Bloomin' Tuesday or to see other Bloomin' Tuesday posts.

A Visit To Sun Valley

Bob and I just returned from a week in Sun Valley, Idaho, as part of a retreat sponsored by the Utah Bankers Association. I had been there once before shortly after we were married, but we must have been driving through to get somewhere else, because I certainly had a different take on it this time.

What a beautiful place it is. I honestly didn't want to come home. This place almost rivaled my other perfect spot for R&R, Dana Point, California, on the Pacific coast. Could two places be more different? Yet, in Sun Valley, I found the peace I am always guaranteed at the beach.

Sun Valley is gorgeous, with multitudes of pine trees, streams, wild and domestic flowers, tourists and snowbirds nestled in a valley surrounded by exquisite hills. Amid all this natural beauty, there are things to do, places to go. There is an opera house that is always in performance mode, and right now a beautiful outdoor amphitheater is being built for other venues. There are day camps for kids. Loads of eclectic and family restaurants. Souvenir shops. There are hiking and biking trails, and ski runs (chair lifts for the summer views). For those who want to stay awhile, there are various options for accommodations. Two large upscale lodges sport young men in prom attire to open doors and handle baggage for the guests. We, however, opted for a condo, nestled away from the hustle and bustle of a continual stream of arriving tourists. In the pictures I've posted, it's difficult to see the many condos that dot the area. The amount of foliage makes it seem so private.

I had the cutest little maid, who was very accommodating and obviously enjoyed her work. I wanted to take her home with me! She was a very lovely young lady who made me feel extremely pampered. Her family is Latino, but they have lived in Hailey since she was born. I was pleasantly surprised when she let me practice my very lame Spanish with her. We both dissolved into giggles when I pulled out that most important of all phrases that I learned at some point during my 36 hours of college Spanish. It roughly translates to, "In the country, you can fish and ride a horse." Yep, that's one fact you definitely need to know if you are trying to communicate in Spanish.

Sun Valley provided the best of both worlds. We could hang with the tourists in the towns of Hailey or Ketchum, dedicated to Ernest Hemingway, who did much of his writing there, or we could take advantage of alone time in our condo, which was situated to make us feel we were the only guests. I don't think I've slept like I did there for over a year. I spent some much-needed time practicing with my new camera. I took at least 100 photos! But the absolutely hands-down best part of the week was having my sweet hubby all to myself, except for an occasional meeting he needed to attend. It was a lovely time.

Bloomin' Tuesday

There a few things you can count on if you live in Utah. One is that the sun will rise, secondly, the sun will set, and thirdly, petunias will fill any space with glorious beauty. Petunias are a mainstay for those of us who, after 4 or 5 months of white stuff on our lovely brown lawns, begin to shake our fists at the sky and demand, "We must have color!"

Attempts at other, more sophisticated blooms may fail us because of the temperatures of early spring. But petunias are genuinely excited to signal that warmer weather is on the way. They like to encourage their more timid neighbors with a "Steady as you go, mate"--sentries for a few more weeks.

Since we had such a wet spring this year, our petunias are particularly lovely. Pictured below are two of my whiskey barrels filled with as many of the small bedding plants as my hubby could stuff. Two tricks for an overflowing container: plant them very close together, and plant them deep. They don't mind the cold; just keep them wet, and they're on their way!

Safe and Sound

First of all, let me say that I have finally learned the love (not quite yet the art) of blogging! After a rather rocky start, and gentle nudges from friends and family, I jumped into the process, much like I jumped off a 20-foot diving board for the first time. But I can truthfully say that after several bumps and bruises, I am hooked! I already have a long list of reasons why I am finding blogging to be a totally positive thing.

I won't share my list with you. I'm sure you all have your own. But I wanted to make it clear how I feel about blogging before I get to the reason for this particular post: Safety and privacy issues.

A friend of mine recently posted the following on her blog: I've noticed as I hop from blog to blog that some users are giving more information about me than I am comfortable with. I understand the desire to link to other blogs (I do it myself), but I have been troubled as I have seen, on someone else’s blog, my own first and last names, as well as the occasional background info ("friend from high school" or "old neighbor") next to my name. While this could very well just be spam, for me it is disconcerting. This is too much information. For my blood, anyway. And so I ask you, my friends, family and blog fans, if you choose to link my blog from yours (and I thank you very much for the compliment that it is that you refer your own friends, family and/or blog fans to mine), would you please use only my first name, and, better yet, the blog name?

Thanks for the heads-up, Laurie, and to several other friends who have addressed this issue. Here are a couple of links that give some good info on blogging smarts. From Wikipedia, click here, and from a Blogging Mommies site, click here. I urge you to take a few minutes to read them.

It’s always good to be reminded to be careful and smart whenever we use the amazing Internet. I, along with Laurie, would ask that if you wish to add our blog link to your list of favorites (and I also thank you for the compliment that implies), please use the blog name, “Monologuing”, or at least use only our first names to list the link.

Thanks a million, and happy blogging!

Music, Fireworks, and Freedom

Do you receive those “Get to Know Your Friend” questionnaires in your e-mail? I get quite a few, and I usually play along. I like knowing little tidbits of information about my friends that I didn’t know before, and which I can use against them later. :-) Two questions show up fairly often, and I usually feel the need to explain my answers.

Question #1: “Do you consider yourself political?” I can’t answer a “yes” or a “no” to this, because to do so might imply something that isn’t true about me. The problem is, my personal and political values are very tightly entwined. Every “political” question that I ponder is ultimately answered by the core values by which I try to live. I can’t separate the two. If the question were worded this way, “Are you politically active?” then the answer is simple. This answer lies in actions I take about what I believe. And I either do take action, or I don’t. Piece o’ cake.

Question #2: “What is your favorite holiday?” Without question, my answer is the 4th of July. Some of my closest friends are shocked by this. I mean, who wouldn't choose Christmas? Well, me. While I love Christmas with a frenzied passion, if I have to choose just one holiday, it has to be the day when I roll out my CD’s of the Boston Pops doing Sousa marches and the Tabernacle Choir singing rousing patriotic songs with undisputed perfection, the day when I watch celebratory parades that usually include a contingent of seasoned veterans who are still with us. I stand and put my hands together for every line in their faces, every hesitating, difficult step they take. This is the day I visit the city’s war memorials in our local cemetery, a truly hallowed place, and display our flag on the home we live in, joining everyone else in the neighborhood, feeling a common brotherhood like none other.

All of this I do with love and pride and a particular lump in my throat. I love America. I consider living within her borders to be one of the greatest blessings in my life. I love continuing to learn about the Founders, men who were imperfect but the very best available, and when I read of the sacrifices they KNEW they would have to make, even the giving of their lives if they affixed their names to documents that would bring our country to fruition, I am overwhelmed with gratitude.
And so, on the 4th of July, we celebrate! Family barbecues, a few innings of America’s pastime, fireworks, marching bands. A long summer night of freedom to ponder our good fortune. Every year, it's the best day ever!

Happy Birthday, Jennifer!

Sunrise, Sunset

THEN:

NOW:

I admit it. It's true. We're all feeling a little Scott-deprived these days. I'm not quite sure why, because he's been away 18 months. One would think his absence would become more normal, not less. But recently, especially when the whole family is together, there's a tangible, empty spot. The odd thing is that, lately, one of us, out of the blue, will usually verbalize it.

Perhaps we're subconsciously "counting down", though I don't really sense that. In any case, this one's for Elder Scottly or, more accurately, for us. If you'd like to know what he's been doing, click on the right panel link, "Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon)."

Remember the first picture, girls? For my blogger friends, in the second photo he's the one in the suit. And yes, although the two young men he's with are a little on the short side, Scott is tall. Very tall. About 6'4" at last calculation. And we're unabashedly missing every inch of him.