Highs and Lows

Today was a mixture of great highs and lows. There was a lot on deck today and we left the Galilee early in order to accomplish it all. We got a later start than intended because, I think, someone left something in their room or something like that. 7:30 departure turned into 7:50 and it kind of set the tone for the rest of the day.

Without pictures, you're going to have to imagine the change of scenery. The galilee is green, at least in January, and as we drove south to Jericho, the landscape turned rather quickly from green to brown and fertile valley to barren desert. Acres and acres of land devoted to agriculture was now all but abandoned except for a few irrigated vineyards and shepherds leading their flocks around. 

My enthusiasm was high at our first stop. We didn't have anything but a view, looking up at the mountain that is the traditional spot where Christ fasted for 40 days and nights and was later tempted, but we stayed there for over an hour while the group shopped and took turns having $1 camel rides around the parking lot. It seemed like a lot of time to be spending waiting for some to get a scarf tied around their head in the Arab style and others to pick out their 5 for $10 magnets but I wasn't very upset. I figured those in charge would get us going when necessary. 

A couple of more stops around Jericho, including the site where most believe Christ was baptized (favorite stop so far. High point! It felt special) and then on to the Dead Sea where the scrolls were discovered. Everything was kind of seen from a distance but I love the story of the scrolls discovery and enjoyed the tour. Then came lunch. A long lunch. And hour and a half to eat and shop. I know what I want to buy (a nativity) and an saving my spending money for that when we get to Jerusalem but noticed that the gift shop did offer some Dead Sea mineral lotions and mud solutions but I was told that the prices would be better at the factory shop at Masada so didn't buy anything. We did better at leaving on time after lunch but it was still later than planned. 

Then, we were at Masada. I have always found the story of the Jewish revolt and mass suicide interesting but after recently reading Alice Hoffman's The Dovekeepers, Masada was one of the things I was most looking forward to seeing. Unfortunately, by the time we took the tram up to the mountain site, we only had an hour before it closed.

And, still, I stayed with the group. Because i am a rule follower. We have an odd group.  Everyone is nice enough but both guides have said in all their years, they have never seen a slower group.  Some are older and their slower gait is understandable. The thing is, they are never the ones we are constantly waiting for. Somebody wanders off or turns left when we go right, making the guides go searching, or falls behind to take photos or...whatever. It seems to take forever to have everyone gather round to hear the history or story from the guide. 

When the loudspeakers announced Masada would close in 15 minutes and we hadn't seen a tenth of the sight and more time was spent wondering where so and so went than going to the humongous ramp the Romans built along the side of the mountain to force this act of bravery...desperation...revolt of almost 1,000 dead by their own hands, I just wanted to scream. I didn't, of course. Rule followers don't make scenes, after all. 

My disappointment grew when there was no time to stop at the factory store either. All of those wasted minutes throughout the day added up in my head and I had to put my headphones in my ears on the bus ride to the hotel to calm down. Every time someone had slowed the group down because they wanted a picture somewhere we weren't going or forgot what time we were meeting or couldn't get out or a gift shop within the allotted time, I have thought, "You are not here by yourself! You are here with a group and don't have the luxury of doing what only what you want to do!"  

I couldn't decide if my much too short visit at Masada was the fault or others or if I was forgetting my own group tour lecture. I'm lucky that my mood didn't stay dark for long and didn't have to introspect too deeply ;-) 

We arrived at our hotel at 5 but the shuttles to the Dead Sea had stopped running an hour earlier and we have to leave tomorrow morning by 9 so there was one short hour before dinner where we could walk to the sea and swim, should we choose. Choir rehearsal was scheduled immediately following dinner and neither Maureen nor I were going to be AT the Dead Sea and not swim IN the Dead Sea. So we quickly changed and left for the sea. 

The beaches were abandoned due to the time of day, windy weather and cold temperature but we did it.  We laughed and laughed as the water pushed us up, sometimes awkwardly so, and impressed the group when we came to dinner having swam, changed and still on time. It is possible to do. Just not with this group, apparently.

The tour guide is leading a group down tomorrow morning, early (7 am) and most raised their hand when asked who wanted to go. I'm glad we already went. Who knows how long they will take in the morning?  

So, like I said. Some high highs and some not too terrible lows (actually, the Dead Sea is the lowest elevation on earth so, it this were strictly metaphorical, it would be very low). In my perfect world, everyone would be considerate of others and always follow the instructions.  Itineraries would be followed and excessive shopping, picture taking, hyper attention-seeking laughter, and harmonica playing on buses would all be banned.  That isn't our world, however. In fact, two-thirds decided against that very kind of rule adhering world. And, in spite of it all, I'm glad. 

The Food

We have our first free night without a choir rehearsal or performance and I want to capture some of my memories while they wre fresh but still leave itinerary stuff until returning home when I can add the photos. Add to those considerations that I am now writing with a new awareness that the tour director might visit the ol' blog (he asked I if I had a blog after some comment I made about writing. I can't remember saying it but he still outed me. I was surprised by how nervous I felt about the idea of someone new reading my blog. I have gotten very comfortable with my 10-20 readers and like it that way but have no desire to be private so if you're here, Steve, welcome!).

With all that in mind, I thought it'd be fun to write about the food.  It is interesting to me that wherever I have traveled, there is a dominant meal. China: rice and stirfry. Germany, Austria, Switzerland: weinerschitzel (at least that is my 17 year-old memory. Lots of weinersnitzel. I also remember a lot of bread, cheese and Nutella). Guatemala: rice and beans. Dominican Republic: rice and beans. Myanmar and Thailand: rice and curry. Mexico: cruise ship so it doesnt count but I did have fish tacos whenever we got off the ship. Do you think it is unique to living in the USA that we regularly have tacos, stir fry, spaghetti, steak and soup all within a week?  That is not so here. 

As a preface, every meal I have had here has been served group style, whether at a hotel, restaurant or kibbutz cafeteria. I realize the group setting influences our dining experience but I think each place has tried really hard to serve a variety of food offerings, not only for different palate preferences but also because it is a lot of food to prepare!  Side dishes are key! 

The most dominant factor here in Israel is that food must be kosher. Before coming here, I had a vague understanding of what that meant. I still have only a slightly better than vague understanding but the little I've learned I want to remember. 

First of all, kosher means that everything, from the spices and oils to the meat and bread, has to be prepared properly. To be strictly kosher (and our guide explained that there is some leniency in interpretation when companies choose) Shabbat, or the sabbath, cannot have been broken during its production. For items whose processes take days or weeks, like wine, having a kosher label is a big deal. The other factors are how the blood was drained from meat (completely but I think there is more to it) and what foods can't be combined or consumed together. 

This is the part of kosher that I had no idea about. Meat and dairy can never be served at the same meal. That means, there is no such thing as a kosher cheeseburger (actually, that is probably not true as the cheese McDonald's uses might not actually be made from dairy products, but you get the idea).  Most of the time, I hardly notice but last night at dinner, I thought, "I wish there was butter for my roll," and realized none would be offered because there were beef and chicken dishes. Likewise, at breakfasts, milk, yogurt and cheeses are always offered and, thus, there is no meat. There wouldn't be the kinds or breakfast meats I am used to anyways as pork is not kosher (no bacon or sausage or ham) so it is not all that noticeable either. Do you suppose that may be why those types of meats have become "breakfast" meats?  Hmmmm.  They do offer fish in the morning. Fish is not considered meat and eggs are not considered dairy. They are neutral foods.

Which brings me to what we have been eating. Salad is offered at every meal: breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not salad like we Americans think of it but more of a schmorgasborg of salad-ish items. Lots of cucumbers, tomatoes and onions in a vinegar. Lots of corn with peppers and cucumbers. Lots of cabbage that is almost a coleslaw but without the sweetness or mayo. Lots of peppers prepared fresh, marinated, or roasted and always, always, always hummus. There are also always olives and fruits to enjoy. The Jaffa oranges are wonderful but the fresh dates are kind of bland. 

Lunch has been "on our own" everyday which simply means we pay out of pocket for it on the spot instead of it being included in the tour package. I haven't minded yet. Our schedule has been so full that to send all of us off in different directions looking for food could be disastrous and time consuming. Instead, we have found restaurants that don't bat an eye at feeding a bus full of people (in fact, there are usually already one or two buses already parked in the parking lot. The holy land attracts tourists like moths to a flame and these restaurants are designed to feed crowds quickly). Again, the ubiquitous salads are offered as is pita bread, hummus, and usually a choice of flafel or some other meat. It's all very good. I haven't left hungry once. 

Today was the most adventurous meal yet. We visited Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee and our tour guide (hi, Steve!) suggested we try the St. Peter's fish as it is a fish unique to the Sea of Galilee and kind of a once in a lifetime (if you are a tourist) opportunity. We had just finished seeing the very sight where Jesus performed the miracle of the loaves and fishes and even though I am not much of a fish lover and pretty much limit myself to salmon and maybe mahi mahi if I'm feeling really wild and crazy, raised my hand when asked who wanted fish instead of the much safer chicken kabobs. 

I about died when my plate was put in front of me. Ok...not died but I definitely almost cried. I don't even like eating wings or drumsticks if I am eating  chicken because of the skins and bones and now, I am dealing with eyeballs and skin and tail and fins!  I didn't even know where to start. 

I picked up the tail and started pulling. I saw the white meat and felt relieved because it didn't look scary at all but I had all the bones still to deal with, not to mention that as I continued to pull, I only got closer and closer to the head. 

Somehow, I did it all. I didn't ever freak out or shudder or cry, even though I felt like doing all of it. What a grown up I have become!  20 years ago, when food like this was presented to me in china, I took picture but would not eat. I still took the picture (how could I not?) but enjoyed the very good fish as well. It is a type of tilapia. Very mild. That is the picture from the post. 

I'm looking forward to the markets in Jerusalem where we will have a few meals to truly fend for ourselves. I don't know if I'll venture beyond my comfort zone of bread and cheese or pita and hummus but my success with St. Peter's fish gives me hope and confidence that I might be capable of more. Maybe I'll be brave enough to try some olives tomorrow. Even back home, if they aren't black and from a can, I don't dare. But, I am in the land of olives. Did you know Gethsemane on the mount of Olives means "oil press" in Hebrew?  We learned that today and I have been thinking about it ever since. We take these olives, which are quite bitter unprepared. They press them to extract the oil which is expensive ad highly desirable, necessary even, in terms of cooking and daily life. I haven't quite dis jumbled it all but I know there is a metaphor in there somewhere . 

I can't believe how much I can type with my thumbs on a small keyboard. I wish I had a full size one as I could go much faster and get less frustrated with auto correct. Tomorrow, we go to Jericho, Qumrum where the Dead Sea scrolls were riscovered, Masada, which, after reading The Dovekeepers, is a place I have been eagerly anticipating, and staying the night at the Dead Sea. I plan on swimming in the salty water and covering myself in its mud so that I can be unbelievably beautiful. At least that is the promise:-). 

The Group

As tempting as it is to do all my trip blogging from my iPhone, I am going to wait until I'm home to post the details about where I've been and what I've seen. Mostly because the majority of my pictures are on my big Nikon and though I love the written word (and I do love it so) a trip blog is much better with illustrations.

Which leaves all the other fun stuff that has nothing to do with geography or itineraries but is every bit as fascinating and important to the experience as a whole. What am I talking about?  People. People who need people. Didn't Barbara Streisand sing that?  Or something like that?  As stereotypical as it sounds, I have been surprised by how many people look like Barbara Streisand around here. There is a Jewish look, which I always thought was racist to say or think but in the day and a half I've been here, I don't think it is. It's a heritage which is proudly celebrated and though the Jewish people have been singled out for ill throughout history, I  believe that, for them, there is still a desire to withstand blending in.

We do not blend in either. Well...we do with the other thousands of tour groups here. There are so many of us all getting on and off of matching buses with comfortable looking shoes and carrying some sort of bag or sack. We've been given lanyards with badges to help learn each others names and identify us as part of the "Latter Day Festival Choir" but after someone approached me thinking I was a tour guide, I took mine off. Really, if you think about it, showing my full name, home town and affiliation on a card near my belly button is all way too much information. Especially here.

Which brings me to the group.  Everyone is very nice and friendly but I can already remember who is who, not because or their overly helpful badges, but rather because of their patterned behavior.

There's photo happy guy who I would guess has already taken close to a thousand picture. He uses a point and shoot as well as his iPhone and it is non stop clicking. Wherever we are driving, he holds his camera to the window and takes a picture. Again and again and again. I am looking out the same window and I see the concrete apartments with laundry drying on the balcony and I already feel sorry for whoever he corners to look at his Israel pictures.

There are the Dixie chicks. Three women all in their late fifties or sixties with matching bedazzled lanyards. All three with the same hairstyle (the messy and spiky short do). All three with coordinating yoga pants to their tops. And all three with long fake eyelashes. This is clearly a girls trip for them.

There is the question asker. I wonder things but I rarely voice my curiosity from my seat on the bus because there is a tour going on and a tour guide who has said, more than once, "you're getting ahead of me. I will get to that soon, I promise."  Mainly, questions about Palestinians and borders and war.   Plus, with my 7 hours at the airport yesterday, I also read through the entire package of tour information which included a lot Israel history and landmark information but also lots of LDS interest stories and quotes from well known scholars or church leaders. My point is that a lot or question asker's questions are answered in the tour handout. But the answer to,"what time is the sunrise?" and "what do we wear tomorrow?" are not. Lucky for the rest of us, question asker is going to get to the bottom of it.

There are the two late ladies. I am probably wrong, but I think they have been the last to return to the bus after every single stop. They are always lagging behind in the gift shops or just lagging. It's not like I think we need to jog from place to place but a little bit of hustle wouldn't hurt when we are done and ready to go. I can't say it but I'm thinking, "Hustle, ladies!"  

There are several married couples who I like to watch. This tour has a lot of retired people on it and older couples kind of fascinate me. The way they treat each other or dress alike or communicate. There are a few men who came without spouses but most of them seem to be accompanying their singing happy wives.

There is a blind man. He is so patient and interested in everything. I am fascinated watching him watch nothing. He feels things and listens to descriptions and makes comments about scriptures and his surprises to his expectations. He sings with us. He carries a machine around his neck that is a Braille interpreter of some sort and I watch him run his fingers along it as we rehearse.


There are the newlyweds. I thought they were brother and sister at first because they kind of look alike and didn't seem romantic with each other at all. Then, I discovered they had gotten married only two weeks ago and this was a sort of honeymoon. So, now, of course, I can't stop watching them. They never touch. No hand holding or shoulder rubbing or knee swiping. This evening, at dinner, I was right behind them in the buffet line and I was desperately trying to listen to their conversation but they are what Seinfeld called low talkers. I got nothing. They stayed on the bus instead of getting off for several of the stops and when I got back, they were asleep. I know what you're thinking and its entirely possible and i would even go wink wink nudge nudge know what I mean with you but it doesn't fit. If anything, they seem extremely bored. I can't imagine a honeymoon to Israel with a singing group of sixty somethings would be most couple׳s first choice as a destination but they had to sign up for it. Well in advance, I might add. Choice....made. So interesting.

I know what my label would be too. The young un (next to the newlyweds, who do not look older than 15, Maureen and I are, by far, the youngest) standoffish sort. I don't talk a lot and am usually right behind the tour guide at each stop. Not because I am that much of an eager beaver but because nobody else walks very fast. Plus, nobody seems to find me all that interesting. They ask me and Maureen about our lives and her music credits get first billing over my stay at home and not from Utah-ness.  They are mostly music people too so I get it. If the conversation does turn to me, it usually turns right back to whomever's grandchildren. I feel like making something up to seem more interesting.


Good tour guides. Steven Kapp Perry does the LDS angle of the your and Anat, a native, does the Israel history and geography. We sing with Brady Allred and he is very good. Out first concert is tomorrow night. Should be fun.


Thumbs are cramping. Goodnight!  הלילה טוב!  (That is Hebrew for goodnight).

Still waiting

I have been in an airport or on an airplane for 26 hours now.  Notice the same background but more travel weary look of my person. The group's flight had been delayed for 2 hours but Maureen had arrived (she came early as he wanted to go to Petra, Jordan too and flew in from Amman 2 hours ago).  I'm feeling quite batty. My hair has reached the greasy stage, as has my chin and nose and I think I had a pizza for lunch (again...nothing in English but there was crust and some sort of sauce and some green olives. Salty. It worked.).

I should conserve my phone battery but its nearly dead and the rest of the day is so up in the air that typing, albeit with thumbs, calms me down a bit. Not that I'm anxious or hyper or anything, just a little bored, nervous and tired. Yeah...the diet coke has worn off. 

The agenda says we are heading to see Jaffa, which tradition claims was founded by Noah's son after the flood. It is also where Peter received revelation to go and preach Christ's gospel to the world. It is also where Napoleon stationed his base when he conquered this area.  There are probably even more "it is where"s but that's all I know from my airport reading, which had been plentiful . So much history in one port by the sea.  

Once I spot all the other LDS folks, this show will really get starter. My guess is that they'll be easy to spot. There's kind of a look, you know?  Maureen calls it the light from within. It might be that. But after people watching for 7 straight hours, I bet not too many from our tour will be wearing jeggings with hightops. It is a surprisingly popular look for many. 

Waiting....waiting.  There they all are. Definitely the light within. And the Mormon look.

Landed

I'm here!  I'm alone in the airport as I flew separately from the rest of the tour and have a few hours to wait for them. I just exchanged some money to buy a diet coke and honestly could not tell how much it cost. Nothing on the vending machine is in English. I went to a currency exchange kiosk and changed over a $50 and got 160 shekels plus some coins. I don't know what the subcurrency to the shekel is but I thought I'd try the coins first but after inserting them all, nothing happened so I inserted a 20 instead. I got a diet coke!  And some more coins whose worth I'll have to figure out.

I actually slept on the plane. Well...I slept in about 30 second increments but those added up to several hours worth. Even though it is 1 am back home and I should be exhausted, I actually feel somewhat ready for an entire new day (it is 10:30 am here). Of course, that could just be the diet coke talking. I only drank water on the plane as I didn't want to undo the melatonin I took to induce sleepiness. Secret: I actually took 2. And some Tylenol pm. I'm not going to lie, I was a little nervous they were going to have to roll me off the plane or I'd be like the drugged up sister on her wedding day on Sixteen Candles but I couldn't fall asleep for hours and I'm a very needy and particular sleeper. Even though my sleep was fitful due to the loud conversation to my right and needing to constantly shift to see if I could relieve the numbness on my tailbone, I woke up an hour and a half before landing and felt great!  Yay for drugs and natural sleep aides!  

Just trying this blogging through email to see if it works. I promise, I won't post about every diet coke and pill I take:-) 

Anticipation

I should be in bed. Or should I? I have to wake up in 5 hours to catch my flight. Everything is packed except for the toiletries I need to use in the morning and they are all in bags so I can't forget anything. Still, I'm sure I'm going to forget something. I always do.

All week, I meant to write a somewhat detailed post about my trip and why I am going and with whom but it never happened. All of that will have to wait but the short version is I'm going on an LDS tour that also happens to be a choir. The director is the head of the Salt Lake Choral Artists whose director was the man my sister, Maureen, studied under to get her Masters of Choral Conducting degree at the U. I'm excited to sing in a choir although my expectations of its caliber are pretty low. It is a voluntary choir, after all. Pay to play, if you will. Still, I can't imagine anyone with a really horrible voice would choose this particular Israel tour.

I kissed my baby tonight knowing he'll seem so big when I get home in 10 days. Sam threw up right before bed and I'm hoping that not only do I not get sick while traveling but that the rest of the family can stay healthy for Jay. He is taking five days off of work and Patty is watching Daniel on the three days he has to work and I just want everything to go as smoothly as possible. Sometimes, I wish my job were the kind that I could just mark which days I want off on a calendar and that was that. I feel like there is so much preparation to leave the job of "mom." I have cancelled most of the extracurriculars next week. No piano. No speech. No soccer. No scouts. I've shopped and frozen a meal and left a few recipes for crockpot dinners on the days that Jay works. I've bought a second car seat so Jay and Patty don't have to do the switch cars dance every day. I'm missing Sam's birthday and have a card and gifts waiting to be given. My brain is spinning, spinning, spinning wondering if everything is as ready as I can leave it, hoping it is.

There is anticipation. There is also a little bit of dread. Isn't that odd?

Of course, in ten days time, the dread will be gone and all of these responsibilities will be back and I'll be back to anticipating the next adventure.

Book Review #4 - The End of Your Life Bookclub

A nice book about a mother and son who both enjoy reading and how their interest in books strengthened their bond during the mother's treatment and progression of pancreatic cancer.  Definitely a book readers will appreciate as it reaffirms what I have always found to be true: that reading is a gateway to understanding the world and each other.

As horrible as this sounds, at times I wish the author had decided to write a fictionalized novel instead of a memoir/biography.  I know! Horrible!  It's not that the book isn't well written.  It is.  It's not that the book's arc doesn't develop well.  It does.  It's not even that the characters aren't interesting.  They are.  My only explanation is that I stay focused better when I'm reading a story that can stay with the story and not leave it to explain this, that and the other facts surrounding both his and his mother's life and background.  But that is my own weakness with non-fiction...the flow.

My favorite part of the book, by far, was the weight Will Schwalbe gave books.  Bookclubs get a bad rap and Schwalbe himself lightly mocks them by admitting that the bookclub his mother and he forms breaks all the rules as there is no food served and it only has two members.  As frustrating as book clubs can be, and they often are, I love that a book has the power to gather and join minds.  Even when I disagree with someone about something we've read, I am still delighted that we have that commonality of experience.  Will proves the worth of not only reading, but reading with the anticipation of discussion by the way he lovingly tributes the thoughts and beliefs of his mother with each book discussed.  It sounds like a country song, but I like this quote from the book: "Reading isn't the opposite of doing; it's the opposite of dying."

If you like to read and want some affirmation that you're spending your time wisely, this book is for you.

Book Review #3 - Reached

I think when a book is one in a series, it's hard to judge it on its individual merits.  Reached, number three in Ally Condie's Matched triology, is about Cassia, Ky and Xander's realization that along with the power to choose, a freedom not previously experienced in their young adult lifetime, there is often pain. Loss. Heartbreak. Guilt. And, of course, love. This is a young adult series with two guys wanting the same girl, after all.

Although this is not an LDS book and should appeal to readers anywhere of any faith (or none) the theme of agency and accountability is one that is familiar and pivotal to members of our church.  For this reason, perhaps, I didn't find the characters' journeys all that startling or even very interesting.  I loved the first book.  I thought Condie's choice to portray a futuristic, dystopian society featuring happy, productive people instead of the more familiar scary and looming forced conformity was smart.  Because I've always been a believer that it is better to have good and bad so that we can know the difference and more fully appreciate the good, I found myself really thinking about a place where the things we seek after - good health, happy families, satisfying work and hobbies - are all but guaranteed. Sure, it was obvious that something was missing but because I felt those good things through Cassia's and Xander's experience,  in a way, I didn't want it to go away.  They were likable and good.

Ky was used to illustrate what happens to the imperfections.  To achieve perfect health, the risks (foods, vices, idleness) against it were taken away.  Likewise, to achieve perfect societies, those who disobeyed rules or were even born to those who disobeyed rules, were taken away.  As Ky, classified as an Abberation or an outcast because his parents were part of the Rising, was also a character to root for, the conundrum was established.  Who or what should go?  Those threats to perfection or perfection itself?

I suppose I needed to set that all up to explain that I did get the point.  I liked the point.  I just didn't like the story anymore.  As much as I enjoyed Matched, the first book in the series, I equally disliked Crossed, the second book.  Take that as a lesson in opposition! I had no idea where Reached would fall in the spectrum and due to its length, grueling repetitiveness (Cassia loves poetry and is thinking, hiding, trading, or writing poems to express how she feels about any topic.  Xander is learning about the nature of viruses while he thinks about Cassia.  Ky flies a plane while thinks about Cassia. Who is the Pilot? Who is the Pilot? Who is the Pilot?) and predictability, it falls closer to Crossed than Matched.  Everything felt so tedious to me.  From finding a cure (twice!) to waiting for something, anything to make the love triangle more interesting (everyone liked and respected each other an awful lot) I just kept waiting for the action to happen.  Either the conflict was too long in development or simply not overwhelming enough to notice, but I felt like there was no climax.  At least no page-turning one.  I also got tired of the Capitilizations.  Pilot.  Society.  Rising.  Otherlands.  Plague.  I felt irked each time one of those words popped up in a sentence.  If you've read the book, you have an idea about the frequency of the emotion.  What I did enjoy was Xander's growth as his eyes were open to both his limitations as well as his innate talents.  I know he had alternating chapters but I wish there would have been even more about Xander.

So, I liked it but I didn't love it and because I wanted this book to redeem the series for me, I feel disappointed.

If You Give A Man A Suit

Within the first month of our married life, Jay threatened me with a mustache.  Back when we were dating, I had all sorts of vocal and juvenile opinions about what was and what was not acceptable dress and grooming standards for a man.  Braided belt?  No. Sideburns? Yes. Light blue denim jeans with white tennis shoes? No.

Mustache?  No.

He knew it and yet, as a joke, every few weeks or months or even years (we have been married for awhile.  If you're going to use a joke over and over, it needs to be spaced well) he wouldn't shave his mustache along with the rest of his beard.  He'd approach me, with a glint in his eye that would usually alert me to his mischief before the hair above his lip did.  Usually, he'd lean in for a kiss, I'd refuse, he'd shave.  That was the game.

Over the course of our marriage, I have appreciated and benefited from the fact that Jay does not criticize me.  I'm sure there have been many times he's had to bite his tongue but no matter what I do or say or look like, he keeps his negative or "helpful" comments to himself.  I can actually only think of two things he has ever vocalized he wished I wouldn't do.  One, and this was in the early days of cell phone use, was to not use my cell phone while I was driving (saturation of cell phones in both our lives has made this desire expire) and the second was to not interject guesses into a story he's telling me (I have to try really hard to remember this one.  I know I've bugged him when he gives up on a story and sighs, "Never mind.")

I'm not saying I was ever a nag or even anything resembling one, but I have picked up on his habit.  Even things as trivial as hair length, color, jewelry or shoes, I make changes and purchases without ever worrying whether Jay will care or not.  I think he's like most men and prefers my hair long but if I feel like cutting it off or changing from blond to brown, I make the change (after consulting a few sisters) and, maybe, Jay will compliment whatever is new if he happens to notice.  Unless it is drastic, he usually doesn't.

That's all fine and good and inconsequential and I'm not sure having an opinion about those kinds of things is heavy handed or not but there are some things that I know he's noticed and still doesn't comment about.  He has never said anything about my weight.  Ever.  I have had friends and heard stories of other women whose husbands monitor their appearance and weight.  Suggest diets and workout routines.  Most of the times, the motivation is to help and support but I'm still always horrified by this kind of revelation because I can only imagine the humiliation I would feel if Jay made a snide remark while I ate something or bought me, with no provocation or request, a Thighmaster or something.

It was with this in mind that I kept my mouth shut about Jay's most recent mustache reveal.  I think over time, on some level, I've picked up on his non-joking desire to sport a mustache.  He's grown a beard a few times over the years and it usually bugs him before it bugs me.  I don't mind a man in a beard.  I figure if that's what genetics insists upon, then so be it.  A mustache, on the other hand, is pure choice.  It's fashion.  While not my preferred look, I admit it looked very cowboy-esque, the exact look he was going for, and with that understanding and lots and lots of love for this man for his unconditional patience with me, I kissed him anyway.

The mustache stayed.  It stayed and it stayed and it stayed.  The longer it stayed, the more comfortable in his new look Jay became.  Oddly enough, very few people asked Jay about his new fancy facial hair.  Instead, if they could manage, like at his Christmas work party, they asked me.  My reply was usually, "I don't know why he's growing a mustache.  It might be to tease me but I think he likes it."

Like my own family, I think his siblings and parents were the most comfortable teasing him about it.  I think their jokes and ribs provided even more motivation for Jay to keep the mustache.  I never forgot about it but, like most things that seem like a big deal at first, its presence started to matter less and less.  In what could be the biggest surprise of my lifetime, I found myself attracted to a man with a mustache.

Sometime before Thanksgiving, Jay and I went on a date to see Skyfall.  While I wasn't as keen on the movie as he was, we both really liked James Bond's suits.  That trim cut appealed to Jay, who always calls his suits "clown suits" by the way they hang on his slender frame, and I took note.  When passing through Utah on my way to Montana, I stopped at a Banana Republic Factory Outlet and found a slim cut suit as a gift for our anniversary.

You'd think I would have been unable to forget about the suit but I had hidden it in the back of our closet (Jay is one of the least curious gift finders I have ever known.  I never need to go to great lengths to keep gifts hidden from him because he does not look for them. Ever.) and forgot to take it with us on our overnight anniversary trip.  When he presented me with my bracelet, I felt dumb for not having a reciprocal gift for him and presented it to him the minute we returned home, lest he think I had to run to the store for anything.

He loved it.  I knew he would.  He wore it the first Sunday following our anniversary.  We got ready in the same bathroom and I saw him in his suit, with his mustache and thought nothing of it.  Only, "He looks great!"

Then, while driving to church, I looked at him sideways.  Something was off.  Different.  It took me about ten seconds of looking and then I smiled.

The mustache was gone.

He started to laugh and said that when he looked in the mirror after he dressed, he decided the mustache  look did not match the James Bond look.  One had to go.

So....the story goes....if you give a man a suit....

He might shave off his mustache to go with it.

The conversation goes like this:  Me: "Jay, I want a picture of you in your suit for a blog post." 

Jay:  "Because I look like James Bond?"

Me:  "Yes."

Jay:  "Do I need to come from around the corner and do this?"

(Photo 1)

Me:  "Great action shot.  Now, just look cute and normal."

Jay: "Like this?"

(photo 2)

Me:  "Awesome.  Now...normal"

Jay:  "This?"

Me: {laughing} "Can you do normal?"

Jay: "Of course."

Me:  "That is normal for your arms???"

A reminder of Jay's mustache for comparison.

Clean shaven.  Miiiighty handsome, if you ask me.

Jay:  "Wait.  Aren't I supposed to jut my neck out and put my head down to get rid of a double chin?"

Oh....he makes me laugh.  I love this man.  With or without facial hair.

13 Months and a Haircut

Not quite the same ring as Shave and a Haircut but it works.  Daniel's long hair has been a source of comments for a while now.  While his androgynous locks cause little notice here in my hippie town, a place with a very casual approach to hair grooming, questions regarding his haircut timeline have been coming with more frequency from my more traditional family members and church friends as Daniel's hair grows in abundance and length.

I've already explained my stance one baby hair and waiting for a year before the first cut, but this past month, I felt increasingly stressed because I didn't know what to do.  When Sam and Henry were babies, we lived in a city that had specific salons for babies.  The salon hairs were designed as fun cars or animals and cartoons and toys kept them busy and distracted while someone I assumed was trained in the art of fast clipping and cutting went to work.  At best, I've had minimal luck with haircuts for my older boys at places like Walmart and other than going to one of dozens hair pun named salons around towns, that also didn't specialize in one year-olds, I couldn't think of where to go.

Melanie has mentioned the trick of giving suckers to little ones getting haircuts so that idea kind of took hold.  A rare and unfamiliar inner voice kept whispering, "You should just cut it," as if I'm the kind of person that confidently tries things I don't know how to do or have never done before.  I squashed the voice for as long as I could but after trying to comb out nasty knots after Daniel's bath time last night, I knew it was time to try.

We both struggled to know what to do with our hands.  He could not figure out that it was the stick he was to hold onto and not the sticky orb, and repeatedly got hair remnants all over his candy.  Sam was on full-time-get-Daniel-a-clean-sucker duty.  My struggles were more of the where-do-I-put-the-comb-while-I'm-cutting variety and took turns using Sam as a scissor and comb holding assistant (he was on double duty), holding it under my chin while I cut (hairy) and putting it between my pinky and fourth finger on my left hand while I cut.  I'm not sure if any of them actually worked.

I had not pattern or rhythm going.  I would simply lift up some hair and cut what was above my fingers.  As soon as I took the first snip, I thought, "He is going to look so bad!  Why did I do this?" but after lots and lots and lots of snipping, I don't think it looks too bad.  Certainly not worse than his previous do.  I'm sure I'll find uneven lines and longer hairs over the next few days and now that I've broken through my fear of ruining his hair, I'll just made adjustments when needed.

All in all, I think he makes for a mighty cute and awfully grown-up looking thirteen month old!

 Pre hair-cut

Lots and lots of snarls

He looks much cleaner here than he actually was.  There was hair everywhere, including on the sucker inside his mouth.

So grown up looking!  

How can there still be bugs alive when we have had the coldest winter in 50 years? And how do they make it inside my house?!

 Much to Jay's dismay, Seth is extremely bug squeamish.  My natural instinct was to kind of freak out here, because bugs are disgusting and gross (I have no idea where Seth gets his fear from) but could hear Jay's voice saying, "It's just a bug!" so let him explore.  Shiver.

 Ummmm...that's enough exploring.  Time for mom's shoe and a vacuum cleaner!

 Pictures do not do this face of his justice. I've got to get it on video.  I seriously love it.

An attempt at getting the back of his hair.  It's hard to keep him still.  I'm sure he's off to see how quickly he can make a mess somewhere.  Still, no more Billy Ray!

Five For Friday

1.  Jay and Seth are going on a boy scout Klondike campout tonight.  With our -15 degree overnight low temps of late, it is a relief that the expected low is only supposed to be 7 degrees while they camp.  Jay is nervous as scoutmaster that the boys he doesn't have control over, in other words, everyone else besides Seth, will be underprepared for the conditions.  I don't envy him his task or his chilly environment.

Ready before school this morning.  Jay is going to pick him up and off they'll go!

One of the challenges of the camp, besides staying warm, is a sort of Iron Chef Cook Off.  They have 50 minutes to present a meal to the judges with three components.  The meal must include something pickled, and the ingredients lime and cilantro.  Exactly the kind of things you'd think boyscout aged boys would enjoy eating, right?  Crazy enough, we found a couple of recipes that just might be good, depending on how adventuresome your tastebuds are.  For the pickled food, we found a pickled pulled beef sandwich on Paula Dean's website.  Those southerners sure think of some odd ways to prepare food.  Simple enough, all Jay needed was a 2 pound chuck roast and a 24 oz jar of dill pickle spears.  Dump the pickles with juice onto the roast, crockpot on low for at least 12 hours, add some pepper, shred and....voila: pulled pickled beef.  His troop is going to top it with a cilantro and lime coleslaw and serve it on a hamburger bun.  Neat.

I hope it tastes better than it smells

Jay considered cooking it overnight up there with a dutch oven, but neither of us have ever used one and he is already taking a large camp stove we purchased for the pioneer Trek a few years back, so, for sake of ease and making sure the meat was actually cooked, he cooked it in the crockpot, here in the house, and plans to reheat it on the campstove.  All perfectly legal but I woke up nauseated by the pungent smell of cooked pickles on beef!  It's a good thing I am not pregnant because this is the kind of smell that would have sent me hurling.  The website warned us as much (look at the bottom of the recipe) so we set the crockpot in the sunroom, thinking that would be far enough away from where we usually are that the smell wouldn't be too bad.  As luck would have it, Jay can't smell a thing!  It's like his olfactory glands don't pick up this particular scent of nasty.  Unfair but it'll all be over soon enough.  If only it would have been the coleslaw that needed to be pre-prepared.  That looks tasty!

2.  It seems like a chocolate protein shake would be right up my alley for meal replacements.  Sometimes, if its cold enough and I'm feeling motivated to be skinny enough, it is.  But, I think I like to chew too much.  I miss chewing if too many smoothie type beverages are in the lineup.  Today, I was a little disturbed when I opened my pantry cupboard to pull down the Jay Robb Egg White Protein mix and see this man staring back at me.  I get that he's ripped and he's probably trying to associate his physique with his miraculous brand of powder, but, if you're going to be showing off a bare chest, you better be at the beach or post workout.  Just posing in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt is sending me mixed messages.  Messages like, "I'm a creepy guy and you shouldn't buy my product!"

The cross...the shirt....the body oil...the goatee.  It's just not my thing. 

3.  I just got back from a soda run and noticed I am wearing my pants inside out.  That isn't good.

4.  For the past three months, our primary chorister has been very hit and miss.  At least twice a month, I have had to step in at the last minute and do an impromptu singing time.  If it was a sharing time, I'd have anxiety ulcers by now but I'm much more comfortable leading a singing activity on the spot.  Unfortunately for the kids in our primary, those off the cuff singing sessions don't come with any primary glamour, namely laminated visuals.  Truth be told, even with advanced warning, the likelihood of me bearing cricut produced good is very low.  If it can't be done on the chalkboard, it's probably above my artistic level.

Well, primary chorister has been released and new primary chorister has yet to be called so I am also officially the interim primary chorister until further notice.  The song of the month is "I Am A Child of God" and most of the kids know the first verse well enough but if I were a gambling woman, I'd bet against most of them knowing the other three verses.  So, here's my idea using a crazy combination of three oft-used primary games.  I am going to sit the children in a circle.  Following the format of the game Hot Potato, they will pass around an actual potato while singing (or listening to)  the various verses of I Am a Child of God.   Before the song begins,  one participant will roll a number die.  Whichever number faces up is the number of words in order the person holding the potato when the music stops will need to produce.  In a twist of the game "Hangman", I will bring a Mr. Potato Head and if whomever's turn it is to deliver the next few words can't successfully remember, parts of Mr. Potato Head will come off.  The last piece will be his mouth.  I'm calling the game, "Don't Let Mr. Potato Head Lose His Voice!"  We'll keep repeating a verse until he either loses his voice or I decide everyone knows it well enough to move on to another verse.  Too confusing?  Too many games going on?  I'm a believer in musical repetition being a great memory device and if you can trick kids into forgetting how often they are singing the exact same song, the words get into their head.  I write this all out because I've been burned before.  Sometimes, an idea I think is great or even just plausible, will go very badly.  If something doesn't make sense or you can imagine  this entire game going down in a ball of bored singers' flames, please speak (comment) up!  I've still got a day for adjustments or an entirely new idea.

His mouth would be the last to go.  He even looks like he's singing!

5.  I leave one week from today for Israel!!!!!

Let's hope there's none of this:

No missles!  No need to use the Iron Dome!

And lots of this:



Not promising an exact recreation of pose or outfit, but I'll try.

A Twelve Year-Old Trip

*this is a catch-up post

One of my favorite things about being a parent is making up the rules.  Call it a God-complex (although, aren't we actually trying to become like God?  OK, debatable about whether he decides the rules or if the rules are the rules), but I enjoy the responsibility and reward of child development.   Most of the time.  Sometimes, it is actually awful.  But, I'm focusing on the positive!

After admiring a few different friends' traditions for milestone birthdays (one takes her twelve year-old to Disneyland for a one-on-one trip and another goes on a motorcycle odyssey with a custom itinerary and destination for the twelve year-old), Jay and I decided that rather than a gift, turning twelve was a great age to celebrate with an experience.  The offered gift could be an event at a reasonable location (location was added after the London Olympics were mentioned by Seth out loud).

We don't own a motorcycle and aren't superfans of Disneyland like some (I do like it.  Great family vacation.  I'm always surprised, however, by adults who love it all on their own) so decided to leave the final decision to the twelve year-old - veto power and parental discretion firmly in place.

Seth must have understood the value of the offer because he took a long, long time to decide what his birthday trip would be.  I think both of us assumed he would immediately choose a sporting event for a favorite team.  He sort of nodded whenever different ideas were suggested, as if agreeing that they would be fun, but never locked in his final answer.  I saw his vulnerability and thought I'd suggest a thing or two, including a New York trip with me including a Broadway show, but he just smiled.  Drat.

He eventually decided upon the BYU v. Notre Dame football game in North Bend.  I think visiting college campuses while in middle school is an excellent opportunity to expose the variety of possibility for higher education and was thrilled that he and Jay would be visiting such a historic and established university.  There was one brief week when I was almost the parent who got to take Seth when Jay's work schedule conflicted with the already purchased airline tickets but when left with the choice of having me accompany him instead, still leaving on the originally planned Thursday, or changing the itinerary and waiting until Friday (losing a whole day!) to go with Jay, Seth chose to wait.  It hurt but in a good way.   I'm a huge fan of father/son bonding.

They flew into Chicago and after a lot of one-way street turning and a few stops to see famous landmarks,  they got out of the big city and drove to Indiana.  There, they attended the BYU football player fireside, which they described as dangerously packed.  As in, there was no way this many people inside a stake center passed fire code.  There wasn't room in the chapel or overflow so they put people in the various auxiliary rooms to watch via closed circuit TV.  They said people were even standing in the hallways.  They managed to find a bit of floor in the primary room.

The next day, they visited the campus, seeing the most famous sites, and then left plenty early to enjoy all pre-game festivities.  Jay is definitely an enjoyer of all things pre-game and usually has less than willing accomplices (me), and Seth is a lot like Jay.  I'm sure he's learning all the proper neuroses about not being late.  They got sweatshirts and programs and made friends in the stand with Notre Dame fans (who they said were very nice and polite) and even though BYU didn't win, they still had a good time.

At the time of the game, Notre Dame was a good team and even ranked in the top 10 but not really considered a plausible contender for the BSC national championship.  It was fun to watch both Jay and Seth feel a little bit invested in Notre Dame's football team after their trip and continue to cheer for them throughout the remainder of their season, for Manti T'eo to get the Heisman and for them to win the National Championship game.  We even all had Notre Dame gear like real fans, thanks to their trip.

I'm bummed that I can't find any of the pictures of the actual game (they must be on Jay's phone.  These are the ones he emailed to me).  I know there were a couple more of campus as well.  Oh well, maybe I'll find them later. I think these are worth preserving.   Each picture includes Jay's sent captions.

It begins

On the plane

Second breakfast.  Buying him a cinnamon roll made me cool again.  (My response:  You were already uncool?  Jay's response:  Permanently) 

Excited about Direct TV on plane

Other things that make me cool: Dodge charger rental car.

Going for coolest Dad of the year! (clearly, Jay is a little concerned about being uncool)

Wrigley

Only seats left

Our view:  on the floor of the primary room

Welcome to Notre Dame

Touchdown Jesus

You would not love the seats (Jay has learned over the year that I do not enjoy benches or thigh touching strangers)

Straddling (My response:  I would be having strong emotions right now.  Good luck with your new intimate friend!"  

***********************I HAVE FOUND THE MOTHERLODE!************************

Got a hold of Jay's phone and found the FULL-SIZE non-compressed photos that will be much better for the memory book.  I don't have captions for these photos so I'll create my own:)

non blurry picture of cinnamon roll

 non blurry picture of Seth in cool Dodge Charger

 Seth "not cold" in front of Wrigley Field - Home of the Chicago Cubs

 Five Guys - Jane, Jay gets a burger without a bun and the fries are gluten-free because the oil is exclusively used for fries and not contaminated by breaded chicken things or onion rings.

 non blurry picture of welcome sign

 A dad considers a hat and sweatshirt a worthy investment to improve chances of fun day for a "not cold" underdressed for the weather kid.  Look at all those BYU fans!

 The Golden Dome

 Sacred Heart Basilica

 Tabernacle inside the Basilica.  Beautiful

 #1 Moses

 Seth is a little less into posing like #1 Moses

 OK, Dad, I'll put my finger up.

Touchdown Jesus with Seth (look, there are other posers in the background.) 

non blurry picture of Jay doing touchdown Jesus 

Some statue dedicated to a former coach 

 I can't remember the exact story of either of these but suffice it to say, Jay is a fan of bands, uniforms and marching or walking in time.  

 Like wise with these Scottish guys.

 Finally making their way to the stadium

 Seth is almost as tall as his dad!

At the game!