Thursday, April 28, 2011

Seffers



I have been on a roll so far this year with doing Birth Stories
for the birthday blogs. So now it is Seth's turn.
But first, let's take a moment to enjoy some
sweet moments from his early days:

His feeding skillz have improved somewhat since
his beginning attempts.

Seth and Spencer were inseparable.
Look at all the brotherly love!
 (and Seth's awesome bow tie)


Sunday best.



It isn't easy being two.



Your Mama loves you, Seffers!




Thursday, April 21, 2011

Macbeth and Other Tragedies


I just returned from a quick trip to Utah. The three youngest and I drove the 11.4ever hours in a stuffy car through desert and mountain to spend some time with a few of the older offspring. We had a wonderful time--which will be duly blogged about for the sake of posterity shortly hereafter. 
But uppermost in my mind is the last evening we spent together. 
In advance of the trip, I noticed that the play Macbeth would be performed at UVU as a one night only showing. I actually extended our little vacation by a day so we could attend. I bought tickets for any and all family including one related by marriage and also including a few of my favorite reluctant patrons of the arts who are constantly getting dragged along to culturally uplifting opportunities in spite of themselves. 
It just so happens that I teach a Shakespeare class to a rambunctious passle of 12 year old boys. In our efforts to get them interested in being thespians and enjoying the art of the "THEATRE" (please read with a British accent. Thank you.)--we chose Macbeth for our end of year production. It has everything you need to keep the interest of boys that age: witches, ghosts, murder, mayhem, treachery, and war. And our own Shane will be playing the part of Macbeth--thus my eagerness to take him to a live production.

And so, we got ourselves to the theater in plenty of time to find good seats all together. But, I had to leave two tickets at the box office--one for Seth, who was in class and Siara who was working. They were both supposed to finish up and get there by curtain time. But as the minutes ticked closer to start, I got a bit worried that they might not make it. I went out and checked with the usher to see if they would be able to come in a little late. The usher assured me that it would be fine. Seth arrived in plenty of time but we were still waiting for Siara. I went out again and asked about her being able to get in and I overheard the ticket-taker saying that all 'will-call' tickets that hadn't been claimed would be available in a few minutes. That would include Siara's ticket. The play was sold out and the seat we were saving for Siara became a source of consternation to a certain stage manager. While I was in the lobby pleading for the ticket, Shanna was inside fending off the manager who wanted both my seat and Siara's to give to others who were coming in. In the meantime, Siara was texting to let us know her last hair client had been late and that pushed everything back, but she was on her way and would be there soon. tick, tick, tick, Then she let us know she was searching for a parking spot. tick, tick, tick

The play was late tick tick tick in starting by a good 15 minutes which bought us a little time, but she still was not fast enough. When she got to the box office, she was told she couldn't go in. While she was texting that to Shanna, our favorite manager was wagging his scolding eyebrows at us and telling us to move over. He brought in the usurper of Siara's ticket and seated her and then started his introduction by telling everyone they couldn't leave their seats for the entire play. 

At that moment I wanted to ring his scrawny little neck, but I refrained. We were sad that Siara couldn't be there with us--and she was too. It was really well done and I got some good ideas for our play. Later, on the long drive home back through the deserts and mountains, I asked myself what more I could have done. I was so annoyed that she missed it by minutes and that they wouldn't even refund my money for the ticket. Here's the scenario that ran through my head:
Just as the Manager of Scolding Eyebrows took the stage to admonish the audience about staying seated, I would run to the stage and in true Shakespeare fashion, deliver a passionate aside: 
(I wanted to call it a soliloquy but as a teacher of Shakespeare, I would have to stick with 
the more accurate aside as that refers to an actor talking to the audience)

I beg of you please hear my woeful tale!
So sad t'would make even Macbeth's cold heart with mercy swell.

I have traveled to this place from afar,
with three restless youngsters in a stuffy car.

To spend some time with other issue of my womb.
Here in Utah's chill and dampish gloom.

The one hope we had to brighten up our day
Was to come here together and enjoy this play

But, alas,  my poor daughter is kept outside the door--
by fiendish ushers--but to you I implore!

I taught my children to be prompt and most polite.
That on society they would never be a blight.

But Siara is a hairdresser and was kept late.
A tardy client with a rat's nest sealed her fate!

So, now that she has had a day that was so hard,
 let her join her family to see this creation of the Bard.

Please forgive me for this rather silly drama
For I am nothing, if not first and foremost, a Mama

Don't you think they would have been on my side? Don't you think the bossy-pants stage manager would have unscolded his eyebrows and let Siara in? 
If not, I could have shouted:
"A pox on thee--thy bones are marrowless and thy blood is cold!"

To be, or not to be. That is the question.
We will never know--because I didn't think of it in time.

PS The theater where we saw the play is the Noorda theater at UVU.
Did you know that "aorta" rhymes with Noorda?
I have another verse rolling around in my head that would make use of both.
Shakespeare would be proud.

PPS The play was directed by Christopher Clark who is a respected expert on Shakespeare and a rather droll and entertaining writer. You can see here and here.

Monday, April 11, 2011

The Cat Came Back...

...well, half the cat. I let Gunner out of his kennel this morning and turned him loose in our yard while I ran to the gym for my morning workout. My doggy friend was waiting for me when I returned -- I patted him on the head and came in. By the time I walked from the garage to the living room, he was standing at the front door-- tongue and tail a-wagging. I started to open the door to let him in, when I noticed something. Something dead. Actually, the front half of something dead. Gunner had tracked down his rancid kitty toy and dragged it back to our front porch. What happened to the other half you may wonder?
 I don't know.
 And I'm not sure I want to know.

Andy's conveniently out of town so, tempting as it was to leave the carcass there adorning our front porch until he gets back, I had to deal with it. Clearly whatever he had done with the thing the last two times had not put it out of Gunner's reach. I was going to have to be a little more thorough than tossing it back into the wilderness. I got a shovel and a garbage bag and shoveled the cat into the bag. Then I weighed my options:
1. The garbage can with the lid on tight.
2. Dig a deep hole and bury it.
3. Swing it around my head as fast as I could and let it fly up, up and away.

I couldn't stand the thought of the garbage reeking until Friday morning--it's supposed to be hot this week.
I don't think I could bury it deep enough to keep the smell from reaching Gunner's nose--and he's a pretty good digger himself being a dog and all.
The last one--well--I really couldn't do that in good conscience. It might land in a neighbor's yard or on their roof or even hit someone in the head. Funny maybe but not nice.

I decided to tie the bag tightly and set it in the trailer of yard debris waiting to go to the dump. It's out of Gunner's reach and away from the house.

Let's hope no one lets the cat out of the bag.


PS: Here's the song that has been running through my head all day:
                 "The Cat Came Back"

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Look What the Cat--I Mean DOG-- Dragged In!

Yesterday was Saturday. And Saturday is a special day because it's the day we put our kids to work. Early in the day, the boys gave Gunner his weekly bath and then they headed out to the front yard for some weed pulling.  I was inside minding my own business when they came charging through the front door yelling and gagging. The words DEAD and CAT stood out.

Somehow they convinced me that I needed to come out and see what Gunner had brought home to share. I followed them out and Gunner came bounding up and just about knocked me over with the reeking stench that was emanating from him. Then I looked to where the boys were pointing and beheld the bloated, muddy, matted carcass of what appeared to be a cat. It had been dead just long enough to bloat and rot to the peak of stink. From my long experience in dealing with dead wildlife, there is a zenith of disgusting, eye-watering smell. That is how we know we have caught a critter in the attic trap. Just a side note here-- I never really aspired to be an expert in animal decomposition--perhaps I can parlay that into a post-child rearing career. Pest control? Forensics? Road-kill Gourmet?  Oh the possibilities!

Back to the dead cat in our  yard. We have about nine acres of open space around the bluff where our house sits, and it appears that the hapless cat met its demise out there somewhere in the badlands of California. Usually cats are done in by coyotes and they do a nice job of devouring any guts and goo so you don't get the smell. Awww the circle of life.  This one must have died of something less violent. Gunner didn't seem to be treating it like prey--more like an awesome toy that he had just happened across in his explorations. He seemed surprised that we weren't as thrilled with his find as he was. Andy grabbed a shovel and carried it off into the wilderness to dispose of it and I grabbed a bottle of ammonia and doused every surface it had touched.

I stopped just short of dousing Gunner. Instead of re-bathing him which is a big ordeal, we opted to let him run around and "air out". As long as he was outside and we were inside, problem solved. Later that night we decided to see if the airing had helped and we let him in. He hadn't been in very long (and no, the airing did NOT help!) when he began to whine and scratch at the front door. Usually he hangs out by the back door if he needs a potty break so I was baffled to see his interest in the front door. I walked over and looked out and surprise! Gunner had found his toy and brought it back. I guess we can assume he found it by following the smell. It had been out there when we let him in but no one had seen it.  I hollered to Andy and he headed out the front as I took Gunner out the back. Where he promptly fell in the pool. He has run around out there since he was a brand new puppy and never fallen in. He was pretty good at the doggy paddle--but not so good at getting out. I was in my jammies and did not want to get wet, but my dog-owner instincts kicked in and I reached in and grabbed for him. It was not  a graceful rescue but I did manage to wrestle him to dry ground. Where he promptly shook water all over me.
On the plus side, the chlorine cut down the wretched stench.


Thursday, April 7, 2011

Communication Application

Andy recently decided that I needed to upgrade my phone. Shayla was excited for me--only because she actually knows how to work all the gadgets and doo-hickeys on it (yes I just said "doo-hickeys" it helps to emphasize my non-tech-savvy status). So she was having a great time setting it up for me and soon turned to possible APPLICATIONS. I had to use the whole word here just so I could make Shayla roll her eyes--she tries so hard to teach me all the hip, happenin', modern lingo you kids use like: apps--but what can I say? I'm old school--that's how I roll.

She sat at the island as I was making dinner and started listing off some possible useful "apps". I was sort of half-listening until I heard this:
 "There is an open sores app that you might like." she said
              "Shayla, why would anyone actually want open sores?" I asked incredulously.
 "Huh wha?" says Shayla          
Well--it turned out she meant "OPEN SOURCE"--a cool app for downloading classical music. So now I can really kick it old school with my Beethoven and Mozart homies. Word.

Happy Birthday Scott!

 It has been awhile since I updated this little family scrapbook on the internet. I like to pop over here from time to time and look at our ...