Daph's Daily

Friday Haiku

2005-08-12T07:20:00.000-06:00

Sleepy droopy eyes
See through fog to coffee pot
Warm, brown elixir

Chapter 2 – The first visit

2005-08-09T08:20:00.000-06:00

I remember the first time I visited the old farm house in New Hampton. I was 18 and dating Dottie’s youngest son. I’d met him in Colorado where he’d moved a year before to live with his dad and attend the University of Colorado. We met at church and started dating six months later. Now, eight months later, it is August and I had just traveled across the country in a bus to visit John who’d gone back to New Hampshire for the summer to paint houses and earn some extra money. I think it was a three-day trip and I couldn’t wait to see him and meet his mom. I had not been warmly received by other members of John’s family, of course I wasn’t good enough for him, and I didn’t realize it at the time, but they were right. Dottie was different. She welcomed me with open arms. She had prepared a special treat for me. She made a watermelon basket filled with fruit—including the raspberries she’d just picked from her own garden. She greeted me with a warm hug and welcomed me. I was the girl dating her baby, and she treated my like I was her own precious child. To this day, I’m still touched by her warmth. She was non-judgmental, supportive, open.
I took a tour of the property with John that day. He led me up a hill in front of the house. He made me close my eyes until we reached the top. When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by lush, green trees, berry bushes, ferns and we were above it all. We could see the White Mountains all around us for miles. “There”, he pointed to the north, “that’s the Franconia Notch.” It was a mountain in the distance that had a funny shape, like someone had taken a bite right out of the side of it. “The Old Man in the Mountain is there,” he said. At the time, I didn’t know what the Old Man in the Mountain was. It is gone now, but it was the state landmark and the profile of that stone face, jutting out the side of a mountain, defying gravity, was on road signs, license plates—anything that represented the Granite State of New Hampshire. Daniel Webster once said:"Men hang out their signs indicative of their respective trades; shoemakers hang out a gigantic shoe; jewelers a monster watch, and the dentist hangs out a gold tooth; but in the mountains of New Hampshire, God Almighty has hung out a sign to show that there He makes men." (Eventually, the stony face could no longer defy the constant gravitational pull, it crumbled into heap of rubble at the bottom of the notch.)

That day I was awed by the lush beauty of the site. I was enchanted by the charming cape-cod style homes, the steepled churches, and the winding, tree-lined streets. I’d never seen anything like it.

Extreme Makeover – Home – Chapter 1

2005-08-04T07:22:00.000-06:00

There’s no one yelling into a megaphone, we lack a crew of teary-eyed designers, and there will be no swimming pool, backyard waterfall, or wine cellar... yet. However, we will have a new home for our dear Mom (mother-in-law to me).

Dottie lives in rural New Hampshire in a house built in 1775. She has lovingly tended the property, raised five unruly children all by herself, lives a proud Yankee life in poverty, splitting her own wood, growing vegetables, and tending fruit trees and berry bushes.

Now, at 76, she can no longer care for the dilapidated, dreary, old farmhouse. She did the best she could for a very long time. The floors are sagging, it takes 7 cords of wood to heat it over the long New England winter, there’s little or no insulation, and the foundation is literally fieldstones. And the septic... well, we won't talk about that. We would love to restore the old place, but who has that kind of money? The lot is a good-sized 5.6 acres. After a year of, thinking over the options, arguing, discussing, and planning. The family has decided. We’re building a new house.

To be continued…

Friday Haiku

2005-07-29T22:22:00.000-06:00

There, waiting, stalking
Sweet tooth preying on my mind...
M&M attack!

Farmer John

2005-07-26T22:32:00.000-06:00

On one of the hottest days of the summer, I’m swooning from the sweltering heat and eventually end up with a headache after just moments outside. Not John. He’s out there—ALL DAY.
He loves to garden. He’s kind of a perfectionist, but he’s experimental, too. I think he likes it because it's his creative outlet and a nice diversion after sitting all day at a desk crunching numbers. Well, just between you and me, I also think he secretly enjoys the attention. Being on a corner lot, we tend to attract a bit of attention. Cars slow down to take in the view. Folks out for a stroll will often stop and coo at the gardener, “You have the most beautiful landscape! Did you do it all yourself?”
“Yes, thank you, I really enjoy working on it,” blushes the gardener in his Panama hat.
“Well, we enjoy it too!” gushes friendly neighbor. I’m proud of farmer John. He’s a really great gardener, or should I say ‘landscape artist’. He’s also a great dad, a man with so much Godly character who gives generously of his time to valiant projects (not just gardening, but he has been known to help another gardener out). Mostly, he’s a wonderful, loving, husband. I have the greatest respect and admiration for him.

Win Ben Stein's Wisdom

2005-07-26T20:34:00.000-06:00

I was surprised and touched today when I received an e-mail that paraphrased the last entry to a column that Ben Stein contributed to for some eight years. Ben Stein is known as the monotone comedic therapist in the movie The Mask, "We all wear masks, figuratively speaking" was one of his signature lines. He hosted a game show called Win Ben Stein's Money where people competed with their knowledge of trivia to win, supposedly, his money. He's also known for his Clear Eyes eye drop ads. He's funny and has an engaging and smart presence. I did not know, however, that he has character. In the e-mail I received he was bidding fairwell to his readers with a tribute to the Real Stars in this world. It was a shortened version, I discovered, when I looked up the source on the Intranet (you never know if e-mails are for real most of the time). To my surprise, it was true and it is well worth the read. Here is the link:
http://www.eonline.com/Gossip/Morton/Archive/2003/031220.html

It takes a village...

2005-07-26T07:23:00.000-06:00

... to raise selfish, materialistic, do-nothings.

In our family Bible study we are dealing with how our attitudes and society's attitudes can build an entire generation of self-centered, distracted, spoiled individuals who think they are all entitled to everything.

From our observation, some families are excellent at raising children to earn money, earn privileges, & earn grades. They also, allow (or make) the child to learn lessons by facing natural consequences for their actions. The problem is, even though there are families who practice the above, their actions are being defeated by those who don't. The kids go out with their friends and experience great peer pressure to own a cell phone and have it constantly and rudely attached to their ears. To own a computer and have it in your room is the ultimate in teenage freedom. Where they can ‘chat’ with friends, family, and pedophiles who pretend they are friends or family. Also, the bedroom computer lends itself well to other bedroom activities such accessing unlimited photos of naked people doing unspeakable things.

Oh yes, and there’s the credit card. Imagine you’re 14 and you and a ‘friend’ are going shopping. You take the $20 you earned babysitting that’s burning a whole in your wallet. The single sundress you pick from the sale rack pales in comparison to your friend’s selection of designer jeans, a new purse, the cutest top you’ve ever seen (must reveal belly button!), and don’t forget the $112 (!!) 4 inch high heeled shoes in pink patent leather and giant buckle across the toes—certain to be ‘so five minutes ago’ in about five minutes. The sweet girl gloats—only with her facial expression—as she whips out the credit card that her parents gave her for gas and emergencies. (We know they only gave it to her to a) keep her occupied by shopping rather than going out and getting knocked up by a boy, or b) out of guilt for being gone all the time.) The 14 year old feels inadequate and jealous. She comes home to parents, and puts on a spectacle, cajoling, complaining, and begging, “It isn’t fair! All the other kids…” She pulls out all the stops. I applaud those parents who stick by their guns, who don’t give in. The pressure is tremendous.

105

2005-07-21T07:40:00.000-06:00

"105° It's never been hotter in Denver: City ties all-time mark, with no relief..." ~Rocky Mountain News, Thursday July 21st, 2005

It's a Hot One...

2005-07-20T19:28:00.000-06:00

... like seven inches from the midday sun.

I canceled my hike today. My friend, Heather, and I were going to take a jaunt through the Enchanted Forrest up by Apex Park after work today. "Are you sure you want to be out hiking on the hottest day of the year?" asked John (a wise man). I remembered walking into the furnace from my air-conditioned office yesterday at 5:00 and thought, "No! I do not want to hike in this!" I imagined myself keeling over from heat stroke on the trail. It was 101 degrees at 3pm today. So I called and canceled. We all decided to dine at a Chinese restaurant and workout inside at the Y.

Now it is 7:30 and it has cooled to a pleasant, but warm temperature of 91-- heaven. We were just out watering the plants. They'd faired well considering the blistering heat. I hope this doesn't continue. It's ruining my summer outdoor activities.

Bye Bye BO

2005-07-16T12:12:00.000-06:00

In case anyone was wondering, my little problem with the clogged drain has worked itself out (see BO blog). I’m no longer offending my fellow humans—at least as far as I know—and can now lower my arm so I don’t look like I’m perpetually hailing a taxi. I still wear the Super Glue Antiperspirant—it works really well! Besides I’m not even sure the deoderant caused the problem. Thanks for caring. I hope at the very least, it was an amusing blog.

Standing by the Grate

2005-07-16T12:00:00.000-06:00

I love baby animals (who doesn’t?). The little bunnies that live under our deck are so adorable—and they reproduce regularly. We jokingly named one of them Stew (get it?). We’ve had to upgrade our window well grates by installing chicken wire so they won’t fall down in there. We’ve rescued many bunnies of all ages, but have lost a few too. It is heartbreaking to look into the well to find we were too late.
On Monday we went into work to find a female duck hovering over and around a grate that covered a very large and deep hole @ 8’ deep, where the building AC box sits. We could see her clearly through a pair of tall windows, wondering why she was hanging out there all day. We found out later that she is a mother duck. Over the weekend, two people were working in the office and found that ducklings had fallen through the grate. One person returned home to fetch a ladder. They descended down the ladder and rescued nine of the ducklings. Unfortunately one had already perished. They then took them, one by one, and nestled them into a safe, unexposed place. It took them hours to accomplish all of this. Hours later as they were leaving, they saw the ducklings again. This time, unaccompanied by any adult ducks, they had wandered over to a narrow, curbside sewer drain and one by one were falling in. There was no way to rescue them now and our co-workers were dismayed, of course.
So there we were on Monday, watching the poor Mother duck, who’d lost all her babies, wandering around the only location where she new one of her babies had died. Even though I wasn’t there to observe the previous day’s rescue, I was felt so badly for the duck. I wondered where the male (father) duck was and how a duck deals with grief. Is it grief, like humans? Probably not, she feels an innate need to care for her young, but is not emotionally attached—at least as far as we know ducks feel little emotion, fear maybe, but love? I don’t think so.
At this writing I’m reminded of a friend who very recently lost not one, but three of her unborn babies. As humans we have the emotions and consciousness that animals don’t have that make it far more difficult to deal with tragedy. God made us to need comfort from others and from Him. He also gave us a desire to be there for one another during these times. I watch my friend as she stands by the ‘grate’ not ready to proceed with life without the little ones’ she’s lost, I offer prayers for God’s comfort, and I’m thankful that she has her husband who patiently waits by the grate with her until she has what she needs to move forward.

B.O.

2005-07-08T07:38:00.000-06:00

“Can I get you anything while I’m at the store?” asks my sweet hubby. “I need some deoderant,” I reply. “What kind?” he queries. “Oh…I don’t care, just don’t get ‘unscented’—it has a funny smell.” So, he brings me back ‘SuperDuperExtraStrength, Guarantee-you’ll-never-ever-sweat-again-even-if-you’re-running-the-Bolder-Boulder Antiperspirant’. (Geez! Is he trying to tell me something?)
So, I begin wearing this underarm glue. It seems to work, though. I notice a fresh, ocean breeze fragrance wafting from my underarm area whenever I break the teensiest sweat. However, I discover the next day in the shower that it takes steel wool and motor oil solvent just to get this crap off my pits. “This can’t be very good for me,” I think to myself.
The other day, I notice an aching in my right armpit. I touch it gingerly. Yep, there’s a swollen, painful lump. Good grief! That stuff has clogged a gland or something. That has to be it! The thing is permanently glued shut and now the perspiration is going to be backed up in there like a hair-clogged drain! I mess with it for a while—trying to decide if this is life threatening. I decide to ignore it and hope it goes away. AND decide not to wear anti-perspirant on that pit. “Maybe it will loosen itself and begin sweating again,” did I really just say that?
The next day, I apply the sealant, er… stuff, to my left arm and vow to occasionally rinse or wipe the smelly sweat off my right pit throughout the day. At about noon, I decide to run an errand. Of course it’s about 90degrees out. I thought I’d hit a skunk! Dang! Is that coming from me?
I race to the ladies’ room and wash with soap and water. Later, my co-worker asks if I’m ready for our daily walk. I complain it’s too hot today—which it is—but she insists (she says she never sweats). So, I finally have to tell her about my problem. She says something about mastitis and that I should look up my problem on the Intranet. I log onto WebMD. I type in “under-arm glandular blockage” —Nothing. Okay, how about “painful swollen glands”. Here we go. Lymphoma, Hodgkins, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, blah, blah, blah. My friend suggests I try working with it to loosen it up and apply hot packs. So, I did that in the evening.
The next day, problem still there. I apply the glue-stick to both underarms today. This time I just avoid the painful, swollen spot and hope for the best.

Coming Home

2005-07-01T08:23:00.000-06:00

I'm 41, and my only son is now grown (sort of), so I spend much of my time working. I love my job, don't get me wrong, but I see myself someday raising alpacas and making homemade jam while living a calm life in a charming New England town.
Hubby and I work in the same office, we have lots to talk about and as you can probably imagine, we have some difficulty leaving work at work.
My one son, 21, is a part time student, and a talented musician (bass) in a band called Capricorn. He will be moving back in with us in August as he steps up his school schedule and tries not to spend the money he saved while working hurricane disaster relief in Florida for eight months. Yes, we are charging him rent-- mostly for food and the cleaning lady I'm desperately going to need. Fortunately he's great to have around as entertainment. He's quite funny and a little crazy, and doesn't let us get away with any crap (like fighting like children in his presence).

Nepotism?

2005-06-30T18:00:00.000-06:00

'Nepotism: Favoritism granted to relatives or close friends, without regard to their merit.'
When I started my new job, my boss took me around and introduced me by my first name only. I wondered if he was a bit concerned about how his decision would be judged. No matter, it didn’t take long for people to figure out that I was married to one of their co-workers. A little embarrassed, I thought, "they're thinking ‘nepotism’!" Well, it just isn’t! I earned this job! It fits me perfectly and I can make a difference here. Resolute, I make myself not care about what others might think. In time I will prove my value as an individual, and as a strong contributor to the business.

The Egghead and I

2005-06-29T08:30:00.000-06:00

I have a wonderful co-worker. Initially, it is tough to get around the characteristics of someone who is on such a different plane than most of us average—or even above average—types. If I ask him a question, he seems to understand it, but his reply most certainly goes over my head in most cases. So I just trust him as he bangs out lightning fast code and within a day provides me a useful tool that saves me days or even weeks of monotonous work. Genius! I’m indebted to him and will bring goodies, and get to know him, and try to get past the strange, but trivial differences in our personalities.

My First Blog

2005-06-21T07:16:00.000-06:00

I've raraly been one to keep a journal, but always admired those who do. They seem so sure of themselves, able to put their thoughts on paper, never worrying about how silly they were when they go back to re-read. I kept a journal in high school and was mortified when someone found it under my pillow and read my private thoughts.

This is different, no pen and paper. Which is great-- I have lousy penmanship anyway. Maybe, I will make new friends who share my interests. Maybe I will learn to put thoughts into beautiful prose. Maybe I will go back and re-read and not cringe at how silly I sounded that day.