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| I love you Mom |
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Onions for Lunch
This was written a week ago... For update, Kristen brought 5 friends (yes extra chairs) for Thanksgiving and put up our tree with help from two high school buddies--one Buddhist, another Jewish. I celebrated the day after with onions for dinner (and Sister Mark's famous salt remedy for outsmarting a head cold) after sending out my nephew to bodyguard two daughters with Black Friday. We did not lose anyone. Only one bruise. Looking ahead to a cheerful season. Much love to you, the Starkeys
Onions for Lunch
Dear family and dear friends, 23 November 2008
I have been chuckling about something that happened on the way to the commons with our junior high daughter. At Bowmans, Reams, and several local grocery retailers, if a shopper is courageous, a twenty-five pound sack of onions often sells for as little as fifteen cents a pound. Quite a savings! The catch becomes keeping the vegetable viable and round and savory to the final onion in the bag. One summer at our Peterson family reunion at Ogden Canyon, Val’s mom and dad ran into some neighbors of Val’s great grandparents in Farr West, near Ogden, Utah. They remembered that in the flu epidemic of 1918, the Starkey family had no illness. They credited this stroke of good fortune partially to the fact that they grew onions and ate onions with every meal. To evidence fidelity to a good name, Val secured a hefty mesh sack to store on the north side of the house where he estimates basement room temperatures stay significantly less warm, verified by chilly children searching for slippers.
Rather than spending moments running to find last minute meal-trappings, yours truly conjured a terrific method to keep them close--put eight or so in a paper sack sitting on the kitchen fridge door. It occurred in a pianissimo thought, that the paper sack might be mistaken under duress for the luscious makings of Amber’s evening and morning vigil of preparing lunch for her sister. No worries. That lunch would ever be placed on the top shelf, front right, though oft overlooked in the stress of bell-racing at 8:02 a.m.
Sure enough, on a crazy busy day, I heard news of the morning. A paper sack had indeed been grabbed. School ensued. Students gathered.
Meals were purchased, and brown bags unfolded. To open-eyed consternation, rather than granola bars, gala apple, and whole wheat with fresh peanut butter and Aunt Arlene’s blackberry jam, the sack had unveiled a brown-papered surprise. Healthy, yes! No epidemics here.
Two years ago last May Maria took a focus week teaching yoga and nutrition, including a healthy dose of Feng shui, the Chinese system of arranging things. Because, we enjoyed Maria’s energy and patience teaching us the principles, at the tail-end of garage sale season we found a paperback Clearing Clutter with Feng Shui, that we had to buy if only for humor’s sake. After four testimonial chapters about how clearing clutter encouraged good fortune into the homes and mailboxes of previous readers—with new stereos, homes, and lottery prizes, we watched an unsuspecting dad clear boxes out of his office only to find in the mail a few days later an envelope containing significant unclaimed state property from decades ago. He and Grandma Starkey are planning a family history trip (and the rest of us are committed to clean!)
Speaking of cleaning, our forty-dollar garage sale washer gave up the ghost to be replaced with a Craig’s List stop gap until we are ready for a full meal deal remodel. This idea of rhythm went hand in hand with a piano recital Friday. Focusing on the counterpoint of Maria and Pamela Davies whirling to create a cheerful round of melody, harmony with Clementi motion, and counting with eighth-grade Zoe to waltz through the Ural Mountain tinkling, haunting tune of Lara’s Theme, I have concluded that “timing” may equal “location, location, location.” Precision and timing seemed to fit with BYU’s Tuesday forum where Lynne Truss, the British author of Eats, Shoots & Leaves, (a witty best-selling book on punctuation], validated a mother’s voice that thoughtful wording of personal messages can engender respect in a society crying out for courtesy.
An amazing moment happened shortly after the end of this BYU broadcast, after a long bout with our computer money manager. As “Pomp and Circumstance” (a celebratory graduation march) sprung from the neglected radio, I dashed in, dragged Val with exaggerated steps across piles of gas and grocery receipts, sat him at the computer’s helm, gave him the coveted mouse, and watched. At the end of “reconcile” when credits and debits are combined, if the numbers match with beginning and ending balances, and the difference equals zero, the ka-chink ceases, the computer opens a new screen and (voilà!) an illustration of a handshake pops onto the screen. This is a rather effective method of illustrating to a spouse the drama and thrill of a conciliated ending balance. Words still echo about being “reconciled to thy brother” and “reconciling yourself to God” when the menial task of budgeting can unlock a little meaning.
A dear friend from Baton Rouge shared a video this week about Lake Peigneur in Louisiana, where a fourteen inch drill bit from a Texaco oil rig searching petroleum miscalculated, struck a salt mine, causing a startling and chaotic series of events which changed the complete make up of the lake. So both location and direction matter.
(To see it, try: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLWxcZmATw8).
Speaking of directions… Val mentioned yesterday after judging at Maria’s debate tournament that hearing what was coming up and what was expected helped his judging. Student discussed the benefits of modeling United States’ health care systems after the French’s--according to our 9th grader, the best health care system in the world. One set of grandparents is suggesting different topics that may be worthy of debate in such a forum. And we contemplate what may come with adjusting our focus!
As we set aside our blue and red colors from the regrettable Saturday sports contest to cross the street and view “The Scarlet Pimpernel,” a spy story set in the French Revolution, we heard the main character in the face of a society that decried decency and order, with “neighbor denouncing neighbor.” His question “When is the time?” preceded an answer--The timing is “now” and the persons to act is “us.”
With the seemingly effortless assistance to carve a quarter credit from a busy senior’s schedule (just to remember, this is midterm) my stress rose sufficiently to lay one of us horizontal for a few extra hours. I decided that such a day would effectively increase sympathy pains for the aftermath of Amber’s Twilight all-nighter. It did. I am centering on the words “weak and simple.” I get the weak part. I am currently working on simple! Plowing through stacks of silver and plates, and then heading toward spinning cycles of bleached cleaning cloths, I am realizing what blessing it is to simply move! From clearing clutter to speaking out and advocating for each other, positioning our personal drill bits as far as possible from the danger of sinking mines, as we thoughtfully arrange our words and our lives to reconcile ourselves to healthy vibrant patterns, may we each grab the right lunch, and if not, learn to relish onions! May your week be plentiful with pumpkin, celery, spice and the sweet suspense to someday surround a table without empty chairs—Thankful for you! The Starkeys
Dear family and dear friends, 23 November 2008
I have been chuckling about something that happened on the way to the commons with our junior high daughter. At Bowmans, Reams, and several local grocery retailers, if a shopper is courageous, a twenty-five pound sack of onions often sells for as little as fifteen cents a pound. Quite a savings! The catch becomes keeping the vegetable viable and round and savory to the final onion in the bag. One summer at our Peterson family reunion at Ogden Canyon, Val’s mom and dad ran into some neighbors of Val’s great grandparents in Farr West, near Ogden, Utah. They remembered that in the flu epidemic of 1918, the Starkey family had no illness. They credited this stroke of good fortune partially to the fact that they grew onions and ate onions with every meal. To evidence fidelity to a good name, Val secured a hefty mesh sack to store on the north side of the house where he estimates basement room temperatures stay significantly less warm, verified by chilly children searching for slippers.
Rather than spending moments running to find last minute meal-trappings, yours truly conjured a terrific method to keep them close--put eight or so in a paper sack sitting on the kitchen fridge door. It occurred in a pianissimo thought, that the paper sack might be mistaken under duress for the luscious makings of Amber’s evening and morning vigil of preparing lunch for her sister. No worries. That lunch would ever be placed on the top shelf, front right, though oft overlooked in the stress of bell-racing at 8:02 a.m.
Sure enough, on a crazy busy day, I heard news of the morning. A paper sack had indeed been grabbed. School ensued. Students gathered.
Meals were purchased, and brown bags unfolded. To open-eyed consternation, rather than granola bars, gala apple, and whole wheat with fresh peanut butter and Aunt Arlene’s blackberry jam, the sack had unveiled a brown-papered surprise. Healthy, yes! No epidemics here.
Two years ago last May Maria took a focus week teaching yoga and nutrition, including a healthy dose of Feng shui, the Chinese system of arranging things. Because, we enjoyed Maria’s energy and patience teaching us the principles, at the tail-end of garage sale season we found a paperback Clearing Clutter with Feng Shui, that we had to buy if only for humor’s sake. After four testimonial chapters about how clearing clutter encouraged good fortune into the homes and mailboxes of previous readers—with new stereos, homes, and lottery prizes, we watched an unsuspecting dad clear boxes out of his office only to find in the mail a few days later an envelope containing significant unclaimed state property from decades ago. He and Grandma Starkey are planning a family history trip (and the rest of us are committed to clean!)
Speaking of cleaning, our forty-dollar garage sale washer gave up the ghost to be replaced with a Craig’s List stop gap until we are ready for a full meal deal remodel. This idea of rhythm went hand in hand with a piano recital Friday. Focusing on the counterpoint of Maria and Pamela Davies whirling to create a cheerful round of melody, harmony with Clementi motion, and counting with eighth-grade Zoe to waltz through the Ural Mountain tinkling, haunting tune of Lara’s Theme, I have concluded that “timing” may equal “location, location, location.” Precision and timing seemed to fit with BYU’s Tuesday forum where Lynne Truss, the British author of Eats, Shoots & Leaves, (a witty best-selling book on punctuation], validated a mother’s voice that thoughtful wording of personal messages can engender respect in a society crying out for courtesy.
An amazing moment happened shortly after the end of this BYU broadcast, after a long bout with our computer money manager. As “Pomp and Circumstance” (a celebratory graduation march) sprung from the neglected radio, I dashed in, dragged Val with exaggerated steps across piles of gas and grocery receipts, sat him at the computer’s helm, gave him the coveted mouse, and watched. At the end of “reconcile” when credits and debits are combined, if the numbers match with beginning and ending balances, and the difference equals zero, the ka-chink ceases, the computer opens a new screen and (voilà!) an illustration of a handshake pops onto the screen. This is a rather effective method of illustrating to a spouse the drama and thrill of a conciliated ending balance. Words still echo about being “reconciled to thy brother” and “reconciling yourself to God” when the menial task of budgeting can unlock a little meaning.
A dear friend from Baton Rouge shared a video this week about Lake Peigneur in Louisiana, where a fourteen inch drill bit from a Texaco oil rig searching petroleum miscalculated, struck a salt mine, causing a startling and chaotic series of events which changed the complete make up of the lake. So both location and direction matter.
(To see it, try: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLWxcZmATw8).
Speaking of directions… Val mentioned yesterday after judging at Maria’s debate tournament that hearing what was coming up and what was expected helped his judging. Student discussed the benefits of modeling United States’ health care systems after the French’s--according to our 9th grader, the best health care system in the world. One set of grandparents is suggesting different topics that may be worthy of debate in such a forum. And we contemplate what may come with adjusting our focus!
As we set aside our blue and red colors from the regrettable Saturday sports contest to cross the street and view “The Scarlet Pimpernel,” a spy story set in the French Revolution, we heard the main character in the face of a society that decried decency and order, with “neighbor denouncing neighbor.” His question “When is the time?” preceded an answer--The timing is “now” and the persons to act is “us.”
With the seemingly effortless assistance to carve a quarter credit from a busy senior’s schedule (just to remember, this is midterm) my stress rose sufficiently to lay one of us horizontal for a few extra hours. I decided that such a day would effectively increase sympathy pains for the aftermath of Amber’s Twilight all-nighter. It did. I am centering on the words “weak and simple.” I get the weak part. I am currently working on simple! Plowing through stacks of silver and plates, and then heading toward spinning cycles of bleached cleaning cloths, I am realizing what blessing it is to simply move! From clearing clutter to speaking out and advocating for each other, positioning our personal drill bits as far as possible from the danger of sinking mines, as we thoughtfully arrange our words and our lives to reconcile ourselves to healthy vibrant patterns, may we each grab the right lunch, and if not, learn to relish onions! May your week be plentiful with pumpkin, celery, spice and the sweet suspense to someday surround a table without empty chairs—Thankful for you! The Starkeys
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