Car talk

01 February 2010

...And though dogs rush to bury their owner's radios in the backyard when they hear it: this [could have been] National Public Radio.

Click: Hello, you're on Car Talk!
Me: Ahh- yeah, hey, I just want to say I love your show, guys-- I've been listening since I was three,
Clack: Ah, I see they're startin' to brain wash 'em early these days!
Click: What can we do for ya?
Me: Well, my family has this van--
Click: Ah! the family van!
Clack: Do you remember driving around our old woody?
Click: Remember?! I still have nightmares about that old jallopy-- hunkachah, hunkachah, hunkachah!
Me: Yeah, that's the problem.
Click: You have nightmares about the family van?
Me: No the Hunkachahs-- our van makes this horrible racket like we've got the whole scrap yard INSIDE our van.
Clack: As opposed to the whole scrap yard that IS your van?
Me: Exactly.
Click: Now, what sort of van are we talking about-- have you got one a' those suped-up Asto Vans on hydraulics?
Clack: Are you kidding me? She's been listening to NPR since the cradle! I bet she drives a Volvo.
Me: A Dodge Ram, actually, and I'm not sure what year, '95, '96? but it's older then half the kids. And it's a 12-passenger.
Click: You COULD have the whole scrap yard inside! [chuckles]
Clack: You MIGHT! Ever thought about poking around back there to see? [cracks up]
Click: No but seriously [calming himself a little], what sort of trouble is it having?
Me: Well, besides the creaking and clanking of all the loose nuts and bolts, and the hideous paint that is slowly giving way to rust, it sounds like a time bomb to drive it. When you accelerate it sort of sounds like, well first it sounds like an airplane taking off--
Click: Ah, the typical 747 Syndrome,
Me: --and then, you know when you tape a business card to the fork of your bike so it makes that flip, flip, flip, flip against the spokes? That's what it sounds like when you really give it gas.
Click: Let me get this strait- you drive your kids around in an enormous scrap heap that sounds like a 747 with business cards in its spokes?
Clack: That's a lot of business cards. [chuckles]
Me: Yeah, except they're not my kids-- I'm the kid
Clack: And your parents are making you do the car repairs?
Me: Repairs? This van is beyond repair! I need your help convincing my parents to get rid of the thing!
Click: Mutiny! [chuckling again]
Clack: Well for starters, call the local scrap heap and found out how much they'll take for a ton and a half of scrap metal!
Click: You're going to assist this uprising?
Clack: Of course! It's the family van! Kid, you should sell it on e-bay! [chuckling harder]
Click: Hah Hah! Yeah, call it a vintage collectible!
Clack: Or tape cardboard wings to it and see if the Smithsonian wants it! [snorts]
Click: Or tape cardboard wings to it and sell it on e-bay! [cracks up]
Me: I don't know if my mom will go for the fake airplane on e-bay plan.
Click: I know! Shuttle the whole soccer team back and forth until you track enough mud in to make a giant planter! Get some flowers growing in there or somethin' and park it on your front lawn! You could get those crawling vines to grow out the windows! [cracks up again]
Clack: And all the rusted through parts will be great for aeration!
Click: Kid, what you've got to do is sit your parents down and just tell it like it is.
Clack: [chuckling] Yeah! 'Mom, Dad, our car sounds like a 747-business-card machine.'
Click: Honesty is always the best policy.
Clack: Let us know how it goes!
Click: Yeah, and I'll be keeping my eyes open for that airplane on e-bay! [chuckling]
Me: Uh, yeah. Thanks guys.
Click: Ah, Poor kid!
Clack: Yeah, honesty is the best policy, except for that one time when you...

Lunch date

22 October 2009

I invited myself over for lunch because I had to return Grams' camping things, and because I had missed cousin dinner, and because I love lunch dates.

In college I eat out of tupperware, generally, and sometimes strait out of the can. Grams severs milk out of a glass pitcher, and she had set the little deal table with beautiful green place settings and silverware that matched.

I offered to bring a bell pepper- the only fresh food I could find. Grams chopped it up and served it with her homemade bean and ham soup, homemade bread, homecanned bread-and-butter pickles from the neighbors, grapes from her back yard and cookies one of the grandkids had brought by.

And she wouldn't even let me do my dishes afterward, but insisted rather than I come outside to enjoy the beautiful sunshine and her freshly planted daisies.

I can't wait to be grownup like Grams.

Simple joys

01 October 2009

1. I get sick with the flu every year around Christmas time so I am now classically conditioned to get the same excitement and anticipation from a fever and chills and that slimy youreabouttothrowup feeling as I get from the smell of gingerbread and Christmas candy (think Pavlov's dogs crossed with the King Singer's Christmas Album). I am always a happy feverish kid.

2. On a different note: I love the radio scan function because I never like what's playing on the radio, but I don't like driving in silence, so instead of listening to every lame song for 5 seconds and then changing the station, the radio does it automatically for me.

3. On the same note: At 5:00 pm, every 3rd station in Utah valley is playing Taylor Swift.

Campsite 22: part ii

21 August 2009

Daddy brought the the older kids up after dinner. Something about a photo shoot and work in the physics lab had kept Christian and Lolly at home in the morning, and Isaac and Dad were delayed, in Texas I think. The boys needed little encouragement to stoke the low fire, and as the little ones pulled on pajamas and sleeping bags, we huddled closer to the crackling sticks and branches and sang along with my guitar:

Well, I'm in love with a big blue frog
And a big blue frog loves me.
It's not as bad as it may seem
He's got glasses and he's six-foot-three.

Ghost stories are for girl's camp, so we related our real-life adventures; Isaac tried to whisper as he dramatized snorkeling with sharks, and the rest of us tried, only half-heartedly, not to interrupt with our own summer exploits.

Well I'm not worried about our kids
I think they'll turn out neat,
They'll be good lookers 'cause they've got my face
And good swimmers 'cause they've got his feet.

Chorus
Well, I'm in love with a big blue frog
And a big blue frog loves me.
It's not as bad as it may seem
He's got rhythm and a PhD.

Mom and Dad went to bed before the fire had crumbled to ashes, but we kept right on laughing, singing, joking and alternately coughing on the thin smoke that still streamed from our fire pit.

Well I know we can make things work
He's got a good family since
His mother was a frog from Philadelphia
His daddy an enchanted prince.

Chorus again!

Too many s'mores raised our collective blood sugar to a dangerously giggly level, and we could hear Tommy complaining from his tent compartment, "Stop laughing!! You keep waking me up!"

This unfortunately was made only the more hilarious my parent's stifled snickers; apparently we were keeping everyone awake.

The neighbors are against it and it's clear to me,
And I'm sure it's clear to you:
The value on their property will go right down
If the neighbors next door are blue.

Another Rousing Chorus!

When it got too dark to even see eachother's laughing faces we finally pulled off our tennis shoes on the welcome tarp and climbed into our 10-man tent. Lolly and I tried to crawl over half-sleeping Mariah while the boys made shadow plays on the walls.

Camping is not particularly comfortable, but what could be more comfortable than piling with your sibling in a heap of sleeping bags, in the middle of your family tent, in the middle of the lovely mountains?

Well I'm in love with a big blue frog
A big blue frog loves me
I've got it tattooed on my arm--
It says P-H-R-O-G,
that's frog to me
P H R O G!

Car games

29 December 2008

I am, honestly, amazed by the ingenuity my family has exhibited over the past few days. For example: driving home from Sandy with Laurel and Kate, Kate-ey introduced me to a new game called "Days of the Week". It goes something like this:

To the tune of The Adam's Family

Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)
Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)
Days of the week, days of the week,
Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)

There's Monday and there's Tuesday
Wednesday and there's Thursday
Friday and there's Saturday
And then come Su-unday.

Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)
Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)
Days of the week, days of the week,
Days of the week! (*snap* *snap*)

At this point it is someone else's turn to pick a topic:

Months of the year (*snap* *snap*)
or
Types of weather (*snap* *snap)
or
Co-on-tinents (*snap* *snap*)

Bones of the arm provides an interesting challenge, being rather short, States of the Union is difficult, but possible, capitals of Europe is more of a challenge, mainly because I only know half of them. My favorite, by far, is Olympic Events (*snap* *snap*), Olympic Events (*snap* *snap*), Olympic Events, Olympic Events, Olympic Events (*snap* *snap*): There's Skating and there's Down Hill, and the skeleton, etc...

Car rides are never dull with these kids.

Of holly berries and celebrations

26 December 2008

December 25th is Christmas because of the traditions that have made it so for hundreds of years: St. Nicholas with his red robe and gifts, the manger scene with kneeling shepherds and adoring angels, Christmas carolers out in the snow, and a Yule log in the fireplace.

My family celebrates with variations on the theme beginning with yards of popcorn-cranberry strings and four days of caroling to everyone we know in the valley. On Christmas Eve, after clam chowder dinner, we produce a spectacular Christmas pageant (complete with all the regulars plus King Herod, four or five sheep, a chorus of angels and usually a couple of Marys). We kids give the parents a talent show (the price we pay for our years of music lessons) and then everyone takes turns opening their new Christmas pajamas.

The kids pile into one (often small) bedroom to watch movies and wait for Santa to visit. At the appointed hour (always hours and hours before I'd like to be awake) Mom and Dad come in for Jesus' birthday party. We sing Happy Birthday and eat cake while we discuss our new-year's-resolutionesque presents to Jesus and decide on new gifts to give him in the coming year.

Then we open presents. The aforementioned traditions were established, for the most part, by our dear loving parents and are based on decades of their own family traditions. So we the children have decided to create a few traditions of our own.

The electronic whoopie cushion was first given to me by my brother Isaac, and has since been regifted to various members of the family. It is a delicate matter as to who will next receive the revered EWC because they must be old enough to know better than to open the box and use it but young enough to recognize the importance of passing on the tradition. Thus far, my parents have never been gifted the EWC; we are not sure if they qualify in either respect.

Isaac introduced the tradition of giving alternatives to current technologies: A few years ago, he gave me a real-genuine-imitation cell phone which doubled, for a week or two, as an edible banana. It came with instructions on convincing your friends that it was, in fact, a real cell phone. This year he gave me an i-pod (see fig. 1).

I'm not really sure how the tradition of movie-marathons developed but this year we carried it on with the Mission:Impossible trilogy beginning at 11:30 pm Christmas Night and culminating in six children sleeping through hours of explosions and intrigue.

I've decided we should make a tradition of sleeping all day on the 26th.

Where's my shovel?

22 December 2008

Usually dinner is a relatively calm affair at home. Excepting only that time Mom started a food fight with her cantaloupe. Or when Isaac and I were laughing so hard during the blessing on the food that we shook the whole table. Or every time someone leaves the table for a minute and we hide their food in the dishwasher.

Ok, it's hardly pastoral, but I think this evening was an all-time high with a resurgence of our favorite Dinner Table Telephone.

Originally, this game began with my Dad, years and years ago, "Houston we have a problem".... which got to me and became (somewhere along the way) "You stink. We have a problem."

Tonight Kate began with: A Scissor-Brained Haircut... which became: A Disappearing Haircut ("Oh, is that what your father has?" Yes, Mom.)

Mom: An inconvenient proposal... Dad: Something got scrambled .... Me: I want a larger tankard?

Laurel: I want a purple teddy bear... It's a big purple moo-pee. [come now. what?]

Jared: Aliens eat pickles by the toaster... [actually, that one stayed pretty consistent.]

Mom: Isaac's fingers give me the willies.... Dad's fingers are little Willys.

Tommy: Why did the polar bear cross the road?... To get to the other side.

Dad: All things excellent are as rare as they are difficult to obtain... LDS democrats are rare and amazing...

Kate: You are all nincompoops... Kshuh Kshuh Kshuh pixy poop. To which my dad replied, "Well, I'd rather have the pixies; I don't know what a Nincom is-- at least I know what size of shovel I need."

By this time I was laughing so hard I could not, in fact, see through the tears that streamed down my face, but I wiped them away long enough to see my mother attempting to hide her own laughter.

Ah, dinner time at the Hales' home.

I do

10 October 2008

I've got this thing for history. It landed me in a dead-end major which I loved intensely, but which provided me with minimal marketable skills. As my ANES 101 class reminded me weekly, you have two options as an Ancient Near Eastern Historian: museum curator ("And here we have the bronze beard of the late Amenhotep II, 7th Pharaoh of the 18th dynasty of Egypt") or translator of obscure languages ("ראיתי אש ירדת מהשמים ונפלת אירושלם"*). By-the-bye, The Next Indiana Jones is no longer a viable/marketable option.

So this year, I picked a new major with a few more post-grad options, but history still pulls at my heartstrings.

I was just reading about Roman marriages- here in Happy Valley I get my fill of the Mormon variety, but the Roman wedding ceremonies were different in a beautiful and exotic way.

The bride wore saffron- I'd like to do my wedding in saffron maybe with burgundy?- and around her waist she knotted a braided rope to represent fidelity. The ceremony began at the bride's home, where her parents gave her away and the bride and groom exchanged their vows:

"Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia."
Where you are Gaius, there I am Gaia.
Where you are Father, I am Mother.

"Ubi to Gaia, ego Gaius"
Where you are Gaia, there I am Gaius.
Where you are Mother, I am Father.

Gaia, the Mother Goddess, the Earth, is the first goddess of fertility; as these young couples took eachother's hands in covenant, they promised to be parents together, to raise a family together. For the Romans, the purpose of marriage was family.

I'm not exactly jumping at the bit to get hitched, but I wonder sometimes how marriage would be different today if our vows were made not only to eachother but also to our children. Ought we not also promise to have and to hold our children till death do us part? Marriage becomes even more selfless when you see it that way.

I feel like now would be a good time for the music to start... "Family-- isn't it about time?" But see, here's the thing: It is really all about family. Marriage I mean. I think the Roman's had that bit pretty strait.

Vote yes on Prop 8.

*"I saw fire descend from the sky and fall upon Jerusalem." Or something to that effect.

Carrot tops

08 August 2008

The door opens on Hannah and Becky lounging on my sofa, scooping out fingerfulls of nutella.

Hannah: Hi!
Becky: Write about Hanny and the nutella! uproarious giggling.
Hannah: Look Mally! Crams her whole hand in the jar of nutella.
Me: I'm gonna' call you Hannah-Banan-n'tella. Ella for short.
Becky: More giggling as Hannah licks off her whole hand.
Hannah: I think I have nutella up my nose.
Becky: I like that picture. But I think it's ugly.
Hannah: I have to go to the library.
Becky: Can I have some nutella?
Hannah: There's no more.
    Pulls out another fistful.
    What's everyone laughing at?
Becky: Snatches away the jar. Exit left into my bathroom.
    from off stage Wow! that's really messy nutella.
Hannah: I'm a messy nutella.
Me: You're face is a messy nutella.
Hannah: I know.
Enter Becky scraping empty jar.
Becky: Let's go buy some more.
Hannah: I have to go to the library.
Curtain.

Building sandcastles

04 July 2008

Fourth of July at the beach is the coconut smell of sunscreen, sand in your ears (and nose, eyes and hair), Grandma's giant bucket of licorice, and most of all my daddy's sandcastles. In our backyard we build tree forts, and on graph paper he sketches space stations, but on the Carolina coastline he turns sand into towers, walls and palaces: a fortress for an afternoon.

He started after breakfast. With the shovel and a few buckets-- "see, we'll carve out a channel here and the water'll sort of wash out to a delta over there... this hole we'll dig down to the water table and the moat can drain into here..."

A bridge, a tunnel, two fortresses with access roads, a giant hill in the dry moat-lake, and towers of drip castles on every level. Daddy took a lunch break, but just for a bit; low tide is the very best time for building.

He looked a bit like a kid out there, kneeling in the middle of his piles of sand, patting down the walls, and dribbling up the towers. I built up the battlements, the guard hills and towers. Jack got knighted Head Castle Protector and helped dig out the moat. Sussy and Brigham picked shells for decoration and the neighbors came by to stare.

"Will it be there tomorrow?" the little boy asked.

"We'll see." said his dad.

"Not a chance." I promised.

About dinner time the tide rolled in, just like it always will, and we finally stood back from our masterpiece and watched it slowly melt.

"You know, I was thinking we should've set up a camera and made stop-motion clips of it washing out."

"I was thinking the same thing! But we should show the whole thing build up first and then wash out."

"There goes the first bridge!"

"Yeah, didn't expect that one to last long"

Daddy chuckled, "Nothing's supposed to last long— it is a sandcastle."