Dream Snippets

My dreams are crazy when I'm ill. Most of them don't make any sense, but sometimes my dreams consist of snippets from the past. I'm not feeling well today, and have been doing a lot of sleeping. I just dreamed about some things that I did with my kids and the Camp Fire Boys & Girls. It was like reminiscing by dream, and actually quite pleasant. Some of those snippets in time follow.

I spread a clean white sheet on the living room floor. An extension cord was placed on the hot air popcorn popper, and it was placed in the middle of the sheet. I left the lid off the popper, gathered the kids around the popper in a circle--not too close so they didn't get hit with flying hot kernels. We let the popcorn explode all over the living room onto the white sheet and then ate the popcorn right off the floor.

Each spring the kids couldn't wait for the annual shave cream party. As soon as it was reasonably warm outside, we would gather the kids around the picnic table in the backyard. A blob of shave cream was placed in front of each child. The idea originally was to finger paint in the shave cream--but that never happened. It was much more fun to have a shave cream fight. When they were all covered with shave cream from head to toe, I'd grab the hose and hose them all down. Then one by one they were allowed to go back in the house and put on my old maternity smocks and Danny's old shirts. I sent their wet clothes home in plastic bags.

We were at Camp Fire camp (Camp Minaluta) one spring. One of the activities was to make masks of the kids' faces. One of the kids put plaster all over her face, but something went awry, and when the plaster dried it didn't come off like it was supposed to. I thought we were going to have to cut her out of the mask! The poor kid was more than a little frightened. In my dream I saw the panic in her eyes all over again.

The kids all loved to go canoeing in the lake at Camp Minaluta. The problem is that their fearless leader (me) was short, chubby, and prone to getting leg cramps. On one particular outing in the lake, the kids were having so much fun that they didn't want to go back to the dock for a long time. I didn't realize that my legs had fallen asleep. When we finally docked the canoe, the kids all jumped out and went all different directions, leaving the Camp Fire staff to try to get me and my heavy hiking boots out of the canoe. I think it would have been easier to dump the canoe upside down and let me swim to the surface!

I need to sleep some more. To sleep, perchance to dream.

Missionary Apple Pudding Cake with Rum Sauce

My home is open during the holidays. The kids were always told when they were in college that if someone didn't have someplace to go for a holiday to bring them home. We have often had the missionaries in our home for holidays. There is always lots of food, and even if someone comes at the last minute, we can set another place at the table. If I know ahead of time, I always ask if they have a special recipe that is tradition in their family, and then I try to accommodate.

A few years ago we invited the missionaries for Christmas dinner. We thought we were going to have two missionaries, but at the last minute we had six, and that was wonderful! I had asked the original two missionaries in advance if they wanted me to make anything special. Elder Nelson was dying for his Dad's "Apple Rum Cake." He gave me his Dad's e-mail address, and I requested the recipe. His Dad was pretty embarrassed and quickly called me to explain that he uses rum extract, not real rum. I laughed and told him that I had been sure that was the case. He e-mailed me the recipe--and it is out of this world! In honor of Elder Nelson and all those people who have been willing to share their holidays with us over the years, the recipe is below.

APPLE PUDDING CAKE

Cream together:

2 cups sugar
1/2 cup margarine or oil
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla

Sift together and then add to the mixture above:

2 cups flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 to 1 teaspoon cloves
1/2 to 1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons soda

Fold in:

6 apples coarsely shredded
1/2 cup chopped nuts

Put in 9" X 13" cake pan, bake at 375 degrees for 40 minutes or 25 degrees lower if glass pan.

VANILLA RUM PUDDING SAUCE

1/4 cup butter
2 tablespoons flour
Pinch of salt
2 tablespoons sugar
1 cup hot water
1/4 cup whipping cream
(Can use milk to replace water and cream)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon rum extract

Over low heat, melt butter and stir in flour, salt, and sugar. Cook, gradually add hot water, stirring constantly, until mixture thickens. Add vanilla and cream, and continue cooking, stirring constantly, until mixture is thick and smooth. Stir over pudding. Recipe makes 1 1/3 cups.

Elder Nelson's father triples or quadruples the recipe for the sauce, but that's a LOT of sauce. I usually double it and still have some left over.

You Can Make Anything into a Game

You can make anything into a game--so said my dad. Dad spent years showing us how. He'd say, "Want to have some fun?" We never learned to run when he said that . . . maybe because he really did make things into a game.

No matter what your occupation, there are going to be times you want to scream, and things you'd really rather not do, and maybe some things that bore you to tears. I actually love my job, but everyone has "those days."

Part of my job is to cite check my attorneys' briefs. This means that each time the attorneys cite to a case or a statute in a brief, I must find that citation in Westlaw or LexisNexis. I make sure that the citation is right, and I check to make sure that anything they have quoted from is quoted properly word for word. Most days this is a piece of cake . . . but then there are those other days when I'm bored to tears. I had one of those "other" days today, and I found myself making a game out of it.

I pictured my sisters sitting on either side of me, and I pretended that I was showing them how to cite check as training to take over my job. Bear in mind that anything that the three of us do together ends up with laughter until there are tears. I had this mental image of my older sister's shaky hands as she tried to type in the citation. I could hear in my head my younger sister cracking witty jokes about my older sister's shaky hands. I could hear them both laughing, one in each of my ears. I would say to them (in my head, of course), "It's just not that difficult, guys!" And then we would all laugh and laugh! I had that silly brief cite checked likity split--and it was fun because I made a game out of it.

I left the office ten minutes later than normal because of a meeting, and to make matters worse, traffic was heavier than usual delaying my commute another ten minutes. It was one of those nights that I had a choice: (1) get frustrated and watch the clock to see how much time I wasted on the freeway, or (2) turn the music up, sing along, and play a mind game. My sisters had been so much fun cite checking, that I pretended they were in the car with me. I cranked up the music, and then pretended to show them my traffic theory: go until you hit traffic, and then turn right. Again, I heard their laughter in my head every time I turned right. I walked in the door twenty minutes late, but relaxed and smiling.

I'm tired of my sisters now. I think I'll go to bed. What games will I come up with tomorrow? Maybe I can count the number of times I have to get out of my chair. Maybe I can take a survey of how many people in the office participate in casual Friday--or better yet, break the rules on casual Friday. Hmmm. I'm sure I'll think of something to make tomorrow fun.

Introspection

I suppose we've all had those times of introspection. One day you wake up and wonder who you are and why you do what you do. Maybe you even wonder why you bother getting out of bed in the morning. The last couple of months have been an interesting journey for me. I've learned a few things about myself, my family, and my life. I'm not sure whether I had a mid-life crisis, or whether I just decided I'd had enough and needed a change. I'm sure some of it stemmed from depression which seems to run in the genes.

A long time ago I learned that the only way out of depression is to take the bull by the horns and change things--hey, it beats drugs. I need sunshine. Going for a drive by myself usually helps clear my mind so I can figure out what changes have to be made. Sometimes the necessary changes may seem selfish to others, and sometimes it means confrontation. Other times all that is required is taking some time for myself.

I'm not sure exactly what happened the last couple of months--maybe because I'm not completely on the other side of it yet. I can report on what I've learned so far.

1. I've reached a time in my life when I need to do something totally for me, regardless of what anyone else thinks, or how much time it takes. Thus, the blog. I've always wanted to write. I'm not kidding myself that I'll write anything that is of value to anyone but me, but I have hope that I will.

2. No matter what I do in my church calling, it's not going to make a difference--and I'm okay with that. I've prayed about it, I have a testimony of what I'm supposed to do, and I'm trying my best to follow through. Nobody listened to Noah either, and he was a great prophet. I certainly can't expect to do better than Noah.

3. My work is important to me. I'm part of a grand effort to save what is left of freedom in America and to salvage the Constitution. My part is a tiny part. I type what great minds think. But I'm extremely proud of the minuscule role I play. It's not important that my family comprehend this. I know it, and God knows it. No one else matters.

4. Mothers take more crap than they need to take. We get used to putting our own feelings on the shelf when the kids are small. Suddenly they are adults, and we are still putting them first. There's a time to stand up and say, "I've had enough, and I'm not going to take it anymore." Kids need to know that mothers are people too.

5. My family's happiness does not depend on me. It is up to each of them to find joy in their own lives. On those rare occasions when they ask for an opinion, I might be able to give one--scratch that--even if they ask, they really don't want to know. All I can really do is pray for them. It's between them and their maker.

6. No matter how hard things get, every day until I die is worthwhile. That is true because God has a plan for me. I know that God lives. I know that He sent His Son to do for me what I can't do for myself. I know that as long as I keep getting up in the morning and putting one foot in front of the other that when I leave this earth, I will live with Them. I know that! And that makes everything else okay.

Where am I?

My life is surrounded by old people. I married a man 12 years my senior, so most of our friends are older than me. My calling in church puts me in a position of getting to know the elderly in our ward. Some relatives are aging before my eyes. I'm forced to reevaluate my own life and where I am in reference to my life goals.

My aunt is 99, and we have friends in their 80's and 90's. A couple of days ago, a friend died at the age of 100. When I'm 80, 90, or 99, I hope I have half the wisdom that I see in these people. I feel so far behind. There is so much knowledge bottled up inside them -- I wish I could shake them like a soda bottle and explode some of that wisdom out onto me. I find myself picking their brains for any glimmer I can glean.

Someone said recently the worst mistake women make is to compare themselves to other women. To some extent I agree with that, but in other ways the comparison may be our call to action. The good we see in others can be ours if we put our minds to the task. Being wise isn't easy; it's God's challenge. We need to be careful, however, that we don't become depressed about our shortcomings. We should always strive for something higher, but not forget how far we've come.

I Am My Father's Daughter

Some names and addresses have been changed to protect the innocent.

Some people have a real inability to remember names and faces. My father and I fit in that category.

My Dad sold life and health insurance. He had a policyholder by the name of Mr. Small. Dad could not remember Mr. Small's name to save him. To make matters worse, Mr. Small was Dad's banker. (Younger generation: People used to have personal bankers in the bank who they regularly dealt with regarding personal or business loans.) My sister, Cheri, was in college and learned all these tricks to remember things. She told Dad that when he saw Mr. Small, he should think about Mr. Small as a banker, and the smallest denomination of money is a penny. You guessed it, Dad walked up to Mr. Small in the grocery store and said, "Hello, Mr. Penny."

The last three years as Relief Society President, I've tried everything imaginable to remember names and faces. Nothing has worked. Recently, however, I discovered that when I see a sister I get a picture of her address in my head. I've been using that to my advantage. Such as: Gray-haired lady with big glasses = 12 Market Street. 12 Market Street = Sister Green. It has been working rather nicely--until this morning. I walked up to this little lady (and I know her name as well as my own--but it just didn't come to me) and asked her to give the closing prayer. Then I pictured her address--20 Elm Street. 20 Elm Street = Sister Black. I wrote on my cheat sheet: Closing prayer, Sister Black.

At the end of the meeting, I announced that the closing hymn would be hymn 139, and the closing prayer would be given by Sister Black. There was a disturbance, and another sister explained to me that it was not Sister Black, but Sister Brown. You see, Sister Brown used to live at 20 Elm Street and was Sister Black's roommate. Sister Brown recently moved to her own apartment. Thus Sister Black = 12 Market Street, and Sister Brown = 10 Huntington Place. After the meeting, I apologized to Sister Brown, and she graciously accepted my apology--but when I explained the mistake, she looked at me like I was a total nut case. Hmmm. I guess I am at that!

Friends

Friends come in all shapes and sizes. They are young, and they are old. You find them in the strangest places. Friends are found in school, at work, in church, at baseball games, and in clubs. I used to think that you had to meet someone and at least shake their hand to begin a friendship. That seemed logical, and I'm nothing if not logical.

A year or so ago my daughter encouraged me to open a Facebook account, and then some months ago I was encouraged at work to open a Twitter account. I began talking with complete strangers on the internet. It was odd for me at first. I wasn't sure what to say. As the months moved on, however, conversation became more natural. I listened to people's problems (in 40 characters or less). I began reading their blogs. Suddenly these funny made-up names on my computer screen became real people. I found myself actually caring about these people. We've rallied around each other as we've dealt with health issues, financial problems, a home that burned down, sick children, deaths in the family, raising children, staying connected with grandchildren, social issues, and our own struggles to be the kind of people we aspire to be. We've prayed for each other. We've prayed for each other's family members and friends.

As I began reading my internet buddies' blogs, I found a kind of friendship I've never before experienced. I read, I digested, I thought about, and then I responded. That's a novel concept, isn't it? When two people converse in the same room, how often do we stop to digest and think about what the other person says before we respond? Normal conversation seems to flow so quickly in this fast-paced world in which we live. Do we really listen to each other anymore?

Say what you will about social media. It can take up too much of our time if we allow that to happen. It can control our lives if we allow that to happen. Or social media can be a means of making us better people. We can learn from others. We can comfort others. We can develop bonds that reach beyond cyberspace and into human space.

Yes, friendship is found in a variety of places. Thank you Twitter and Facebook friends. I love you all.