Spring Break

We tried something new.

Star took off work for the week of Spring Break, but instead of heading to Lisbon or Lafayette, we hit Lindon. We had a family council, made a plan for each day of the week to include some fun, some inside work, or some outdoor work. The big item on the agenda was the barn. Star has schemed and dreamed for many years about fixing it up to be a playhouse/hangout for our growing children.

The barn beginnings --in bitter weather

As we cleared things out and cleaned things up, a fire was needed to reduce old sticks and leaves that escaped the rakes before the winter snows had invaded.

The faithful fire-tenders

The crew (plus Darth Vader)

We had big lunches mid-day, and movie parties (and a bowling party) at night.

Sweeping out the loft

Sam surprised us all by making scrambled eggs for breakfast. Millie set the table. It appears Abbie's dealing with tween fatigue.

A formidable task (thank goodness Darth's got such a serious work ethic)

I had dealt with a mild case of anticipation anxiety over the event, but it turned out to be one of the happiest vacations we've ever taken as a family.

And there was still time for puzzles, puppet shows, and the Piano.

A Hissy Fit

These snakes are just some of the MANY that like to sun bathe in my hollyhock patch directly out my back door. On other years I have been able to avoid them better, but this Spring, Schuyler has taken on the full-time job of keeping J. (the dog) company. I've begun just leaving the back door opened some, the screen door propped half-way. Schuyler will be contented until he wants me to get more Scooby snacks or until he wants me to be in their band of brotherhood. Then I get terribly startled when a snake darts in front of me.

Now to be perfectly clear, snakes give me the willies. So one Saturday I required that all snakes be removed from sight. This kept Sam, Abbie and Millie busy for several hours. In the end they caught 13 and placed them in a large metal tub on the porch.
The next week Sam carefully placed 3 in a shoebox and took them to school for show-and-tell.

Much later that day, I was driving on the freeway when Sam exclaimed, "Hey Mom, there's only one snake left in the box back here." With a bit of concern I asked, "You didn't take them out of the car after school?"
S: " I forgot."
M: "Sam, that is very bad news. Do you know how I feel about snakes?
S: "Yeah --they give you the willies."
M :"Are you sure you had all 3 after show and tell?" (not that I'd wish that for the school halls but...)
S: "I'm sure. Somebody must have made the air holes too big while it was out in my cubby."
M: "Sam --if those snakes are slithering around this car and one comes by me, I could have a heart-attack, and then Dad would have to re-marry, and then you'd be stuck with a wicked step-mother. You'd better start looking around the car right now." Sam was searching diligently, but having no luck. I headed towards Mom's since they were closer than home. Ahead of me were construction workers holding a stop sign. I began to slow. Just then my peripheral vision caught something move. I looked at the dash and began screaming repeatedly. I pulled over and sort of parked the car diagonally, then flew out. A snake was coiled near the steering wheel, it's mouth open and tongue hissing back and forth at me.

Sam was crying --my sudden volume had frightened him, and he was too upset to deal with the reptile. Abbie reached across my side, grabbed the snake, and deposited it in the yard of a little girl whose lovely skipping had been interrupted by my car lunging toward her fence. She ran yelling into her house (the look on her face...)

I felt like I needed something--proof --anything. I grabbed the only weapon I had: the video camera in my purse and began recording (Star was not going to believe all of this). On film I asked Sam to free the snake still in the box, and find the one unaccounted for. He sadly sent it into the poor skipper's yard, but we couldn't find the third one.

I drove slowly toward my parents house. I was shaky and had a definite case of the willies. Dad would save me. After laughing 'til he was red in the face, Dad assured me that he'd take care of it.

Later he returned and reported they'd searched high and low but the snake was either no longer in the vehicle or up in the engine where we'd not need to worry about it.

I traded Star for the van. He drove the GMC for another 7 days before he called one afternoon to report he'd found the 3rd snake suntanning on the driver's seat when he came back from a meeting. He left it in AF.

"No one will believe me," I had said to Mom while waiting for Dad to search the car that day. "They'll believe you --things like this happen to you."

(Is this another reason nobody wants to trade?)



heading under the back patio where we're sure they must have a nest

The Power

Three weeks ago I was preparing for FHE, making dinner, and listening to Elder Packer on my iPod. It was the week after General Conference and I had plans to plug in the thing to download the latest sessions. I'd also finished all the "This American Life" episodes, and was eager to try some new ones. But the next morning I could not find the little device. Over the last 21 days I have looked under beds, in drawers, closets, cars, and pockets. It's absence has weighed on my mind and heart. Alas--I have become dependent on the ease of tuning into Conference and Copland, Sedaris and Chopin whenever I needed a boost.

I had faith that I would be inspired to look in the right place one of these days, and that this longing would end. My good bishop asked if I'd prayed. I told him yes, but I knew, that like I do with so many areas in my life, I'd not really wanted to impose on the Lord for such a triviality. Sunday night, after pulling a new pair of Sam's dirty socks and underwear from under my bed --in yet another vain attempt to find my iPod, I folded my arms (I was already on my knees anyway) and pleaded humbly (and a bit timidly) for help. I told my Heavenly Father how much I appreciated the time spent with his disciples talking directly in my ears, and could use that extra time right now. I finished and went to put on my Jammie's. I made one last effort at feeling around the closet floor. I checked my sweatshirt pocket for the millionth time, then felt the pocket of the sweater hanging beside it. I have no recollection of having worn that sweater for a very long time, but my iPod was there, it's earphones wrapped neatly around it's slim frame. I called to the good bishop. I said nothing, just held out my treasure. He smiled, "You prayed didn't you?" I prayed again (I was on my knees anyway). Why do I make things so hard?

The truth is--there is power in prayer. Even seemingly silly ones.

And my humility was deepened once more.