Minor Musings

Well, here we are again and I'm catching up.  Recently, the young ones in this house have given us much to laugh about... so here are some of their musings. 

On a recent Youth Retreat, we watched a movie that would give the young men some insight into what they might expect from missionary service.  The movie was "The Other Side of Heaven".  When I told Tate the name of the movie, he said, "It's about Hell?"
.....

On the same trip. Tate went to bed well before the other boys (at about 8 pm, routine being what it is), but woke up when the boys started heading for bed at about 10:30 (early, I know!).  He looked at me and we had this conversation:

Tate:   What time is it?  Is it time to go out on the lake?
Me:     No.  It's 10:30. 
Tate (worried): I missed breakfast, and my snack?
Me:     No.  It's 10:30 at night.
Tate (nearing frantic): I slept for two days?
Me:     No.  You were asleep for about two-and-a-half hours.  It's 10:30 at night on the first night.
Tate (calming): So I was asleep for about two-and-a-half hours?
Me:     Yep.
Tate (exasperated): Guys!  Why did you wake me up?!?

......

I had the boys at rock climbing the other night and Dane was scaling a particularly difficult wall.  It required him to hang horizontally for about 8' while getting to the next vertical face.  His mentor told him to use his abs to pull himself into the wall.

Dane:       I don't have abs, man!
Mentor:   Sure you do, that's why you can sit up!
Dane:      My dad has abs.  You just can't see them under all that...  ...  ... ... ... hair!

I honestly have no idea how long he paused before saying hair, but I tell you it seemed like 5 minutes.  I was sure he was going to say "fat!"

.....

Happy 2013!

It was the best New Years celebration in at least a year.

Tate chose to watch Dr Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas (the original animated version).  Then decided he'd go to bed at 8 pm (routine being what it is) and Dane followed him with a plea that we alert him at the most excellent hour.

So Cyndie and I curled up by the fire and watched The Bourne Legacy, which we found pretty good.  An interesting twist on the Jason Bourne series.  Except I kept calling Jeremy Renner "Hawkeye".  Apparently I should get over this since it appears he is among the new action hero "it guys" if such a thing exists.  Except I think he's about 5'3", which is how tall my mom was (when her hair was done), and that doesn't fit my paradigm.  I never bought Christan Slater as an action hero (or a love interest, for that matter). 

Why am I obsessing on Jeremy Renner?  I have no idea! There's so much to do.  It's 2013 (Earth 1 - Myans 0).  And there's football on all day.  Those guys are legit tall.

This is a Post from the Andersons. The Name of the Post is Merry Christmas 2012

Another year has passed, another season is behind us. The challenges have made us stronger.  The joys have made us happier.  In the end, we're better than we were a year ago.  We're thankful for all those who have helped us. For the opportunities to help others. And especially for our Savior who's birth we celebrate.

Enjoy these notable quotes from 2012 and a few pictures of our family. 

Tate
 

On Trek
(A 4-day, 30-mile Pioneer reenactment)

Tate (on day 1): This is stupid! We’re going to die!

Dad: You are doing great! Just keep it up a while longer.
Tate: I’m going to invent a time machine and go back and kill the person who invented Trek!
Trail Boss’s Wife to Dad: He’s doing great.
Dad: I’m afraid his complaining will wreck the experience for the other Trekkers.
Trail Boss’s Wife: He isn’t saying anything everyone else isn’t thinking.
Dad: Really? Other people are thinking ‘I’m going to invent a time machine and go back and kill the person who invented Trek!’?
  
(later that night after an 11 mile hike to camp)

 Tate: Do you have my slippers? (integral part of the sleep routine)
Dad (realizing they weren’t packed, and panicking at the potential for unraveling): No buddy, I didn’t pack them.
Tate: Oh, well. You know what they say: ‘Win some, lose some.’ Good night.
 

It really was the 18th Miracle. Only a higher power can make changes to “The Routine” acceptable.

  

On Dessert

 Mom, I love you when you make cookies, and other sweets and treats... in fact, I just love you.

  

On the Sorry State of the Car’s Back Seat 

I think we need a new car; I think this one is getting old and germs have found a home!

Dane

On Biology

There are these worms in Australia that are as big as ropes. 
O’course, that would just be nasty for the horses.
 

On Religion

While talking about the righteous being on the right hand of God, Cyndie explains that we want to choose the right, so we’re with the righteous and can be taught by Christ.  Christ won’t teach those who reject him.
Dane: Why won’t he talk to those people over there? Can’t he turn his head to the left?
 

“Is St Patrick’s Day a holiday of the Lord?” 

(Essentially, we don’t celebrate it at church, but Veggie Tales talks about it...and do we get it off school?)
  

On Anatomy

(after Cyndie’s hysterectomy)

So it’s a ‘wombectomy’? And now you have that hollow space in your innards. 

 

My last baby tooth will fall out in January or February. I guess you can say I am in tune with my body. (While sitting in the back of the car, wiggling the stubborn tooth.)
 

On Diet 

I’m not picky. I’m just… specific.

 

Crab Walk

Not sure how this will play out on the blog... but go with me for a while.

Today we had the JDRF Rufus Breakfast. It's a great fair with food, fun, and a fair that highlights some of the new technology and such that impact diabetics. It was cool.

The amazing motocross team from Type1Racing set up some games and activities for the kids.

At one point, the instructions were to "crab walk" between two points. You know, the crab walk... on your hands and feet, belly to the sky. I say to Tate, "You know the crab walk, right?"

He smiles at me, says, "Sure, Dad!" and takes off walking sideways with his hands above his shoulders doing a pincer pantomime. It was hilarious!

Mama Grizzly Has Nothing. Nothing!

The other day, Tate was reading in the "parlor" while Cyndie was doing a few chores in the bedrooms.

He lured her down with the promise of a very important question.

When she arrived, he said, "Can I ask you a question?"

Since that was the whole reason she'd come down stairs, she, of course agreed.

"Mom, if you saw someone being cruel to me, would you do what any mother would do? And build a demonic robot to destroy them?"

He Is Risen

On this Easter Sunday, I am so grateful for my Savior Jesus Christ.

His life was a perfect example for me and my family. His teachings bring peace. That doesn't mean that I'll never have problems; his peace is not the world's peace.

His death for my sins, insecurities, weaknesses and infirmities gives me hope.

His resurrection was the greatest day in the history of mankind. It's what made Christmas so wonderful.

He ascended to His Father's realm and will return in like manner.

I love this picture of the ascension. Notice that there are many planes in the image. The angles' robes are moving in the wind. No such wind affects the 11 Apostles being addressed. The Apostles are looking, longing steadfastly upward while the heavenly messengers are looking directly at the assembled followers.

A Holiday of the Lord

So Tate turned 14 this week. We had a small celebration at home in anticipation of a rim-rattling BBQ festeja on Saturday.

On the way home from school yesterday, Tate says to Cyndie, out of the blue, "Mom, is St. Patrick's Day a Holiday of the Lord?"

Cyndie wasn't quite sure where he was going and began to chuckle.

Without a response, Tate kept going. "Will Famous Dave's be closed on Saturday?"

Cyndie softly, but firmly, reassured him, "No, no, no. St. Patrick's Day is not a Holiday of the Lord. Famous Dave's will be open for your party!"



We know one kid that is pretty thrilled to learn that St Patrick and the Lord weren't really that close.

My Dorm Cat, Creepin' Death

The following was originally posted at my sister's way cooler blog which has better stuff all the time.
I'm guessing that most readers of this blog aren't huge fans of Metallica (and if you are, Rock On!), but lead singer James Hetfield was integral part of my freshman year in college. I've never met him, and while I'm not what you'd call a huge fanatic, my kids have been rocked to sleep with "Enter Sandman". Freshman dorm life is interesting no matter how you slice it. Lots of dynamics and lots of interesting personalities as well.
One of the things you had to account for in the dorm is diverse musical tastes... especially when rooms weren't what you'd call "sound proof" and iPods were still a thing of the distant future. With favorites ranging from Classical Tuba (yep, really) to Vanilla Ice to Garth Brooks to the Free to Choose soundtrack (for the non initiates-and if you read this blog, you know who you are-that's a collection of songs that accompanied a series of still-shot videos for LDS High School-age religious education), it was uncanny that one of the sounds enjoyed by all was the thrashings of Metallica. Truth be told, not everyone wholly tolerated it. The Free to Choose guy had among his goals (posted on the outside of his door) to shake at the sight of evil. One of the other residents routinely walked back and forth past the open door just to see what would happen.

So when we found a small kitten (without being too graphic, we were certain it's mom wasn't going to be able to help it) on a late-night Run for the Border, there was only one fitting name: "Creepin' Death" after the Metallica single which references the Biblical story of the Egyptian plagues.

We had that cat for 3 weeks in our 3rd floor dorm. It was a fun game trying to keep it a secret while packing food, water, kitty litter, etc. into the building. The RA had his suspicions, I'm sure. The beginning of the end came when Creepin' Death wouldn't stop crying one night. That lead to a flurry of activity to keep the noise level high enough to keep RA distracted. Backfire??? Yes it did. He was on to us. What happened next was just like a movie where you see the characters try to complete their tasks before something catastrophic happens. Think Valkyrie.

We started by shoving stacks of pennies between the door jam and door of the RA's room. This effectively locked him in the room. The pressure created was sufficient that he couldn't turn the door knob and open the door. He tries calling his buddy, the 2nd floor RA, to open the door, but we created a distraction and RA2 isn't in his room (and of course no cell phones in 1990 college dorms). So RA climbs out his window (where there was a ledge about 3' deep, which of course we were forbidden to access) to the neighboring room and convinces the occupants to open their window to let him in.

OK. Game on!

As RA climbs back into the room and out into the hall, we mobilized a quick relocation of Creepin' Death... into RA's room. Using the same ledge he had used to get out of his room, we moved Creepin' Death, the water and food bowls, the kitty litter and toys, the bedding, from the west end to the east end (probably 50 yards). While he was grilling residents about what was going on, and did we have a pet, etc. his room was re-set into a quaint feline lair.

We snuck back into the dorm from the ledge and into the rooms of our co-conspirators. Everyone on the floor did their best "what's all the hoopla?" face and a very frustrated RA went back to his room with no evidence and no information. We milled around in the hallway so very nonchalantly, that I'm unsure what surprised him more: the cat in his room once he removed all the pennies from his door, or the gaggle of 18-19 year-olds standing behind him laughing uncontrollably.

He had nothing to go with from there. The cat was in his room. No one was talking. He scooped it all up and took it to a friend's place where pets were allowed. We got a lecture, but nothing more... and we never heard anything more about Creepin' Death.

However, to this day, whenever I hear any Metallica song, I think of that little cat. And I remember that James Hetfield cares!

Daffy in My House!

Today in church a very spirited 8 week old girl was being blessed. As she wailed into the mic, Dane turned to Cyndie and said, in a spot-on Daffy Duck impersonation (induckonation?) "Well, it lookth like thith baby doethent want to go to the baby theremony!" My child is a toon!

How to Win at Telemarketing! (or Why They Stopped Calling my House)

I have been bad at posting, but I was recently commissioned to guest post at my sister's cool-as-heck blog. If you're so inclined, please visit her blog. It's better (both written and read) than mine. It's more interesting and more sentimental.

Since I have written for her, I'm gonna double dip and use what I sent there to keep this blog rolling. Two more to follow in coming days.

Here's my first post:

Remember telemarketing?

“Hi, I know it’s dinner time, but it’s really important that we talk. What I have to say is incredibly important, and in just a few minutes, I’ll be able to share with you the key to (fill in the blank here).”

Since I go by my middle name, it was usually a pretty good tip-off when glib and collegial callers asked for some variation of “James.”

After trying a few different get-off the phone techniques short of rudely hanging up, I got to the point where I would just respond that "I don’t accept phone solicitations."

I haven’t had more than two or three of said solicitations in about 5 years… since I got rid of my land line. I haven’t found a downside to having no phone attached to my home and name in the public record.

But what about all those people who are looking for you, trying to find you, unsuccessfully trying previously listed numbers from phone directories? I’ll tell you, I’m pretty sure those folks aren’t really out there. My insightful grandmother shared this gem with my father who, in turn, shared it with me: “You will worry significantly less what people think of you when you realize how seldom they do.” While that’s true, I digress… Plus I’m on Facebook and LinkedIn. If they can’t find me there, no phone listing is going to help… Now back to my telemarketing story.

Here’s a transcript from one of my last unwanted calls:

Telemarketer: Hello! Is this Mr. James Anderson?

Me: I’m sorry, we don’t accept phone solicitations.

Telemarketer: Am I speaking with Mr. Anderson?

Me: I’m sorry, we don’t accept phone solicitations.

Telemarketer: Actually, I am not selling anything.

Me: Did you know that “solicit” does not mean “to sell?”

Telemarketer (with a hint of trepidation): Excuse me?

Me (getting some momentum): That’s right! For example, you can be arrested for soliciting a prostitute when, in fact, she’s the one selling something.

Telemarketer (trying to regain control of the call): Well what if I just help you solve a really big problem?

Me (seeing my opening): Gee! Sounds more and more like prostitution all the time!

Telemarketer (gasping): Well! I… <*CLICK*>

Come to think of it, it was about that point that I stopped getting calls all together. I wonder if the telemarketing companies call each other to share notes.