I was at the store the other day and happened to pick up a box of Christmas greeting cards which caught my eye.
I'm always checking out the ones that have Nativity scenes on them, but this particular style also had a verse by Thomas Nelson. Have no idea who in the world who Thomas Nelson is, but by his words it was definitely apparent that he understood Christ's role as the Son of God and why He came to earth. This person is probably not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints with additional knowledge that the Restoration brought to us, but still he knew the promises to the world because of Christ as our Savior and Redeemer the way they are taught in the Bible.
I have also been impressed over the years as I learned the words to our tradtional Christmas Carols that those writers also had a testimony of Christ's divinity and his place in our salvation. These were common facts for centuries that most people today either do not know or relegate to a category of much less importance or not even true.
Consequently, I am heartened by evidence that truth still pops up in a celebration that has become so secular over my lifetime, even, that there is little mention of this miraculous gift of love to the whole world that one wonderful night more than two thousand years ago.
The card reminded me of that terrific little video at christmas.mormon.org which was introduced on November 28th for this Christmas Season's initiative to help us invite people to discover, embrace, and share God's sacred gift to the world.
Long ago, one silent night,
God revealed His glory bright;
His own image came to man
For salvation's matchless plan.
Jesus, Savior, Shepherd, King--
Lord of all to you we bring
Praises, wonder, thanks, and love
For this gift from God above.
The following greeting was inside the card:
Remembering you this Christmas and praying your celebration brings a heart full of joy
as you remember God's amazing love shown through His Son, Jesus Christ.
Now THAT was a greeting card worth purchasing--but I didn't. The box cost $12, if I remember correctly, and I thought about the half dozen boxes at home that I still have available for use in future Christmas celebrations. So, I walked away with only the verse and the sentiment committed to paper and my memory. That was enough. It had gladdened my heart.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Friday, December 19, 2014
Sunday, December 7, 2014
MAN CAVE FOR THE ELDERS....
Notice how different the upstairs bedroom looks now that it's been converted to a space for the elder missionaries in our ward. Burgandy also helped me put a small secretary desk in the loft so they would have a place to study.
It's been about a week now since the missionaries moved in. I saw them briefly the first night and I left the next morning before they were up and about. I got home late last night, and they were still up working in the loft. They are both from Idaho. One has been out a little over a year, the other one only since summer.
Boy! What a difference a year makes! Louis and I noted their comparative immaturity to the missionaries before, even when they were brand new but also noticed how much better prepared, dedicated to the work, and diligent they are in their study and performance than those seven years ago. They also ride bikes rather than drive a car.
The room doesn't look at all like this NOW. They've done something with the stool for the chair, the bedding is in a heap, and some of their clothes are hanging from the cold air return vents near the ceiling. I try not to glance in that direction if the door is open when I go up to the computer.
Other than that I have already enjoyed hearing them moving about upstairs and visiting with them briefly as we cross each others' paths in the house. It shouldn't be a long three months at all.
Now that the hard work of preparing the room is over, I am glad for this unique opportunity to support missionary work as the gospel floods the earth. I know our little bit of assistance here is just as important in its own way as are the more spectacular events associated with missionary work that other members do.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
SIXTY-NINE IS MIGHTY FINE!
Happy Birthday to me! Wow! I was one of those young people who thought of 70'ish people as OLD and DECREPIT! Well, the ones I knew at that time were.
However, I never did get plump as I expected to do like the mature women I was acquainted with when I was a kid, and now I don't think I really look like an almost septuagenarian. Instead, I am pretty much a poster child for the Silver Sneaker generations.
It's been a wonderful life--with a couple of really BAD bumps along the way. And the other rocky roads I've encountered over the years have usually given way to a smoother highway until the next road "under construction", which I am sure will continue in the same manner until my foot hits the brake.
Thank you to all who have made my life really worthwhile. I know I am a person that looks at the world through a glass that is half-empty, but what's left in the bottom half of that glass has been some really wonderful elixir.
LIFE IS GOOD!
However, I never did get plump as I expected to do like the mature women I was acquainted with when I was a kid, and now I don't think I really look like an almost septuagenarian. Instead, I am pretty much a poster child for the Silver Sneaker generations.
It's been a wonderful life--with a couple of really BAD bumps along the way. And the other rocky roads I've encountered over the years have usually given way to a smoother highway until the next road "under construction", which I am sure will continue in the same manner until my foot hits the brake.
Thank you to all who have made my life really worthwhile. I know I am a person that looks at the world through a glass that is half-empty, but what's left in the bottom half of that glass has been some really wonderful elixir.
LIFE IS GOOD!
Thursday, November 27, 2014
A PERFECT SEASON!
FOREWARD--I'm writing this following our first winter storm of the year which dropped about four inches of snow in our yard over the last three days. Right now the temperature registers -6 degrees on the little plastic thermometer just outside the back door. BRRRR! What a chilly and abrupt end to...
A PERFECT SEASON!
Part 1: The Weather
In all of the years I've lived in Colorado since I came here in August of 1968 following my graduation from BYU (and a last "hurrah!" winding down before I had to enter the real world of full-time employment), I have never seen a more perfect season than we had in 2014. And by that I mean all the way from Springtime in the Rockies, through a temperate Summer, and into a dazzling Fall.
Normally the earth turns brown by the end of June simply from a lack of adequate rainfall. After all, we do live in a semi-arid climate which sucks the green out of most pieces of ground that are not irrigated--full-scale like the farms or in our own little plot of land in the subdivision--and turns anything that is not artificially watered into a sere landscape.
Not so this year. Cooler temperatures and more rainfall combined to make a veritable greenbelt--within the parameters of a Plains existence, of course. But even from the air as we flew over the Rocky Mountain West, it was apparent this was no normal summer we had. There was no stark demarcation between the fields in the states just to the east of us and our own checkerboard squares of crops and uncultivated prairie--not only in Colorado but in Wyoming, too. Everyone commented how unusual it was to "see green" during July and August, and September, too. Nor did we have that unseasonal snowstorm in mid-September or early October which always brings our Autumn to nothing more than brown or gold leaves on the trees. What's left of them after the windstorms, that is.
But none of that happened in 2014. We experienced warmer temperatures clear until time for Daylight Saving to be over. And that lengthy period resulted in a riot of color the likes of which I have only seen in the East and the Midwest. It was on a smaller scale, to be sure, but there were the reds, the oranges, and the purples which usually don't materialize here because the first frost is much, much earlier than it was this year.
Yes, I think the weather was just about perfect. The flowers in my pots just kept blooming and blooming--until four days ago when the temperature plummeted from 50 degrees at 10 am to 26 degrees at 2 pm following a rambunctious windstorm and the beginning of snowshowers. All was in place when I left the house to run errands, but by the time I arrived home after having been gone for less than three hours, the pots were overturned and the blossoms were stiff and frozen white. What a difference less than a day made!
Part 2: The Patio
I love an atttractive yard--but I want nothing to do with making it that way. My dad tended to the yard when I was growing up. He didn't WANT any help, and he made it the way he wanted. It was very pretty. But he also didn't want anyone out there sitting on the grass or enjoying the yard other than in a visual way. Consequence of that? I do not like yard work, for it is truly WORK as far as I am concerned. Plus when I was growing up, any time outside produced these two results: nose bleeds and sunburn. Just not something I wanted to go out and subject myself to on purpose.
I preferred being in the house and sitting in my dad's big chair in the dining room reading my current book. When my mother would tell me I needed to go outside and get some fresh air, I would dutifully ride my bike around the block and then find my way back to my favorite haunt. The spot probably hadn't even cooled off while I had made my way up Eighth Street to the corner, turned east on Alder to Seventh Street, down to Birch where I made a left and biked north the rest of the block to my own driveway at 1019 Eighth Street. (Or maybe the next time, I would bike exactly the opposite to make the same obligatory trip to satisfy my mother's concern for my health.)
Marie, on the other hand, enjoyed utilizing her yard and taking advantage of someplace to sit down and relax outside. She had a small deck built on to the "big house" after they moved there following the death of Keith's mother. She would sit out there for hours knitting, crocheting, and otherwise just enjoying the outdoors. I often wished we had something like that at our house where we could also sit outside.
However, my mother did not like being outdoors either. The mosquitoes were tortuous for her. When she got bit, the site would swell and cause a lot of discomfort. When we went to the mountains and had to be outside a lot, she would wrap her legs in plastic wrap and always wore a long-sleeved jacket to protect herself. I must have inherited the same disposition toward mosquitoes because I can't be outside for more than a minute or two before those pesky creatures are eating me up, too. So, I haven't found lounging in the yard at the top of my priorities, even when I really, really want to be outside.
Plus, I don't like to see weeds either. And there were a few summers that the weeds won the war here at Sweetbriar that I didn't bother to go outside at all. Also, the flowers in pots were subject to two or three days in a row without water either because Louis thought the "rain" had been sufficient, or he didn't even think about watering the plants after he got home and went straight to bed after a long, long day. There were tons of unhappy exchanges about that until I decided to work things out on my own. When I did, I was excited because then I could see the visual rewards of my efforts shaping up into an inviting place to sit. I also discovered bug sprays for the yard and OFF for me. What a difference!
When I am out walking I am always admiring any neighbors who have an inviting space in the back yard with actual lawn furniture. Ours was utilitarian--a table and resin chairs. Good for a few minutes of reading or a quick meal. One day last spring when Louis and I were out shopping, he stopped at the outdoor furniture display and indicated he wouldn't mind having a comfy chair to sit in outside. So that's why he never wanted to spend time outside! I thought we could remedy that!
I was going through the process of getting rid of my old car which had been sitting in the garage for a few years because it needed some repair work. It was during that shopping trip that I determined I would use the money from the auto salvage people to purchase some decent patio furniture. And that's just exactly what I did. It wasn't a lot of money, but enough to make some basic purchases.
The finished project was my very own mini Garden of Eden. The potted plants and blooming flowers enhanced the whole patio, and I spent a fair amount of time outside in the earlier and later hours of the day reading, preparing lessons, napping (a big one!) and just enjoying the yard. I kept on the weeds from the beginning, so it wasn't such a big job all at once, and I got a separate hose and special long nozzle to help with the watering so I didn't have to lug the sprinkling can back and forth, back and forth.
My only wish is that I had had more time at home instead of being away at someone else's summer place. That's always something to look forward to when I retire from United--more time in my own Personal Paradise.
Here's a little glimpse of our transformed back yard. And the front porch which was also very attractive. The huge planter on the table at the left of the picture was a Mother's Day gift from Brice and Judy and girls. It was a watering can filled to the brim with blossoms. The flowers were prolific all those months, even until the snow came the other day. The tall plants flanking the door were from seeds that I just threw into the pots and began to water. Everyone who came to the front door commented how nice the porch was. That made me happy, as I felt that way, too, and sometimes either circled the block or drove backwards down the street just a few more feet after exiting the driveway just to see how it looked from the curb. The backyard was a special treat for me to see each day at the end of my walk when I came down the neighborhood path behind the house. I had to pinch myself to know THAT was my house and my yard.
Yes. I think the patio was just about perfect, too.
WHAT A WONDERFUL SEASON!
A PERFECT SEASON!
Part 1: The Weather
In all of the years I've lived in Colorado since I came here in August of 1968 following my graduation from BYU (and a last "hurrah!" winding down before I had to enter the real world of full-time employment), I have never seen a more perfect season than we had in 2014. And by that I mean all the way from Springtime in the Rockies, through a temperate Summer, and into a dazzling Fall.
Normally the earth turns brown by the end of June simply from a lack of adequate rainfall. After all, we do live in a semi-arid climate which sucks the green out of most pieces of ground that are not irrigated--full-scale like the farms or in our own little plot of land in the subdivision--and turns anything that is not artificially watered into a sere landscape.
Not so this year. Cooler temperatures and more rainfall combined to make a veritable greenbelt--within the parameters of a Plains existence, of course. But even from the air as we flew over the Rocky Mountain West, it was apparent this was no normal summer we had. There was no stark demarcation between the fields in the states just to the east of us and our own checkerboard squares of crops and uncultivated prairie--not only in Colorado but in Wyoming, too. Everyone commented how unusual it was to "see green" during July and August, and September, too. Nor did we have that unseasonal snowstorm in mid-September or early October which always brings our Autumn to nothing more than brown or gold leaves on the trees. What's left of them after the windstorms, that is.
But none of that happened in 2014. We experienced warmer temperatures clear until time for Daylight Saving to be over. And that lengthy period resulted in a riot of color the likes of which I have only seen in the East and the Midwest. It was on a smaller scale, to be sure, but there were the reds, the oranges, and the purples which usually don't materialize here because the first frost is much, much earlier than it was this year.
Yes, I think the weather was just about perfect. The flowers in my pots just kept blooming and blooming--until four days ago when the temperature plummeted from 50 degrees at 10 am to 26 degrees at 2 pm following a rambunctious windstorm and the beginning of snowshowers. All was in place when I left the house to run errands, but by the time I arrived home after having been gone for less than three hours, the pots were overturned and the blossoms were stiff and frozen white. What a difference less than a day made!
Part 2: The Patio
I love an atttractive yard--but I want nothing to do with making it that way. My dad tended to the yard when I was growing up. He didn't WANT any help, and he made it the way he wanted. It was very pretty. But he also didn't want anyone out there sitting on the grass or enjoying the yard other than in a visual way. Consequence of that? I do not like yard work, for it is truly WORK as far as I am concerned. Plus when I was growing up, any time outside produced these two results: nose bleeds and sunburn. Just not something I wanted to go out and subject myself to on purpose.
I preferred being in the house and sitting in my dad's big chair in the dining room reading my current book. When my mother would tell me I needed to go outside and get some fresh air, I would dutifully ride my bike around the block and then find my way back to my favorite haunt. The spot probably hadn't even cooled off while I had made my way up Eighth Street to the corner, turned east on Alder to Seventh Street, down to Birch where I made a left and biked north the rest of the block to my own driveway at 1019 Eighth Street. (Or maybe the next time, I would bike exactly the opposite to make the same obligatory trip to satisfy my mother's concern for my health.)
Marie, on the other hand, enjoyed utilizing her yard and taking advantage of someplace to sit down and relax outside. She had a small deck built on to the "big house" after they moved there following the death of Keith's mother. She would sit out there for hours knitting, crocheting, and otherwise just enjoying the outdoors. I often wished we had something like that at our house where we could also sit outside.
However, my mother did not like being outdoors either. The mosquitoes were tortuous for her. When she got bit, the site would swell and cause a lot of discomfort. When we went to the mountains and had to be outside a lot, she would wrap her legs in plastic wrap and always wore a long-sleeved jacket to protect herself. I must have inherited the same disposition toward mosquitoes because I can't be outside for more than a minute or two before those pesky creatures are eating me up, too. So, I haven't found lounging in the yard at the top of my priorities, even when I really, really want to be outside.
Plus, I don't like to see weeds either. And there were a few summers that the weeds won the war here at Sweetbriar that I didn't bother to go outside at all. Also, the flowers in pots were subject to two or three days in a row without water either because Louis thought the "rain" had been sufficient, or he didn't even think about watering the plants after he got home and went straight to bed after a long, long day. There were tons of unhappy exchanges about that until I decided to work things out on my own. When I did, I was excited because then I could see the visual rewards of my efforts shaping up into an inviting place to sit. I also discovered bug sprays for the yard and OFF for me. What a difference!
When I am out walking I am always admiring any neighbors who have an inviting space in the back yard with actual lawn furniture. Ours was utilitarian--a table and resin chairs. Good for a few minutes of reading or a quick meal. One day last spring when Louis and I were out shopping, he stopped at the outdoor furniture display and indicated he wouldn't mind having a comfy chair to sit in outside. So that's why he never wanted to spend time outside! I thought we could remedy that!
I was going through the process of getting rid of my old car which had been sitting in the garage for a few years because it needed some repair work. It was during that shopping trip that I determined I would use the money from the auto salvage people to purchase some decent patio furniture. And that's just exactly what I did. It wasn't a lot of money, but enough to make some basic purchases.
The finished project was my very own mini Garden of Eden. The potted plants and blooming flowers enhanced the whole patio, and I spent a fair amount of time outside in the earlier and later hours of the day reading, preparing lessons, napping (a big one!) and just enjoying the yard. I kept on the weeds from the beginning, so it wasn't such a big job all at once, and I got a separate hose and special long nozzle to help with the watering so I didn't have to lug the sprinkling can back and forth, back and forth.
My only wish is that I had had more time at home instead of being away at someone else's summer place. That's always something to look forward to when I retire from United--more time in my own Personal Paradise.
Here's a little glimpse of our transformed back yard. And the front porch which was also very attractive. The huge planter on the table at the left of the picture was a Mother's Day gift from Brice and Judy and girls. It was a watering can filled to the brim with blossoms. The flowers were prolific all those months, even until the snow came the other day. The tall plants flanking the door were from seeds that I just threw into the pots and began to water. Everyone who came to the front door commented how nice the porch was. That made me happy, as I felt that way, too, and sometimes either circled the block or drove backwards down the street just a few more feet after exiting the driveway just to see how it looked from the curb. The backyard was a special treat for me to see each day at the end of my walk when I came down the neighborhood path behind the house. I had to pinch myself to know THAT was my house and my yard.
Yes. I think the patio was just about perfect, too.
WHAT A WONDERFUL SEASON!
Monday, November 24, 2014
RISE UP, OH MEN OF GOD...
Those "Men of God" will be rising up at Sweetbriar soon.
The Elder missionaries will be staying with us in their next rotation from December 2nd through the end of February.
Looking forward to it, but have had to clear out all of the files, bedding, and "living" I have put into the upstairs bedroom since the last Elders left over seven years ago. Tomorrow we will bring up the twin beds and take the double bed back down to the basement.
Things will be willy-nilly down the basement for a while until I can get a handle on where to rearrange boxes, etc., to the best advantage because last time I didn't have the tread mill down there taking up that space where we put the double bed before. It will just seem awkward for a while until I get used to a different set-up.
The Elder missionaries will be staying with us in their next rotation from December 2nd through the end of February.
Looking forward to it, but have had to clear out all of the files, bedding, and "living" I have put into the upstairs bedroom since the last Elders left over seven years ago. Tomorrow we will bring up the twin beds and take the double bed back down to the basement.
Things will be willy-nilly down the basement for a while until I can get a handle on where to rearrange boxes, etc., to the best advantage because last time I didn't have the tread mill down there taking up that space where we put the double bed before. It will just seem awkward for a while until I get used to a different set-up.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
OFF THE CLOCK...
...so to speak. Louis and I left for our "Stay-cation" Thursday morning and began our "Perfect Three Days in Denver" with a session at the Denver Temple. From there it was lunch, shopping in Cherry Creek, checking into our hotel then walking the 16th Street Mall. It was after we went back to the hotel that I discovered I hadn't put on my pedometer that morning before we left the house.
I was bummed! I had worked really hard to go almost two weeks with at least 10,000 steps every day. The pedometer I have has a rolling seven day data keeper, and I like every day to register that I have reached my minimum goal, at least.
Oh, well. And then suddenly I felt free as a bird! I think I reallly needed to walk some more that day to get to the minimum10,000 steps, but without any measurement I didn't feel pressed to leave the hotel room again and walk some more. Instead Louis and I watched a couple of movies and called it a night.
I determined that I could do this--be without step measurement. Is all I had to do was walk as much as possible during our activities for the next two days, eat sparingly and not worry about it. Didn't happen. Oh, I walked all right. Louis was sure it was MORE than 10,000 steps (he isn't used to walking as much as I am). But it was the eating: Casa Bonita, The Cheesecake Factory, Blondie at the end of our meal at Applebee's plus snacks, hot breakfast both days at the hotel, soda pop--you name it, I ingested it.
Saturday morning Louis steered me into Sports Authority and bought me a new pedometer that doesn't automatically change back to zero every night at midnight. It just keeps on recording until the user presses the button twice. I think Louis was sick of hearing me moan and groan when I have forgotten to put on my pedometer. And that has been more than a couple of times in the past several weeks. What is wrong with me?!
Anyway, I don't think the pedometer is as accurate as the one I already had. Just busy-boding around yesterday to finish out our "stay-cation" the readout registered over 8,500 steps. So, I wore them both this morning on my walk. The walk itself was step to step accurate, but as the day wore on the new pedometer registered a step even when I wasn't really doing any walking. I had reached 10,000 steps in no time. Plus it fits onto my belt under my outermost piece of clothing. Awkward, to say the least, and uncomfortable digging into my waist.
So, though I thought NO measurement was liberating, in the long run--it wasn't. I gave myself WAAAAY too much latitude.
Back to the stricter regimen I outlined for my optimum "fit and feel-good" so my body works better. After all, if I'm going to live FOREVER as some of you think, I want to be limber while I'm going off into the future.
I was bummed! I had worked really hard to go almost two weeks with at least 10,000 steps every day. The pedometer I have has a rolling seven day data keeper, and I like every day to register that I have reached my minimum goal, at least.
Oh, well. And then suddenly I felt free as a bird! I think I reallly needed to walk some more that day to get to the minimum10,000 steps, but without any measurement I didn't feel pressed to leave the hotel room again and walk some more. Instead Louis and I watched a couple of movies and called it a night.
I determined that I could do this--be without step measurement. Is all I had to do was walk as much as possible during our activities for the next two days, eat sparingly and not worry about it. Didn't happen. Oh, I walked all right. Louis was sure it was MORE than 10,000 steps (he isn't used to walking as much as I am). But it was the eating: Casa Bonita, The Cheesecake Factory, Blondie at the end of our meal at Applebee's plus snacks, hot breakfast both days at the hotel, soda pop--you name it, I ingested it.
Saturday morning Louis steered me into Sports Authority and bought me a new pedometer that doesn't automatically change back to zero every night at midnight. It just keeps on recording until the user presses the button twice. I think Louis was sick of hearing me moan and groan when I have forgotten to put on my pedometer. And that has been more than a couple of times in the past several weeks. What is wrong with me?!
Anyway, I don't think the pedometer is as accurate as the one I already had. Just busy-boding around yesterday to finish out our "stay-cation" the readout registered over 8,500 steps. So, I wore them both this morning on my walk. The walk itself was step to step accurate, but as the day wore on the new pedometer registered a step even when I wasn't really doing any walking. I had reached 10,000 steps in no time. Plus it fits onto my belt under my outermost piece of clothing. Awkward, to say the least, and uncomfortable digging into my waist.
So, though I thought NO measurement was liberating, in the long run--it wasn't. I gave myself WAAAAY too much latitude.
Back to the stricter regimen I outlined for my optimum "fit and feel-good" so my body works better. After all, if I'm going to live FOREVER as some of you think, I want to be limber while I'm going off into the future.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
A BLAST FROM THE PAST....
One of the disadvantages of bidding for vacation every November is that it is not always easy to determine what events are coming up, or even what kind of plans to make for the year ahead.
Louis has been bugging me about going on another cruise--the last one was 2003--but I am not keen on water, hot weather, beaches, sand, and bathing suits. So, I would prefer maybe a river cruise, either on the Mississippi or even better, somewhere in Europe like the Danube or the Volga. How about through the Panama Canal?
Nota gonna happen in my lifetime! So, we compromised on a cruise to the same Caribbean area as before but didfferent ports. That was before my vacation bid for this year, so when I got the first ten days of November for my second vacation of the year, we started to make plans.
Along about summer, though, the details started to unravel and we made smaller plans. This time to spend a few days in Montreal. That is a doable with my tickets on United, the right time of the year, etc. But then things at Louis' work started to butt in because year end for his company is October 31st. The aftermath of all those year end balancing acts that a CPA has to do--the Comptroller for the company--pushed way beyond the first of November leaving only Thursday through Sunday before I have to be back to the Friendly Skies.
So, Louis suggested a "stay-cation" in Denver, and I enthusiastically agreed. I told him to make all the arrangements, and I would be a happy camper. We started this morning and went to the temple. From there it was a short drive on a pristinely beautiful Fall day with blue sky and temps in the high 60's to West Colfax to our lunch destination--
Casa Bonita! Yes, it is still there. They just celebrated their 40th year in business, but it is pretty much the same as it was when we first went when Harold and Brice were just getting ready to begin school. Earning money to go there was the complete objective of the Nichols Brothers' Five Cent Sales, which we had for three or four years in a row.
At two pm it was pretty deserted, but they seated us on the second floor where we had a terrific view of the pretty young woman who made several dives while we were there. The Mariachi Band wasn't strolling around, but I really enjoyed a prolific array of Oldies as Louis and I ate and talked and shared memories of the times we went to Casa Bonita with our kids. It was a real shower of good memories as I looked around at Black Bart's Cave, the grotto, the Arcade, the shops. Remember how those double lines snaked around and around and around for about half an hour before finally getting to the food assembly line and to our table.
Louis LOVED the food. I remember it as the bland mix of rice and beans accompanying the taco, enchilada, and burrito--the combo plate which is now $14.95. (And it was actually more than we could afford to pay when the combination dinner for each person was $4.95!) But...the little red flag is still at each table. Louis ate his entire plate, one third of mine, and ordered a second complete dinner. I ordered another taco--they're still pretty good--and an order of three sopapillas, plus a fourth just as the meal ended. They were as delicious as I remembered them and still remain, for me, the gold standard for sopapillas no matter where I am or where I order them.
It was a fun day. We shopped in Cherry Chreek where I bought yet ANOTHER nativity set and are now ensconced at the Hampton Inn on 20th and Sherman just north of downtown Denver. Tomorrow we have plans to ride the light rail, go to the Colorado History Museum, and some other fun stuff before seeing Kinky Boots at the Bonfils Theater tomorrow night. Of course we will be eating at the Cheesecake Factory--just for old time's sake.
Who says you have to go far away to have a terrific vacation? Not me!
Louis has been bugging me about going on another cruise--the last one was 2003--but I am not keen on water, hot weather, beaches, sand, and bathing suits. So, I would prefer maybe a river cruise, either on the Mississippi or even better, somewhere in Europe like the Danube or the Volga. How about through the Panama Canal?
Nota gonna happen in my lifetime! So, we compromised on a cruise to the same Caribbean area as before but didfferent ports. That was before my vacation bid for this year, so when I got the first ten days of November for my second vacation of the year, we started to make plans.
Along about summer, though, the details started to unravel and we made smaller plans. This time to spend a few days in Montreal. That is a doable with my tickets on United, the right time of the year, etc. But then things at Louis' work started to butt in because year end for his company is October 31st. The aftermath of all those year end balancing acts that a CPA has to do--the Comptroller for the company--pushed way beyond the first of November leaving only Thursday through Sunday before I have to be back to the Friendly Skies.
So, Louis suggested a "stay-cation" in Denver, and I enthusiastically agreed. I told him to make all the arrangements, and I would be a happy camper. We started this morning and went to the temple. From there it was a short drive on a pristinely beautiful Fall day with blue sky and temps in the high 60's to West Colfax to our lunch destination--
Casa Bonita! Yes, it is still there. They just celebrated their 40th year in business, but it is pretty much the same as it was when we first went when Harold and Brice were just getting ready to begin school. Earning money to go there was the complete objective of the Nichols Brothers' Five Cent Sales, which we had for three or four years in a row.
At two pm it was pretty deserted, but they seated us on the second floor where we had a terrific view of the pretty young woman who made several dives while we were there. The Mariachi Band wasn't strolling around, but I really enjoyed a prolific array of Oldies as Louis and I ate and talked and shared memories of the times we went to Casa Bonita with our kids. It was a real shower of good memories as I looked around at Black Bart's Cave, the grotto, the Arcade, the shops. Remember how those double lines snaked around and around and around for about half an hour before finally getting to the food assembly line and to our table.
Louis LOVED the food. I remember it as the bland mix of rice and beans accompanying the taco, enchilada, and burrito--the combo plate which is now $14.95. (And it was actually more than we could afford to pay when the combination dinner for each person was $4.95!) But...the little red flag is still at each table. Louis ate his entire plate, one third of mine, and ordered a second complete dinner. I ordered another taco--they're still pretty good--and an order of three sopapillas, plus a fourth just as the meal ended. They were as delicious as I remembered them and still remain, for me, the gold standard for sopapillas no matter where I am or where I order them.
It was a fun day. We shopped in Cherry Chreek where I bought yet ANOTHER nativity set and are now ensconced at the Hampton Inn on 20th and Sherman just north of downtown Denver. Tomorrow we have plans to ride the light rail, go to the Colorado History Museum, and some other fun stuff before seeing Kinky Boots at the Bonfils Theater tomorrow night. Of course we will be eating at the Cheesecake Factory--just for old time's sake.
Who says you have to go far away to have a terrific vacation? Not me!
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Daylight Saving Time....
It's all over for 2014, except for the remaining clocks which still read the "old" time. I'm not as diligent in changing the clocks when it is "fall back". I figure if I get somewhere at the wrong time, it will be an error on the positive side.
Like when we were living in Sweden. We were late for Church every single week. There truly was a combination of challenges--but really nothing more than NOT preparing in advance for a frantic Sunday morning trying to get a family of seven ready to head out the door and into the car for a 25 minute drive. Plus we usually swung by to pick up the missionaries on the way. Oh, and Ross always got up just in time to be walking out the door at the exact minute we were supposed to be somewhere. But on the Sunday standard time returned to Europe, the Nichols Family was not only on time, but early for the three hour block of meetings. We had NO clue it was THAT Sunday until we arrived at Church and we were the first people there. The missionaries loved to give us a good-natured ribbing that we were finally on time.
When I was a kid the only places which had daylight saving time in the summer were the big cities in the East like Chicago and New York, though the practice began during the First World War and lasted only until the war ended. It was implemented again for the Second World War, but was again repealed right after the war. By the time I was between my Sophomore and Junior years at BYU and working as a hostess at Adams Restaurant in Rawlins, Colorado had jumped on the band wagon of more daylight hours. Tourists would leave Denver in the morning where they had breakfast and expect to have lunch by the time they had driven the 4-5 hours to Rawlins. Nope! Still serving breakfast until 11 AM. There were lots of disgruntled people every day because the whole thing repeated for late afternoon/dinner time. (That was when I learned the lesson that hungry people can really be a notch or two less than nice.) States and cities were implementing their own versions of Daylight Saving Time.
This patchwork of DT and ST was very disrupting to the whole country. Order finally came in 1966 with the Uniform Time Act which standardized daylight saving time for the whole country to be beteween the last Sunday in April and the last Sunday in October--except Indiana and Hawaii because each state had a choice whether or not to observe this "summer savings".
Harold was born on the last Sunday in October in 1969. His birth certificate says he was born at 5:36 AM, but no one in the delivery room knew whether or not the time had changed back to MST or was MDT. So the recording nurse put down the time which was on her watch, and the doctor signed it. In reality Harold might be an hour older--or younger. Who knows?!
A lot of people think that DST was promoted by farmers and other agrarians. Not so. They hated it because the dew finally came off the fields an hour later and the cows didn't know the difference from the clocks and were still ready to be milked at the same time. No. It screwed their lives up.
During the oil crisis and embargo in the early 1970's President Nixon signed a law that made DST last all year long, supposedly to save energy. You know, one extra hour of daylight meant less electricityfor lights, etc. Only it didn't shake out that way. That savings was offset by the extra amount of electricity used for air conditioning, etc. But I loved it! I loved getting all my chores done in the dark, vacuuming under the beds while toddlers Harold and Brice still slept, so that when the sun finally came up I was all finished with the housework and we were ready to go down to the basement where I would spend the day sewing drapes while Harold and Brice played with blocks and Legos and LincolnLogs. Those were the days we listened to the sound track recordings of just about EVERY Walt Disney movie that had been released up until that time. Songs I hadn't really cared for before became real favorites, and I learned to love those simple stories of Pinochio wanting to be a real boy, and the family antics in Bedknobs and Broomsticks.
The April through October months meant that Halloween came AFTER daylight saving switched to standard time. So, a few years ago first the beginning changed to the first week in April, then the ending came a week later than the last Sunday in October. Sometimes still in October, or like this year in November. Now April General Conference is often right in the middle of the change over from standard time to daylight saving. I do know I don't like to be on a trip when it changes either direction. It is confusing--and I have gotten ready a full two hours early when both the hotel and myself changed the clocks!
I do like that snuggy feeling of dark at 5 pm. And then if I go to bed an hour early for a week, I can get up without feeling tired. That ain't a gonna happen tonight, though. Plus, I have blabbed on for long enough, so will pack it in at 11PM "real time" though the clock says it isn't quite ten.
It's all over for 2014, except for the remaining clocks which still read the "old" time. I'm not as diligent in changing the clocks when it is "fall back". I figure if I get somewhere at the wrong time, it will be an error on the positive side.
Like when we were living in Sweden. We were late for Church every single week. There truly was a combination of challenges--but really nothing more than NOT preparing in advance for a frantic Sunday morning trying to get a family of seven ready to head out the door and into the car for a 25 minute drive. Plus we usually swung by to pick up the missionaries on the way. Oh, and Ross always got up just in time to be walking out the door at the exact minute we were supposed to be somewhere. But on the Sunday standard time returned to Europe, the Nichols Family was not only on time, but early for the three hour block of meetings. We had NO clue it was THAT Sunday until we arrived at Church and we were the first people there. The missionaries loved to give us a good-natured ribbing that we were finally on time.
When I was a kid the only places which had daylight saving time in the summer were the big cities in the East like Chicago and New York, though the practice began during the First World War and lasted only until the war ended. It was implemented again for the Second World War, but was again repealed right after the war. By the time I was between my Sophomore and Junior years at BYU and working as a hostess at Adams Restaurant in Rawlins, Colorado had jumped on the band wagon of more daylight hours. Tourists would leave Denver in the morning where they had breakfast and expect to have lunch by the time they had driven the 4-5 hours to Rawlins. Nope! Still serving breakfast until 11 AM. There were lots of disgruntled people every day because the whole thing repeated for late afternoon/dinner time. (That was when I learned the lesson that hungry people can really be a notch or two less than nice.) States and cities were implementing their own versions of Daylight Saving Time.
This patchwork of DT and ST was very disrupting to the whole country. Order finally came in 1966 with the Uniform Time Act which standardized daylight saving time for the whole country to be beteween the last Sunday in April and the last Sunday in October--except Indiana and Hawaii because each state had a choice whether or not to observe this "summer savings".
Harold was born on the last Sunday in October in 1969. His birth certificate says he was born at 5:36 AM, but no one in the delivery room knew whether or not the time had changed back to MST or was MDT. So the recording nurse put down the time which was on her watch, and the doctor signed it. In reality Harold might be an hour older--or younger. Who knows?!
A lot of people think that DST was promoted by farmers and other agrarians. Not so. They hated it because the dew finally came off the fields an hour later and the cows didn't know the difference from the clocks and were still ready to be milked at the same time. No. It screwed their lives up.
During the oil crisis and embargo in the early 1970's President Nixon signed a law that made DST last all year long, supposedly to save energy. You know, one extra hour of daylight meant less electricityfor lights, etc. Only it didn't shake out that way. That savings was offset by the extra amount of electricity used for air conditioning, etc. But I loved it! I loved getting all my chores done in the dark, vacuuming under the beds while toddlers Harold and Brice still slept, so that when the sun finally came up I was all finished with the housework and we were ready to go down to the basement where I would spend the day sewing drapes while Harold and Brice played with blocks and Legos and LincolnLogs. Those were the days we listened to the sound track recordings of just about EVERY Walt Disney movie that had been released up until that time. Songs I hadn't really cared for before became real favorites, and I learned to love those simple stories of Pinochio wanting to be a real boy, and the family antics in Bedknobs and Broomsticks.
The April through October months meant that Halloween came AFTER daylight saving switched to standard time. So, a few years ago first the beginning changed to the first week in April, then the ending came a week later than the last Sunday in October. Sometimes still in October, or like this year in November. Now April General Conference is often right in the middle of the change over from standard time to daylight saving. I do know I don't like to be on a trip when it changes either direction. It is confusing--and I have gotten ready a full two hours early when both the hotel and myself changed the clocks!
I do like that snuggy feeling of dark at 5 pm. And then if I go to bed an hour early for a week, I can get up without feeling tired. That ain't a gonna happen tonight, though. Plus, I have blabbed on for long enough, so will pack it in at 11PM "real time" though the clock says it isn't quite ten.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
GOOD FOR ANOTHER 30,000 MILES....
It was time for my regular colonoscopy last spring. In fact I already had made an appointment for May during my vacation, but cancelled it because I didn't want to take two whole days out of my time off since we were going to Savannah's graduation and I was going to go with Louis on his business trip.
Then it became harder for me to pick up the phone to make a new appointment. I let just about every excuse in the book be justification for putting that procedure off...and off...and off. It was summer. I had to take on-line classes, study, and attend yearly requalification. It was my line month. It was my reserve month. The roof needed to be replaced. I had to get my car fixed..... Until FINALLY I couldn't put it off any more. This is something that isn't really so awful, I just hate the preparation for it. But I should look at the very positive side: colonoscopies can save lives.
The day after I graduated from the eighth grade--after the hoopla surrounding my being the Salutatorian and having to give a speech at graduation, and all the parties and the activies my mother supported me in for that occasion and event--my dad put her on the train and she went to Salt Lake City to see the doctor. I didn't know at the time that she had been suffering from some kind of bowel disorder for several months.
The next thing I knew, she was in the hospital in Salt Lake City and had undergone major surgery for cancer of the colon. She was 58 years old. In those days--this was 1960--just about the only thing the doctors could do was perform a colostomy which meant remove the cancerous part of the bowel which necessitated wearing a pouch around the waist which captured solid bodily waste. Not only was that procedure pretty much an indication of a death sentence--people didn't recover from colon cancer--but it also confined the patient to home as a virtual prisoner. No one who had had a colostomy went out in public. They smelled like a sewer, and there was a very good possibility that the bag would leak.
I know my mother was well aware of that nasty fact.
Case in point. John Dexter was a brother in our ward. He was a handsome older man, slim and with beautiful pristinely white hair. He had been diagnosed with colon cancer, had the colostomy, and died within months. Even as a kid about 10 or 11 years old, I knew that.
But my mother's doctor did a new and experimental surgery on her. He removed the affected and cancerous colon, then fashioned a new rectum. However, the sphincter muscle was missing, so she had to take an enema every day for the rest of her life. Hence for those of you who can remember, THAT was what her CHORES were every morning which you might remember her being in the bathroom for so long each day no matter where she was.
Over the summer of 1960 my mother had two more major surgeries to try and stem the advance of the cancer. I don't think they had chemo or radiation then. She didn't lose her hair or anything, but she was very, very ill. I knew THAT for sure because my dad called for a prayer circle. In a family who didn't have regular family prayer, I knew when the prayer circle was called things were NOT GOOD.
After my mother was discharged from the hospital at the end of that long, long summer vacation, Beth took her to her home to convalese for a few more weeks before she could come home to Rawlins--just before school began in the fall when I started high school as a freshman.
Essentially my mother was a cancer survivor for almost 25 years during which she unfailingly saw the doctor regularly for Barium enemas and colonoscopies to check on her condition. In the early months of 1984, she and my dad went to Salt Lake City for my mother's regularly scheduled exams. It was during that routine exam, that the .01% possibility of the bowel being perforated during the procedure happened. Only in spite of the fact my mother told them she was sure something terrible had happened as she could feel that something had occured which had not happened before, they sent her home to Glenda's. During that night my mother became extremely ill with fever and severe pain. Her abdominal cavity had filled with waste and she was contaminated.
That's when the doctors finally did a colostomy--which by then 25 years later wasn't the horrible thing it had been years earlier. My mother could have recovered from that, I'm sure, but she suffered a small heart attack, contracted pneumonia and eventually died from that medical condition in April 1984 just before we moved to Berlin.
Sooooo, that is why I have to have the colonoscopy more frequently than most other old people. And once again I have a completely clean bill of health. The colonoscopy is small price to pay for peace of mind from a procedure that could probably have helped detect my mother's cancer long before the advanced stages wherein she finally went to the doctor in Salt Lake City--AFTER supporting me in a good eventful time of my life. She sacrificed for me who had NO clue how ill she had been for months.
Apparently right now, it looks like I am going to dodge THAT cancerous bullet which reinforces all thinking from you who are convinced I am never going to die. At least not from that, though when I signed the paper that day in the doctor's office that in some rare .01% of cases it is possible that the bowel could be perforated, I did reflect briefly on my mother's experience. But....when I opened my eyes all was well once again.
I give thanks daily for my good health. I believe it is compensation from a loving Father for a couple of really crappy things that have happened in my life.
Then it became harder for me to pick up the phone to make a new appointment. I let just about every excuse in the book be justification for putting that procedure off...and off...and off. It was summer. I had to take on-line classes, study, and attend yearly requalification. It was my line month. It was my reserve month. The roof needed to be replaced. I had to get my car fixed..... Until FINALLY I couldn't put it off any more. This is something that isn't really so awful, I just hate the preparation for it. But I should look at the very positive side: colonoscopies can save lives.
The day after I graduated from the eighth grade--after the hoopla surrounding my being the Salutatorian and having to give a speech at graduation, and all the parties and the activies my mother supported me in for that occasion and event--my dad put her on the train and she went to Salt Lake City to see the doctor. I didn't know at the time that she had been suffering from some kind of bowel disorder for several months.
The next thing I knew, she was in the hospital in Salt Lake City and had undergone major surgery for cancer of the colon. She was 58 years old. In those days--this was 1960--just about the only thing the doctors could do was perform a colostomy which meant remove the cancerous part of the bowel which necessitated wearing a pouch around the waist which captured solid bodily waste. Not only was that procedure pretty much an indication of a death sentence--people didn't recover from colon cancer--but it also confined the patient to home as a virtual prisoner. No one who had had a colostomy went out in public. They smelled like a sewer, and there was a very good possibility that the bag would leak.
I know my mother was well aware of that nasty fact.
Case in point. John Dexter was a brother in our ward. He was a handsome older man, slim and with beautiful pristinely white hair. He had been diagnosed with colon cancer, had the colostomy, and died within months. Even as a kid about 10 or 11 years old, I knew that.
But my mother's doctor did a new and experimental surgery on her. He removed the affected and cancerous colon, then fashioned a new rectum. However, the sphincter muscle was missing, so she had to take an enema every day for the rest of her life. Hence for those of you who can remember, THAT was what her CHORES were every morning which you might remember her being in the bathroom for so long each day no matter where she was.
Over the summer of 1960 my mother had two more major surgeries to try and stem the advance of the cancer. I don't think they had chemo or radiation then. She didn't lose her hair or anything, but she was very, very ill. I knew THAT for sure because my dad called for a prayer circle. In a family who didn't have regular family prayer, I knew when the prayer circle was called things were NOT GOOD.
After my mother was discharged from the hospital at the end of that long, long summer vacation, Beth took her to her home to convalese for a few more weeks before she could come home to Rawlins--just before school began in the fall when I started high school as a freshman.
Essentially my mother was a cancer survivor for almost 25 years during which she unfailingly saw the doctor regularly for Barium enemas and colonoscopies to check on her condition. In the early months of 1984, she and my dad went to Salt Lake City for my mother's regularly scheduled exams. It was during that routine exam, that the .01% possibility of the bowel being perforated during the procedure happened. Only in spite of the fact my mother told them she was sure something terrible had happened as she could feel that something had occured which had not happened before, they sent her home to Glenda's. During that night my mother became extremely ill with fever and severe pain. Her abdominal cavity had filled with waste and she was contaminated.
That's when the doctors finally did a colostomy--which by then 25 years later wasn't the horrible thing it had been years earlier. My mother could have recovered from that, I'm sure, but she suffered a small heart attack, contracted pneumonia and eventually died from that medical condition in April 1984 just before we moved to Berlin.
Sooooo, that is why I have to have the colonoscopy more frequently than most other old people. And once again I have a completely clean bill of health. The colonoscopy is small price to pay for peace of mind from a procedure that could probably have helped detect my mother's cancer long before the advanced stages wherein she finally went to the doctor in Salt Lake City--AFTER supporting me in a good eventful time of my life. She sacrificed for me who had NO clue how ill she had been for months.
Apparently right now, it looks like I am going to dodge THAT cancerous bullet which reinforces all thinking from you who are convinced I am never going to die. At least not from that, though when I signed the paper that day in the doctor's office that in some rare .01% of cases it is possible that the bowel could be perforated, I did reflect briefly on my mother's experience. But....when I opened my eyes all was well once again.
I give thanks daily for my good health. I believe it is compensation from a loving Father for a couple of really crappy things that have happened in my life.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
EXECUTE WITH EXCELLENCE!
Had a 20 hour layover in Tampa for the first time in my United career. Instead of staying near the airport, we were transported to the Hilton Bayshore Hotel in St. Petersburg, about a 30 minute drive away from where we usually stay. I knew about this long layover when I got my schedule for October last month. I was bummed that I was scheduled to fly today and next weekend, too, but I was happy that for both Sundays I was slated to be here long enough that I could go to Church.
I looked at the Church's website to find the nearest ward and proceeded to contact the bishop whose name is Todd Bangerter. I told him that I would be here and wondered if there were someone I could contact about getting me a ride to the meetings. He said he would find someone, and soon texted me the name of the person who would pick me up and make sure I got back to my hotel. I asked if he were related to the Utah Bangerters. It turns out he is cousins to Grant and Jerry Bangerter and their son Grant was his college roommate. Small world.
I haven't changed any--still writing notes of what the speakers had to say. It was High Council Sunday. The high councilor had grown up in Colorado. He was a great speaker--funny, engaging, dynamic, and full of the spirit as he conveyed the stake president's love and challenge for the stake, as well as testifying of the gospel priniciples in Elder Oaks recent conference address.
However, he said one thing that will stick with me for a long time. Execute with excellence! Going beyond doing just the basic of whatever your endeavor will MORE than magnify your efforts and your blessings. If you are supposed to supply a casserole, bring it with enthusiasm. If you're assigned to clean up, be happy while you're doing it, etc. You get the picture.
I delight in mini-sermons. EXECUTE WITH EXCELLENCE! is a pithy little statement that will soon take its place as one of my favorites.
Try it on for size in your little corner of the world and notice if you see a difference in whatever it is you're doing. I think you will....
I looked at the Church's website to find the nearest ward and proceeded to contact the bishop whose name is Todd Bangerter. I told him that I would be here and wondered if there were someone I could contact about getting me a ride to the meetings. He said he would find someone, and soon texted me the name of the person who would pick me up and make sure I got back to my hotel. I asked if he were related to the Utah Bangerters. It turns out he is cousins to Grant and Jerry Bangerter and their son Grant was his college roommate. Small world.
I haven't changed any--still writing notes of what the speakers had to say. It was High Council Sunday. The high councilor had grown up in Colorado. He was a great speaker--funny, engaging, dynamic, and full of the spirit as he conveyed the stake president's love and challenge for the stake, as well as testifying of the gospel priniciples in Elder Oaks recent conference address.
However, he said one thing that will stick with me for a long time. Execute with excellence! Going beyond doing just the basic of whatever your endeavor will MORE than magnify your efforts and your blessings. If you are supposed to supply a casserole, bring it with enthusiasm. If you're assigned to clean up, be happy while you're doing it, etc. You get the picture.
I delight in mini-sermons. EXECUTE WITH EXCELLENCE! is a pithy little statement that will soon take its place as one of my favorites.
Try it on for size in your little corner of the world and notice if you see a difference in whatever it is you're doing. I think you will....
Thursday, October 16, 2014
FAMILY REUNION...
"t u a n y u a n"
Tuanyuan is Chinese for R E U N I O N, the characters of which literally mean "a perfect circle".Years ago when I was a little girl, my mother always longed to go to her family reunion. But during MY lifetime at home, that didn't happen too often. The reunion she wanted to attend was the one to be with her parents and siblings. It was the James George and Sarah Jane Crane Family Reunion which was held somewhere in Southeastern Idaho or around Herriman, Utah, (I think) the first week in August every single summer. I remember going a few times--and I hated every minute of it! Everybody seemed to be a cousin of some sort or another--fancy THAT at a reunion--and I only knew about three of them. That would be Fred, Ralphene, and Helen Butterfield who were my Aunt Cornelia's youngest children. Everyone else was waaaay older than I was, except the pack of kids who belonged to Uncle Bill. I didn't know a one of them. And didn't care to....
In a way I kind of envied my sisters who DID know those cousins, as they had lived in Salt Lake City near the vicinity of where some of those cousins lived (in Herriman and in Draper, too--now there was a dusty little hole in the road!)--or had been up to Idaho enough times to be acquainted with the cousins their age. I can remember them talking about Dayton, Beverly, Don, Seth, Warren, and others whom I knew only by sight or not at all. I didn't fit in. I thought the whole thing with a program and talent show, family business meeting, camping out, and shared dinners was tedious and uncomfortable. The years my dad (who knew all these people from his sheepherding days, but didn't seem too keen on going either) vetoed our attendance by always using his work as an excuse, I was secretly glad and relieved that I wouldn't be expected to join in with "the cousins" doing something I had no interest in doing. And, up until Aunt Cornelia died just a few years ago, I still got one of those Crane Reunion invitations each summer.
Those negative feelings about reunions changed, however, when all of you came into the picture. First I liked to show you off to my sisters and their families at the Melvin Reed and Maude Marie Huggins Family Reunion. I was involved in the planning of several of those reunions, and we had FUN! Some of you may even remember when it was held in Colorado at our Secrest Court house--once just days before Britty was born, and again during the time Ross was working with Gage Behunin and the asbestos project. Then after the marriages and grandkids came along, we started having a Nichols Family Reunion every once in a while.
Now I think another family reunion is a great idea--especially if all the Nichols Kids and the Second Generation Nichols Kids attend. So, I was pleased when Britty suggested that 2015 should be the year for ALL the Nichols Family to gather once again in Colorado for a great Thanksgiving holiday. I'll be nearly 70 years old! It is about time!
A year should be plenty enough time to formulate solid plans. Make it happen. Let's have a perfect circle once again!
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