Let the BETTYFICATION begin!

BETTYFICATION - noun/pun on the word beautification. The process by which ordinary houses become fabulous homes. WORD ORIGIN: Betty Box, composer, seamstress, package wrapper, home decorator and all around creative trend-setter, has helped to decorate the homes of every woman in my family, accommodating very divergent tastes and getting beautiful results using unique methods and always thinking outside the proverbial Box! MODERN USAGE: Any creative overhaul of decor with fabulous results, often including pictures hung close to the floor, trinkets suspended by fishing line, and the display of decorative yard sticks.

BETTYFY - verb/pun on the word beutify. To make ordinary houses become fabulous homes. WHO CAN BETTYFY? Betty Box, naturally, Corinne Simpson, Susan Rozier, all of the Simpson daughters and daughters-in-law, and, to a lesser extent, me, with a lot of help from Betty, Corinne and Susan.

This post is really just for my decorating dream team, comprising the above-named Bettyfiers, who will be visiting me and Bettyfying my home at the end of June (picture me doing cartwheels at the thought of it!). Most other readers will find it boring because they lack the ability to think outside boxes and dismiss things that cannot be noticed from atop galloping horses. The purpose of this post is to orient my team to the projects at hand and seek advanced advice so I can be as prepared as possible for the convergence of this brilliant team. For further correspondence, we can chat in the comments section below, or through regular email.

And now to business...

My house is 4 bedrooms, two baths upstairs and a kitchen, guest bath, hallway and two living areas (one including a small dining area) downstairs. Although every room in the house needs work, I would like to focus during your visit on the downstairs only, MAINLY the more formal of the two living areas (which I refer to as the living room), which is what one sees upon entering the front door.

Here's the front door and what you see when you go through it.




The downstairs is basically a circle around the stairway. To the left of the entrance there is a hallway that leads to the garage door at left, guest bath straight on, and one entrance to the kitchen at right, as shown here. That bulletin board on the left is really my first successful project in the house. It's covered in a fabric that complements another fabric I have, which is yet to be turned into a side-table cloth or runner or something fabulous that Betty comes up with. Here is a look at the fabric, which shows my hoped-for color pallet, although I'm not sure the colors will turn out true on this medium. Also, truth be told, I'm a bit iffy about the colors I chose. We'll talk more about color in a bit, but just to put a name to the colors you see here, that's soft orange and a deep red and a yellow/gold. I LOVE the red (my fireplace wall, which you will soon see, is in the process of becoming that red), LIKE the idea of the orange, but am feeling a bit insecure about how/where to use it, and I'm not crazy about the yellow/gold here. It comes off as too green, I think.


Back to the tour. If you look to the right from the open front door, you see the formal living area, which is a long, narrow room. Technically, I think a portion of it is designed as a formal dining area, but we won't be using it as such. The room is a bit problematic in how narrow it is, but I just know the team will come up with furniture arrangement that will make it look great.

From the open door:


Turning to the right from the open door:



A view of the front door from the far end of the room:


Current couch placement (many things are out of place because we're painting and because we just moved a big shelving unit--known by Mom and me as "Brown Bob"--into the family room):


Piano "wall":

In this piano photo (above) you can see the entrance to the family room/dining room, which adjoins the kitchen, completing the circle. On the right side of this opening is the fireplace, which is a pass-through fireplace, with access from both rooms. Here below is a photo of that, and the architectural elements above it that most definitely need to be Bettyfied, Cornified and/or Momified (at the left of the first picture below you can see the aforementioned Brown Bob, who houses our computer and arts center):



It should be noted that on the living room side, the ceilings are two stories high. On the family room side, they are low. Here is the family room side of the fireplace:


The fireplace wall--BOTH living room and family room sides--is being painted red. In this picture, it has just been primed.

Now here are more pictures of the family room and dining room area:

Meet Brown Bob.

Dining area, obviously.

Sliding glass door to the right of dining area, leading to back patio/yard.

Detail above sliding glass door...needs a bit of help.

Kitchen, which is to the left of dining area, opposite sliding glass door. Nice 80s oak and white tile as you can see. I'd like to overhaul it entirely, but of course that will have to wait.


And here we come full circle to the hallway with the bulletin board:

I did this stenciling around the bulletin board, but it may need to be painted over, we'll see.

Below are the pantry and hall closet opposite the bulletin board.


I thought we could make a few little touches to my guest bath that would spice it up. It has a cowboy theme, but it needs a rope border (like Marissa's room) and maybe some vinyl lettering on that gigantic mirror. Also, I'd like to paint the big star red and have other red touches.




That's bluish, vertical striped wallpaper that fits just fine with the cowboy theme so I'm keeping it.

And now more about color...There is a website called kuler.adobe.com that is a very cool place to explore and create color combinations. I created a pallet there called LaDawn Happy Autumn. HERE is the link to it. On further inspection, I find the brown there to be too dark, but the red, gold and orange look right.

Anyway, I've got all these white walls and they're driving me crazy. I would like to try to have them all painted before you get here, but that means I have to make color decisions without you and that scares me! Initially I had chosen a cocoa color, but then I looked around. My couches are tan, my carpet is tan, my wood furniture is oak, my hard floors are light, my piano is brown...get the idea? WAY too much neutral. So I set out to find some actual COLORs that I could live with and that's when I came up with the pallet that, hopefully, shows on the link above. I was going to do the long living room wall orange, the fireplace and perhaps the alcove around the front door red, and the rest yellow, with the hallway and upstairs brown. Then that seemed like TOO MANY colors. My lack of decisiveness has left my walls white, and getting dirtier and dirtier by the week (children, markers, hand and footprints etc). I realized I was being stalled by the enormity of the task...which colors, which walls, and those hugely high ceilings in the living room. But I was certain I wanted the fireplace wall red, so I'm just going forward with that.

I'm not that big a fan of that yellow/gold color, but it seems the least obtrusive, so I thought I'd use that, but I just don't like it enough. I DO like the orange color, but it seems a bit too bold to put on an entire wall, especially the size of the long living room one, so I'm wondering how to better include orange in the space. And the brown I love, but it seems a bit too dark, and perhaps too neutral for all those big walls as well. So, taking these thoughts into consideration and (hopefully) having seen the colors, do you have suggestions?

Another thing to mention is the wallpaper in the kitchen/dining room area. It's visible in the dining room picture above, but here is a close up of it: There's a bit of glare on one of the leaf sets, but the set at lower left shows the color. It's definitely green, which I'm not crazy about, but I'm hoping a simple brown will complement it and go well with the red also. Eventually I definitely want all the wallpaper gone, but truth be told I'm totally intimidated by the idea of removing it all (my upstairs bathroom is a wallpaper disaster!), so I'm just trying to tie it in for now.

So, that's color. Let me know what you think.

The next thing I want to talk about is an idea I have for a feature in the living room. As you'll see in the pictures below, my long, narrow living room is flanked by pretty windows, but there's a long, empty space (I estimate about 16 feet) between them. So far I have separated the room into sitting area and work area (when Brown Bob was in there) and/or library. I imagine we probably still will separate the space if I know my team. But to unify the divided-use space, I thought a long shelf up at the level of the upper window that spans all three walls might be nice. Kind of like the big one Paige has in her living room, only turning two corners as well. We could bring fabric down from each end of it, or shelving for books, or both. Window treatments could also hang from it. I already have several 2x4s that could be painted for the purpose, and I have a couple of brackets that are attractive. Shelving is definitely a priority, as I have many books that have never made it in from the garage. Also, children's books ABOUND!

Between the right window in the picture above and the left window in the picture below is the approximately 16 foot wall I mentioned.


Other ideas include shopping for an area rug for the family room, pillows and throws for the living room couches, a major art piece or arrangement of pieces for that big long living room wall, and generally arranging furniture and already-existing decor items, of which I have many. I have two or three boxes of things I've not yet incorporated, and a fair amount of fabric as well. I have lots of curtain rods and shelving possibilities on hand already. As for a theme or feeling for my decor, I'm thinking colorful, artistic, and slightly ethnic. I have some interesting pieces from my travels in Africa and Italy, and I like the idea of finally displaying them. My budget at this point is around $500. I'll see if I can manage to add to it before you get here.

Here are some examples of what I have with a 'colorful and slightly ethnic' vibe. Carved wooden bowls, variously textured balls, vases, Aztec artifacts, Masai masks, Sicilian papyrus, etc. I also have some large carved mahogany elephants that Jamie has been storing for me. I'll get those back from her this weekend.

And here are a couple of pieces of furniture I have that are now in other rooms of the house but that could be used as the team sees fit:


Okay, Ladies. Comment away! Let's get going! I can't wait to hear your thoughts. Thank you so much for being willing to help me. I have so many ideas, but implementation is practically impossible (let's just say it's highly improbable) without a support group full of getterdone ladies like you!

I had the unenviable job of writing and directing our ward's roadshow this year. I had a lot of fun writing the script, and am pleased to say the youth really came through in the end, despite early appearances to the contrary. Additionally, other adult ward members helped immensely, in amazingly valuable ways. While I won't be volunteering for the position again any time soon, it was a good experience and I feel very grateful. Below you will find my script. Our stake's theme was I'M A BELIEVER.


IKE AND IMA JUMP IN

OLEO
IN FRONT OF CURTAIN (while set is being arranged behind)
Ike and his friends enter and stand around a large half circle painted like the Earth. They are wearing and carrying various swim accessories like goggles, snorkel, floaties, etc. The only swim accessory Ike has on is swim flippers.

ANNOUNCER: In the world before Earth life began, Ike Weaver and his friends prepare.

IKE: My jump time has finally come! I’m sort of nervous, but really excited, too!

FRIEND 1: Oh, Ike Weaver, you have nothing to worry about. We’ll be rooting for you…won’t we guys?

FRIENDS: Oh, yeah. Of course we will. they nod, agree

IMA: Yeah, and who knows? Maybe OUR jump times will come soon and we’ll be down there on Earth with you!

IKE: flirting with IMA, I like that idea!

FRIEND 3: And you’ll have everything you need. Hands Ike the goggles Good parents and leaders to help you see the world clearly…Ike puts on goggles

FRIEND 4: Good friends…

IMA: interrupting, and flirting back a bit That’s us! But then mouths the word “ME” and points to self, while Ike’s not looking. A few crowd members notice and snicker

FRIEND 4: continuing, …to help you stay afloat in any situation. Puts a floatie on one of Ike’s arms while FRIEND 1 puts a floatie on Ike’s other arm.

IKE: looking longingly at IMA, Good friends are always very helpful.

FRIEND 1: hands Ike a snorkel, practically hitting him with it to get his attention away from IMA. And the scriptures, to keep you supplied with much needed oxygen to the brain!

IKE: flinching from the punch, then sheepishly, Sorry. Puts on snorkel, You’re right, I’ve got a lot of helpful tools. And I’ve already got this great conscience to steer me, lifts up foot to indicate flippers, but it still seems like I’m missing something.

FRIEND 3: It’s your “I Pod,” Ike. You can’t jump in without your “I Pod.” holds up extra large I Pod and gives it to IKE.

IKE: Oh yeah! Are all the “I” songs loaded onto it?

FRIEND 3: Of course. “I” Am a Child of God, “I” Have a Family Here on Earth…

IMA: “I” Lived in Heaven a Long Time Ago…

FRIEND 1: “I” Feel My Savior’s Love

FRIEND 4: You know, all those great songs that start with “I” that teach us so much about the meaning of life and how to live it.

FRIENDS: get it, agree, nod, etc

IKE: Great. I’m ready then. I hope your jump times will come soon, too. I guess this is good bye! Jumps off stage in front of Earth prop. A SPLASH is heard. FRIENDS carry Earth prop off.

Curtain opens to three separate scenes, one lit at a time, left to right. Left scene shows a mother in a rocking chair, singing and interacting with her baby. Piano accompanies.

ANNOUNCER: 6 months later…

MOTHER: singing I am a child of God/ and He has sent me here/ Has given me an earthly home/ with parents kind and dear… talking you know, Little Ikey, I always loved that part of the song. Knowing that I am a child of God has helped me a lot in life. And it’s my job to make sure you know you’re a child of God, too. It’ll be easy if I just keep singing all these great “I” songs to you. It’s a Weaver family tradition! Sings I feel my Savior’s love/ in all the world around me/ His spirit warms my soul/ through everything I see…notices a lump in the baby’s wrapping and feels for what it is. What’s this? Takes it out. It’s a pair of goggles. Confused, Huh?

ANNOUNCER: 8 years later…Ike is an energetic boy with a keen interest in outer space.

Light immediately transfers to next scene, center stage, a boy’s bedroom. Ike, as a young boy, is playing with space ship toys and having an imaginary conversation between earthlings and aliens. The thing he is using as a space ship is a swim flipper.

BOY IKE: in alien voice We are here to study your planet and its people. What is the secret to your success as a species? In earthling voice (his own) Roast beef, mashed potatoes and apple pie! Voice from off stage calls Ike to dinner. Coming Mom! Drops toys, starts to go out, lights transfer to scene at right.

ANNOUNCER: 8 more years later…Ike is taking his driver’s license test.

Right scene is the testing counter at the DMV, indicated by a sign that says “Driver’s License Tests This Way.” Ike will be there, along with several others, including FRIEND 1 and IMA, who are strangers to him now.

IKE: entering, notices IMA and scooches between her and FRIEND 1 in order to be near her. The voice of his thoughts, from off stage, pre-recorded: Wow, I’d like to meet her. How should I introduce myself? Trying out introductions, Hello. Don’t I know you from somewhere?. No. Too cheesy. Hi. So, should I drive on our first date or will you? No. Too forward. Trying to refocus, I won’t be driving her—or anyone—anywhere if I don’t pass this test. Concentrate. She probably wouldn’t give me the time of day anyway. Hey, that’s it. I’ll ask her the time. Aloud, Excuse me, do you know what time it is?

IMA: Huh? Oh, sure. I can look on my phone. I have it in here somewhere. She struggles to find it in her huge bag and starts taking things out and laying them on the table. One item she puts on the table is a snorkel. Ike makes an odd face when he sees it, and clears his throat. The searching is taking an uncomfortably long time.

IKE: Awkwardly, Uh, that’s okay, I can probably just look on my I Pod. At exactly the same moment, Ike and IMA take out gigantic “I” Pods, Ike’s from behind him, IMA’s from her huge bag. Their eyes meet. Recognition dawns. Cascading bells (piano) highlight the moment.

IMA: My name is Ima Beale.

IKE: Ima Beale, nice to meet you. I’m Ike Weaver. They shake hands meaningfully

FRIEND 1: Hey, could one of you two give me the answer to number 63?

IKE and IMA: shaking their heads resolutely I believe in being honest. Piano plays the tune, lights go out.

As scenes are being cleared from stage in the dark, three aliens walk across the front of the stage while talking. Surprisingly, they don’t have monotone voices, but uppety British accents.

ANNOUNCER: Meanwhile, in a world far away…

ALIEN 1: Bob, I’ve been thinking we should investigate the planet Earth. Its peoples have lasted eons.

ALIEN 2: Excellent notion, Fred. They seem capable of adapting to varied climates. In all, they are extraordinarily successful. Betty, what’s your opinion?

ALIEN 3: Thanks for asking, Bob. Earthlings are very adaptable indeed. Why just this eon they’ve undergone an ice age, myriad wars, impressive space exploration, global warming, and Brittany Spears. Just then, Hit Me Baby One More Time plays, and ALIENS 1-3 do a synchronized little dance move, then continue their walk/talk as if it hasn’t happened.

ALIEN 1: I concur. We’ll go forward then. Let’s find out what it is that makes Earthlings such a successful species. They exit.

ANNOUNCER: 6 months later…

Ike and his friends are getting in a van to go to a fireside. They sing, to the tune of Adam Sandler’s Chanukah Song as they “drive” along (van is a cardboard cutout):

IKE and FRIENDS: Anyone who needs a ride, we’re headed to the fireside, Make sure that your shoes are tied, Guys you might even find your bride, Where all our standards coincide we’re going to the fireside, Come even if your hair is dyed, and someday we’ll be glorified, abide with me tis eventide, and meet me in the front row at the fireside.

There is a sudden jerk to a stop. A spaceship has landed (done with lighting). Everyone in the car is shocked and scared. ALIENS 1-3 emerge.

ALIEN 1: Greetings. Do not be alarmed. We come in peace.

ALIEN 2: We bring you this, as a sign of our good intentions. Presents Ike with a swim flipper; Ike and friends make confused faces.

ALIEN 3: We are here to study your planet and its people. We find you to be very adaptable.

ALIEN 1: This is our question…What is the secret to your success as a species?

IKE: Funny you should ask; we have a musical number prepared on that very subject!

Group in van pushes van over; jazz hands while they form lines for the I song choreography. Everyone pulls out their giant “I” Pods, puts in their earbuds, and begins to sing and dance.

IKE and FRIENDS:
I lived in heaven a long time ago it is true.

I am a child of God and He has sent me here.

I have a family here on Earth, they are so good to me.

I love to read the Holy Scriptures.

I love to see the temple.

I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I know who I am, I know God’s plan, I’ll follow Him in Faith.

IKE: I hope they call me on a mission, when I have grown a foot or two.

IKE and FRIENDS:I will follow God’s plan for me, holding fast to his word and his love, I will work, and I will pray, I will always walk in his way, then I will be happy on Earth…

ALIENS: …and in my home above indicating above with ‘Mork’ fingers.

IMA: Now you’re getting the idea.

ALIEN 1: Yes, we’re beginning to understand.

ALIEN 3: But we’d like to know more!

IKE: Well, if you’re that interested, why don’t you come with us to the fireside?

ALIEN 2: Even if my hair is dyed?

IKE and FRIENDS: Of course, come on! They give general encouragement, pick up the van, and the aliens get in and all go off stage as the curtain closes.

EPILOGUE (in front of curtain)
ANNOUNCER: Years later…after a beautiful temple wedding…

Ike and Ima, holding hands and talking, cross the stage.

IKE: You were a beautiful bride, Ima.

IMA: And you are a wonderful husband, Ike. But the thing I like most about being married to you is my new full name.

IKE: It’s a good one, alright. And I love hearing you say it.

IMA: loud, with exaggerated enunciation IMA BEALE WEAVER

Enough Is Enough

“Enough is enough,” my parents used to say. When I was a kid I thought the phrase meant something like ‘good grief.’ Now I understand it better. In fact, my daily life is filled with examples that compel me to utter, as my parents did, “Enough is enough!”

Like most people, I appreciate knowing what to expect each day with regard to the weather. I need basic information: the expected temperature in degrees Fahrenheit, whether an umbrella might be handy, if a trip to the store for emergency rations is called for.

Instead, the weather report is like an involuntary college course, sandwiched between tidbits of actual news. And when you hear an awkward transition or lame pun, you know the course is about to begin.

“Yes, Hannah, those bank robbers got away with a lot of green. And speaking of green, we see quite a bit of it in today’s Doppler images of the valley.” The meteorologist then throws in a few marginally interesting facts about Doppler technology, its color spectrum, its accuracy, maybe even its inventor, Christian Andreas Doppler, who hailed from Austria. “Our hail won’t be coming from nearly that far, though, Hannah [fake yet hearty laugh], and I’ll have more on that for you after the break."

If I cared about old Chris Doppler and his multi-hued radar, if I gave one hoot about what a barometer measures, if I had an iota of interest in anything having to do with “ridges of pressure,” I would go to meteorology school.

I happen to be familiar with complicated and impressive jargon specific to the teaching profession. I use it when necessary, in company with other speakers of teacher-ese, but you don’t find me unleashing it on unwilling listeners who simply want to know when the PTA meets.

And when did it become necessary for weather people to tease us unmercifully during our favorite TV shows? They’ve begun to sound like movie trailer narrators with their dramatic inflections and suspense-provoking pauses: “How long will the hot spell last? Or...will it? You’ll find out...at eleven.”

But if you believe you’ll actually find out at eleven how long the hot spell will last, you’ll be sorely disappointed. You will first have to sit through a lecture on what happens when cold air collides with warm air, an exhaustive list of the names of every weed that ever made anyone sneeze, and a photograph of high cloud cover sent in from a viewer who recently turned 100. Enough is enough!


On a recent sunny day, I found myself in the grocery store in preparation for a pic-nic. In the potato chip aisle, Doritos brand offered me 13 different flavors of chips. One, ominously named Fiery Habanero, boasted the description “A flaming-hot journey into a spicy inferno of habanero flavor.” I had to look around to confirm I was in a food store. Such a description might’ve just as easily been found in a travel guide, a nightly news arson report, or on the dust jacket of a work by Dante.

Cheetos brand was even worse. Among its offerings were Color Changing Cheetos Puffs, variously flavored Cheetos Asteroids, Flamin’ Hot Chile Cheetos con Limón, and Xxtra Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Extreme.

I was compelled to ask, are our collective taste buds so deprived that we must resort to fiery infernos and asteroid bursts to feel stimulated? As if in answer to my question, the preloader at Doritos.com urges, “Prepare to take snacking to a higher level.” As my waistline can proudly attest, I was perfectly happy with the former, apparently insufficient level of snacking. Enough is enough!

Annoying as it can be, living in a world where ‘enough’ seems an elusive concept has its bright side, too. Variety and stimulation, even in extremes, are signs of innovation, creativity and free market opportunity. The fact that I am free to complain about all that is too extreme in my life is a bounty about which I will never say, “Enough is enough.”

Are we there yet?

As a parent, I often have to judge whether things are good. Is the popular movie good for my children? Is our sunscreen good for the environment? Is buy-one-get-one-half-off a good deal? And most important, is the lump of cheddar I found wrapped in foil in the back of the refrigerator behind the pitcher of used-to-be-juice still good?

Not surprisingly, the answers do not always fit into neat ‘yes’ or ‘no’ compartments. After all, mold can be sliced away from cheese.

Lately, I have been considering the merits of summer. Is it good or bad? If you were to ask me in late May, amid the barrage of school-end activities, grading deadlines and volunteer assignments, I would say summer is definitely good. At that point, nothing sounds better than lounging at Sycamore Pool for hours while munching farmer’s market produce and carefully sliced cheddar. But by the end of July, temperatures that rarely dip below three digits cause me to reverse my opinion and I do not hesitate to say summer is bad.

The novelty of sleeping late and living virtually schedule free wears off after a while. The scorching sun renders the bikes, scooters and skates useless. My kids too frequently resort to movies and video games, and I begin to hear those pitiful words, “I’m bored.”

Fortunately, our summers are usually punctuated by family trips and outings, and these go a long way in relieving the monotony. However, road trips are always accompanied by four even more pitiful words: “Are we there yet?”

I believe OB nurses implant odometer chips into babies at the time of birth. The chips are programmed to begin functioning after children have mastered verbal expression, but before they have mastered basic arithmetic. Every two and a half minutes the chip prompts children to ask whether those same two and a half minutes have in fact concluded the journey. Parental responses start out informative and calm, then gradually degenerate to vague and seething.

Are we there yet occurrence number 3: “No, sweetie, the sign we just passed said we have 492 miles to go. We’re going 70 miles per hour. That means we’ll be driving for about another seven hours.”

Are we there yet occurrence number 19: “Remember how I said we’d be driving for seven hours? Well, that was less than an hour ago.”

Are we there yet occurrence number 57: [through clenched teeth] “Look. More cows.”

This year, in a brilliant attempt to preempt odometer chip crises, I created road trip notebooks for my two older children. Filled with coloring pages, puzzles, camp song lyrics, journal prompts, instructions for making cootie catchers, and more, the notebooks were a goldmine of wholesome entertainment. Each notebook’s crowning inclusion was a detailed map of our trip route so that queries of ‘are we there yet’ could be directed to the information at the children’s fingertips.

I was very proud of my creations. They worked beautifully. Well, beautifully for about 300 out of the 800 miles we drove to Utah for a recent family wedding. My heart sank a little when, on a potty stop somewhere around Lovelock, I noticed one of the trip route maps crushed into the floor mat under a layer of used-to-be-Cheez-its. This would not do.

When I returned to the car I resolved that my creations would not go under used. So, on the duration of the trip, I colored three exotic animals and five earth fairies, made two cootie catchers, played seven games of paper Battle Ship, completed six word searches, and led the car in several rousing verses of “The cutest boy I ever saw was sipping cider through a straw.”

The wedding was lovely, the road trip went better than expected, and being united with far away family members proved worth the trouble. Now we are back to sleeping late, lounging around at One Mile and looking forward to the start of a new school year.

In considering whether summer is good or bad, I asked my children their opinions. My seven year old son, who recently expressed the wish that he had gills, said summer is good. My ten year old daughter, who has an intense and inexplicable preference for long sleeve shirts, said summer is bad.

But I would be willing to bet that when their new pencils shorten and the knees of their school jeans thin out a bit, they’ll remember with fondness the hours we lounged, the miles we drove, the songs we sang. And before we know it, we’ll all be saying about summer 2010 “Are we there yet?”

The Tree Hugging Pragmatist

I descend from a pragmatist and a tree hugger. The combination makes me a conscientious employer of resources for all the most practical reasons. For example, I drive a hybrid vehicle, but I didn’t choose it based on its relatively low emissions, rather because I was able to buy it on good terms. I consider it a bonus that it averages 40 miles to the gallon, a decided advantage to my budget. That it uses electricity instead of fuel half the time is a fact I can barely understand, let alone appreciate. It’s cheaper. That’s good enough for me.

I use CFLs because they last longer than ordinary light bulbs, but I only buy them on sale. I use a clothes dryer to save time over the ironing board. I let the kids play in the hose, but run the dishwasher on the light cycle.

In the hot months, I open all the windows in the evening and place fans in them so the cool air finds a home inside. During the day, the windows and blinds are closed, so the heat doesn’t do the same. I use the air conditioning as little as I can manage. This might win me some laud among the tree hugger ilk—noble sacrifice for the sake of the earth. But no. It’s just cheaper, and fresher, and it somehow seems right. If less will do, it is sensible not to use more.

When we lived in a home that had curbside recycling pick up, I was an avid and careful recycler. Now we live in a place that does not offer such service, so I’m afraid only the things with redemption value get set apart. Yes, I do experience some guilt over this, a thing which should appease you activists. But for me, this guilt strains at the borders of pragmatism, so I largely ignore it. If I went all out to recycle my cereal boxes and such, it would be at the expense of my space and time, which are also valuable resources.

My pragmatist grandmother saved bread bags because they came in handy on trips. She saved her newspapers for the boy scouts in her neighborhood because it gave them something productive to do. She was even known to place a whole onion in the oven in order to make the house smell like dinner was cooking all afternoon long. She said it made her husband appreciate her simple dinners more. Okay, so that last one is more an example of genius than pragmatism, but still. The point is I’m quite sure my grandmother had never heard of global warming. She just employed no-nonsense practices in her daily life.

My tree hugger father, who held conservation as a core value, taught me the adage “use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.” Yet he chose plastic bags, not paper, at the grocery store because they made convenient hand-held receptacles for the litter he picked up on his daily jogs. He donated much toward the preservation of the giant redwoods and hiked often among their trunks, yet he arrived at them in a very comfortable car.

On one side I have an exemplar who was practical and therefore conserved, on the other one who conserved in the most practical ways. The most memorable of lessons I learned as a child came from both my pragmatist side and my tree-hugger side. I learned that if you’re finished with a thing, there is often another use for it. If you go someplace, it’s reasonable to leave it in better shape than you found it. If you want to save money, it behooves you to take good care of the things you have.

I would suggest we all examine the reasons we do the things we do. Socio-political pressure should never be one of them. Whether we identify more with the pragmatist or the tree hugger, we can all be reflective and deliberate about our choices. Rest assured, practicality and conservation can coexist in peace.

Stacy Black: Big Sister and Inspiration

"In the cookies of life, sisters are the chocolate chips." ~Author Unknown

If my life truly were a cookie, my big sister Stacy would definitely star as one of the most loved ingredients. On this, the occasion of her 50th birthday, I dedicate my column to her.

Even though Stacy often introduces me as her older sister, she is in fact twelve years my senior. This means that in my toddlerhood, she was at the age renowned for getting a rise out of mothers. While I have no memory of it, I'm told I was an expert enunciator of moderate curse words. These were Stacy's first fruits of effective teaching.

For a time, Stacy would load me into the basket of her bike and take me wherever she went. Later, I would beg to go with her wherever she went but to no avail. I recall asking her where she was going one 1975 day as she climbed behind the wheel of her VW bug. Her response was a glib "Crazy. Wanna come?" To my disappointment, the question was not a literal one.

Soon enough I knew all about being a glib teenager and it was to my eldest sister that I often turned for a listening ear or a dose of comic relief. My role as beloved Aunt to the sharp niece and three spirited nephews she gave me always brought perspective.

What seemed to be the darkest period of Stacy's life, with the aid of retrospect has become her most victorious. Her marriage ended and she embarked on a journey which included rearing four very young children, attending college start to finish, excelling as an educator, becoming a conscientious homeowner, and remaining sane through it all. Stacy attributes her success to two entities: God and Laughter, which often work hand in hand.

On a long road trip to see relatives one summer, Stacy and her daughter became increasingly frazzled by the three wild boys, who were loud and raucous, as boys often are. Stacy's several commands of "Settle down now," and "Be quiet" were met with jeers and continued rowdiness. At the end of her patience, she shouted something stern that ended with "and I mean it." A period of silence followed; they knew Mom meant business. However, the temptation to quote one of the great lines of Princess Bride was too great, and in unison they intoned, "Anybody want a peanut?"

While I'm sure Stacy appreciated their comedic timing, this did nothing to lift her mood. Just then they heard a loud clapping and clunking from a flat tire. Being endowed with grand imaginations, the boys assumed shots were being fired and issued shouts of "We're hit!" and accordingly took positions face down on the floor boards.

Stacy pulled the car to the median, made a call, and waited for help to arrive. A concerned police officer approached and asked her to pull further onto the shoulder. She objected, saying, "But won't I ruin my wheel if I drive with a flat tire?" He answered with what he probably thought was a rhetorical question: "Which would you rather have, a ruined wheel or your children obliterated by a careless driver?" She paused, glancing back at the boys, who now pointed imaginary guns at the officer from their posts on the floor. She finally responded with a question of her own: "Exactly how much does a new wheel cost?"

Besides the gift of laughter, God has sent Angels to Stacy in the form of loving relatives, generous friends, and inspired church leaders. With their help and her own tireless dedication and faith, Stacy has earned a Bachelor's degree, several teaching credentials, a Master's degree, and the respect of all who know her. And, while she would never take credit for her children's accomplishments, I will add that her daughter is a college graduate and credential holder, two of her boys are Eagle Scouts, one did missionary work for two years in Brazil, and all four of her children are well-traveled, witty and delightful adults. A fine son-in-law and precious grandbaby have been added to the throng, and in a capstone move even for God, Stacy will marry her new-found and long-awaited love next fall.

My sister is a wonderful example of humility, a beacon of determination and a great lover of laughter. Now that I think of it, she shares many characteristics with a good cookie: she rises under heat, is sweet, well-rounded, soft at heart, and she delivers smiles wherever she goes. Stacy Black: one smart, tough and wonderful cookie. Happy Birthday!

Is there such thing as a 'free lunch?'

Buying food and managing a menu are among the most difficult parts of parenthood for me. What is most important? Taste? Price? Nutritional content? Ease of preparation? Buying local?

There are many things to consider, but I am discovering something about myself as my children grow older: the most important thing to me when it comes to food is shelf life. I don’t mean shelf life as in ‘how long will it stay good.’ I mean shelf life as in ‘how long will it stay put.’

That’s right. My number one criterion for a good food buy is how long the food is likely to stay in my cupboard—the longer the better. This requires it to not taste so bad that it would never get eaten, but also not taste so good that it would all be eaten on the day I buy it. I never buy cookies, for example. Any positive health effects of this decision are purely incidental.

At the store, if I see something that my children would actually enjoy eating, it’s not likely to go in the cart. You see, spending four and a half dollars on a box of crackers is only worth it if I know that four and a half dollars will be spread out over, say, thirteen weeks. Then I’ve really gotten a good deal. So it’s salt-free Triscuits for us, thank you.

Some people overcome the dilemma of food disappearing too fast by shopping in bulk at places like Costco, Sam’s Club or the Taj Majal. For me, this is problematic on several levels.
Sure the per-item price is lower than at regular grocery stores, but it’s really hard to take comfort in that fact when I’ve just spent $39.00 on noodles. . . never mind that I won’t have to buy them again this decade.

I don’t have room to refrigerate the five-gallon jug of meat marinade “once opened.” The 800-pack of flavored oatmeal might have a chance if it doubles as an ottoman, but my freezer would almost certainly be overtaxed by the industrial sized bucket of fish sticks.
And if, by some odd culinary coincidence, I happened to need noodles, meat marinade, oatmeal and fish sticks all at once, I would push my way through the gale force fan gusts at the exit with only four items on my flatbed cart, but with the better part of a car payment missing from my wallet.

Safety is also an issue. At no other food store in town will you be beeped at by a man driving farm equipment and carrying a six-ton pallet of M & Ms. If you’re going to shop there, it should be with the understanding, first and foremost, that you are in the way.

Nevertheless, every Saturday, after choir and Kung Fu have had their due attention, my family heads to just such a store. The membership is worth it for the samples alone. There’s something for everyone: chicken in peanut sauce, a power bar, spinach-filled raviolis, even things with the word ‘organic’ in the name, which is comforting, if not entirely believable. And let’s not forget dessert. The first time I saw the sample table serving a fudge brownie with vanilla ice cream on top, a patriotic tear escaped my eye.

Occasionally a space-age blender or a wok that also functions as a campfire pit will be demonstrated, and then you might as well break out the lawn chairs. Smoothies, mashed potatoes, tomato soup, all manner of stir-fry, even a tin-foil dinner if you wait long enough. And the head-set microphones used by the peddlers kind of make you feel like you’re at a concert, so that’s a bonus.

I’ve heard it said there is no such thing as a free lunch. But next Saturday when you see my Costco cart full of satisfied children (and not much else), I’ll let you decide if it’s true.