Young Artists of China

During the legislative session a whole host of groups occupy the Capitol Rotunda from time to time. A few days ago the agriculture lobby handed out samples of local products and coupons. We've had the pharmaceutical reps, the students from local universities, the private property folks, charter schools, tourism, visual artist, and a bunch of science and natural museum folks to name a few. The other day we had performers from China. This included the famous teacup dancers. Now dancing is pretty difficult by itself, but dancing with four teacups on your head is significantly harder.






















They also had musicians who played some fantastic string instruments and one that sang like a didgeridoo

Utah's Constitutional Convention

Before the legislative session started, Dr. Judith McConkie (yes those McConkies) brought in some neat little things pertaining to Utah's statehood and constitutional convention. I'm going to leave out trying to explain the significance of each of these photos, and try to just explain what they are.

Click on the pictures to see better detail. 

This is the seal on the Congressional Enabling Act (seen here) which authorized Utah to convene a Constitutional Convention. I love the wax seal with the ribbon.

 

These are signatures of two of the more prominent members of the constitutional convention. One may think that Mr. Snow was the more influential, but those of who have enjoyed ice cream in O-Town know that the name under the red line is far more prestigious.

 

This is the roll call (Also seen here) of the delegates to the convention who voted unanimously for statehood on 8 May 1895.

 

This is the pen used by President Cleveland granting Utah statehood.

 

No One LIkes a Frowny Face

Certain children are naturally drawn to the camera. Some children despise the spectacle. Most of them have up and down days. Sometimes they are more than happy to put on a nice smile; other times they aren't. All of our kids fit in this category.

Thomas received a beautiful gift from Abuela Patti: a hand-knitted sweater vest made from alpaca wool. Wanting to capture the Sunday outfit ensemble, which included a handsome orange shirt and tie from Oma, I asked him to come into the living room for a photograph. He was more than happy about it until I moved him over to the chair for better lighting. At this point, any hope of a smiling toddler vanished. See the photo evidence at the bottom of this post.

Chuckling about this turn of events, I reminisced about the first time we took Baby Steven to Walmart for photos. With at least two fabulous photographers in the family Here and Here(and my own paltry skills as well) I tend to forget how miserable it was to try to get "professional" baby photos. We dressed Steven in a cute black and white jumpsuit and took him to the local Walmart.

Before I go any further, let me say in fairness that the woman who I am about to describe was probably promoted from cashier and greeting card stocking to the photography department the week before. I'm sure the training went something like, "put baby here; push this button -- that's all there is to it."

This young lady was all of about fourteen years old. She seemed very nice as we selected the backdrop. She wore a trendy outfit which included stretch pants, a tshirt, and multiple vests underneath her very large Walmart Associate Blue. Her Walmart vest was decked-out in a hodgepodge assortment of buttons affirming her bubbly attitude and affinity for kittens. She had a dark moppy hair style that reflected her cute and quirky personality.

We had Infant Anna with us, but we were still beleaguered by a significant number of One-Kid-Club habits. We became overbearing parents as we posed Baby Steven on the pine box with the ugly green shag carpet on top of it. Eventually Mary and I reluctantly retreated behind the camera and our photographer began her routine. Steven's personality, which was usually willing to play any game, retreated in uncharacteristic timidity. Mary and I called him and made some funny faces and noises, but he remained firmly entrenched in that shell of shyness.

At this point the photographer upgraded to version 2.0. This version was all business. She calmly directed us to stop our attempts at inducing a smile from Baby Steven, and she walked behind the counter. It seemed to me that since Steven was simply becoming accustomed to the setting, smiles were forthcoming, but I recognize that I still had a little of a former club in me and could be mistaken. (My child is unique and only I understand his mannerisms and needs.) The photographer had moved a cardboard box up on top of the counter and was perusing its contents. She selected what I am going to loosely categorize as from the stuffed animal species. Do you remember Sid from Toy Story? This “toy” resembled something that would have failed escape from his lair. It was a cloth piece of nastiness that could have once been a puppy, or kitten, or squid with missing limbs, but now resembled something found underneath the couch above the heat vent or maybe a compressed collection of dryer lint.

In hindsight I have wondered what else was in this box of toys. What else could have been in there that would have made this monstrosity the most desirable thing to coax a smile out of a toddler? Was it full of implements of torture? Drug paraphernalia? Biochemical weapons? I just don’t know.

I raised my eyes as she calmly returned to the camera. I was unaware that she was about to undergo another upgrade to version 3.0. She raised a hand to silence any question that we might have unaware that our jaws were agape only in fear of what we anticipated she might do with that germ-magnet toy.

She stood next to the camera bending her knees slightly and raising her arms poised in a cat-like stance ready to strike on unsuspecting prey. She curled a lip back bearing her teeth and I swear (I’m not making this up) her moppy hairdo stood straight up like a gladiatorial war-helmet.

She hovered like this for what seemed like an eternity, every muscle poised for attack. Steven sat wide-eyed unable to look away – his whole body petrified while his expression revealed a strong desire to flee. Seconds ticked with the two of them waiting for either to flinch first. It was high noon and I was pretty sure that either Steven or the photographer would end up dead.

Steven quickly glanced at Mary for reassurance. That was his downfall. I’m still not sure exactly how the next events transpired. Our sweet, cute, quirky photographer screamed a war-cry as if she were Xena the Warrior Princess. She leapt at Steven swinging the toy over her head leaving a trail of dust behind her and hurled it at Steven. It had some type of tether, so when it was just inches from his terrified face, she yanked the leash returning it to her hand and leaving only a cloud of dust in front of him. She depressed the shutter button in the other hand activating the umbrella flashes and camera right before Steven (and Mary – and okay me too) burst into tears.

There was a brief delay before the photograph displayed on the monitor above the desk. What appeared was best described as the terrified look one has right before being run over by a train. Poor Steven was inconsolable at this point. He howled as if he had seen the face of death itself, and quite honestly, I think he had.

We have a photograph from this experience where Steven is smiling, so I’m sure (I hope) it wasn’t as traumatic as I remember it. But I still can’t look at that picture without a shiver piercing me to the core.

Toof-less

When I was in second grade, Mrs. Van Dyke had little paper teeth with each child's name on them hung above the chalk board on one wall of her classroom. Every time you lost a real tooth, she placed a little star on your paper tooth. Many of my classmates began the year with lots of stars and hockey-player smiles to prove it. As the school year progressed, those paper teeth filled up with a glut of multi-colored stars. All those teeth except mine.

My paper tooth started the year starless and ended the year starless. If I was a sneetch, you can imagine what my belly was lacking.

I can remember feeling like I was a failure as a baby tooth shedder. That paper tooth was a constant reminder that I still had a mouthful of baby teeth - BABY TEETH!

And if the starless paper wasn't bad enough, everytime someone lost a tooth, there was a reminder from at least 10 of my classmates that I still had a baby mouth. None of my teeth were even wobbly.

I've repressed the age that I finally lost my first baby tooth, but I can still remember really wanting to make a big deal of it to a contemporary who was not impressed in the least. Hmmmm . . .


Becca has far outdone her father by losing her two front teeth just one week apart from each other, and it only took the tooth fairy five nights to retrieve the first one. (Down to two nights for the second.)

Go Becca!

The Bosch is Dead; Long Live the Bosch

So I killed Mary's Bosch. A generous wedding gift lasted nearly 13 years and in a puff of smoke, after finishing its last batch of cookie dough, it grinded to a halt.

Hundreds of loaves of bread and thousands of cookies have eminated from this Bosch. Could we all observe a moment of silence --



thank you.


The Bosch is dead . . .

. . . Long live the Bosch!!!

Anyone hungry for cookies?

Katie & Mary Play at the Governor's Mansion

I'm leaving out the story on this one so Mary can tell it in the comments section.

I will make mention that there were lots of complements from the guests who said that the music was absolutely beautiful.