Welcome, Year o' the Ox

We were a little tardy celebrating Chinese New Year (aka "Spring Festival," which strikes me as a tad optimistic). The actual lunar new year was January 26, but we had our fete a week or so later. Eats were from "Little World" (14th So. and State; muy delicioso).


Presents were lovingly wrapped by Grandpa.

Emma was born in the Year of the Rooster (way back in 05). According to the internet...so it's gotta be true...this is what Emma's like:

"People born in the Year of the Rooster are deep thinkers, capable, and talented. They like to be busy and are devoted beyond their capabilities and are deeply disappointed if they fail. People born in the Rooster Year are often a bit eccentric, and often have rather difficult relationship with others. They always think they are right and usually are! They frequently are loners and though they give the outward impression of being adventurous, they are timid. Rooster people's emotions like their fortunes, swing very high to very low. They can be selfish and too outspoken, but are always interesting and can be extremely brave. They are most compatible with Ox, Snake, and Dragon."

Hunh. Well, I certainly agree with two of the statements:

1. "They always think they are right"
2. "...are always interesting"

Plus, of course, she is deep, capable, talented, busy, devoted, and brave. But none of that other stuff.

In other Year of the Ox news: Emma continues to be deeply enraptured by craft projects.

And conceived of the display below, which now graces the ceiling above our bathroom counter.




Last week we spent a fun evening at Uncle Matt and Aunt Erin's for the annual Superbowl din-din (me, I never even know who's playing, but the food and company are outstanding). Emma loves to be with cousins Josh, Jonah and Sam.

And it was an occasion to take the annual Superbowl Sunday Rib Photo (third year running). So, below, we have pix from 2007, 2008, and 2009. Our little rib-eater appears to be thriving.


Happy new year to you, yours, AND the ox you rode in on.

My Daughter is a Mouse

At some point a few months ago, Emma became "Baby Mouse." Maybe it was after we read "Guess How Much I Love You," a book wherein a mommy and baby mouse contend to see who loves the other more [oh wait, it's bunnies in that book; but we've got some other book with moomy/baby mice]. Maybe it was from watching "Imagination Movers," which features a character named Warehouse Mouse. Whatever the source...Emma wants to be a mouse. She lies on her back and waggles her "paws" in the air. Her preferred game is "Find Baby Mouse" (in which she hides in the same place every time, next to the piano). A typical conversation with my young rodent goes like this:

"Emma, would you like a drink?"

"Baby Mouse!" (meaning, "Kindly refer to me by my correct name").

"Baby Mouse, would you like a drink?"

"Squeak!" (she doesn't make a squeak noise, but says the actual word)

"Would you like milk or apple juice?"

"Squeak!"

"Milk?"

"Squeak!"

She also coaches me in dialogue throughout the day. "Mama, throw Baby Mouse the ball and then say, 'Good catch, Baby Mouse' Say that!" (If I had a nickel for every time she's said "Say that!".....)

When I ask her what her name is, she says, 'Emma Claire Jiayan [last name] CJ Young Mouse" (she likes to say "CJ" because of her two middle names).

We love our funny little mouse.

Cookies, Crafts and Crashes

That's what Emma's been up to lately. The "cookie" part was yesterday, when she and big sister Jane undertook a baking project. January sugar cookies (who says the season is over?). Emma was fully involved and took a long bath afterward.




But the end results were pastel pretty and quite delicious. I ate roughly seven of them just today!




The "craft" part has been during the last few days. Emma's very deft with a pair of scissors and embarks on feverish, mysterious construction paper projects from time to time. Below is a mask she created with paper, twine and scotch tape. Pretty cool, and who cares if the eye holes don't line up with the actual eyes.


Nobody was injured in the "crash" part last week. She just went sliding down the mild slope in our backyard on her saucer a few times. Almost as fun as sledding at Sugarhouse Park and not nearly as hazardous (we've been a few times...and it's kind of a heartstopping experience for many reasons).

And the hike back up the hill isn't as bad as it seems.



Sorry we've been slacker bloggers lately (all five of you who care). We'll try to update again soon. In the meantime, happy January doldrums.

Happy New Year!

It's Beginning to Feel Alot Like Christmas

It must be getting close to Christmas. “How can I tell?” you ask. Well there are a few things that happen every Christmas season. First, I get the urge to buy a new Mercedes, wrap a big red bow around it, and park it in my driveway. Second, even though I have seldom used an electric razor, I start to feel inadequate in the shaving department with my triple-blade cheapie. The third symptom of Christmas is the yearning somewhere in the back of my consciousness for a Chia “something.” It doesn’t really matter which shape or form, I feel the need to grow green things around various troll-like shapes.

I was watching an ad for a diamond store, where they were boasting about their big 25% off everything sale. I happened to be close enough to read the small print that stated “No actual sales may have occurred at the full pre-sale prices.” Nice. They offer 25% off of something that has been marked up 1,000% in the first place, and the discount is fake to begin with. ‘tis the season, eh?

While I am rambling on about it, what is with the ads that started two weeks ago to lure us in for some last minute shopping. Last minute? I haven’t even started, and they want me to wrap it up. You hear claims about how their year will be ruined if the Christmas (holiday) season doesn’t improve. I am still trying to figure out why I should care.

I’m not bitter. In fact, I am having a great time experiencing Christmas with a three year old. It’s great. We watch many of the great Christmas movies together: The Bishop’s Wife (original only, please), Polar Express, Scrooged (“This is one Santa who is going out the front door”), and everybody’s favorite Santa Conquers the Martians (Crow and Tom Servo did this one up right!).

We put the tree up right after Thanksgiving, and Denny has the house decorated up very nicely, so the season has been very lovely this year, despite the constant attempts of Madison Avenue to mess with it. Emma is so fun and excited. I hope you all have as nice a Christmas as we are having, as Andy says, “Keeping it real.” Ok then.

Smile! (or not...)

Last year we took some really great Christmas pictures of Emma. She was giggling delightfully, with a sparkle in her eye, in each one. This year we tried to recreate the magic. Got a cute black and red velvet outfit, curled the hair, put a bow in. And here is a sample of the results.







Ah well. She's still our cutie patootie.

Go Find a Big Book....

We haven't taken many pictures lately, and I don't have much interesting to report. We've all been kind of sick the last week with various combinations of upper respiratory and lower GI ailments. But in the interest of posting something new, I'm stealing an idea from the blog Seriously, so blessed. Here's what we do:

1. Pick up the nearest book of at least 123 pages. Don't pick the coolest or most impressive one, just the NEAREST one.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence and post it!


So the nearest book at hand is the authorized biography of Hugh Nibley (by Boyd J. Petersen). Page 123, 5th sentence, reads:

"As he wrote to a friend who was going through marital problems, 'Common ground does not exist' between the two worlds." (He's referring to the credo that one must live "in the world but not of the world.")

So...what's in YOUR nearby book?

7 Thangs

I was tagged by two people recently (Peggy and Julia) to reveal seven things about myself.

1. I have nachos almost every Sunday after the block.

2. After Emma came home we watched a lot of "Signing Time" videos and I learned the sign language alphabet from the DVDs. I now compulsively finger spell words the way I used to type on my knees when I was taking typing from Guy Hafer at La Grande High School.

3. I enjoy folding laundry.

4. Sometimes when I'm practicing a piece of music that I have to perform I pretend I'm in the Music Olympics and imagine color commentators speculating on my chances for success ("Do you think she can navigate this tricky key change coming up? This is where the young Bulgarian upstart crashed and burned.") It manages to make me a little bit nervous.

5. I don't really like pretzels. I've tried to.

6. Garrison Keillor's column is the first thing I read in the Sunday Tribune, followed by Parade Magazine and the obits. The comics aren't funny. (Do you EVER laugh at a comic? Do you ever even SMILE at a comic?)

7. I can't whistle very well, which has always made me a little sad.

I tag BARBIE to write 7 things about herself in my comments section...

I Heart the Book of Mormon

I have to write about this before more time slips away. My niece Julia challenged our family to read the Book of Mormon during the month of October. I’ve only read the Book of Mormon fast one other time, when the stake Relief Society invited us to read it in preparation for a women’s conference (I remember I taught a mini-class on the Gadianton Robbers, of all things; they’re really a fascinating bunch).

Most of the time when I read the Book of Mormon, I plug along just above stall speed. I try to read a chapter a day, but then I skip a few days and have to go back and read the heading of the last chapter to figure out what was going on “when we last left our hero.” (Reminds me of something Marjorie Hinckley wrote in a letter to one of her children: “I’m reading one chapter out of each of the standard works every day. I’ve been doing it for four days now and am only three days behind.”) I plod through the Isaiah chapters and the war chapters and look forward to 3rd Nephi, and then I whiz through 4th Nephi, Mormon, Ether and on to the (bitter if you’re a Nephite) end.

This time around I skipped chapter headings entirely and read 17-18 pages a day. Things made much more sense. That section where we backtrack in time (the Record of Zeniff) wasn’t as confusing as it usually is. “Okay. Limhi was the son of King Noah, who was the son of Zeniff, who left Zarahemla and went to the land of Nephi. Zeniff—good; Noah—BAAAD; Limhi—good. Alma—VERY good. And then everybody eventually winds up back in Zarahemla again.” I even got caught up in the war accounts, and I have even greater admiration for Captain Moroni, a passionate, skilled leader and not just some zealous flag-waver.

And I have a new love for Mormon himself, who pawed through piles of records to get just the right distillation of history and doctrine. What an enormous undertaking. How just plain smart he must have been (I love what Ammaron tells Mormon when he’s only a kid: “I perceive that thou art a sober child, and art quick to observe.”)

But beyond all the history, the urgency of the message was so fresh this time. During a fast read-through the major themes just keep getting hammered and hammered:

1. Keep the commandments.
2. If you keep the commandments, you’ll prosper (in all the ways that matter most).
3. This is a unique land with a unique purpose.
4. Jesus Christ will come to earth (and after 3rd Nephi, will return to earth).
5. Keep the commandments.

Oh yeah, and ix-nay on the costly apparel and fine-twined linens.

What a book. I love it. Nay, I lurve it. Thanks, Julia, for the challenge!

Recent Autumnal Goings-On

Following is pictorial evidence of recent fall events, beginning with a trip to the Scarecrow Festival at Thanksgiving Point a couple weeks ago. The Scarecrow (see 'em below) Festival is something I'd never heard of, and likely would never have attended, pre-Emma. But oh, how our middle-aged horizons are espanding these days. Emma made a pilgrimage to every bouncy house and towering blow-up slide she could haul her wiry little frame in, on, or around. She was glassy-eyed with glee. At one point she broke into a trot and made a complete loop around the scarecrow grounds, through the food pavilion, and back to the bouncy houses as I tried to keep a bead on her, gimping along at half-speed on my not-yet-jog-worthy hip. I finally caught sight of her little top knot as she whizzed down a slide on the lap of a complete stranger (she looked like a very nice woman, at least). I think she needs a leash.
Here she is in mid-bounce. Might have been moments before she conked heads with another young bouncing patron. Emma shook it off and moved on with little complaint.
On October 30th, we celebrated our 2nd annual Emma Day...or maybe the 2nd anniversary of the first and original Emma Day, which was the day we met her in 2006. Joe took some time off work and we drove down to Provo to deliver a package to a guy (who's a friend of a guy who's a friend of Joe's) who can make same-day deliveries to the MTC. I made a batch of chocolate chip oatmeal bars in the morning and thought maybe they could be delivered to nephew Russell at the MTC while they were still warm and he could be the envy of his district. Oh what a gorgeous autumn day it was -- such brilliant fall colors, blue sky, and rarified Utah Valley air (I have a soft spot for dear, odd Provo). After the drop-off we went to a pretty park on Center Street. They had a representation of the countries of the world and we told Emma to stand on (approximately) Hubei Province, the land of her birth. Then we had yummy Chinese lunch at a little mom-and-pop in Orem (egg roll appetizers, rice bowl, and sauteed vegetable lunch special).

So then we had the one-two punch of Emma Day followed by Halloween. On Halloween morning Emma visited a couple of work places (Joe's and Aunt Boo Boo's), where she went cubicle to cubicle and completely filled up her candy bucket before noon. She met our friend Monica (below) at one of the stop-offs. I think Emma looks about 25 in this picture. Like a 25-year-old who needs to wipe the remains of a fun-size Twix bar off her mouth before she puts her lip gloss on.

At Aunt Boo Boo's office she joined up with a bunch of other kids (children of employees and hangers-on like us). Sure, they look a little morose here, but this was taken before they hit major Halloween candy pay-dirt.
I liked this little golfer guy.
This is what our neighbor's flowering pear tree looked like on Halloween Day.
Look at all the different colors (you must click to enlarge).
Emma lounged around in the leaves in the afternoon, pondering a portion of the haul she'd made that morning. "Oh what should I have first...a Skittle? A gem-sized Baby Ruth? One of the 500 teeny Snickers bars I snagged?"
And THIS is what Emma lounged around in today. The beautiful fall days are evidently gone for now, but they lasted a good long time.
And now we get to make a snowman that looks kind of like a little bear, and decorate him with twigs and a lei and last-year's snow hat and leaves and chocolate chips. "A triumph!!"

Wide Butt, Thin Tires

It’s about a 12 to 14 mile round trip from the casa to work. I got the wild idea to fix up the old circa 1980 Miyata 10-speed and ride it to work sometime last June. I thought I would have more problems than I did, but I guess it’s true -- riding a bike is like, well, riding a bike. It had been a few years since I strapped one on, but it only took a few days for the initial aches to subside and swelling to go down. I was also spurred on by the total lack of empathy on the part of our good Arab and Venezuelan friends when it came to the price of a gallon of gasoline.

It is interesting to catch the smells of various areas of the city as you ride by. You don’t get that added bonus when you're driving. I like to get an early start, avoiding most if not all of the traffic. You pretty much have total control of the road at 4:30 AM. Well, me and every newspaper carrier in the valley. Anyway, back to the smells. There is the smell of the Great Harvest Bakery. That’s a nice smell (must…keep… pedaling). It seems there is always somebody up early brewing coffee and burning toast. You get this mostly in the summer when their windows are open. There is one neighborhood, however, where many mornings you catch a whiff of burning cannibus (hippie lettuce, Mary Jane, or as Jim Rome would say, “The chronic”). I’m not sure where I learned how to detect that smell, I think it was the first rock concert I ever went to at the Salt Palace. I was about 14 years old, and Santana opened for Crosby, Stills and Nash, but I digress.

There is something to be said for motivating under your own power under the light of a Summer’s full moon. The brakes on the old Miyata don’t work so good, but that is ok. I think the ride is uphill both ways, so brakes aren’t much of an issue. There aren’t any surprises because everybody knows I am headed their way because of the excessive wheezing.

The ride back is a different story. This takes place any time from 4:00 PM to 5:00 PM. Rush hour traffic and all. Most afternoons I take advantage of the Trax train from 600 East to 1400 East. It shaves about one mile from the total, and is a nice option when the temps are hovering in the mid 90’s. You could track my progress home by the circling buzzards.

I have noticed there are many bikes around the city. Maybe because now that I ride, I am more aware of other riders. I wonder how many people are laughing at me because of my skid lid. It's about as old as my bike, and I probably look like what the Danish call “ond svaeg”(mind weak). Styling was never my strong suit (see previous post).

I probably won’t ride too much more this year. It’s pretty and all, and the temps are great, but that can turn on you in a hurry. Baseball season is officially over until March. It also makes it hard to take coworkers to the Maverick for a quick break. Hard to steer with a 44 oz. Diet Coke and a Church employee on the handlebars. Ok then.

Reflections on a Haircut

The Clip Joint Du Jour

This used to be the $1 Shop

Good Ol' Rays

“How you want it cut?” she asked in my left ear. “Oh, go ahead and cut it so that I’m the only person on earth who can’t see the bare spot on top of my head is edging ever outward.” I had once again stumbled into another in a long line of haircutting establishments I have frequented over the years. I think back on some of the other places I have been, and there are a few that come to mind.

Fred the Barber was a favorite of my dad’s. I only remember that he was downtown somewhere in a two seat shop, and he was so old he could have apprenticed under Methuselah. After a couple of times I refused to go any longer, but I believe my younger brothers continued with Fred long after I had graduated to other places.

As a youngster the place I remembered most was Ray’s (I think) up by what was then the old grocery store on 21st East and 13th South. You walked in and grabbed a seat because there were always four or five heads in front of you. The beauty part was that Ray (if that really was his name) always had comic books to read while you waited. I remember many a fine summer morning wasting away reading bad humor from magazines with half the pages missing (hard to find any continuity).

Years later I went more of the “stylist” route. Bad smells, truly lousy magazines, and over paid artists (pronounced arteests). I even followed a couple to new locations when they had fallen out of favor with management or some of their cutting buddies. The results were always the same…. $30 bucks and a haircut that always looked the same after four days. Sometimes that was good, and sometimes that was bad.

But I digress. This week I was getting my latest hair fix and started making some observations. This place only charges $5 a cut, and they never seem to run out of heads to trim. There is a steady stream of hairy people walking through the door. This is a rectangular building about 25’ by 60’ with 12 chairs in it, six along each wall. There are mirrors along each long wall that give the impression that the place is much larger, but it ain’t. They are too busy to sweep up after every haircut, so you have to watch your step. If you have to wait for your favorite cutter, you have a choice of either an old molded plastic chair (red or orange) from a U of U medical department, a low wooden bench, or a folding chair. I think the magazines on the big round table in the middle of the room were donated by Fred’s estate sale (remember Fred?).

The barbers come from all walks of life, male and female, old and young, Asian and Eastern European. One lady barber sports an oxygen tank on wheels at all times. As diverse as the cutters are, the clientele are even more so. I am usually the only “white shirt” there, as I am stealing 15 minutes from work or lunch. It doesn’t matter, because we all look like refugees when the mismatched plastic covers are put on us around the neck. Some are faux leopard, some black, or a variety of other colors made up to match the rejected Crayola crayons from the 102 box set that nobody every used because they had funny names. Rockwell couldn’t have captured this one.

I found this place because of my old habit of following a barber from a previous location. I was delighted to find out that I could now get my old $12 haircut for only $5. Even with a $5 tip, I was still ahead of the game. Thing is, I am on my third barber in the same place. I got tired of going to Greg, so being hooked on a cheap haircut, I had to figure which day Greg took off, and try somebody else (I’m so shallow). Anywho, this last haircut was as good as any, and she seemed to appreciate the tip. Things is different from the old days. I don’t remember having to have my eyebrows trimmed every month. Don’t want to be a unibrow, do we? And a bushy one at that. Or the hair in my ears tamed. I seem to be growing hair everywhere but where I want it to grow. “And would it kill ya to not comb over that mole on my head?” Sheesh! OK then.

"Kat! Hit Ball! Hard!"

That's what Emma says when I tell her we're going to a volleyball match at the U. Because, you see, our lovely (and tough!) daughter-in-law, Kathryn (Andy's wife), is on the women's volleyball team and she hits the ball HARD! That's her down there in the middle, in the white. On Thursday she achieved her 1,000th career kill (a "kill" is when you punch the ball so hard over the net that the opposing team can't return it...I used to not know that, being generally ignorant of sports-related terminology). Only 10 other women have done that in the U's history. Way to hit the ball hard, Kat.
Emma attended the match, dressed in Utah red. She hung with the cheerleaders for awhile...

...and didn't know which direction to face for the national anthem...but she got the hand position right. It was a fun evening.


..

A Handsome Missionary Nephew

One of my nephews, Russell, went in to the Missionary Training Center today for 9 weeks of training before he heads to Naga, Philippines, for his 2-year mission. Above is a photo of me, Russell's grandparents and Aunt Barbie at the MTC. It was a gorgeous, sunny day and we had a glorious experience helping to send him off.

Good luck and God bless you, Russell. You will be an outstanding missionary.

Some of our family have decided to read the entire Book of Mormon during the month of October. That's roughly 18 pages a day (or 36 pages every other day ...). Hope I can keep up. It's not too late to join the challenge....

A Couple of Photos, Etc.

Emma's looking pretty sharp with her new bangs.

Our friends Brad and Liz came for dinner last week with their two children, Anya and Dane. The kids had a great time together. Liz and I have already discussed marriage plans for Dane and Emma. We're happy they're getting to know each other early.

Funny things Emma has been saying lately:

- Every time she hears someone say "Barack Obama" on T.V. or radio, she says (quizzically), "Rock-a-bye Bama?".

- She's been watching a lot of "Dora," so when you say "thank you" she's likely to reply "De nada" (or sometimes "fenada").

- She says "totally." As in, "I lost my book. I totally can't find it." Our little Salt Lake Valley girl.

-She also says "that's cool" a lot.

-This morning after we ate she said, "Thank you for a hearty breakfast."

-She's very attached to her little blanket (which is now in rags and tatters). Sometimes she'll take a big sniff of it and say, "My blanket smells like my blanket."

-A couple of months ago we saw "To Kill a Mockingbird" on TV, the scene at the end where Scout discovers Boo Radley standing behind the door. Then just the other day we were watching it again, same scene, and Joe says, "Hey, Emma, what's the little girl going to say to the guy behind the door?" and she pipes up with "Hey Boo!" That's our girl, a regular cinemaphile.

- The other day she came up to me as I was sitting at the computer and said. "Sometimes you look really old...Why?" Uh oh kiddo, you're on to me.

She Was a Good Dog

We got Annie at a PetSmart Adoption Fair in May, 1999. She was 8 weeks old and still had puppy breath. She was a chewing machine for about a year. She destroyed many a sock and shoe, including one of Aunt Julie's espadrilles. I came home from work one day to find the stuffing from our love seat strewn about the living room in great billowing piles.

She had jet-black fur and was rambunctious and silly.

Sometimes we'd take her out to the bike paths by the airport and let her run figure eights through the weeds.

She was Joe's loyal comrade as he recovered from heart surgery in 2000. They spent many mild September mornings sitting on the porch at our old place on 9th South, watching the world go by.
She was a good watch dog, a champion barker, but very mild-mannered. She escorted dozens of my piano students to their seats after greeting them at the front door.
She hadn't been well for a few months and had lost a lot of weight. The vet told Joe yesterday that she was filled with cancer. Poor poochy. We decided to let her move on. We will miss our faithful doggy, but we're glad she is now pain free. Goodbye, Annie dear. Annie
March 11, 1999 - September 13, 2008

Off to School....with Bangs!

Today was Emma's first morning at her new preschool. She goes twice a week for three hours. I thought I was taking her photo this morning but I had the camera in movie mode, so that's why you have the herky jerky video. Behold the new bangs. It's kind of a nice change, and we don't have the raggly scraggly tendrils falling in front of the eyes any more.

When I picked up Emma from school this morning one of her teachers said, "She has a heart of gold! I'm so glad she's in my class." Apparently Emma had been extra nice to some of the other kids and had given a couple of hugs to a little boy who was crying.

She's been very sweet during my recovery from surgery, too. Almost every morning the first thing she asks is, "Your leg feel better today?" One day I told her that I would get better and better all the time and she said, "And then you'll be regular mama again." (I hope that's a good thing...)

She is a cutie patootie.