Starting work on the next level...

So last night was the first workout with my personal trainer in order to start getting in shape for the MS 150 Bike Tour. It’s the 20th anniversary and used to be called Utah’s Best Dam Bike Tour but it seems that the route this year doesn’t hit the dams that it used to hit. I’ve never ridden the 150 mile ride but this year seems like the year to do it. I’m going to be participating as part of a team but we aren’t registered yet. The team captain is still busy with fund raising for the MS Walk and hasn’t had time to register the team but I’ll let you know when we start fund raising.
Anyway, I worked out with weights for a full hour and then later than night I walked for 30 minutes. Today I was supposed to take a 30 minute bike ride but it’s 10 pm and I’m just getting ready to leave the office.

Riding the Carousel in Carson County, CO

Maybe it stems from a childhood fascination with horses. Maybe it comes from the motion sickness on the rollercoaster. Maybe it relates to vague memories of happy afternoons with my grandparents in Liberty Park. But, I’m a lover of carousels. I adore the white horses in Fantasyland. I cried to find the aluminum Liberty Park horses replaced with spray painted fiberglass. I drool over the wonderful animals on the Lagoon midway (still wood!)
In college, I learned about the Philadelphia Toboggan Company when a roommate gave me a calendar of their artwork. I mourned that such wonderful treasures disappeared in the name of progress.
When I discovered the Internet, I searched out things I loved and I found the Kit Carson Carousel. I vowed that I would ride it someday before I died. Since I could step in front of a bus tomorrow, someday is during this year of Celebration

Flowers in the yard....

Today, I planted flowers in my front yard. It’s just a small and simple thing (36 bulbs) but it’s something that I’ve never managed to find the time for before now.

There’s something intrinsically pleasing in this age of political correctness to walk into a restaurant and hear, “Oh my God, is that real fur? How does she dare do that?” Of course it helps ones composure to be wearing spike heels, a full taffeta skirt, and be on the arm of a scary looking escort. I grew up in an age before farm bred animals had feelings. Well, maybe the industrious Little Red Hen did but she was allowed to keep her assets after she worked for them. Mary Kay did a “Think Pink, Think Mink” campaign that would have caused boycotts if they tried it 50 years later. (They don’t even do the pink anymore, it’s all silver now). I remember the year that my mother got a red fox half coat for Christmas. She was so excited. That coat still matches my hair but this year for Christmas, I got my own full length silver fox.
Now before you start thinking that I’m rich, I should say that my husband is on very familiar terms with eBay, sometimes too familiar. The cool thing is that inside the coat, are his and my initials. The day the package arrived, our beagle went nuts. The UPS man dropped off several packages (did I mention that eBay is my husband’s idea of the mall?). Mr. Darwin obligingly sniffed each box in our own version of homeland security until he came to the last one which was my coat. His nose worked double time, some primitive part of his brain kicked in and you could just see him thinking, “I recognize this scent, I know this scent, it’s supposed to be moving but when it stops there’s something I’m supposed to do, now what was it, oh yeah…” and he started to bay. My quiet beagle who doesn’t bark except on rare occasions was baying. He did that full-throated, straight from the movies, the fox is treed, calling the pack and the red coated hunters baying. I wish we had sound video of it. The box had to be removed to a locked room where dogs, kids and I couldn’t reach it. (Yes, I knew before Christmas – with a reaction like that you don’t think I didn’t check the Paypal records and then his auction purchases?)
But, back to last night…
When I was small and my mother didn’t want to go to the opera with Dad, I got to go. The opera was a sparkling place with jewelry and fur and designer dresses. It smelled of perfume and money. Die Fleidermaus was the first opera I remember seeing. No one has ever matched the jailer’s performance that I saw from Glen ?(get the last name from John before publishing)????? that night. I don’t know if it’s just my memory or the joy in the discovery of such a magnificent spectacle. I have several favorite opera’s now and The Magic Flute is one of them. Last night’s performance, however, was marred by the soprano’s failure to hit the high F in her 2nd aria. I admit I’m not the most musically literate, so when I can tell that someone’s flat, they have to be way off. The fun part of wearing my coat was I didn’t freeze in the first act, I was warm by intermission but the people next to my husband left so we could put it over there. The couple on my side was having their first date after getting engaged.
During intermission, I ran into some people I knew. One of them told me that she had a full length beaver that she leaves in her apartment back East because she’s afraid of the animal activists out West. Another said that she had dreamed of a fur as a girl but fears what her clients would think if they ever saw her in one now that she’s an adult.
I consider myself a pragmatist when it comes to the political spectrum. I believe that the first amendment gives both sides the right to believe what they feel is the truth. I believe that your right to express your opinion ends when you assault me or my property. I believe I have the right to express my opinion and my right ends if I injure someone or their property. Wearing a fur does not injure any human physically; it does not inflict damage on anyone’s property; I do not feel bad at the deaths of animals grown for the express purpose of being used by humans. In fact, I consider mink to be smelly, mean, nasty rodents who would be on the level of rats in the scheme of things if they didn’t happen to feel wonderfully soft and look luxurious on a woman’s back. I don’t like chinchilla coats because the live animal makes a great pet. It would be like wearing a guinea pig. That’s enough of spouting my views on a controversial issue. I’m old enough now that everyone’s entitled to my opinion. I just don’t have to cram it down their throats like young people do.

Starting on the project for the State Fair.

I have to admit that I’m the youngest person in Needlepoint class. I don’t think it’s an age thing though as much as a cash and time thing. Painted canvases are expensive if they’re hand painted to the stitch. Bad canvases are available on eBay for a quarter apiece but I don’t like working on those. Money aside, it take’s time to make nice perfect stitches. Yes, I’m one of those people that stitch to perfection. I’ll rip things out if they aren’t exactly the way that I want them. Anyway, today in class the subject of physical beauty came up (the class teacher is giving a church lesson on the topic). She said she was looking for an example of pictures of good looking guys for her lesson. Funny me had the old SEAL teams calendar in my car since it was getting ready to ship out for a good cause. I have never seen so many white haired women grab for a calendar. It definitely got passed around and drooled over. One woman made the comment, I may not have anyone at home but it still feels good to dream.

First thing off the list...

Today I volunteered at the Tribune Home and Garden show. I was seated right across from where the quilt I made for my husband was hanging. So that’s one thing done on the list. I’ve enter a quilt in a quilt show. I came home with an honorable mention ribbon too.

One thing that wasn't on the list...

Today I bought a 5 year CD. It’s one of those things that I meant to do 20 years ago. I was going to have 10 5-year CD’s that would come open every April and November (taxes and Christmas). But I never quite got around to it. I have one now though….

Learning to Autocross...

When my mother-in-law died, I watched my husband go a little nuts. Mourning would be expected; he lost his mother. Instead, he seemed energized. He went on a spending spree and bought all the camera equipment he ever longed for, he took vacations he dreamed about, and he bought a Porsche. Now that I think about it, he did his own year of celebration without the elation I’m feeling.
The first time he took the Porsche to my parents, my dad said, “So where did you get Ben’s car?” It seems Dad knew the original owner of the car. A few days later, Ben’s wife called me at work to congratulate my husband on getting her husband’s Girlfriend. I loved it. It’s been His Girlfriend ever since, but it means I don’t drive it much. It just seems wrong to take my husband’s Girlfriend for a test drive. This year, however, we girls need to get together and spend some time getting to know each other. What better way than to spend some days together at the races?
Now I would love to take her to Vegas for the PCA Driver Education, but that’s a bit outside my budget this year. So, I’ll plan on doing Autocross races sponsored by the local Porsche club.
We’ll try to get some video for y’all.

Something to start working on...

I tried on my wedding dress a few days ago. Did you ever consider that your arms gain weight? The dress came over my shoulders, bust, and hips with no problem. The problem arose when I tried to pull the sleeves up. My dress had big poofy sleeves based on a dress from the 1940’s that a friend owned. The problem is that the sleeve is actually a form fitting sleeve with the poofy stuff attached to it. The sleeves got stuck on my elbows. It’s true I’m about 10, okay well really 15, pounds heavier than I was on my wedding day. But I thought that was congregated on my hips and belly. I didn’t think about my arms but there was the proof. I couldn’t pull up the sleeves that slid so nicely on my wedding day in 1987. I didn’t think my arms were a problem, I will admit that I can’t bench press what I used to but my arms don’t have that old lady hanging flab on them either. But when I flex, I don’t get a defined muscle line anymore. I guess it’s time to use the weights at the gym.

And another reason to celebrate

I found another reason to do this project.

"We renew our appeal for the keeping of individual histories and accounts of sacred experiences in our lives--answered prayers, inspiration from the Lord, administrations in our behalf, a record of the special times and events of our lives. From these records you can also appropriately draw as you relay faith-promoting stories in your family circles and discussions. Stories of inspiration from our own lives and those of our forebears as well as stories from our scriptures and our history are powerful teaching tools. I promise you that if you will keep your journals and records they will indeed be a source of great inspiration to you individually, your husband or wife, your children, your grandchildren, and mothers throughout the generations."

Spencer W. Kimball, "Therefore I Was Taught," Tambuli, Aug. 1982, 3

No Entry today

I have a migraine for the first time in 4 years. My wonderful family knows this and my 17 year old has taken care of her brothers, my youngest is bringing me water and making sure it is dark and quiet. My middle one who is having his birthday party is making sure to keep the volume down so that I have quiet. My husband massaged my head and got me both heat and ice for my neck just in case it was tension and not a migraine. It’s a migraine, I can’t see, that makes it a migraine.

The Deseret News Home and Garden show is next week. They decided to have a quilt exhibit and contacted the Utah Quilt Guild. I wouldn’t call this a real quilt contest since they aren’t going to have professional judges, just the general public. My oldest son wanted to put his quilt in and my husband wanted me to show off the quilt that I made for him. I should explain that my husband’s quilt has a flannel back and we have a beagle who likes to sleep under the covers. Ever since we got Mr. Darwin, he’s burrowed under the covers at night. I’ve got him trained to where he just burrows under the top blanket on the bed so I don’t have to share sheets with him. The top blanket has been the Marine Corps blanket for my husband; flannel and beagle hair mix far too well.
So this weekend I’ve been trying to get beagle hair out of flannel so that I can take it down to the show. Last night, I decided that it was good enough. I wouldn’t take it if this were a professionally judged show but where it’s just people walking through voting and the main purpose is to encourage people to quilt, well that’s a different story. So I dropped off both my and my son’s quilts off and attended the guild meeting where I saw beautiful quilts where the speaker said we shouldn’t be using the quilts that are hand made. My grandmother would just spit at that thought. A quilt is a utilitarian tool. There are some beautiful art quilts out there but when I can’t match a seam or make a perfect point, it is better that I make utilitarian quilts. After all, the ones that I make for charity are being used, why shouldn’t the ones that I make for me be useful too?

My Son is a Teenager today.

It’s hard to believe that this young man who looks great in a suit and is as tall as I am was once a premature baby weighing 8 pounds and 3 ounces. Yes, that’s right an eight pound preemie. He was due in April and born on March 1, his lungs weren’t fully developed although the rest of him was huge. Had he gone full term, he would have been about ten pounds. As a preemie, he developed this wheezing noise that the nurses assured me was just his way of expelling fluid from his lungs. Three weeks later, however, he still made that wheezing noise. The pediatrician told me that it had become a comfort noise. And it did become a comfort noise for me. I could hear him breathing at night. For some reason, with this one, I developed post partum depression. March 1 was the day that we moved my office into the house following the sale of a major portion of the company, at the end of the moving, I sat down in my chair and my water broke. I was transferred business calls while I was in the hospital. When I got home, every time I laid down to rest I would have auditory hallucinations of either the office telephone ringing or the baby crying. I didn’t sleep for several weeks; my doctor figured it out at my postnatal exam. It’s the only time in my life I’ve taken prescription medication to sleep. But I hated the medication, I was sure that while I was sleeping, he would stop breathing and I wouldn’t know it. Then I would hear him wheeze in his sleep, almost as if he were saying,” I’m okay, Mom.”
Today, he’s a sensitive soul who panics if I raise my voice at him. He’s smart, handsome, and girls like him but he doesn’t realize that they’re flirting with him. I hope it stays that way for a few more years. He’s fascinated with engineering and adores math. He quilts with me because he loves the math involved. He gets to play with fractions and have something to show for it. He joined the Quilt guild so that he could enter the contest this year. I’m hoping that his motivation will help keep me on track.