On living in a somewhat geriatric neighbourhood

When Miss Penny died (about two years ago now), I wrote a poem—an abecedarian. It's doubtless that it will ever be published anywhere but here, but I thought it should be published somewhere...so here's good!

So far it's untitled:

An awkward sight in the afterglow of day, she stood,
bathrobe open, slippers on, spreading birdseed on the
cement for wild city creatures: bunnies, chipmunks,
deer. She doted on them and they came to trust her,
expecting an evening feed. Thus engaged when we
first saw her, she gave a friendly wave, guffawed:
“Guess I’m Snow White, all grown up!” Ever after
her house became known as “Snow White’s House”
in the juvenile collective imagination. In general, her
job—neighbourhood invigilator—just meant watching
kids play, gathering gossip, keeping an eye out for
languishing souls. “Hullo, there!” she’d holler, loudly.
Make no mistake—if you were melancholy she meant
nobody but you. “Now, why don’t you make your way up
onto my porch?” She’d offer stories meant only for your
pretty little ears, help you practice observing in order to
quiet your mind. Quite the lady, Penny was. I don’t
recall registering her absence until I saw the sign: “Estate
Sale.” A childless spinster school teacher, retired and
tired of everything but sitting in her rocker, watching the
universe unfold between the balustrade posts, it was not
very obvious when she vanished. Not too long ago we
waved to her while out on a walk. Then warmth gave way to
extreme cold (a poor excuse), we stayed away, and she said
yes to the past tense, to turning into yesterday, leaving the
zoo on her front lawn wondering where she got off to.

*****

A few Sundays ago, a clay creature Zoë and her friend had made broke. We'd already had dinner and the sun was rapidly sinking, but Zoë wanted to run up to her friend's house to hold a funeral service for their little clay creature. I told her to run along (remember how whenever I'm in charge of bedtime, we're always late getting things done? Yeah...it's a real problem for me).

She came back much sooner than expected. While they had buried their broken creation and held a brief service for it, their mourning was cut short by the arrival of an ambulance. They stood in shock as they watched Miss Anne be wheeled out of her house on a gurney.

"And I don't know if she's a live or dead!" Zoë panted, trying to recover from her sprint home in darkness punctuated by flashing red lights. 

Phoebe-Q

Phoebe found some lip gloss this morning, and having liberally applied it (+/-) to her lips declared herself "boo-i-ful." 

She insisted on wearing two skirts to the library.

I warned her that it might be a little chilly for a skirt, but she insisted she'd be fine. We came home and took Luna for a walk and when we came home Phoebe decided she'd rather wear pants—it was a little chilly with bare legs. So she went upstairs to get some pants.

I watched her awkwardly waddled down the stairs, but couldn't quite put my finger on what was wrong with her.

"I think something's wrong with your pants," I said. "Let me see..."

The issue she was having is that she was wearing not one, not two...or three...or even four pairs of pants. She had put on five pairs of pants. 

Jump start

On Wednesday last week, Rachel drove the kids to mutual and everything went fine. But when they got in the car to come home...it wouldn't start. So Andrew drove down to the church to rescue them. Fortunately it was a battery thing, so he gave them a jump and Rachel was able to drive home just fine.

And she went to seminary the next day. And the next. And then on Friday she drove to Athens and home again. And on Saturday she drove to Andie's house (to get a ride to a dance). And then drove home from Andie's house after the dance.

And then drove to seminary on Tuesday. 

And every time she turned on the car, it started a bit rough. It was just a little...hesitant to actually start...which was concerning. But we had a plan in place to fix it...but not until Wednesday. 

We just had to get to campus on Tuesday first...

So on Tuesday after Rachel got home from seminary, we hopped in the car, which choked to life, and started on our way to campus. 

We had to stop to fill up on gas, choosing a different gas station than we ordinarily do because...

Two little peas

This morning while Benjamin, Zoë and I were discussing the book we'd just finished reading together (The Red Pencil) and how they might engage with it further (analyzing specific characters or events, brainstorming about alternative titles/covers/endings, and so forth), Alexander and Phoebe were working on a Scratch project together.

Really Alexander was working on a Scratch project, and Phoebe was nestled up beside him, leaning on his shoulder like they're best buds (and they are).

They're so sweet together.

Woke up this morning feeling...enfranchised!

Thing I learned!

In 2019, Canada changed its voting rules for citizens living abroad. It used to be that if you had lived outside of the country for five years or longer you were ineligible to vote. But that is no longer the case. 

Now you can register to vote if you have lived in Canada at any point in your life, regardless of how long you've lived outside of Canada. 

Somehow or other Trudeau was prime minister for ten years, which means this law came into being during his term (terms aren't fixed, but are at the pleasure of His Majesty (King Charles)...and, technically, I would say the people as well, because a vote of no confidence can be called quite easily compared to just having to sit around for four years...or more...). I didn't vote for Trudeau in 2015 (could not have voted for him—believe me...I checked), so I was surprised when I checked the voting laws again today (just to make sure—because you never known when you'll wake up to find yourself enfranchised...) and found that I could vote in the upcoming election.

Did I register to vote today?

Absolutely I did.

Did I tell my Canadian-abroad family members to register to vote as well?

Absolutely I did.

I am awaiting my ballot, brimming with excitement.

Benjamin talks (and talks and talks) in church

Benjamin spoke in sacrament meeting for the first time today. 

He began writing his talk a few weeks ago...as a punishment. I'll share the story because he quite openly shared it with my mom this evening. Honestly, I had entirely forgotten what I'd been punishing him for—only that I had been quite livid about whatever it was and the punishment was to go to his room and...think about his upcoming talk. When he said why, I was like, "Oh, yeah!!"

Here's the scoop:

A few weeks ago, Benjamin, Alexander, and Reed had been playing in the backyard, but for whatever reason suddenly decided the backyard was "mid" and they were going to find something else to do. They were walking into the front yard and Benjamin spotted our new see-saw and started running toward it. 

In his mind, he had the idea that he and Reed could spin around and have a mighty fine time together. 

He snagged the first seat and, of course, landed with a plop on the ground, leaving the other seat up high in the air. 

Alexander saw this and figured he could take the other seat, so he took a great running start across the yard before hurling his seven-year-old body up into the air, grabbing onto that seat, and hoisting himself up so that he could see-saw with Benjamin.

Benjamin was upset by this because he had planned on see-sawing with Reed, not Alexander. 

So he stood up and let Alexander fall to the ground very rapidly—THUD!

And then...

AND THEN...jumped up into the air...and slammed back down on his own seat.

THUD went Benjamin into the ground.

POOF went Alexander flying into the air.

Garage Fridges, Grandma Dresses, and Dandelion Puffs

After being away from my kids all day on Friday, I didn't really want to leave them to go to the Relief Society "Super Saturday" but I went anyway (mostly because Miriam and Rachel wanted to go, but also because I could get rid of that tied fleece blanket you see in the corner behind Alexander and Phoebe, which I meant to donate in, like, November). 

When I left, Alexander was busy reading Fancy Nancy with Phoebe:

One to three years!?!?!

A few weeks ago, Benjamin came home with a trio of bullfrog tadpoles...and a teeny little salamander that he didn't mean to catch but accidentally scooped up with the tadpoles (and which we'll return to the wild once we can catch it...because while frogs are fine to keep, salamanders aren't...it keeps getting away from us though).

He asked if he could keep the tadpoles. 

Why not? They'll grow legs and hop off in the next few weeks and that'll be that. Right?

Riiiiight?

These tadpoles, however, are showing no sign of development. At all. 

No facial developments. No little leg nubs. Nothing. 

Male Researchers

Uncle Patrick messaged me to say that he had a couple of t-shirts to send back to the States with Josie (who is in Austria visiting him for a while). They're too small for him, but he figured my boys could grow into them—they say "Male Researcher" on the back.

"Hey, I could wear a shirt like that," Rachel mused. "Not because I'm a male researcher, but because I'm researching males."

I told her that she could wear it while presenting Uncle Patrick's slides: "Non-Invasive Dating Techniques" from a male researcher.

I also sent her little quip along in the family group chat. Uncle Allen was particularly taken aback by her remark and told my sister to tell me to tell Rachel that that remark was a little racy for Rachel to be saying and that she's far too young to be researching males. 

Rachel retorted that it was all in the name of science.

Uncle Allen was rendered speechless (to make him feel better, although Rachel is at a dance right now, she never actually been on a date—her dating pool is rather shallow out here).

Uncle Patrick wondered whether the freshmen males at BYU would survive her sarcastic wit. 

Time will tell.

All the conferences

Today my brother Patrick sent a picture of himself presenting at a conference in Dresden (I'm pretty sure). His paper title is hilarious: Non-invasive Dating: A New Methodology.

It's about how to date paper not people, but it always takes people a minute to get there.