In Case I Melt Today

It's supposed to be hot today. Really hot. The heat index is rumored to reach 110 degrees, which means that while the thermometer might say only 95, with the massive amounts of humidity, it will feel more like 110. That's like swimming in a hot tub, folks. And yes, before you think I'm about to eat my words, I still say that I enjoy a good humid climate more than a dry one, but, man, this just stinks.

So in case I melt because it's so hot, or drown because it's so humid, I wanted to let you all know that I beat Blake in Monopoly. Again. And this time I came out even more on top. But to spare my poor husband the shame, I didn't tally up the end-of-game totals. (But between you and me, I did extremely well, and that, again, it pays to have monopolies on the railroads and utilities, as well as a house or two on Boardwalk and Park Place.)

Our game, though, led to a sobering discussion about finances and how money has this knack for making things complicated. But I'm not going to talk about that. Complicated has this way of becoming oppressive, and well, if you want to discuss oppressive, you can talk about the heat. That's what I'm going to do.

Grateful List

One Sunday during my sophomore year at Ricks College, I participated in a Relief Society lesson on gratitude. The teacher gave us all a piece of paper and asked us to write down a few things we were grateful for. I set to work listing things like my family, the gospel, the education I was receiving, and so on. On the walk home from church, my good friend and neighbor, Jenni, asked me what things I had written on my grateful list. I told her, and then asked her what she had written on hers.

"Number one," she said, "beef. Number two, the little line you write on your checks so that no one else can write 'and a million dollars.' That's all I've got so far."

I was impressed with the genius of her list. Where I had only scratched the surface with my items, she had dug immediately right to the heart of it.

I promised myself that day that I would see things like Jenni did. I would be grateful for big and small, appreciating of the broad and the minute.

So I started a book, which I called Things I Am Grateful For, and which has in the five years since I began it has grown to two volumes. In it I've written down the things I am grateful for, the things that I like, and the things that make me happy. It's a tiny book -- one of those 4.5"x3.25" composition books you can get at Walmart of 79 cents -- but tiny is appropriate because tiny means that I can carry it with me. Each item listed is numbered and currently I am up to 3,104 (it might be bigger had I not occasionally forgotten to record my gratitudes).

Today, as my wish for a happy, pleasant weekend to you all, I will share a few things that I am grateful for. (All items come from Volume 2, seeing as it is with me and Volume 1 is not.)

#1910. The recorded voice
#1973. The smell of freshly mowed grass
#2122. Buy one get one free
#2247. Windows
#2277. Dar Williams
#2300. Feeding Marshmallow the duck at Wilderness Park
#2301. When Marshmallow eats right out of my hand
#2373. Blake's patience with me when I am a basketcase
#2394. The phenomenon that is Education Week
#2443. Muffins during Sunday School
#2458. Raspberry sherbet
#2625. Eloquence
#2754. Having a crock pot to lend out
#2918. Killer deals
#3080. Rotating crops

What are you grateful for?

On Being the Wife of a Graduate Student

I believe in education and life-long learning. I worked hard in elementary, junior high, and high school so that I could go to college. During college, I even pursued a degree in education. Education has always been a matter of great importance to me, and I don’t see my opinion on that subject changing any time soon. I plan to spend my life learning, whether it be through outlets such as reading on my own time, attending the occasional community education course, or perhaps one day pursuing a graduate degree. Education for me did not end when I received a high school diploma, it didn’t end when I earned a bachelors degree, and it apparently also didn’t end when I got married.

I don’t plan for my education to ever end, and yet I never thought I’d become the wife of a graduate student.

On some levels, being the wife of a graduate student is pretty much what I expected it would be. It is a busy life, full of deadlines, long papers, and photocopied articles coming out my ears, and tuition is expensive. We are, on some level, living a bohemian life – on the edge as our meager savings requires us to find creative methods of survival, meanwhile enjoying the small adventures we experience together.

At the same time, though, being the wife of a graduate student is much more complex. It is helping my husband anxiously search for a much-needed assistantship. It is making timely and fulfilling meals, doing the dishes, washing the clothes, and keeping the house dusted and clean so that Blake can have peace of mind as he finds the time to prepare to re-take the GRE, searches for schools that would provide a good academic environment for the pursuit of a doctorate, and keeps up with other research projects. It is editing Blake’s many papers, and helping to boost his confidence when he gets panicky about one thing or another. Not to mention it is supporting him as he keeps up with everyday coursework, and canceling other plans so that we can time to relax, to just sit and be with each other.

Sometimes being the wife of a graduate student is difficult. It is hard to be lonely as you watch your husband work from one deadline to another – earning a master’s degree is not an easy thing, even when it is earned vicariously through your husband. It is hard to be without a part of him as his mind is working to grasp a new concept while you eat dinner or sit alone together. It is painful sometimes to wonder how you’ll make rent one month, not to mention groceries or that major car repair. It’s hard to go every day to a job you dislike even though you know that right now it’s your turn to support the family. And it’s hard to be surrounded by others your age who apparently don’t have to worry about money or securing full-time jobs in quite the same way as you. It’s annoying to worry about how you’ll possibly survive the next phase of his education: will we be able to afford to start the family we so desperately want? Will he get accepted to a university that will pay him to be there, or will we have to once again scrounge for a decent job and face up to the mounting student loans? Will we ever get ahead, will we remain in a position that allows for health insurance, how will we afford the next move, and will that move be to a location with a manageable cost of living? So many questions, and so much waiting. Waiting is hard.

But lest you think that I am miserable in my current position as the wife of a graduate student, let me tell some of the rewards we are and soon will be reaping. A higher education definitely has its benefits, some of which are tangible and some of which are more abstract. When he’s finally finished, he will be eligible for a job that will provide good financial security. He will also have become acquainted with other brilliant minds. Through these graduate degrees I am earning vicariously, I am gathering in a wealth of both trivial and substantial information and knowledge. In the process of gaining this education, we are both living and learning from some valuable experiences, we are meeting wonderful people, and we will both one day be all the wiser for having survived the difficulties and sacrifices this process of education required. And it must be said that being tied to a university is not a bad thing. Universities are centers for culture and learning, beautiful buildings filled with mounds of knowledge in the forms of books, people, and random-yet-enlightening bulletin board displays. You just can’t find stuff like that in a sprawling business park.

A post graduate education is not easy, but I know that it will be worth the energy and tears and sacrifices it took to achieve. So, no, I am not miserable. I am actually quite happy with where I am, despite how hard it is sometimes. I won’t say that being the wife of a graduate student is a cake-walk, but every once in a while I get a piece of that delicious, educational chocolate cake. And it tastes good.

Taking Precautions Part 3

Well, they caught him. Who is "him," you ask? Oh, the sniper...who is 17 years old! Honestly, what is this world coming to? Here are some articles from our newspaper about the arrest.

Anyway, the freeway should be safe to travel on now...just in case any of you were planning to make any trips out here.

Taking Precautions Part 2

Here's the MSN update. And here's The Star Press (our local paper) update. But even though they've arrested someone, we will still be careful, mostly due to that article heading, "Additional shootings could occur." *Shudder*

Anyway, stay tuned if you're interested. I'll tell more when I hear of more to tell. In the meantime I will wonder what this world is coming to and how it possibly could have found the fine citizens of Muncie.

Taking Precautions

For those of you who have recently heard the words "sniper" and "Muncie" in the same sentence, I just want to let you know that Blake and I are safe. Here is an article that describes what happened. The shooting in Muncie was actually quite close to our house, about 5 miles down the road at the I-69 on-ramp. I just want to let you all know, though, that we're doing our best to avoid the interstate until things get cleared up.

And for those of you who are still concerned, let me just assure you that on Sunday (when it happened) we were asleep, and we spent the rest of our day doing righteous things like going to church and visiting teaching. And on Monday (when the FBI was put on the case) we couldn't even go anywhere because our car was in the shop getting a new oxygen sensor. (See what responsible adults we're becoming?)

Just wanted to let you all know we are being cautious (and righteous, and responsible).

The Unemployed Philosopher's Guild

Last week when we went to visit the Indianapolis Museum of Art, we of course browsed through the museum gift shop. Blake found this tiny tin of candies, called Candides, which were produced by a company called the Unemployed Philosopher's Guild. Intrigued, we bought the Candides (which advertise the fact that they are the "best of all possible candies," and which you would find funny if you knew that they are mocking Leibniz, who is in turn mocking Voltaire...or something like that. I myself only know this is funny because Blake told me. He'd make a stellar member of the Unemployed Philosopher's Guild.) We then visited the Unemployed Philosopher's Guild website, which was advertised on the back of the tin.

Ha! Ha! The website is great! You can buy things like Freudian slippers, an Einsteinian Relativity Watch, and my personal favorite, a Euclidian t-shirt ("Here's Looking at Euclid").

The Candides are great too...cherry flavored, and tasty, once you get over the fact that they taste a wee bit like children's cough syrup. The tin they came in, too, is also pretty great. But the best part about the purchase of the Candides is the way Blake offers me one: "Candide?" he says, pronouncing it "can-deed," with an over-emphasized question mark as he holds out the open tin. It makes me laugh every time.

Monopoly

I totally kicked Blake and his dreams of being an on-the-side entrepreneur in the pants last night when I wiped him out in a game of Monopoly. It was such a spectacular win, I just had to share with the Internet. Here are a few stats from the end of the game:

Total Monetary Earnings:

Lindsay = $3912

Blake = $0

Total Properties:

Lindsay = monopolies on the following: utilities, railroads, the lightblue streets (Vermont, Oriental, Connecticut), each of which had a hotel, Boardwalk, plus 5 other single properties.

Blake = 13 properties, 3 of which were a monopoly (the green streets – No. Carolina, Pacific, Pennsylvania). Unfortunately, by the end, they were all mortgaged.

My strategy? Probably just luck. Oh, and buy everything you can, but only what you can afford. Also, it’s not just about getting the Boardwalk and Park Place (like it was when I was a younger player) -- monopolies on the railroads and utilities, as well as hotels on the “inexpensive” streets are what really fill your wallet with cold hard fake Monopoly cash.

The Indianapolis Museum of Art

When you come to see us in Indiana, make sure that you're here on a Thursday. On Thursday's, the Indianapolis Museum of Art is free, and that's where Blake and I went last night. It was pretty fabulous and we are already looking forward to going back.

According to the IMA website, "the Indianapolis Museum of Art is among the largest and oldest general art museums in the United States." It was founded in 1883 and boasts a permanent collection that is over 50,000 art pieces strong.

My favorite collection was the American art. We saw paintings by Edward Hopper, Norman Rockwell, Georgia O'Keefe, Robert Henri, Mary Cassatt, James Abbott McNeil Whistler, John Singer Sargent, Winslow Homer, Thomas Eakins, John Singleton Copley, and T.C. Steele, to name a few. One of my favorites was a portrait of George Washington by Charles Wilson Peale and Charles Peale Polk. Striking. We also saw a pitcher and beaker made by Paul Revere. Here are a few of the pieces we saw:

Hotel Lobby, Edward Hopper

The Canal -- Morning Effect, Richard B. Gruelle
(this is the canal that runs through downtown Indianapolis, as seen in 1894)

The Love Song, Norman Rockwell

Sunlight, Frank Weston Benson

The Boat Builders, Winslow Homer

The Contemporary collection was also pretty neat. We enjoyed an entire room designed by Ellsworth Kelly and decorated with some of his famous colorful geometic shapes. My favorite in the contemporary collection was Robert Indiana's ever-so-famous Love, in both the original painting and later sculpture forms:


Here's an interesting fact. Robert Indiana's real last name is Clark. But he was born in Indiana, in a small town called New Castle, which is just 30 minutes south of Muncie. When he created Love in 1966, he was not allowed to get it copyrighted because, the copyright office told him, you can't copyright a single word. Since then it has become one of the most reproduced pieces of art. Indiana later created the sculpture to sort of "prove" that he was the true original artist of the piece, but still not a lot of people believed him. Both the painting and the sculpture at the IMA are the originals.

We were sad that the European collection was not available for viewing while we were there because they're put away while that portion of the museum is being renovated. Had it been up, we would have seen the likes of Monet, Van Gogh, Gaugin, Seurat, Picasso, Durer, and Rembrandt, among others. That collection will be back up until after Christmas, so we've already penciled in a trip back sometime in early 2007. We'd also like to go back this fall sometime between August and November because there will be a huge Rembrandt exhibit with pieces from their own permanent collection as well as pieces borrowed from other museums. (You are all welcome to come with us on these subsequent trips to the IMA. We'd love to have you.)

One temporary exhibit that was up featured items from their clothing and textiles collection. It was called "I Do: The Marriage of Fashion and Art," and it featured traditional wedding dresses from various cultures throughout recent history. I thought it was really neat (and I'm sure Blake also thought it was neat, although he's hesitant to admit it). There was one whole room dedicated to wedding dresses from England and the United States, dating from the late 18th century all the way to the present. I was quite partial to the Civil War-era dress mostly because it was poofy and frilly in all the right places, but the flapper-style 1920s dress was also pretty neat. Here's a picture of another one of my favorites, from 1875. Notice the tasteful use of the orange blossoms, which were a popular adornment for women at the time. The simultaneous blossoms and fruit produced on orange trees symbolized the two great qualities of women: beauty and motherhood.


Anyway, so there's your free sneak-peek of the treasures to be found in the Indianapolis Museum of Art. I hope you are left wanting more because we'd love to take you when you come. (But we'll only pay your admission fee if you come on a Thursday.)

How To Predict Indiana Rain

According to the native Indianans:

1. If you look outside on an overcast morning and see the lighter underside of the leaves in the trees, it will rain.

2. If, while it's raining, you see robins out and about collecting worms, it will rain all day. If, however, there is not a robin in sight, the rain will pass quickly.

True story!

Well, And What Would You Do In A Situation Like That?

A Problem in Three Portions

The Situation:
The situation is a sticky one and requires some background. So, let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Last August after we moved here, but before school started, Blake and I were both frantically searching for jobs. Blake was the first of us to find one. Sylvan Learning Center hired him to teach math (because apparently all you need to do be “qualified” to teach math is demonstrate competency in the subject, which Blake not surprisingly did), and eventually study skills, as well as work daily in their newly designed “Homework Room.” They promised him between 10-20 hours a week, with the strong possibility of a few more by doing some simple admin work in the office. The job seemed to be a perfect one for a graduate student, plus the center was located just a 5-minute walk from our apartment.

Sylvan started breaking their promises almost immediately. They hired another person to run the Homework Room, and Blake was never allowed to do the admin work. After a few months, they started shorting him on hours so that by Christmas, he was considering himself lucky to be given 10 hours a week. Blake voiced his concerns on more than one occasion, but was always given the response that hours were short for everyone. It was easy to see, though, that hours were only short for Blake – I mean, for crying out loud, the schedule was posted for everyone to see!

With the new year came a shift in management and the hope of improvement. Instead, things got worse. They hired a handful of new math teachers and Blake’s hours were cut even more. By April he was down to 2 hours a week. Many times we (and I say “we” because, though I did not work there, my emotions were becoming more and more invested) considered having Blake just quit, but another promise for more hours came shortly thereafter. (Besides, it is not an easy thing to find any job in a town as economically depressed as Muncie is.)

With the closing of the public schools in early June for summer came more open business hours for Sylvan. Sylvan’s employees were told that 20 hours a week minimum was not unlikely. Not wanting to put all of his eggs in one basket, Blake still went ahead and found another part-time summer job with the hope of being able to earn 30-40 hours a week.

But Sylvan started throwing us curveballs again. Not only was Blake only scheduled for 6-10 hours a week, he started receiving regular phone calls from Sylvan informing him that students had called to cancel their sessions so Blake would not have anyone to teach if he came in. Sometimes these phone calls came the night before, but more and more often they came 20 minutes before he was scheduled to come in. Lately they’ve stopped bothering to call at all, preferring to wait until Blake has already arranged the rest of his life around his work schedule at Sylvan. Can I just tell you how frustrating this is? Because it’s not just Blake’s life they’re throwing through loops – it’s mine as well.

A few weeks ago, Blake, having grown tired of playing their game, spoke to Dan, the manager. This time he voiced his concerns more strongly only to be told that Dan considered Blake to be one of his best teachers. He didn’t want to lose Blake and he was currently working to see about getting Blake trained to teach reading as well as math and study skills. He had to work on pulling a few strings (because technically you’re not supposed to teach reading without a teaching license) but he didn’t think there’d be a problem. He told Blake to call him the week following to schedule a time for training. After many unsuccessful attempts which included a handful of unreturned phone calls, a paid 2-hour training session was scheduled for yesterday morning.

Why I’m Mad Today:
On Tuesday we came home to a message from Dan saying that they had some cancellations and they again didn’t need Blake to teach Wednesday morning. Blake called back to make sure that the reading training was still on, as well as the status of the 4 evening hours he was scheduled for. Apparently, only a few days after scheduling it, Dan had forgotten about it and asked could they reschedule it for sometime in August? Blake was upset by this, but agreed because he didn’t have much choice. At least he still had 4 hours he could work that evening.

I rearranged my work schedule and worked through my lunch so I could get Blake from campus to Sylvan in time. I dropped him off, then came home and began my after-work chores. About 10 minutes after I returned home, I heard the front door open. My stomach dropped. “Blake?” I asked quietly from the bedroom.

Blake was livid, and he had every right to be. All told, he had been “un-scheduled” from 8 working hours. To try to make up for it, Dan offered Blake 2 hours of work-free pay. Two hours?! Are you kidding me? That’s it?! Also it came out that Dan hadn’t “forgotten” about the reading training. Someone had “tattled” and had called corporate headquarters and now Dan had to pull a few more strings in order to allow Blake to teach reading. But anyone who knows Blake knows that he’s probably more qualified than some licensed teachers are to teach reading. Anyhow, we are now under the strong impression that this “we’ll train you on reading in August” business actually means “Sorry, son, but it ain’t gonna happen. Ever.”

The Dilemma:
You’re probably asking yourself why Blake didn’t just up and quit yesterday. You know, we’re asking ourselves the same question. But next week is the Delaware County Fair and Sylvan is sponsoring a booth that must be manned. Because Blake was one of the few who volunteered to sit at the booth, it is very possible that he’ll get some decent hours at least next week, what with the Fair and the 7 teaching hours he is scheduled for. We realize, though, that these promises are about 75% guaranteed to be broken.

In a way, we both feel like the abused spouse in an awful work relationship. With each promise, we keep telling ourselves that it’ll get better, even though we both know now that it won’t. So here’s what we’ve decided. We’re going to hold out for a few more weeks under the notion that 2 hours are better than no hours. Besides, it’s too late to find another summer job before school starts. In the meantime, Blake is going to continue his search for an assistantship for the school year. If he is able to get one, he’ll quit Sylvan all together. If he can’t get one, he’ll still quit Sylvan once the school year starts and will look for a new job. Either way, Sylvan will lose a great employee and it will be the result of their own irresponsible stupidity. I did, however, tell Blake that it was okay by me for him to give them the This Is The Last Straw Ultimatum if they cancel his hours one more time.

But I’m curious – what would you do in a situation like this? We feel stuck – used and abused and stuck. Maybe we should have quit long ago, but there was always that promise that things would improve. And Sylvan pays better than any campus job. Besides, Blake needs a job too desperately to just quit in a rage without a back-up job to go to. But we are getting tired of rearranging our lives for a 2 hours/week job, and I am beginning to count the days till school starts.

I’m realizing more and more why unions are such a big deal to some people.

Long Night

Last night I dreamed I could fly. It was not a good thing.

Because as soon as I realized how high up I was, I lost my balance and started to fall. It was like somebody dropped me from a building 2,000 stories high.

Before I could land, I woke up suddenly. The room was hot. My clothes were sticking to me; I was dizzy and uncomfortable. Something wasn't right.

It was two in the morning. Blake was asleep next to me, but the light was still on. He must have fallen asleep reading.

I got out of bed to reassure myself that I could not fly and that I was not falling. While I was gone, Blake turned off the light. He also turned the fan to a higher speed. Already the room was getting cool.

I crawled back in bed and rolled to my side. The breeze from the fan hit my arms and the back of my neck.

I continued to dream of flying.

It was a long night.

Indiana in July Is...

- Hot
- Abundant Queen Anne's Lace mingled with stalky blue flowers whose name I don't know
- Humid
- County Fair Time
- Fla-Vor-Ice
- Too many fireflies to count
- Cicadas buzzing
- Oscillating fans and air conditioning units
- Almost 50,000 green tomatoes in my garden
- And only 1 red one
- Also a few green peppers
- Tall, green cornfields
- Fields of soybeans that look not unlike lush green shag carpet

I never thought I'd say this, but crop rotation is a beautiful thing. Not only does it help the plants grow, but it spices up the scenery each year. What were soybeans last year is corn this year and what was corn last year are soybeans this year. It's strangely comforting.

And the color green definitely makes the world seem cooler than it really is. That dry, brown desert business does nothing to make you feel better.

Carnival of the Animals

Blake came back from a trip to the complex trash bin Saturday morning with a smile on his face. "So, there's a raccoon in the dumpster," he said. Alive? Indeed. And it was true: looking up helplessly at us from a pile of garbage was a live, beady-eyed, fairly young raccoon. The little bandit! He was kinda cute, if I may say so. And I think that I may, because he was sure cuter than all the dead, open-gutted, victims-of-hit-and-run raccoons I see sprawled in the middle of the roads here. I don't know how long he'd been stuck in there, but he was sure having a time trying to get out. Another fellow in the complex had strategically placed two cardboard boxes next to each other hoping that the raccoon would figure out how to climb up and then out of the dumpster on his own. It took him a while, but he eventually made it. I think that all of us on-lookers at some point wanted to just grab him to move the process along (because he was taking his jolly time), but then we remembered that raccoons are pretty much all disease-ridden so we used this time to practice self-restraint. Once he was out, we made sure the dumpster lids were closed.

Saturday also marked the sad passing of our beautiful blue betta fish, Ed. Edmund Fish lived a good life, so far as we could tell. We'd had him since last September (he was the celebratory purchase we made when I got my job), and he'd been a good friend, narcissistic though he often was. I didn't think I'd gotten so attached to a fish, but I guess I had. It was hard to watch him die (yes, his death was an unfortunately long, heart-wrenching process...poor Ed). Blake couldn't bring himself to flush him, so we buried him on the other side of the lawn.

To try to make things better, we bought a new fish that evening. This betta fish is a lovely dark red one. Blake named him Friedrich Uberfish Anderspawn. Extravagant? Most definitely. But Blake likes to name his fish after philosophers. (Ed was named for Edmund Husserl, and Friedrich was named for Nietzsche and his Uberman theory.) Anyway, I'll probably just call him Fred. It's less complicated. After all, he's just a fish.

(A fish who we will love. Like we loved Ed.)

Ivanhoe's Cemetery

On Friday night Blake took me on a date. I knew it was a date (as opposed to just doing something together to relax after a long busy week) because he asked me to go with him at least a few hours beforehand, it involved dinner and dessert, and because it involved a visit to a cemetery. Okay, so that last item was not a deciding factor in whether or not it was a date, but it sure was pretty neat. But I'll explain that in a minute.

There's this legendary diner about 30 miles north of us in a little town called Upland. It's called Ivanhoe's and they are famous for three things: their chicken salad, their menu of 100 different sundaes, and their menu of 100 different shakes. Blake and I have long searched for something in Indiana that would equal the deliciousness of Leatherby's in Provo. Though Ivanhoe's is close (the best we've had out here anyway), they still don't quite match up. But I'll take what I can get.

Because it was a date, we decided to go all out. Well, all out with limits. We still only ordered water because, well, it's silly to spend a small fortune on a 12 oz soda. After a dinner of burgers and fries (neither of us was in the mood for their famous chicken salad), we deliberated about what shake or sundae we were going to order. Which took quite a bit of time. I was able to narrow it to a shake, which left me with only 100 options, but poor Blake couldn't decide between a shake or a sundae, so he had all 200 choices to sift through. Finally, though, we were ready to order. I got a Double Whopper shake, which consisted of vanilla ice cream with lots of added malt mix, plus a generous helping of Whopper malt balls hand ground inside. Oh boy, was it ever tasty. Blake ordered an Almond Joy sundae, which was pretty much just like it sounds: vanilla ice cream topped with hot fudge, coconut, and almonds. It turned out that we ended up ordering the Ivanhoe's equivalents of our favorite Leatherby's specialties. We should have known this would happen before we spent so long deciding what we'd get.

There were only two downsides to dinner at Ivanhoe's. One, its popularity exceeds its seating space. We had to eat on a bench outside. Which wasn't too bad, as it was in the shade and much quieter. And two, I left there more full than I think I've ever been. I'm talking painfully full. So full I was pretty sure I wouldn't have to eat for another three days. But as painful as it was, it was still a good feeling.

We took the scenic highway route home (as opposed to hopping in I-69 again). It turns out that Upland is only a few miles north of our favorite covered bridge town, Matthews. Just south of Matthews, in a tiny speck of a town called Wheeling, there is a tiny speck of an ancient cemetery located in a grove of trees between a cow pasture and a corn field. Blake has often mentioned wanting to stop there and so, because it was a date and we were feeling extravagant or something, we pulled off the road and wandered the cemetery. I didn't realize how old this cemetery was, but my, it was quite old. Most of the headstones were dated between 1850 and 1900. The oldest we found was 1816 and the newest was 1960. Some headstones were broken (probably the result of many monstrous midwestern storms) and almost all of them were difficult to read. As we roamed among them, I couldn't help but think that Indiana was "the West" when these people were alive. This was newly settled, largely still unexplored territory. I mean, Indiana was officially admitted as a state in 1816. There were no big cities, just small homesteads. The tiny speck of a town Wheeling was probably a larger community. How things have changed.

Wheeling Cemetery was surprisingly well-maintained for how old it is. The grass was cut and there was a flag waving on a flagpole; its chain clinked loudly against the metal pole causing quite a contrast to the quietness of the cemetery. If you ever get the chance to wander through an old, just-off-an-old-highway cemetery, I recommend it. Just go while it's still light outside, because even though I'm not superstitious, old things have a tendency to be a little creepy after dark.

Christmas in July

Celebrating Christmas in July seems to be the trendy thing to do these days and I figured I might as well jump on the bandwagon. But I'm doing so not because I love shopping in year-round Christmas stores, because generally speaking I don't, or because I believe that Christmas in July sales are actually worth going to, but because I have to tell you about this book I read a few months ago.

The book is called In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash by Jean Shepherd, and it takes place in the fictional town of Hohman, Indiana, an industrial Chicago suburb. It is probably one of the most hilarious books I've ever read (it's right up there with the Zippy books, which, honestly, you all should have read by now, seeing as your book reports are to due on my desk first thing Monday morning). (Also, is it a coincidence that some of the funniest books I've ever read take place in Indiana? I think not.)

So what does this book have to do with Christmas in July? Well, nothing, except for the fact that its most well-known chapter can be viewed in the form of the classic 1983 film A Christmas Story.

In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash is told from the point of view of a grown-up Ralph Parker who, on assignment for his New York City magazine, has returned for a brief visit to his hometown of Hohman, Indiana ("A place people never really come to, but mostly want to leave"). Between drinks at his friend, Flick's, tavern, they reminisce together about their childhood growing up during the Depression in their blue-collar town. Written like the genius satirist he is, Shepherd recounts Ralph's early encounters with pop art (and by "pop art," I'm sure you all know that I mean "the leg lamp"), fishing with his dad in a filthy Lake Michigan, visiting the world's fair, learning colorful language from well-intentioned relatives, delicious black jaw breakers vs the horrible red ones, secret codes from Ovaltine, and of course, his desire for a Red Ryder BB gun (with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time). If you have ever spent an entire day watching back to back to back to back viewings of A Christmas Story during the December marathons on cable channels and you're still left wanting more, you most definitely should read this book because, oh, does it give you more. (But of course if gives you more...it's the book and we all know that the book is always better than the movie.)

Since coming to Indiana, my love for Ralphie Parker and his crazy childhood experiences has become like unto Mr. Parker's indescribable love for his sensual major award. Last December we went to an exhibit at the Indiana History Center that featured the living room set from A Christmas Story, including the overly-tinseled Christmas tree underwhich sat the familiar gifts of the green-tissue-paper-wrapped bowling ball, the toy fire engine and Goodyear blimp, and the BB gun, the pink bunny suit, Mr. Parker's faded pink armchair, and, of course, the glorious leg lamp. It was an indescribably beautiful visit -- it reminded me of the 4th of July!

I don't yet own the book In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash, but I've told myself and my husband that I will not leave Indiana without a copy of it in my possession. Not only does Shepherd tell a hilarious story, but he does it with perfect satire and wild wittiness. So, go read this book. Seriously. You should get your hands on as soon as humanly possible and read it even faster. I want a book report -- written in your best cursive with perfect margins -- on my desk in one week.

Because I Can't Stop Talking About How Great Having a Washer/Dryer Is

(And Because It's Basically the Only Thing Worth Chronicling In My Life At Present)

We brought our new washer and dryer home last night and set them up in the pantry. We've only had a few setbacks so far.

1. First of all, there was the matter of payment. The people we bought them from requested payment in the form of a money order I guess because of bad experiences they've had with personal checks in the past. We were okay with this...all it meant was a quick stop by the credit union on our way home from work yesterday. Unfortunately, the credit union's network or something was completely shut down and they could not give us a money order. Blast, we thought. But this problem was manageable. All we now had to do was drive over to Marsh (the grocery store) and get one there. Unfortunately at Marsh they only accept cash as a form of payment for a money order. And unfortunately, neither Blake or I thought about this when we were at the credit union the first time. So, back to the credit union we went to withdrawl the money, and then back again to Marsh to get the money order. A 10 minute errand ended up taking 45 minutes, but in the end, we got what we needed.
2. The evening schedule was supposed to run like this: our pick-up truck help was supposed to come by around 8:00 to help us bring the w/d over; my visiting teachers were supposed to come by at 6:30 (and be gone in plenty of time for me to get the pantry cleared out to make space for the w/d). What actually happened was this: the pick up truck arrived at 7:05, and my visiting teachers arrived at 7:30. We scrambled a bit, and I was a bit flustered (and not to mention sweaty because it's hot and humid outside and even more hot and humid inside our pantry -- which I still, luckily, had time to clean), but in the end everything worked out just fine.
3. We needed to buy a 4"x8' aluminum airduct for the dryer. Unfortunately the ones Lowe's said they had in stock were nowhere to be found (this is why I love you, Home Depot!). So we had to go to another store (Menards...because the good people of Muncie apparently don't believe in Home Depot) to find our needed airduct. This actually ended up being a happy turn of events because the airduct at Menards was $5 cheaper than the airduct at Lowe's.
4. Upon closer inspection, both the washing machine and the dryer were quite dirty. Especially the washing machine. You know that little catch-all in the center of the wash basin? Well, it was full of the slimy, soap-scummy leftovers of fabric softener and liquid detergent. We weren't about to wash our clothes in that! So we dug out some old toothbrushes and sponges and scrubbed it clean. We also wiped down the surface of both machines, seeing as they were both pretty dusty. They both look much better now.
5. Blake hooked up the hoses to the washing machine, then, according to the precise instructions we were given, he clamped them on tight with a wrench, then turned the faucets all the way on, with a quarter turn to the right at the end to protect the seals. Maybe the last person to use our hookups didn't follow the quarter turn advice because the cold water faucet is leaky. It's probably just a broken rubber seal, but because we're renting and don't have access to the main water line, we can't fix it ourselves. We are currently hunting down management to get them to come fix it (in a timely manner, too), but they are proving themselves to be difficult to get ahold of. Luckily, though, we can still wash our clothes tonight...the leak isn't so bad and it doesn't threaten to flood our home; the leaking water drains where it's supposed to and we're pretty safe washing our clothes so long as we're home when we do it and we shut off the water when the machine's not running. I'm crossing my fingers, though, that we can get maintenance over asap to fix the problem.
6. Because several decisions in the layout of our apartment complex were made in poor judgment, the washer and dryer don't fit quite right in the pantry. The airduct vent is in the wrong place and consequently the dryer can't be set against the wall and must be positioned at an angle. Also, the outlet for the dryer plug was installed upside-down. But I am okay with all this. A crooked dryer is all right with me so long as I can use it in my own house.
   

But all setbacks aside, life is pretty great because I can do laundry at my house tonight.

(And I promise that, unless something drastic happens, this will be the last time I go on and on and on about the blessedness of these major appliances.)

A Welcome Addition

Blake and I are pleased to announce that our major appliance collection is growing. Well, starting anyway. Last night we bought a washer and dryer. I couldn't be more pleased (actually, I suppose that if laundry started doing itself, I would be, but I don't see that happening anytime soon).

This particular washer/dryer was advertised in the Muncie paper classifieds. We went to look at it yesterday after work and were pretty pleased with the initial inspection. We went to the library afterwards to look up what consumer reports had to say about them, and they got a decent enough report. They're Maytag brand, Performa model, and they have more features than we'd be able to afford if we were buying them new. They're about 3 years old, but have only been used for 2, and during those 2 years they were owned by a bachelor who avoided doing laundry as much as possible. Anyway, after we got back from the library and mutually decided that these would work for us, we called the owner back and were able to talk down the price to $400, which is like getting them both for less than half what they'd cost new, which I figure is about right for a 3-year-old washer/ dryer set.

Anyway, we've arranged for help in the form of a ward member with a pick-up truck to help us get them tonight. How exciting to have a washer and dryer of my very own! I was telling Blake yesterday that buying a washer and dryer is like buying an extra day in my week. No longer do I have to plan my laundry days around the weather or when I have a whole evening to spare. No more do I have to drive back and forth from the laundromat. And there will be no more scrounging for quarters. I am happy.

Feeling Better and Other Items of Debate

All right, so I didn't crawl into a hole and stay there for two weeks like I wanted to. Instead I stuck it out at work, took it easy in the evening, and went to bed early. I am feeling much better, though I am still a little tired. Many thanks to Blake for being nice to me even though I was probably whiny. I still, though, think it'd probably be a good idea to go to the doctor soon anyway and get a physical. I have a few items of business I need to discuss with him. I hate going to the doctor, though. I have a bad history of going to the doctor with a sore throat and coming out with things like back braces and cancerous moles. But good health is, I suppose, a good cause and reason enough to schedule an appointment. So I'll be doing that soon. Hopefully I don't come away from it with three arms or something freaky like that.

Blake and I are in hot pursuit (again) for a washer and dryer. I followed up this morning on an ad I saw in the classifieds for a Maytag washer/dryer set, like new, for $450. We're going to go look at it tonight. If we're lucky, it will be something worth buying. And if we're even luckier still, we'll be able to talk down the price somewhat. The price is a little higher than what we were originally hoping to have to pay for a used set, but fact of the matter is that you're more likely to find a better working set for a little more money than you are if paying less. And now that we've realized this, we accept it, and are no longer limiting ourselves to sets priced at $100. So, the debate now on the whole purchase of a washer and dryer, is the fact that we're not sure where we'll be in a year. For all we know, we could be living in crummy student housing with no washer/dryer hookups. My argument, though, is that, true, we don't know where we'll be, but it'd sure be nice to be able to do laundry now at our own house whenever we felt like it instead of at the other end of the complex when/if the washers are available. If we end up too poor to live in something other than crummy student housing with no hookups, then we'll deal with that when it's time to deal with it. Part of being an adult is having to deal with things like this. I think I convinced Blake to agree with me.

Last item of debatable business is the subject of humid vs. dry heat. It is very thick and humid outside right now, and if the predicted storm doesn't come soon and wipe it out, then I'm pretty sure that a majority of the citizens of Muncie will spontaneously combust due to their extreme discomfort. Yeah, so living involuntarily in a swimming pool isn't exactly my idea of a picnic, I will still argue that humid heat is better than dry heat. Humid heat cycles: it's hot and miserably muggy for a few days, but then it storms and stays nice and cool until the cycle repeats itself. Also, all that moisture in the air tends to cool you down somewhat (or maybe it just makes you sweaty so you cool yourself down...either way). In dry heat, it's like someone threw you into an oven, turned it up to 400 and left you there to bake. There's no escaping dry heat. It's always there and it's always hot. In in a dry climate in the summertime you run the risk of third degree burns just from touching your seatbelt after a quick trip inside the grocery store. This does not happen in humid heat. You may get more sweaty in humid heat, it may make your hair straight and limp, and it might be more of a challenge to breathe when you're practically under water, but at least you don't run the risk of injuring yourself. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not saying that humid heat is peaches and cream; it's just better than dry heat.

I Feel Crummy

All that I want to do right now is crawl in a hole surrounded by pillows and blankets and cotton balls, as well as maybe a heating pad and a fan, where I will sleep soundly for two weeks. Maybe after that I will feel better.

A Summary Of Where I’ve Been And What I’ve Been Up To

(Because if I didn’t abbreviate, this post would be miles longer than it’s already turned out to be. I’ve spent three days on this now, so you’d better be counting your blessings that it is only a summary.)

Let’s just start with the obvious and work our way from there:

Fond Memories of a Beautiful Wedding:

• My brother is married. This is strange, albeit happily so.
• Also, I have a new sister-in-law, the first one on my immediate side. Amanda is a lovely girl and she’ll fit in quite nicely in our family. I got to meet her for the first time two days before the wedding and am pleased to report that she’s pretty fabulous.
• The bride and groom were absolutely lovely, and ever-so-smiley. I think they are in love.
• The occasion marked the second time I’d been in the Mt. Timpanogos temple, the first being the open house before it was dedicated.
• Lots of family was in town, and it was fun to see them all.
• This was the first sealing, other than my own, that I have attended. The sealer had some very nice things to say not only to Tyler and Amanda, but also to everyone in the room. It was nice to be reminded of the covenants I made a little over a year ago. I’m going to be a better wife for Blake.
• I cried a lot. I’m glad the temple provides tissues.
• After the ceremony was over, but before the sealer was done giving counsel to the Happy Couple, Tyler let out a long, stressful-sounding, perfectly-timed sigh. Do you think it’s all right to chuckle in the temple?
• Holy cow, was there good food at that reception! Oh, and also at the pre-wedding dinner. I ate till I was full, but I’m not sure if it was enough. If only all food was delicious wedding food. Some things consumed: cream cheese chicken, a slow-cooked beef dish, rice pilaf, glazed carrots, Shirley’s rolls, meatballs, fresh fruit, a heckuvalotof chocolaty desserts, that one wedding punch with raspberries and Sprite. Yum.
• I didn’t have to give a toast at the reception, which was perfectly fine by me. If you asked Blake, I’m sure he’d tell you that I fretted about having to speak, so it was quite the relief to not have to.
• Blake and I were assigned several major roles in the decorating of the getaway car, including purchasing such supplies as soap, crepe paper, balloons, and Oreos. This was the first time I had decorated a getaway car. I can now understand why people love doing that. It’s like sanctioned vandalism. What could be better?

Other Activities I Participated In:

• Provo’s 4^th of July Freedom Festival Grand Parade, where, because my dad was the Volunteer Bleacher Seats Coordinator, we got to sit on bleachers, in the shade, on the East side of the street, and where, also because of Dad’s volunteer efforts, we got free yellow t-shirts. The parade was great fun, as usual. This year’s highlights: a great many air show flyovers, the Provo missionaries marching to “Called to Serve,” causing parade-goers to rise and possibly shed tears, and the fact that we got to hear a performance from every marching band (as opposed to just drum ticking).
• A visit to Gardner Historic Village in Midvale. This was fun. It was just me, my mom, and Auntie Colleen. Muncie is sorely lacking in browse-worthy boutique shops. This trip also included a meal at Archibald’s restaurant where I ate a most delicious turkey and avocado sandwich…probably the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.
• A visit to see my sister, Katie, at work shortly after we flew in. She works at the Boys and Girls Club and she totally freaked out when she saw us. It was a happy moment. Also, it turns out that she works with the Former Sister Wise, who not two months ago was serving as a missionary in our Muncie ward and who on one or two occasions ate dinner at our house. Small world.
• A few rousing rounds of the game Zilch, which we assembled and gave to my dad for Father’s Day. Who knew that six dice could provide so much entertainment?
• A visit to Wells Fargo to finally close Blake’s old account because we can’t do it in Indiana because apparently there are no Wells Fargo banks within close proximity to Muncie. But now our mailbox won’t get filled with frequent statements and we have $5.47 more in cash than we did before we closed the account.
• A quick photo shoot of some the apartments we used to live in. You know, so our children will appreciate good college squalor when they have to experience it themselves.
• Breakfast with my parents ward in honor of the holiday. This was probably the best 4^th of July breakfast I’ve ever eaten: pancakes, eggs, bacon, ham, fresh fruit, orange juice. Usually it’s just donuts (although donuts are certainly nothing to complain about), with the occasional breakfast from McDonald’s (occasionally something to complain about).
• An Independence Day visit to the Crandall Historic Printing Press Museum. I’ve long wanted to go here, but they were always closed and I was too lazy to make an appointment to go. I learned all about Gutenberg and his Amazing Moveable Type Printing Press.
• The watching of many fireworks displays, including those big ones from the Stadium of Fire, just barely visible between the big tree and the neighbors roof from my parent’s back yard. Also, on the 4^th, we sat on the front porch and watched the neighbors set some off in the street. It was sparkly loud and glorious.

Activities Which I Did Not Participate In:

• The hike up Mt. Timpanogos. Blake, my three youngest siblings, an uncle and a cousin who are training to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, and another uncle all braved the snowy peak. They made it, finally (it took them 13 hours, on account of all the snow on the trail). Everyone came back sore and sunburned, which made me remember why I didn’t want to go with them (even though it would have been cool to say that I climbed Timp. Some things just aren’t worth it in my book, even though mountains are lovely and missed by people such as myself who can’t see them all the way from Indiana). But I did help them eat the 5 Buck Pizza we ordered to feed them on their return.

People That We Saw and With Whom We Socialized:

• Family, family, family. We visited with Nays, Wiests, Garofolos, Andersons, Dabneys. It was a happy coincidence that a lot of Blake’s extended family was in town for the holiday and we got to spend a few hours with them. Also, did you know that my youngest sister, Chelsea, is suddenly very, very tall? She is.
• Friends, friends, friends. In order to maximize our people-seeing abilities, we planned a friendly mass get-together. More people came than I thought would come, and it was great, great fun to see everyone again. I couldn’t have been happier. There were a few Very Important Friends that we missed that evening, so we tracked them down at work or whatever and made sure we got to visit with them, too.

How Provo Almost Failed Me:

• Leatherby’s is closed!!! Actually, it’s in transition. But, by golly, one of the reasons I came to Provo (besides the wedding, of course) was to eat a Swiss Milk Chocolate shake from Leatherby’s and (sniff, sniff) I couldn’t because they’re closed. We had to settle for milkshakes at Stan’s, which were still good, but they weren’t Swiss Milk Chocolate.

New Projects I Will Now Work On:

• I’m gonna make me a quilt because I want to be a Quilting Girl. I bought a pattern for a simple small quilt at Gardner Village and received some valuable instruction from Auntie Colleen (a Quilting Girl herself), and now I’ve been inspired and will go make me a quilt.
• My sister, Katie, has become a crafty genius apparently. She’s teaching herself how to knit! Now, I’m not going to go so far as to be a Knitting Girl (being a Quilting Girl is already enough to handle), but she has created some fun projects which I would like to pass on to my Activity Day girls, including a scripture bag made out of a cloth placemat and ribbon, and a cloth-covered bulletin board with the criss-crossing ribbons you can display stuff behind.

Things I Bought:

• The above mentioned quilt pattern.
• A BYU license plate holder (because, you know, they’re cool to have when you don’t live in Provo anymore).
• A new placemat to replace the one I received from my mom for my birthday (because I completely shrunk the first one)

Movies I Slept Through:

• Nacho Libre (it’s stupid. And not the funny kind of stupid. So I cannot recommend it).

Other Items Worth Mentioning:

• Tyler showed me his and Amanda’s new apartment. It’s pretty awesome in that it has vaulted ceilings and it came with a washer and dryer. Also, he showed me his flashy new red car, which is pretty awesome itself and which he shouldn’t be stressed about because sometimes people do give nice, big gifts for weddings.
• Utah Valley is blossoming and becoming like unto California. There is no open space anymore between Provo and Salt Lake (which consequently makes the drive between Provo and SLC seem much shorter). It’s all being filled in with things like carpool lanes, housing developments, and IKEA.
• We had a silly flight attendant on the last leg of the flight home. During the safety demonstration before take-off, she decided to have a little fun with the modeling of the oxygen mask, which made the behind the scenes attendant on the PA system start giggling, which made Modeling Attendant start to giggle, which made all the passengers start to giggle. Work with me...it was funny.

What I’m Now Dreading:

• A return to work, which has already taken place, and which hasn’t been so bad. But still. Work vs Vacation. Not hard to decide which is better.
• Now that we’re home we have to take the car in to get either the O2 sensor or the fuel injector system replaced. This will not be cheap.
• We have to go grocery shopping. Because we have no food.
• I have to teach Primary on Sunday, which means I have to plan a lesson. Good side of this, though, is that I’ll be teaching the class full of my Activity Days girls, so I already know how to handle them and their incessant giggles.
• A visit to the doctor because my mom told me I probably need some vaccine boosters. Oh joy.

Congratulations on making it all the way to the bottom of this post. I commend you. Now, if you go and have yourselves a lovely day, I’ll go and do the same.