tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85138622931487883102024-03-14T01:16:22.861-07:00All Washed UpA collection of stories about the life and death of washing machines in our home--gleaned from the annual Christmas letter.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-62131238918413257252024-01-07T15:24:00.000-08:002024-01-07T15:24:42.595-08:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmjXj5MRohj87T2hqY75XEyWpuLqtf3qU9WKYWuu9EQm1SRx-SBwWHp6KAjAonKZn0xDszFYcOEzOJimBLwK46aBjBD8-uR6bKTEdqGCh65E4xfZUbGIBPxPBwKNT3UaeXP4yj8tubDTElgvkNAAXX2_qADpmBJ7CX59GqdmiQN6JtwXO2Z56WY4YsbM/s7846/WIPZ8029%20(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="7846" data-original-width="5233" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmjXj5MRohj87T2hqY75XEyWpuLqtf3qU9WKYWuu9EQm1SRx-SBwWHp6KAjAonKZn0xDszFYcOEzOJimBLwK46aBjBD8-uR6bKTEdqGCh65E4xfZUbGIBPxPBwKNT3UaeXP4yj8tubDTElgvkNAAXX2_qADpmBJ7CX59GqdmiQN6JtwXO2Z56WY4YsbM/s320/WIPZ8029%20(1).JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>It’s been three years since I sent a Christmas letter. Last I wrote, we were in the middle of the Pandemic. We’d gotten a new-to-us dog just as the schools closed. Alex’s first year of high school was all online. The first semester went pretty well… second semester, eek! </p><p>Now Alex is less than 60 days away from his 18th birthday. I know this because the bank sent me a letter telling me so. Eek! He will graduate in the spring, and plans to attend Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff. He has done well and anticipates his AP scores will earn him enough to start college with a minor in German! </p><p>Eli is a freshman at Tucson High School. It boasts a whopping 3,200 students. Eek! The school year got off to quite a start with him coming home every couple of weeks to report a fight on campus, one serious enough for the school to go into <a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-1-d&q=video+of+police+at+tucson+high+school#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:371d8a55,vid:pEhvNmBDzeg,st:0">“lock down” and for the police to be called</a>. It’s never a great day when your kid texts you to say, “Mom, we are on lock-down right now.” Eek! The reports of fights have become less frequent, luckily. </p><p>My work has been crazy. My boss has been out on medical leave since November and the other two administrators and I have been holding down the fort. It’s been quite a ride! </p><p>Corey’s working at Johnson Controls. Don’t ask me what he does. They make stuff there. Out of metal, I’m pretty sure. He’s in charge of something important, like making sure that they make stuff LEANly. Lean manufacturing was invented by the Japanese, probably because they are pretty slender people, so they know how to get stuff done without a lot of waist … or is it waste? I’m not sure, but lean is a pretty big deal. Or maybe it is slender deal? Oh, Corey just commented, he wants me to add that he is the Lean Manufacturing Engineer. </p><p>And Sea Lion. Of course you remember the dog’s name (not Seabiscuit, not Dolphin). He’s entering doggy middle age at six years old, and witnessed a car accident in which a car jumped the curb, careened across the grass, and rammed into the play structure at the park. Eek! He has PTSD and is afraid to go to the park. I didn’t know that dogs could get PTSD, but it seems to be so. </p><p>The year was punctuated by quite a few unexpected surprises—not all of them pleasant—eek! In spite of that, we are happy and healthy. Hope your new year brings you lovely surprises, and I hope our new year brings <i>us </i>lovely things without <i>any </i>surprises.
</p>Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-9567980752198931912020-12-28T06:38:00.004-08:002020-12-28T06:38:43.816-08:00Christmas 2020 Photos<p>In keeping with the blog title "All washed up" here is a picture of Eli taking our laundry to the wash room in the apartment complex. One thing that I enjoyed about apartment living as that all the laundry could be washed at the same time--four loads, four machines, one switch to the dryers. And because it was all heavy, Corey and the boys carried it too and from the apartment. Everyone pitched in to fold, and laundry was done in under two hours. In the past, laundry was my responsibility and it took the whole day: wash a load, wait 40 minutes. Switch it, start the second load, wait 40 minutes. Empty the first load, switch the second load, start the third load, wait 40 minutes, meanwhile fold the first load. And so forth ... </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-8stYsvqbMjLA9ZnxC8fhmI5PHg7u6u5rTVcYwr-omxPMGl5zICoXV62T08jeHmoALLsAFXCmGjQPoZYlSHMI8LsaedrJx4BNdK4cZfzIv6E5yHY7vWe1V019GgtiNezM2WZe3IWLRw/s2048/IMG_2713.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-8stYsvqbMjLA9ZnxC8fhmI5PHg7u6u5rTVcYwr-omxPMGl5zICoXV62T08jeHmoALLsAFXCmGjQPoZYlSHMI8LsaedrJx4BNdK4cZfzIv6E5yHY7vWe1V019GgtiNezM2WZe3IWLRw/s320/IMG_2713.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p>Sea Lion, our pandemic pup. We didn't know when we picked him up at the beginning of spring break that we would be home indefinitely to get him acclimated to our home.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ-zA3pVnypcoRMWUJkFIQNtg6ciyFRZhvMYwl3CXZRpPQ808TVAphhrcAZoVeEeBzGBaAvpNx5YcwImJeXu9LoxhskfW20mj_jE3uASjyZDroAB6BqszHC848W4bFVw6lJG_zkkXRoMc/s2048/IMG_2884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ-zA3pVnypcoRMWUJkFIQNtg6ciyFRZhvMYwl3CXZRpPQ808TVAphhrcAZoVeEeBzGBaAvpNx5YcwImJeXu9LoxhskfW20mj_jE3uASjyZDroAB6BqszHC848W4bFVw6lJG_zkkXRoMc/s320/IMG_2884.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Alex<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbX-wt5YS1sbg80EaF8Y_-hnBHqYx4Z1_Y9qE57OVVzpA7Z4XtXQDsnE3qcXvP-Y_I1mk9NYu_2PpOu9ftSxTbfZufmU1h6dts87s11c5Z47Dly-_bWEN0gG8H5eHiAUieISilda0GcdQ/s2048/IMG_3083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbX-wt5YS1sbg80EaF8Y_-hnBHqYx4Z1_Y9qE57OVVzpA7Z4XtXQDsnE3qcXvP-Y_I1mk9NYu_2PpOu9ftSxTbfZufmU1h6dts87s11c5Z47Dly-_bWEN0gG8H5eHiAUieISilda0GcdQ/s320/IMG_3083.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p>Eli<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ19NGnqmatDtCCTC60dhViEn81Q2CPEQZvliS5zCcFtu495grtq1PE299DRhdkf_8iEaXUk7hh9VwRDeUZes7L9ikjZO0RvgxuDesn7GJM6cwDNy_6B5r8w3LXI_SuxH1BESGlerwQpE/s2048/IMG_3089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ19NGnqmatDtCCTC60dhViEn81Q2CPEQZvliS5zCcFtu495grtq1PE299DRhdkf_8iEaXUk7hh9VwRDeUZes7L9ikjZO0RvgxuDesn7GJM6cwDNy_6B5r8w3LXI_SuxH1BESGlerwQpE/s320/IMG_3089.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p>Corey and the boys prepare to go camping in Utah.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLbqh-pdp4IfVYxzdT19md0ursQR2-p7S0TGS9vkFZ_YXoY-9OUVuX8h6jFWKckLmYF_CAaBO4c52YpFNQNro6YXu1h-iZTkbGcW5XXjwN0FymV1bvk2CZvl8y-UbSebuH7WJVjyYTAas/s2048/IMG_3139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLbqh-pdp4IfVYxzdT19md0ursQR2-p7S0TGS9vkFZ_YXoY-9OUVuX8h6jFWKckLmYF_CAaBO4c52YpFNQNro6YXu1h-iZTkbGcW5XXjwN0FymV1bvk2CZvl8y-UbSebuH7WJVjyYTAas/s320/IMG_3139.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Alex shows off his origami mask<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbQV1R-E3TzEDH0EgZvsFNUiTfX4V-WvLKXeG4gptji7rkkyrP1KP7KSbN7afqcwDMiSXctynkFdeQHDrt8XgSHg18bCx97GymkXeJ9BArBv5h2auDuQtvXQ88XrtCH__dnu-xHWp_AM/s2048/IMG_3177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbQV1R-E3TzEDH0EgZvsFNUiTfX4V-WvLKXeG4gptji7rkkyrP1KP7KSbN7afqcwDMiSXctynkFdeQHDrt8XgSHg18bCx97GymkXeJ9BArBv5h2auDuQtvXQ88XrtCH__dnu-xHWp_AM/s320/IMG_3177.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p>Alex laughs. He's a funny guy.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVr-YLCSLMT6uudXhDBVPXppQtu7RgyAyZar9jHQ8iKys5NVBLS2WFdbPXAnxs4DU0Tjc-eJIk1Lwdtt6d3SXhnf2cjZpnVXB8XLNYCcrkQGhK_n-2OJseVZkJXUF71yP60_QS15gdBGs/s2048/IMG_3180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVr-YLCSLMT6uudXhDBVPXppQtu7RgyAyZar9jHQ8iKys5NVBLS2WFdbPXAnxs4DU0Tjc-eJIk1Lwdtt6d3SXhnf2cjZpnVXB8XLNYCcrkQGhK_n-2OJseVZkJXUF71yP60_QS15gdBGs/s320/IMG_3180.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">Samples of Alex's Origami<br /></h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMD2rPmKXxBE9jJKg7PX0nOz9EVbaRThhQjYgkyUkjYt1czvRmrr2pPcnQp41gLlXrei30JdCjU2lLSggjln2zgAPOEEO63BBCBfTUf-ZeRxsolhqhFZt01jWAKnd-CZf7Rm_SdD9_JE/s2048/IMG_3182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMD2rPmKXxBE9jJKg7PX0nOz9EVbaRThhQjYgkyUkjYt1czvRmrr2pPcnQp41gLlXrei30JdCjU2lLSggjln2zgAPOEEO63BBCBfTUf-ZeRxsolhqhFZt01jWAKnd-CZf7Rm_SdD9_JE/s320/IMG_3182.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj95sm7BSQuGXZ-LYAlnYzgl3tZTqJzJIfY4cyqqdSsp0MDZ5BuDhQr91h8vkBniCC2fw8J12Vx5MjU8kLJ6O4XOH24_fNrr8lBarpdZ4opqmCTiM4ZmmsBARFogODKigXQddAsW_IH8zQ/s2048/IMG_3329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj95sm7BSQuGXZ-LYAlnYzgl3tZTqJzJIfY4cyqqdSsp0MDZ5BuDhQr91h8vkBniCC2fw8J12Vx5MjU8kLJ6O4XOH24_fNrr8lBarpdZ4opqmCTiM4ZmmsBARFogODKigXQddAsW_IH8zQ/s320/IMG_3329.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7PtKe4UQMMzvAfIhshePJqJMeTmBWOEmVOiFa3sCHtYjt2-qUsEujN5fdknNUqdtv-46L3i8ixoYwC832oaJqrL8zEl6qgeORvpjFCtOmlF88PHPAeueex64OBqhgZF1AUPYlzFefcUY/s2048/IMG_3335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7PtKe4UQMMzvAfIhshePJqJMeTmBWOEmVOiFa3sCHtYjt2-qUsEujN5fdknNUqdtv-46L3i8ixoYwC832oaJqrL8zEl6qgeORvpjFCtOmlF88PHPAeueex64OBqhgZF1AUPYlzFefcUY/s320/IMG_3335.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmN_fX4vGONFolnUtonA3zFCuF2qVvBgQLB7uowAmloax4-6qKYS4df2lg00ryuqdJNuhNLEEVduZ2UrExeJzv5liojFhtu6IXm5-Qbq_bUZ_YUduk1q5ZWnDoRz06VCPq7Xyq591fsU/s2048/IMG_3510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWmN_fX4vGONFolnUtonA3zFCuF2qVvBgQLB7uowAmloax4-6qKYS4df2lg00ryuqdJNuhNLEEVduZ2UrExeJzv5liojFhtu6IXm5-Qbq_bUZ_YUduk1q5ZWnDoRz06VCPq7Xyq591fsU/s320/IMG_3510.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-53296722088723858782015-02-07T13:46:00.001-08:002015-02-07T13:46:45.698-08:00Christmas 2013Yes, the Wandering Woodfords have moved again, this time to Between,
Georgia. Want directions to our new home? Going Northwest on Highway 78, turn
left at the Between Grocery. If you see Ho Hum Hollow Road, you’ve gone too
far. The roads have weird names over here: “Youth Monroe Road,” “New Hope
Church Road,” “Tipperary Circle,” “Bo Boss Road.”
<br />
<br />
Between, GA. Population three
hundred. It is half way <i>between</i>
Atlanta and Athens. Apparently, the Lord wants us to continue our
cross-cultural experiences of “Southern Living.” We have a lot of room and
would love for you to come for a visit next time you are headed to Atlanta.
Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-58906195479835957332015-02-07T13:41:00.002-08:002015-02-07T13:41:32.334-08:00Christmas 2011: Living in the Deep South is DIFFER'NT, ya'llSavannah, GA.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
We’ve moved to a foreign country. Trees. Trees. And More
Trees. In the West, you can see for miles and miles. For example, you can see
the Stratosphere on the Las Vegas Strip from St. George, Utah. Here, you can’t
see more than ten feet in any direction. Additionally, the streets aren’t
straight, they twist and bend and curve back around on themselves and they
change names mid-course. No purple mountain majesties immovably point East. Linus-like
I drag a ragged map everywhere I go—even to bed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
They tawk fore-ruhn. One morning we stopped at a fast food restaurant.
A muscular black man walked away from the door of the restaurant toward a lone
car. I questioned him when it would open. He said, “Potabeenia-yn.” Huh? We
were five minutes down the road before I teased: “Supposed to be nine,” out of
his single word response. We’ve met a few people that we flat can’t understand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
The cuisine is also foreign. I attended my first ever “fish
fry” in our church parking lot. Four large kettles of oil perched on low-sitting
burners in the parking lot, each nursed by a church member dropping in breaded
fish and spoonfuls of batter to make hush puppies. (They will hush your puppies
right up, because they’ll give them cardiac arrest!) I thought fried food went
out of style in the 1980’s ... I asked about organic apples at the grocery; the
produce manager explained that they don’t carry organic because, “You can’t get
these country people to eat that stuff.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
We shop at the “Piggly Wiggly.” (Now, if that name don’t
make you laugh ...) We ate boiled, I mean “ba-oiled” peanuts. Alex’s
kindergarten concert sang “Jingle Ba-yells” and Santa asked Rudolf to “gaiyde
his slei-ay tu-nait.” If you’re proper, then you always respond with “Yes,
ma’am” and “Thankyouma’am.” Corey goes crazy when Alex responds to him with,
“Yes, sir.” <o:p></o:p></div>
Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-51331797357628447062015-02-07T13:37:00.000-08:002015-02-07T13:37:27.374-08:00Christmas 2010Funny things the kids said or did this year:<br />
<br />
On TV, they were comparing the
popularity of the Democratic, Republican and Tea Parties. Alex says, “Poppan (grandpa)
needs to be in the Coffee Party.”<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
Alex has a friend named Mac. They were playing in the basement, and I
reminded them to stay in the play area before I left them alone. When I checked
on them later, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>they were in the food
storage area. Mac had flour all over his face, in his eye lashes, all over his
shirt and was choking and gagging on it. <br />
<br />
Flour was dusted all over the floor.
They had been eating FLOUR by the fist-full! Later, Mac came crying upstairs, “Alex hit me.” I questioned Alex, “Did
you hit Mac?” “Yes,” he admitted, “I hit him back.” They both got a time out.<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
Later, when Mac went home, I stopped in to let his mother know what the
boys had been up to. Mac confessed to his mother, “We got in trouble.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
“Oh,” she said, “What did you do?”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Mac answered, “I hit Alex last.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
We were out for a walk. Alex tripped and fell on
the sidewalk. After he got up he said, “I was testing my gravity skills.”<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
Alex flew a paper airplane across the chapel
during the Stake President’s talk. I’d given him paper to color and he sweet-talked
the lady next to us into folding it into a paper airplane. Next thing I know,
it is arching gracefully across the chapel. It slid to a stop next to the
Bishop’s wife. Of course, we sit in the second row from the front, so pretty
much everyone saw its maiden – and final – flight.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
We rode in a combine. What fun! Eli (19 months) kept
screaming, “MAAAMmower!” (lawnmower) and gesturing wildly every time he saw the
other tractor or any other piece of heavy equipment. Alex enjoyed it too.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-42550528441392072182014-11-15T07:40:00.000-08:002014-11-15T07:51:56.443-08:00Life Today: Better than Wandering for Forty Years<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CowsN_zfODEqSvrKGDCcNJlrjnDyRJMAgjtYIHxQYwcYqWstnwqyJhOmF9ICH48jgs0nwRPsAg5bfaENQba2X0U7Y7-picABXqU4v5SLZJHOL63idJLnaSYdpjXKPzNbEBbLzoE949A/s1600/Corey-cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CowsN_zfODEqSvrKGDCcNJlrjnDyRJMAgjtYIHxQYwcYqWstnwqyJhOmF9ICH48jgs0nwRPsAg5bfaENQba2X0U7Y7-picABXqU4v5SLZJHOL63idJLnaSYdpjXKPzNbEBbLzoE949A/s1600/Corey-cropped.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wandering in the wilderness?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We are studying the <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bible?lang=eng" target="_blank">Old Testament</a> in Sunday School. I've asked the class members to write a short essay about Moses and the Exodus. Ha, ha, ha. I doubt they will do it. I wouldn't, if I were them. I'd want to, of course. When I received the email, I'd think, "Wow, that is a nice idea. I'd like to do that." Then, the children would want lunch and the husband would wonder if there were any clean socks and the grocery shopping would need to be done ... and well, life would be far more urgent than a short essay about a prophet who lived long ago.<br />
<br />
Since I'm the teacher, and since I am the one who asked them to do this, I feel an obligation to share a few words--in spite of the pile of bills on my desk that needs attention. You know, "Lead by example" and all that nonsense.<br />
<br />
Here is the passage:<br />
<blockquote>
For ask now of the days that are past, which were before thee, since the day that God created man upon the earth, and ask from the one side of heaven unto the other, whether there hath been any such thing as this great thing is, or hath been heard like it?
Did ever people hear the voice of God speaking out of the midst of the fire, as thou hast heard, and live?
Or hath God assayed to go and take him a nation from the midst of another nation, by temptations, by signs, and by wonders, and by war, and by a mighty hand, and by a stretched out arm, and by great terrors, according to all that the Lord your God did for you in Egypt before your eyes?
Unto thee it was shewed, that thou mightest know that the Lord he is God; there is none else beside him. <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/ot/deut/4.32-35?lang=eng#31" target="_blank">Deuteronomy 4:32-35</a>
</blockquote>
Moses is declaring that there had never been a greater time in the history of mankind. Here is the first set of questions I asked:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Would you like to have lived during that time? </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">For example, would you
like to have participated in crossing the Red Sea and seeing the armies of
Pharaoh drown? </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Or would you like to have heard the voice of the God speaking
out of the midst of the fire? </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Would you like to have tasted manna?</span></li>
</ul>
Here are my answers: no, maybe, yes, no.<br />
<br />
Yes, I definitely would want to have heard the voice of God speaking out of the midst of the fire. That sounds pretty amazing. And, yes, I would have loved to <strong>see</strong> the people crossing the Red Sea, and watch Pharoah's armies drown, but I don't think I would actually like to have participated in that. I mean, that would mean <strong>work</strong> on my part. Walking and walking and walking. You know that song about <a href="https://www.lds.org/music/library/childrens-songbook/pioneer-children-sang-as-they-walked?lang=eng" target="_blank">pioneer children</a> that walked and walked and walked and walked and walked ... I like to walk, but forty years? That sounds like a lifetime. (Oh, wait, that <em>is</em> a lifetime for me.)<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCj9lxdmg_qn8HFR4B0uoKu8j5tQZ_nPdQAQDo63kGvCaR33tB5-csga45vj7yiIrxyPA6hzzsXdqH8g63pzVj1Sh-xePBgKJ1qkfT0nD8gSFNNQMh2yDI8h_KdLW-nJWoeLSloJKxwI/s1600/plant-cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCj9lxdmg_qn8HFR4B0uoKu8j5tQZ_nPdQAQDo63kGvCaR33tB5-csga45vj7yiIrxyPA6hzzsXdqH8g63pzVj1Sh-xePBgKJ1qkfT0nD8gSFNNQMh2yDI8h_KdLW-nJWoeLSloJKxwI/s1600/plant-cropped.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What? No manna?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This week's lesson focuses on the writings of <a href="https://www.lds.org/manual/old-testament-gospel-doctrine-teachers-manual/lesson-42-i-will-write-it-in-their-hearts?lang=eng" target="_blank">Jeremiah</a>. He says that while the Exodus was <em>indeed</em> the greatest event in history, a greater time <em>will</em> happen in the future: the Gathering of Israel and the growth of the church. We are living during that time. So the question is:<br />
<ul>
<li>
How do I feel about being part of the greatest time in the history of the Earth?</li>
</ul>
Huh? What kind of question is that? I feel pretty mundane about it. It doesn't feel like the greatest time in the history of the Earth. Feels pretty normal, in fact. But, I really have no basis for comparison. It's not like I can say: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Gee, when I was living during the days of Adam, the Earth felt really fresh, everyone had a sense of wonder and excitement."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Or "Man, during the days of Enoch, DUDE those were the days! Talk about high home teaching stats. Everyone was doing it."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Or "Whew. The days of Joseph of the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Wow that was living. We had it good in those days."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Or, "Seeing Jesus at the wedding at Cana. Man, that was beautiful ceremony. That was before the Word of Wisdom, and wow, the wine he served ..." </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And "Now that I'm living during the days of the Gathering of Israel. I can see that all those previous eras pale in comparison." </blockquote>
<div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9cjF_UnSqcdoiwvuKdWddZMuflzLXJcbiivYDVrXg7Y-7P0iX_ju-Dzg4Prckv_uFigJdyCpqaqNwmMz-tOJvHPKG-bX-9ubeUnBGJ0XQyM64YXBiwSP4zygdfMUiu9DyD39p-IxhejA/s1600/Alex-croped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9cjF_UnSqcdoiwvuKdWddZMuflzLXJcbiivYDVrXg7Y-7P0iX_ju-Dzg4Prckv_uFigJdyCpqaqNwmMz-tOJvHPKG-bX-9ubeUnBGJ0XQyM64YXBiwSP4zygdfMUiu9DyD39p-IxhejA/s1600/Alex-croped.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the Red Sea ... but they walked and walked and walked</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
No, I can't say any of those things. I have no basis to compare today to any other era of history. I can't even say that I was living during the time of the creation of the state of Israel in 1948. These days seem normal to me because they are the only days that I've known. However, I can share a few events that excite me.<br />
<br />
I was blown away when the church announced the building of a temple in Hong Kong. Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! They announced the temple in 1992; it was complete by 1996. I knew that the UK's 100 year lease was about to end, and the sovereignty of Hong Kong would be transferred back to China. It meant that we'd have a temple in China! The lease expired in 1997; tad-da, Hello, <a href="https://www.lds.org/church/temples/hong-kong-china?lang=eng" target="_blank">Hong Kong, China Temple</a>. <br />
<br />
I was excited when I learned that the government of the German Democratic Republic (what we used to know as East Germany) <strong>asked</strong> the church if they would consider building <a href="https://www.lds.org/church/temples/freiberg-germany?lang=eng" target="_blank">a temple in East Germany</a>. It was the first temple built in a communist country. That is cool. It was completed in 1985. The wall fell just five years later. Coincidence? You decide.<br />
<br />
I am pleased that I was present during the General Relief Society meeting in 1995 when President Hinckley first read the <a href="https://www.lds.org/topics/family-proclamation" target="_blank">Proclamation on the Family</a>. "We ... solemnly proclaim that marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God." I did not know how polarizing that statement would become fifteen years later when the battle to redefine marriage heated up.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdRoXP61DFpG8Cg2BjFcUHjD2L_nLml8vqnElMHzGlukCdF8-doZw_E9B6yvjhyphenhyphenggBD1zq4cMTSDNFLbSK4JM2Y2XNgd_BVE5LBCLRwAwbL1qOg2tEFcc00E9V1GdJekZx-fFUNht4IQ/s1600/Eli-croped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdRoXP61DFpG8Cg2BjFcUHjD2L_nLml8vqnElMHzGlukCdF8-doZw_E9B6yvjhyphenhyphenggBD1zq4cMTSDNFLbSK4JM2Y2XNgd_BVE5LBCLRwAwbL1qOg2tEFcc00E9V1GdJekZx-fFUNht4IQ/s1600/Eli-croped.jpg" height="320" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing our own Red Sea</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I've been excited by the changes to the missionary program over the years. First, the emphasis on "raising the bar." Then the introduction of the <em>Preach My Gospel</em> book. Next, the changes in the youth curriculum and the lowering of the missionary age. Now, the new emphasis on <a href="https://www.lds.org/prophets-and-apostles/unto-all-the-world/to-sweep-the-earth-as-with-a-flood?lang=eng" target="_blank">spreading the Gospel through electronic means</a>. All of these have accelerated the gathering of Israel and the growth of the church. It is exhilarating.<br />
<br />
Many other events have amazed me over the years. However, I need to check if there are are any clean socks for tomorrow, and Corey noticed that we are almost out of milk, and the stack of bills on my desk is not getting shorter. In other words, the urgent tasks of daily life beckon, and I need to wrap up this essay. I look forward to discussing the growth of the church in class. I hope that a few of you will take time to ponder and jot down your thoughts before you come. (<em>And post them to your blogs, people</em>.)</div>
Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-29861275612693639672011-03-07T18:41:00.000-08:002011-03-07T19:19:49.437-08:00Ode to CrestonWe've lived in Creston for seven months. We didn't indend to make it such a short stay, but here we are, ready to move back West. It's been a whirl-wind adventure here. We had some lows, but we also had some great highs.<br /><br />We went to McDonalds tonight for dinner, we saw five people that we know. That's what is it is like to live in a small town.<br /><br />Thanks to Mrs. Weese, Mr. Blake, and Miss Jecceka for running a tight ship with lots of fun and many creative ideas.<br /><br />Thank you to Julie Lang for believing in my language learning ideas and helping launch my professional speaking career.<br /><br />Thanks to Mrs. Chubick, Miss Julie, and Miss Chris for sick days that gave me a chance to learn so much.<br /><br />Thank you Terry and Gail for teaching me that play is the work of children.<br /><br />Thank you Betty and Donna for helping me see all of the fabulous things happening around me and for being a turning point in my stay here. Also, thanks for laughing at my outrageous comments--you are very rewarding.<br /><br />Thanks to all of the capable women who cleaned my house, cared for my children and watched over me when I was sick.<br /><br />Thanks to Lori--my fellow Skinner scorpion--for walking my path ahead of me and saying, "It gets better, it really does."<br /><br />Thank you Lenox Branch for loving my children and being so thrilled about our arrival.<br /><br />Thanks to Carly Roberts and Jessica Camp for your consistent service with me in the nursery.<br /><br />Thank you, Corey for never giving up.<br /><br />Thank you, God, for the beautiful night sky that is so clearly visible from my back porch, the geese and deer that feed in the field behind the path. (We'll never see that in Las Vegas.)<br /><br />Thank you to the Cihaks who braved the worst storm of the year to help our family. Also thank you for the combine ride--definitely one of the highlights of our time here.<br /><br />Thanks Brother Lui for the facsinating explantion of how to modify plant cells.<br /><br />Thanks to our family who traveled to this out-of-the-way spot to visit us.<br /><br />Thank you Bryan Zachary for the personalized tour of the village.<br /><br />Thank you Dennis Carter for being a great friend, an honorable person, and for not selling us a house.<br /><br />Our lives have been richly blessed in the short time that we've been here. So many people have reached out to us in kindness and have welcomed us into their hearts. Thank you to all of you who have been a part of our experience.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-68980600403465155262011-01-31T18:50:00.001-08:002011-01-31T19:02:30.718-08:00What do you want to be when you grow up?The children of South East Iowa speak up. The newspaper published the aspirations of Creston and surrounding communities. Here are the best ones:<br /><br />Hunter would like to be a monter truck driver when he grows up.<br />Cody would like to be Spiderman when he grows up.<br />Cody would like to be a fireman and work with Tom on the garbage truck when he grows up.<br />Samson would like to be a ninja and a plumber when he grows up.<br />Seth would like to be happy and healthy and wants to be a wrestling coach when he grows up.<br />Avery would like to be a superhero when he grows up.<br />Dylan would like to be a bowldozier operator when he grows up.<br />Benjamin would like to be the owner of a living creature restaurant when he grows up.<br />Marshall would like to be a a plain old Marshall when he grows up.<br />Jase would like to be a ninja cop when he grows up.<br />Conner would like to be a guard or something safe when he grows up.<br />Myla would like to be a princess and a bank worker when she grows up.<br />Nathaniel would like to be a cop like his Grandpa Ray and a biker like his Grandpa Chuck when he grows up.<br />Tiffany would like to be happy when she grows up.<br />Samantha would like to be a lion tamer when she grows up.<br />Emma would like to be a dentist and a circus actress when she grows up.<br />Alexis would like to be a fashion designer in Paris when she grows up.<br />Bryce would like to be on the SWAT team when he grows up.<br />Zailand would like to be a sumo wrestler when he grows up.<br />Brenna would like to be a biker chick when she grows up.<br /><br />And the two best ones of all:<br /><br />Samuel would like to be a ninja and a farmer when he grows up.<br />Logan would like to work at Walmart on register 6 when he grows up.<br /><br />There you go. Some high and some low aspirations from today's youth.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-29502735852143932442009-12-15T12:43:00.000-08:002010-01-03T19:57:44.849-08:00Christmas 2009Last year, I thought that laundry stories had <em>dried up</em>. Imagine my delight when I stumbled on a new story last month. As I've mentioned, I have a front-loading washer. I may or may not have mentioned that my house has many petite spaces: the rooms are small, the laundry room is small, the shower stall is small. You get the idea. To use space efficiently, I have my drier (Bertha) stacked on top of the washer (Bessie). On top of that I store the laundry basket and the baby bathtub. <br /><br />Well, that ol' Bessie gets real excited during the spin cycle. She gets to spinnin' and a shakin' her heart out. And Bertha, she loves it too. She starts a dancin' and a rockin' back and forth. Generally, no harm comes from their antics, just an excited thump-a-thump sound as they dance. Occasionally, however, I hear a loud crash-bang-boom, and upon investigation, I find that the laundry basket has pitched headlong off the top. No harm done since it is hard plastic.<br /><br />Imagine my surprise one morning when I heard an especially loud crash while Bertha and Bessie were dancing. I raced to the laundry room to investigate. Apparently, the baby bath tub on top of Bertha started rocking back and forth enough that it shoved the top shelf next too the drier right off of its moorings. The shelf, along with all of its contents crashed to the floor. This shelf is the highest and most inaccessible place in our house. The place least likely for our children to be able to access, so it is the place where we keep our most dangerous substances, our medications, heavy-duty cleaners, a few garden substances.<br /><br />As the accident occurred in the middle of breakfast, I took a quick look around and decided that clean up could wait until I got the baby down for his morning nap. I closed the laundry door with its child safety latch so that no child poisonings would occur. About ten minutes later, I noticed a strong chemical odor coming from the laundry room. I investigated, and could see nothing that appeared spilled, so I return to our breakfast.<br /><br />The smell continued to grow, and I made a second investigation. I found a bottle of pesticide nestled upside down in a pair of black dry-clean-only slacks in my "hand wash/special care" laundry basket. It didn't appear to have leaked, but just to be sure, I removed it and righted it.<br /><br />Once the baby was aslep, I went to set everything right-side up in the laundry room. The box with all medicine cabinet medications had of course flipped upside down and all the contents were scattered. Luckily, none of the containers broke or spilled their contents—-not even the eucalyptus oil which has leaked in the past. (Very strong smelling.) A can of granular fertilizer spilled, sprinkling white grains all over, but that was easily swept up. The only problem was this overpowering chemical smell, a petroleum-like smell. A close inspection of the aforementioned pesticide revealed that it <em>had</em> spilled, but the black color of the slacks as well as my expensive black swimsuit into which it had landed did not show any visible signs.<br /><br />In spite of my reluctance, since these were both special care washing items, I tossed them both into the washer, set it to its gentlest setting and washed them. Imagine my horror 45 minutes later when they still smelled pungently of the stuff <strong>AND</strong> my washer reeked of it too. An internet search revealed that clothing that has been soaked in pesticide is better thrown away than washed in the washer. (Since the gagging odor had already been transferred to poor ol Bessie, I took the next bit of advice.) It suggested washing the washer on it hottest setting with an empty load. I ran Bessie on hot six times that day, with little impact on the reek in my washer. I washed those clothes several more times, and finally hung them outside to dry in the sun. <br /><br />I called the national pesticide hotline. Which is answered by live people, not by an interactive voice response: (I can just imagine what I might say) "Press one if your washing machine is contaminated with pesticide. Press two if your dry-clean only clothes are saturated with petroleum distillates. Press three if you'd like to leave a message for one of our representatives to call you back within 30 days." <br /><br />With the EPA reg number, they gave me the number for the manufacturer. I called the manufacturer; their phone is answered by an answering machine: "If you know the extension of the person you are trying to reach, dial it now, otherwise, press zero to leave a message and we will call you back tomorrow." Yeah, Right! I'm still waiting. My mom was able to contact someone at the manufacturing company via email, and his sig line included a phone number. I called him. He lives in Texas, <br /><br />Me: "Hello, I spilled your pesticide all over my clothes and then washed them in the washing machine, now my washer reeks of petroleum distillates."<br /><br />Jeff Luedke: "The pehstaciide is all gawn nahw, its jus' the soahlvent that ya' smehll in there noahw."<br /><br />"I've seeyn thaht soahlvent; I've gotten it awn my skin. It wan't hurt ya'."<br /><br />"Ma'am, if ya' doan't liahke that smell, just clowse the lauuhndry roohm dooahr."<br /><br />"Put a box of baeeykin' sowda in theare and leave it for a coupla' daeys. Then change it ahout."<br /><br />"Put the clothes owutside ta' driiy. UV raihys will tahke care of thaht faster than anything."<br /><br />Me: "Yeah, but I can't put my washer outside."<br /><br />Jeff: "Yeah, thaht's true. Thaht smell will goaw awaay eventually."<br /><br />Around and around we went. He was real pleasant. But not particularly helpful. I tried his baking soda suggestion. I set a box of it in the washer over night. All I ended up with was a damp box of soda.<br /><br />I was reluctant to wash any clothes in that washer, thus spreading the contamination farther and farther. Instead, I put a couple of old towels through and washed them about five times, on hot with lots of soap. Eventually, the soap smell was slightly stronger than the solvent smell. I hung them outside to dry—to protect Bertha from contamination. The dried towels did not smell like solvent. By now, several days had passed, laundry was staking up in my laundry room, threatening to fill the small space entirely. Everyone was out of clean underwear, I had to take action. I ran a test load, washing jeans first. They seemed to come out ok, so I filled the washer with our dainties. They also survived. I guess Jeff was right when he said, "Thaht smell will goaw awaay eventually."<br /><br />So, the moral of the story: "Follow the lead of the Baptists: don't allow your washing machine to dance. It can lead to major chemical spills and other unfortunate accidents."Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-81479266094142663382009-11-29T08:25:00.001-08:002010-01-03T19:57:18.048-08:00Christmas 2008For years, our washing machine provided the opener for this annual letter. As loud as a jumbo jet, the antiquated old doll gave us annual entertainment. A few years ago, I replaced her with a top-o-the-line front loader, and laundry stories, well, <em>dried up</em>. This new gal is ... BORING. I feared that I'd <em>wrung out</em> all of the amusing anecdotes that I could. The laundry was <em>all washed up</em> for holiday openers.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-7491999824051590742009-11-29T08:24:00.005-08:002009-11-29T08:24:58.730-08:00Christmas 2007It has been another boring year in the washing machine department. The washer performs its functions as expected. Even the laundry is under control. I do about 15 loads of laundry each month, which is practically nothing compared to the Duggar family who average 200 loads. I heard about them on the news when they added baby number 17 to their family!Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-56965675249391036342009-11-29T08:24:00.003-08:002009-12-15T19:43:53.389-08:00Christmas 2006For years, I owned a washer with a colorful personality, and her antics traditionally introduced my holiday letters. with the purchase of a front loading jobbie, I thought those frivolities were all washed up. However, I recently stumbled on <em>The Laundry Theory of Relativity</em>, which is that each additional person increases the laundry by three. When Corey and I married, I naively assumed that the addition of one person would mean twice as much laundry. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there was four times as much laundry. I concluded that it was due to the fact that Corey was larger than me. One of his shirts equals three of mine in sheer real estate. Ha. When Alex was born, I naively assumed that since he is small he would increase the laundry load by a small factor. It turns out no diaper effectively contains baby mustard, and his emissions produce abundant laundry.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-42675616868176259682009-11-29T08:24:00.001-08:002009-11-29T08:24:25.550-08:00Christmas 2005No washing machine stories this year. Only this comment about the laundry:<br /><br />Some Agreements are made to be broken. For example, my parents have an unspoken Agreement that only women wash clothes. I was skeptical that men even knew how to wash clothes and watched him closely the first few times he did it. He does it just fine … now about folding laundry….Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-10677820296459657952009-11-29T08:23:00.005-08:002009-11-29T08:23:59.824-08:00Christmas 2004Another year has come and gone, and so has another large appliance. As you know, our oft discussed propeller-imitating mashing machine left our home last year. Her replacement, a quiet, efficient, and gentle front-loading washer presents quite a problem as I pen this letter. Without the cantankerous old girl, I’m at quite a loss for a staid salutation. Indeed, I could speak of her mismatched partner—the dryer. Faithful to the end, this machine dried quietly and efficiently all her days—but that makes for a very boring story. The dryer departed our home this year to make way for a match to last year’s front loading washer. Both have performed their duties in an excellent manner (for which I am grateful) but that makes for a dull Christmas greeting. We pray that 2005 will grace us with a significantly entertaining equally banal topic.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-54524256312420379262009-11-29T08:23:00.003-08:002009-11-29T08:23:43.050-08:00Christmas 2003I’m sure you all are wondering about how the washing machine has fared over the past year. Unfortunately, the dear old gal saw her last spin cycle in our home this year. Yes, in May, I purchased a new fandangled front loading jobby. My, oh my! is it a honey, though. Not only is it 1000 times quieter, it uses less water, washes more clothes, and is a kinder gentler machine. We can now wash clothes all night without having the neighbors call the police to report a public disturbance.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-69967765438920270922009-11-29T08:23:00.001-08:002009-11-29T08:23:28.564-08:00Christmas 2002I realized that I did not send a Christmas letter last year due to a computer melt down that took about three months to resolve. So, sorry. Because of that, I imagine that you are on pins and needles wondering about how the washing machine has faired over the last two years. I think it has was developed anger management issues because it has gradually improved its ability to function with an ever increasingly high-decibel-spin-cycle: (yell the following quickly, and repeatedly to get an idea) “Clanck-clanck-clanck-clank-clank-ching-ping-ching.” Closing the laundry room door dampens the cacophony, but a jumbo jet take-off can hardly compete. Gratefully, it cleans the clothes.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-72265034696218695782009-11-29T08:22:00.003-08:002009-12-15T19:36:37.622-08:00Christmas 2000I imagine that you are awaiting an update on the state of our washer and dryer. As you recall, last year I experienced a pang of concern over the possibility that Christi and I would move to separate places and that we would have to divide the mismatched pair. Fortune smiled on us and we both moved to Utah and continued to room together. The odd-couple pair was enabled to remain together for another year. Fortune continues to be our friend as both the washer and dryer continued to function. The dryer has begun to make a faint grinding sound, and the washer continues to sound somewhat like a helicopter preparing for take-off, but if we shut the louvered door to the laundry closet, we hardly hear them. OK, so techinically, they are still quite loud, but we pretend that the laundry closet is made of sound dampening materials.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-62570333493372825642009-11-29T08:22:00.001-08:002009-11-29T08:22:29.848-08:00Christmas 1999In March, I contracted Christi's illness: the whimsical idea to move entered my mind I brushed it off as a passing fancy, took two metaphorical aspirins and resolved to wake up in the morning cured. The idea did not leave me, and after pondering it properly, I decided that I would move as soon as the school year ended. After telling Christi, she decided that her time had finally come and that she too would move. Like pilgrims on a <em>hajj</em> to Mecca, we both wanted to move to Utah. I arrived in my big orange U-haul in June; she followed in her bigger orange U-haul in July. Thus, we solved our problem about what to do with our communal property (the washer and dryer). See, it would have been a real dilemma: Do we split the pair up? Who gets the locomotive-imitating washing machine? Who gets the faithful and true dryer? Do we sell them and split the "profit?" Since we continued to room together, we could effectively postpone our decision perhaps indefinitely.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-45535575042665187122009-11-29T08:21:00.002-08:002009-12-15T19:32:56.702-08:00Christmas 1998My Christmas letter this year begins were last year's left off. I realize that you have been on pins and needles to know the <em>Continuing Saga of the Washing Machine</em>. As you recall, last year's big event was the purchase of our second used washer. As the year drew to a close, that antiquarian creature was sounding mildly like a locomotive. Another year has passed and miraculously, our locomotive continues to wash. The mild inconvenience of it is that we can only wash one pair of jeans or one towel at a time, or else the spin cycle does not work. Needless to say, doing laundry was much faster when, as a child living in the jungle of the Solomons, I helped my mother wash clothes in the river by beating them against a rock. Ah ... modern conveniences.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8513862293148788310.post-76783563589061861122009-11-29T08:21:00.001-08:002009-11-29T08:21:53.921-08:00Christmas 1997The year started off with the arrival of a large object at our house. It was necessitated by the sudden and untimely demise of our washing machine. Somehow, a locomotive took up residence in the motor of this antiquarian creature. For the last few weeks of its life, it sputtered and chugged, then finally gave up the ghost and washed no more. Our friend, Eric, the ex-washing machine repairman said the transmission was to blame. Would that be a stick shift or an automatic? I was the lucky roommate chosen to purchase another machine. I found on in the backyard of another washing machine repairman. This one had been entirely rebuilt, he claimed. I saw his "parts department:" the carcasses of 10-15 washing machines that littered his backyard. He wisely advised me to remove and save the working parts of our dead washing machine. Thus it is, that we have begun the American tradition of building our own junk collection. This collection of used lawn mowers, partially functioning bicycles, boxes and other treasures we keep (just in case we need them) in our garage, just like any good American family should. Interestingly, the rebuilt machine is making sounds slightly reminiscent of a locomotive.Lesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07860759243646962396noreply@blogger.com0