Travel is a Broadening Experience

Things I learned visiting my southern grandkids:

Always check out new equipment by seeing what the maximum G.V.W. is.

Swings are gender specific. There are girl swings and boy swings. Always make sure you use the correct swing.

Once a day, view the world from a different perspective.

Uncommonly good looks run in the family. (It was bound to happen since they are related to Wilbur and me.)

Wheels make the most mundane things more fun.

No matter what fashion experts may say, every shade of pink is REALLY a neutral color. This neutral color goes with everything, makes you feel good, and should be worn on every occasion.

Spinach Salad Dressing Recipe

Spinach Salad Dressing

1/3 c. sugar
1 small onion, finely chopped
1/4 c. unsweetened applesauce
1/4 c. cider vinegar
2 Tablespoons water
2 Tablespoons oil
4 teaspoons prepared mustard
1 teaspoon salt1/2 teaspoon coarsely ground pepper

Combine the first nine ingredients in a blender or food processor; cover and
process until smooth.  Serve over fresh spinach.  Yield 1 1/3 cups


Above is the recipe as printed. When I make it, I use my homemade applesauce
which does have some sugar in it.  I usually double the recipe because we
have spinach salad a lot and use up the dressing quickly.  I never put
onions in the blender because it seems to make them taste yucky hot.  I use
my food processor to chop the onion.  Just combining everything else and
stirring with a spoon works fine.

Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah

Hello muddah, hello faddah
Here I am at Camp Granada

Camp is very entertaining

And they say we'll have some fun if it stops raining.

I went hiking with Joe Spivy

He developed poison ivy

You remember Leonard Skinner

He got ptomaine poisoning last night after dinner.

All the counselors hate the waiters

And the lake has alligators

And the head coach wants no sissies

So he reads to us from something called Ulysses.

How I don't want this should scare ya
But my bunkmate has malaria
You remember Jeffrey Hardy
They're about to organize a searching party

Dearest faddah, darling muddah,
How's my precious little bruddah
Let me come home, if you miss me
I would even let Aunt Bertha hug and kiss me.

Wait a minute, it's stopped hailing.
Guys are swimming, guys are sailing
Playing baseball, gee that's better
Muddah, faddah kindly disregard this letter.

Love, Barak

I Miss My Family of Origin, so I've Taken up Chewing

Squirming

Sometimes church events cause squirming. Most of our cub scout committee was squirming when the person bringing the taco meat, taco shells, plastic knives and forks, paper plates, and napkins did not show up for the Blue and Gold dinner Thursday until 5:55 p.m. The dinner was supposed to start at 6:00. Squirm, squirm.

On Sunday as I left church, I heard a ten year old girl in my Primary class ask her Dad was sexual promiscuity was. Naturally she asked him in a long, fairly narrow hallway hall as two-thirds of the members of our ward shuffled by on their way out the door. And she asked her Dad in front of the three or four men her Dad was visiting with. Squirm, squirm.

The super scouter in our ward asked my if the scout training I received was helpful. I never want to lie, and I don't want to hurt her feelings. Squirm, squirm.

Quilts & Trash Pickers

This week I learned that Webelo Scouts like picking up trash a whole lot more than they like reading about citizenship in their Webelos Book. They also like rice crispy treats quite a bit.

My Delightful friend , Charmaine, is finishing a quilt. Her husband's first wife died suddenly and never was able to finish a quilt. So Eloise, Charmaine, and I are finishing this quilt in her memory. It is a hand quilted quilt. There is always hope that my hand quilting could turn out respectably.

Peanut also came to visit and brought his parents along.

The Absent Minded Skier

This week two friends and I went cross country skiing at a really great place about and hour and a half away. I had a great time! Oddly enough, I began loading my gear the day before so as not to forget anything. (I was letting Eloise and Charmain borrow ski equipment, so I was loading up two sets of ski equipment as well as two sets snow shoes –just in case the skiing was no good.) Instead, I forgot essential things. Naturally, I forgot my camera. I also left my hat and gloves 90 miles away in my car. On top of everything else, I had one ski from one pair of skis and another ski from another pair. Since the skis were the same brand, length, and binding type, I was O.K. Eloise had an extra hat and Charmaine had an extra pair of gloves. They bailed me out.

I keep thinking I will outgrow this absent–minded behavior. Maybe when I’m sixty I will turn over a new leaf. At that age, I will finally be responsible enough not to forget vital equipment when recreating. And, I will overcome my absent-minded tendency to misplace things. At age sixty, I am positive that I will hate chocolate, fat, meat, and sugar and develop a penchant for brussell sprouts. I know at age sixty I will develop a sterling character and no longer find gossip interesting. At age sixty, I will have the patience of a saint when Abbi Hanna brings a sack full of marbles to my Primary class.

Although I’ll be sixty, I won’t bore on about all my relatives and their ailments. I will never give unsolicited advice. I will enjoy wearing a dress and look forward to spending a sunny Saturday in June at a church Relief Society Conference. (Gag!) Because I’m sixty, I will find human foibles amusing instead of irritating. I won’t be offended at the relative who acts like a surly bear or the one who loves to portray me as an ignorant hick from the sticks. I won’t even get nervous when people in testimony meeting announce publically they have done something and need to see the Bishop. (This happened last week.) I’ll finally figure out how to keep everything in perspective. At age sixty, I convinced I’ll be perfect. Wow. Can’t wait to be sixty!

Emeline Owens Byrd

I found Emeline Owens Byrd's obituary on microfiche of the Independent Record. She is my great-great-grandmother. I have heard all kinds of family lore about her. I usually find a grain of truth in the family lore, but it is usually twisted to the degree that the bottom line isn't true. I heard her father was an Indian Agent in Oklahoma and she spoke several Indian dialects. Family members said she acted as interpreter for the wagon train on the way west. This doesn't add up with other things I've found about her. I do know:

• She is buried on Cemetary Island. although it was a steep hill and not yet an island at the time.


• She was born in Missouri 23 November 1825 (so the OK Indian Agent story makes no sense)
• Family lore has it that on a plantation each of the girls of the owner was trained in a special skill she was to teach the slaves. Emeline is said to have been trained as a seamstress.



• She had a lot to do with raising my grandfather after his mother died.


• According to the old Byrd Bible, Emeline had nine children, not seven as stated in the article. One baby, William, died the same day he was born. Another, Alfred, died at 3 months old.


• We have no picture of her, although we have pictures of her husband and children.


• She is said to have been active politically. People listened when she spoke.
• She died 17 May 1894

I guess not much was going on in those days because this obituary was on the front page of the paper. All the punctuation and capitalization is as it appears in the article.

"York, May 21 - Mrs. Emaline Byrd, wife of John Byrd, Sr., born at Liberty, Clay county, Missouri, November 1825, died at York, Meagher county, Montana, May 17, 1894, aged 68 years, five months and eighteen days. She came across the plains to Alder Gulch in Montana, in a cattle team, with her family of five children, and drove thirteen cows in 1865, her husband having come to Montana in 1863, when they came to York, where they have resided ever since.

Deceased was a member of the Southern Methodist church, an earnest worker for the advancement of education for children, highly respected wherever known. There were seven children: three are dead and four living. She is mourned by the whole community. She was buried at Canyon Ferry, May 19, 1894. All of the town that could go to the cemetary did so, where they were joined by another large circle of old friends of the deceased.

Mrs. Byrd was very generous to the poor and needy; her whole life was given to doing good and to make those around her happy. She was a devoted wife and a kind and indulgent mother. She leaves three sons and one daughter to mourn her loss."

John Byrd Sr, is on the front porch of this house, along with some boys who look like Byrds, and and a girl who looks like Clara Bompart (Emeline and John's granddaughter). I think the woman in the rocking chair must be Emeline, but I can't prove it.

Below - Emeline's husband, John Byrd

Molly Byrd Cochrane, Emeline's youngest.Robin Byrd (I think), one of Emeline's sons.

Weekly Wonders

A Mule Deer doe and her twins enjoying the south slope during warm weather. They look like kangaroos.

The color guard comes to show the scouts how to present the colors.

The cavalry gives the cubs some state history. Did you know that during Teddy Roosevelt's time, one of the cavalry's assignments was to keep the ranchers from grazing cows in Yellowstone Park?

Things I Resist

Who says I have no self discipline? There are plenty of things I am tempted to do, but I never have done them....yet. Here are a few:

• After going through the checkout at Costco, I am always tempted to run as fast as I can pushing my shopping cart. When the cart achieves maximum speed, I want to jump on top of it and fly through the doors.
• Covering my ears and loudly humming when a speaker won't wrap up his (usually a him) talk and runs sacrament meeting over.
• Doing pirouettes, leaps, and curtsying to the trees as I walk up a hiking trail.
• Offering the Kirby vacuum salemen the opportunity to kneel and kiss my ring.
• After hearing an annoying, preachy speaker, yelling, "Oh yeah? Make Me!"
• Gathering all the 7 and 8 year olds to do the Charleston with me as a half time show during Men's church ball.
• Billing the doctor for time I've spent in the waiting room.
• Throwing myself on the floor in the prayer position and yelling "Salami! Salami! Yes, master!" when I am being scolded.
• Diving in the middle of the clothes racks at the department store and yelling "It's got me! Help! Help!"
• Sticking out my tongue at a rude sale person.
• On a very windy day, putting on my ice skates and finding a big sheet of ice. Then unfurling a parachute to see if it will fill up with wind and pull me.

The Road to Eglantine's

I went to see Eglantine on Friday. These pictures give you an idea what the drive is like after the halfway point

Homesteads and shelter belts
Looking west to the mountains

Grain elevators galore

Pumping oil

River bluffs

Eglantine & Peanut.

Sourdough Pancakes & Starter

Starter:
1 tablespoon yeast
2 cups warm water
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon sugar

Let stand in a glass container for 48 hours before using.

#1 Mix:
2 cups flour
2 cups milk
sourdough starter

#2
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 eggs 2 tablespoons melted butter

Mix #1 together and leave at room temperature overnight. In the morning take out 1/2 cup starter and add the ingredients listed in #2. Let sit for ten minutes. Cook pancakes.

Family Resemblances

The Ugly Toes

Clothes Baskets can be hazardous to your toes. Dad stubbed his toe on a basket but didn't think anything about it. He noticed his toe pinched a little during the day. When he took off his sock that evening, his toe looked like it was suffering from toe abuse. The picture below shows you how it looks after two days. Hopefully, the blister will re-absorb someday.

In the Pep Club

As a high school student, I was deprived. My parents never once decorated my locker. On top of this deprivation, my parents never once made bus treats when I rode a school-chartered bus anywhere to do anything.

Parents in those days didn’t care about their kids. My parents had me convinced that putting a roof over my head, teaching me right and wrong, attending my school music and sports events, and tending to me when I was sick meant they cared. I was such a patsie. Good thing Mrs. Pepclub came along and set me straight. I ran into Mrs. Pepclub when she collared me in the school parking lot as I picked up my Freshman from her first day of High School.

“Your kid playing basketball?” she demanded as she planted her body, clad in school colors, in front of my car. I eyed the billy club she was swinging from one hand to the other and fearfully replied,
“Y…yes…”
“You’ve already missed three parent meetings. You better haul your fanny down to the school tonight to paint posters for the gym.”
“Posters?” I asked nervously. I vividly imagined Mrs. Pepclub covering me with a shotgun while I fought a losing battle with a paintbrush and wracked my brain to think up a clever jingle.
“Yeah! Parents need to support the basketball team! We need to show these kids we care about them! Each player needs her own poster in the gym.”
“But I paid for three different basketball camps. I drove 500 miles and stayed for a week in a town where they don’t even speak English so my kid could go to a good basketball camp. We mounted a basketball hoop to the top of my china closet! I swear, I care about my kids!”
“Hmmph!” She snorted, “Parents who TRULY care about their kids paint posters for the gym. Be there!”

After making out my will, I left for the school. I met up with the other caring parents in the school cafeteria where we stared blankly at the poster paper and tempera paints. This situation was desperate. Three year olds jeer when I draw stick figures. I consider the Sunday funnies inspirational reading. Shuddering, I picked up a brush and started. I painted my daughter’s name in red with letters two feet high. But my clever sayings repository was empty. Then, inspiration hit. I scribed the slogan “Give a hoot! Don’t pollute!” I’d seen these wise words on a small sign in my best friend’s bathroom next to a can of air freshener. After attempting to draw a few decorative basketballs that ended up looking like pizzas run over by a road grader, I was finished. Another caring parent had finished another caring poster job.

The other day, the kids told me the high school doesn’t allow the parents to hang posters in the gym anymore. Just when I was getting the hang of being a caring parent.