Covering the Ground

Two days after we had a major snowstorm, Saturday was a beautiful spring day in Utah, with temperatures in the 60s. For me, it became the first Saturday yard work day of the year.

Main Project: Planting ground cover border along the back edge of the house.

Cost: About $30 at home depot: $5 each for five plants; $2.50 each for two bags of bark (I actually bought three and used one and a half bags to mulch around a couple of trees, leaving a bag and a half for this project)

Time to complete: About an hour and a half (plus shopping time, which was a while for me because I always get stuck in Home Depot, looking at new ideas, calling Christine to ask about this or that, and comparing my various options)

Tools needed: Shovel, rake

Plants: Prince of Wales Juniper, Juniperus horizontalis; an evergreen ground cover that has a feathery appearance; mature size: 4-6" tall, 3-6' wide; a nice juniper evergreen scent; a key selling point from the card attached to the plant: "Feature: Low maintenance."

Site prep: This space has actually been reserved for some plants for probably three years. I removed the previous growth about that long ago, and then two years ago a neighborhood boy did a work project for me--placing a 2x4 pressure-treated wood border along the edge of the grass to give a straight edge to the lawn. I had also moved dirt here from elsewhere in the yard to build up the area a little. (When we moved in, we had a "negative slope" here; meaning the ground sloped toward the house. This caused a problem during a huge rain storm one year. Rain water drained toward the house, leaking into the basement through tiny cracks in the foundation.) On Saturday as I planted these plants, I decided I had added too much dirt here, so I moved about four wheelbarrows of soil to another part of the yard.

What I would have done differently: I should have bought some sort of compost or fertilizer to use when I planted the ground cover. I didn't think of that until too late, and I was pressed for time and didn't want to go back to Home Depot to get some fertilizer. So I used a bit of Miracle Gro potting soil that I had in the garage--not enough and not the ideal compost, but I'm sure it will help a little. I also could have used one more bag of bark. The bark here is a bit thin.

Future projects in this area: This border is not reached by our sprinklers, so I need to work up a watering system. I will probably do a drip system of some sort, with little bubblers/drippers placed next to each plant.

Before Picture:



After picture:

Snow Shoveling in PJs

I was not planning to shovel my driveway yesterday morning. It snowed about three or four inches overnight, but this late in the year, you know it's all going to melt within 24 hours or so and it doesn't seem worth the effort.



So when I woke up in the morning, I gazed out the window and enjoyed the wintry scene. Snow is so much more enjoyable when you know you won't have to interact with it and when you know it is going to go away soon.

As I was about to take a shower, I thought I should quickly go out and take a few pictures of the unusual spring snow before it started melting. So I slipped on some shoes and walked out the back door. As I did so, I called to Lizzy to come look at the snow. She stepped out on the back porch, oohed and aahed at all the snow, muttered something about making snowmen, and went back inside while I took my pictures.

After a few minutes, I had taken the pictures I wanted and decided I should finish getting ready and head off to work; I had a big project in the morning and I wanted to arrive early. I walked up the snow covered steps and grabbed the door handle. It was locked.

We have, it appears, trained Lizzy well, and locking the door is about as automatic as shutting it. What we haven't trained Lizzy well in is answering the door. I knew this, but I knocked anyway. Nothing happened. The other problem, you see, was that Christine, who had already been up for a while, had gone back to bed and had put her earplugs in so she could sleep while I was getting ready. I knocked and knocked, but Christine couldn't hear me and Lizzy didn't choose to hear me. And our houseguests were downstairs sleeping soundly. And I was standing on the porch in my pajamas.

No problem, I thought. We installed a remote keypad outside the garage for just such instances. I would walk around the side of the house, activate the garage door opener from the keypad, and get into the house that way. On my way around the house, I took some pictures of the snow covered chain-link fence.


Well, the keypad worked just fine, and I got into the garage. But then I discovered a new problem. The door from the garage to the house was locked from the inside. We never lock that door, but in the last few nights, I have noticed that our houseguests had locked it. This is a good practice. An extra level of defense against intruders. We should probably do that more often. And we should also hide a key somewhere in the garage for when we are stuck outside in the snow in our PJs.

So I tried the front door. Also locked. Knocked. Rang the door bell. Tried to call to Lizzy through the little window in the door. Nothing.



So what do you do when you are locked out of your house on a snowy morning in your pajamas and no one is answering the door? Well, you might decide to be productive. Since you can get into the garage, you do have access to the snow shovel. So you could shovel the driveway. And the sidewalk. And you could try ringing the doorbell again once or twice. And you could take more pictures of cool snow everywhere. And you could wave cheerfully to neighbors who drive by and you could hope they don't notice that you are wearing your pajamas.

After about a half-hour of such activity, I tried the garage door and the front door again. Still no one willing to answer. I was just about to take my snow shovel and go work on the neighbor's driveway when I noticed the front window curtains part, and there stood Lizzy, looking around questioningly (presumably trying to figure out who kept ringing the doorbell). I called to her and ran to the window waving my arms, telling her to open the door, which, gratefully, she did. At long last. Deliverance.

Afterword: While I was shoveling, I heard a cracking sound from the neighbors' yard and realized their flowering plum had collected too much snow and half of it succumbed to the weight of the fluffy white stuff (above).

As I drove around town, I noticed many other trees had suffered a similar fate--most of them were the same type of tree, in full pink-flowered bloom. I assume the problem was that the blossoms provide more surface area and thus more snow-carrying potential than the branches can handle.

But I also noticed an evergreen that had lost a branch. We didn't get *that* much snow--certainly no more than a good winter snowfall. What causes trees to break more easily in the spring?

Afterword, part II:This evening I came home to find that the pristine snow in our back yard had been gleefully trampled by a handful of young children (Lizzy and her cousins).

How to Handle a Woman (according to John Wayne)

Last night, Christine and I watched "The Quiet Man," which had been recommended by one of Christine's friends. It stars John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara (who also star together in "McClintock," which has similar male-female relationship themes). I learned the following lessons from John Wayne about how to treat a woman:

1. If you see an attractive woman walking along, the best way to communicate your interest in her is to stare, mouth agape, after her.

2. If you see an attractive woman and communicate your interest by staring, you will know if she is also interested if she keeps turning around to stare at you in return while she continues walking. This sort of "stare and return stare" communication indicates true and lasting love; no other courtship is necessary.

3. If you exchange a couple of "stare and return stare" instances with a woman and you later find that she has snuck into your new house and cleaned it for you, but she is hiding in your house because she is embarrassed and you don't know where she is hiding, it's a good idea to flush her out of hiding by throwing a rock through a window.

4. If a woman you love deeply (because you have stared and she has stared back) tries to flee your house after cleaning it for you, you should grab her wrist when she is halfway out the door and yank her back inside the house and kiss her. Don't worry about her arm and don't bother with words. Just yank her back and kiss her. This is a good way of showing your deep love and respect.

5. After circumstances similar to those above, you can declare your intention to marry a woman. She will agree and smile bashfully as she leaves. (This is so much easier than traditional courting: just a stare, a rock, a yank, and a kiss. That's all it takes.)

6. If your beloved is from another culture and if her customs don't agree with yours, you should do your best to ignore them and do things your way.

7. When your wife is upset about something, if it does not seem important to you, you should tell her it's silly and doesn't matter and she should just forget it. She may get mad at you, but that's just a woman being silly. You should not give in.

8. If your wife becomes angry at you, storms into the bedroom, and slams and locks the door, you should kick the door down, yell that there will be no locking of doors, pick her up, throw her on the bed, and leave the room. Nevermind if you have to fix the door later, and don't worry about scaring her to death with your violence and anger. This sort of fear is good for a woman.

9. You should hide your past from your wife. Do not explain difficult things from the past that are affecting the way you behave now.

10. "Woman of the house" is a good term of endearment for your wife. It is best used when you are hungry. In these circumstances, you should use the term this way: After waking up or coming home, you should walk into the kitchen and call loudly (whether or not you can see her), "Woman of the house! Where's my breakfast (or dinner, as the case may be)?" She will enjoy being addressed this way.

11. If you are frustrated with your wife and you think she is being silly or is not understanding you (see number 9, above), you should grab her by the wrist and pull her along on a five-mile walk. During these five miles, you should not address her except in a few angry tones. You should walk quickly and never stop, pulling her all the way. If she falls down, you should grab her arm or the back of her coat and drag her until she decides to get up and keep walking. If she loses her shoe, you should keep moving and not wait for her to put her shoe back on. A crowd of strangers will likely gather and follow you along. They will see this treatment as good for your wife and may even encourage it by giving you a stick to use on your wife as needed. Don't worry about publicly embarrassing your wife in front of all these people. She will later quickly forgive you and think the better of you for it.

12. Fighting is a good way to prove your bravery to your wife. Women like men who can beat up other guys. Your wife will be pleased if you come home drunk after a brawl. Oh--and your foe is likely to become your new best friend after you whip him.


How on earth did John Wayne become the icon of American manhood? He's my new least-favorite person.

Incidentally, I do not recommend this movie.

Being a Scout Leader Is Good for Your Ego

I love playing sports with 12 year olds.

I've never really been much of an athlete. I didn't play any high school sports and I've never pursued a sport as a hobby. I don't play early morning basketball, I don't golf with my buddies, I don't play racquetball three times a week with a coworker.

But growing up, I played Church sports and flag football and I participated in P.E. classes, learning the basics of most sports along the way. I can throw and catch and make a lay-up; I can set, bump, and spike; and I know how to score a tennis match. My skills, however, are fairly rudimentary; I'm not one you want on your team, and when adults get together to play a sport, I usually opt out.

But as a Scout leader, things are different. My job is to associate with the young men, to build relationships, to have fun, to participate. So when they play a game, I often join in. And though my skills are not great--hey, I'm playing against 12 year olds.

Tonight for Scouts we played football, and I was assigned to one of the four-man teams. As the only one on our team who could throw a pass, I became the quarterback. My playbook is pretty limited, so we kind of made things up as we went and our huddles were pretty democratic. We were sloppy and we didn't execute our plays as outlined.

But perhaps the confusion worked in our favor, because we won (one of our most bungled plays confused even me, but we got a touchdown out of it somehow). In the effort, I threw three touchdown passes, kicked the longest kickoff of the night, had some key stops, and made an interception on the last play of the game, securing our victory (21 to 16; there was an embarrassing safety in there, but we recovered).

So being a Scout leader can be good for the male ego. While I usually think of myself as an awkward non-athlete, when I play sports with 12-year-olds, I can hold my own.

But 12-year-olds also have a way of bringing you down to earth. After our second touchdown, when we were up 14 to zip, one of the boys on our team commented somewhat incredulously on our success: "They have a guy [referring to the Scoutmaster] who knows a lot about football, but we're winning and we're all novices!"

Guess my skill level isn't *that* impressive--even to 12-year-olds.

Patience, Anger, Gospel Study, and Rambunctious Seven Year Olds

Last night we had a crying girl and a crazy girl and my patience wore thin. Caroline is sick at the moment and, hence, is sad much of the time. So Christine was holding the crying Caroline while I was helping the laughing Lizzy through eating, dessert, shower, and bedtime prep. Lizzy actually did pretty well with most of that--she's getting much better at showering and dressing without help, though she still needs reminding that she should not be standing around in her birthday suit. But with her silliness and distractability, the process gets a bit drawn out, and all the while there was crying in the background and the clock was ticking and it was becoming apparent that our family home evening would be taking place past bedtime.

Then it was Caroline's feeding time, so I held her (standing, trying to keep her happy) while Christine fed her. In the meantime, Lizzy came running past toward the bathroom declaring urgently, "I feel like I need to go potty!" The bathroom door shut and there were various sounds, punctuated by periods of silence: a flush, some clanking, a loud crash.

Lizzy in the bathroom is quite the adventure. Somehow there are more distractions there. She climbs on the toilet and the bathtub and the diaper genie, plays in the towels, dances and makes faces in front of the mirror, and opens drawers and cupboards.

I wasn't sure what the crash was, but it sounded suspiciously like the diaper genie, which Lizzy has been clearly instructed to not play with. The crash was followed by a long time of little or no sound. Obviously the urgent call of nature had been accompanied by plenty of goofing off time in the bathroom, which always annoys me. But I was stuck holding Caroline, standing next to Christine by the kitchen sink while we poured food into Caroline's tube, so I couldn't very well correct what was going on. So I called down the hall to ask what was going on.

No response.

I called again.

Nothing

"Have you gone to the bathroom yet?"

Finally an answer: "Not yet!" (Then what was that first flush sound about? Who knows.) Soon there's another flush and the door opens and Lizzy skips merrily out of the bathroom and down the hall. But my frustration has already risen, so I begin questioning about the crash. It's been long enough now that apparently she has forgotten what it was. I say it sounded like the diaper genie and ask if that's what it was.

"It might have been," she responds pleasantly. This cheerfulness in the face of disciplinary investigation does not help my mood.

"Were you standing on the diaper genie?"

"I think so." And then she gets a combined lecture from both Christine and me about how the diaper genie is dirty and not a thing to play with.

When we're done feeding Caroline, I investigate the bathroom and call Lizzy to clean it up. There are towels on the floor and a headband stuck in a cupboard handle. Not as bad as it could have been. When Lizzy arrives in the bathroom, she remembers what the crash was. It wasn't the diaper genie. It was Caroline's bath chair, which had tumbled over in the tub while Lizzy was walking along the edge of the tub--apparently attempting a balance beam routine. Silly girl.

I instruct her--somewhat sternly--in the appropriate way to hang a towel (folding it neatly) and watch as she does it. She does pretty well and I tell her so. As she finishes, however, she holds on the towel bar and leans back, putting all her weight on the bar. Hanging on the bar is another no-no about which I have frequently instructed her. (And every time I do, I remember my parents giving similar instruction in my youth.) I angrily threaten consequences if she hangs on the bar again.

Finally we start Family Home Evening, but Caroline is sad, so I soon leave the room and hold her in her room until she falls asleep. I return just in time for the closing prayer, which we do as a kneeling family prayer. After the prayer, Lizzy gives her bedtime hugs. As a rambunctious 7-year-old, Lizzy gives sometimes crazy hugs at bedtime. Sometimes they are tackle hugs, in which she backs up and runs at you, trying to take you down with all her might. Other times they are hanger hugs, where she drapes herself around your neck and lifts her feet off the ground. These can sometimes be fun, but we've been trying to discourage the hanger hugs, since our backs have not been doing so well lately (due, we think, to Caroline's increasing size).

But as Lizzy hugs me, she does a hanger hug, for which I reprimand her. Then she prepares to hug Grandma, who is staying with us for a few days. As she takes several steps backwards, I realize this is going to be a tackle hug, and I stick out my arm to stop the running approach. "Gentle hug!" Christine and I both cry. So Lizzy stops running and walks up to Grandma and hugs her. Then in the middle of her hug, she lifts her feet of the ground and Grandma doubles over under Lizzy's weight.

Argh! I am so tempted to swat her little hind end! Instead I revoke her bedtime story privilege and off she goes cheerfully with Christine for bedtime singing and praying. But I am not cheerful. I'm stewing. I'm frustrated. I'm angry. I want to have more words with my daughter, but realize that would probably not be constructive, and Christine is in a better frame of mind for dealing with bedtime.

So instead I retreat to my room and decide to do some gospel study. As I pray and start to read, though, I'm still upset, and I realize this study is going to go nowhere. How can one learn about things of God when filled with anger and frustration and resentment? How can the Holy Ghost inspire a heart that is fostering negative emotion?

After a few minutes I enter Lizzy's room--still somewhat frustrated, but also repentant. I sit on her bed and we talk about why I got angry. I explain--calmly, though firmly--what was wrong about some of her actions this evening and why she cannot hang on the towel rack or her grandmother or the cupboard doors (she broke a cupboard door off its hinges last week after absent mindedly hanging on it yet again--despite repeated instruction not to). The conversation goes well, and Lizzy appears to understand the problems caused by her actions and shows signs of remorse. She also, however, expresses that she doesn't mean to do some of these things, and I think she's right. Many of these things she does absent mindedly and somewhat innocently. And she's cheerful all the while. I really don't think she's being wilfully disobedient. Just rambunctious and exuberant and energetic and forgetful--and even loving (in the case of the hugs). But I express the need to try harder and I tell her that there will be consequences if she does these things again (although I can never think of good consequences; I'll need to be thinking of some so I'm prepared).

After that explanation, I tell her the other reason I came into her room: I'm sorry for getting angry. Even when she does something wrong, I should not get angry. I tell her I love her, I ask her to forgive me, and we share a nice hug. And then she asks if I'll leave so she can continue reading her book. :)

I return to my study, which is now more effective. And later in the evening as Christine and I study together, we read these paragraphs from an article in the Ensign magazine by Elder Dallin H. Oaks (of the Quorum of the Twelve) and his wife, Kristen Oaks. Very fitting to my circumstance not long before:

In modern revelation we have a promise that if our eye be single to the glory of God, which includes personal worthiness, our “whole [body] shall be filled with light, and there shall be no darkness in [us]; and that body which is filled with light comprehendeth all things” (D&C 88:67).

We can verify this eternal principle by immediate personal experience. Recall a time when you were resentful, contentious, or quarrelsome. Could you study effectively? Did you receive any enlightenment during that period?

Sin and anger darken the mind. They produce a condition opposite to the light and truth that characterize intelligence, which is the glory of God (see D&C 93:36). Repentance, which can cleanse us from sin through the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ, is therefore an essential step along the path of learning for all who seek light and truth through the teaching power of the Holy Ghost.

Dean the Bus Driver

Of all the many bus drivers I had through my years in public school--through two elementary schools and junior high school--I only remember one of them.

Dean Taylor was the very first bus driver I ever had. I still remember waiting for Dean's big yellow bus to pull up in front of our old white house on a rural road. As a kindergartener, I was excited about everything school related, I suppose, but I remember eagerly looking forward to rides on Dean's bus.

Dean's bus was a cheerful bus, and when the doors opened and you walked up the stairs to the bus, a friendly old man greeted you warmly, calling you by name. And you knew you were special and loved. Dean was famous for his brown paper bags filled with candy, which he would deliver on your birthday or when you were sick.

The fond feelings we had for Dean were shared by our whole family, and when we would drive by his house (a few miles down the road from our house), we would often point out to each other the long white barn where he kept his bus.

Dean died last week; he was 94 years old, and his obituary page on the newspaper Web site is filled with comments from kids who rode his bus over the years.

Now my daughter is in kindergarten and rides the bus every day. Caroline's bus drivers (she has two because it's a special needs bus) are Dean-like in their care for the children. They are always so cheerful and they greet Caroline with obvious love and delight. One of them does some knitting, and she gave Caroline a knitted hat at Christmas time and a knitted shamrock on St. Patrick's Day.

I'm grateful for bus drivers like Dean and like the two women who drive Caroline to and from school. Such people can have a significant impact on a child's life.

Multicolored Pancakes

This morning Lizzy and I decided to make pancakes for breakfast. Then Lizzy suggested we make fun shapes--like a whale. Now she was getting excited: "And we could use blue food coloring to make it into a blue whale and you could eat it!" (Blue whales are my favorite animals--a fact Lizzy is very aware of; favorites, of course, are a big thing for 7-year-olds.) The whale idea was quickly followed the notion of making a flower with yellow in the middle and with red petals. And thus our breakfast plans turned into an art project. (See finished whale above; the green splotch at the top is the whale's spout.)

If you decide to make multicolored pancake sculptures, here are a few tips:

1. Find several small bowls into which you can put small amounts of pancake batter.



2. Using food coloring, you can create different colors of batter in each bowl to use in your creations.

3. We found two ways to make pancake art.

• First: You can use a color for each part of the sculpture and add to it. For the flower (left), for instance, you can pour a circle for the center of the flower and then using a different color you can create all of the petals.
  
• Second: You can use one color of batter to create a "canvas" of batter" and then "paint" on the canvas with other colors. For the target (above), for instance, you pour a large circle of batter and then pour other circles on top of the pancake.

4. The pancake colors are going to be much prettier before you flip the pancake, so if you want to take pictures, do it right after you finish pouring.