STAIN REMOVAL and INK

*deep breathe, adjust chair, get glasses*

Are you ready? I am done, done, done and done!
(Except telling you about removing stains.)

If you only want the short answer, fast ... go to comments here.
You can also see the victims and culprits there.
Now for the rest of the story.

The shirts are saved.

The pj's functional, the sweater is history,

and  my washer clean -
amazingly it did not get any ink inside!

Just to be sure, I washed a dark jean batch first

and then a batch of dark colors. (Naturally I scoped it out first).

Yes I do always sort - carefully -

I like my clothes to stay the original color.

Hmmm - one of these days I will tell you about how I learned to get clothes clean and keep them that way.

The ink in Fountain pens and gel pens are water based so wash out more readily, especially when wet. Regular ball point pens use a synthetic colorant with an alcohol solvent in a thick paste and are usually oil based. They tend to dry quickly and set to a permanent stain easily. A sister sent this link and it was very informative. Another sent me some tips and tricks - Thanks to both - I think I got it out.

My first line of defense against stains, especially food on clothing, is SUNLIGHT Dishwashing Liquid with lemon. Rinse out all the spot you can, as soon as you can, with cool water and rub the Sunlight in. It will remove grease spots, spaghetti sauce (even on whites) and all but the toughest, dried on or in, set stains.  Occasionally grease on polyester/synthetics may need a second treatment or TIDE. I air dry suspect items until I know the spot comes out.

It did not remove these ink stains.
No color came out when I rubbed it in or rinsed it.
I did not really expect it to but I usually try it first.

I must state that I like Tide laundry detergent. My mother used it and survived washing for 11 children  and a husband on the farm (manure be gone).  Dad also did construction and sheered sheep.  His clothes always got washed last in the old wringer washer. Water was precious, hand pumped, heated on the stove, and used and reused to wash many batches of clothes: first whites and baby stuff, then light colors, then mediums colors, next darks and last (and always nasty) were the jeans and work clothes.  There was a separate tub of rinse water. The electric wringer swung between the washer and the rinse tub to squeeze - literally wring - the water out. The rinse when replaced was dipped back into the washer for a load or two of some of the colored and dark batches (with the addition of soap and fresh water to bring it back to the needed level and temperature). If you have never used such contraptions or bucketed all your water count your blessings ... and they were so much nicer than washboards and riverbanks!

But I digress.

And did I mention the tiny ink spot on the shoulder of one of his new shirts that was also in the batch?

I put Tide on that and it came right out.

TIDE is an effective stain remover for almost every stain on every fabric.

Just make a paste, (or use the marvelous, modern miracle of liquid) rub it into the stain and launder as usual.  Before drying, check to be sure the stain is completely gone.  If not repeat. I admit it openly - I believe in TIDE! And yes it does cost slightly more - small cost for clean laundry! BTW - use much less than the cup in the box. I never use more than the lowest mark on that cup so I chose a dipping cup that size and discovered my soap lasts much longer, and cuts the cost.

I always soak very deep, large or dark stains for a minimum of 30 minutes. Some difficult stains persist through several tries but get lighter each time.

Tide did not remove the larger ink stains. It did remove the small superficial marks surrounding the large soaked in one.



No color came out when I applied the paste or rinsed it.
I actually did hope.

I figured there was little point in trying lemon juice, vinegar, milk, baking soda, or salt as some stain removal guides suggested.  I also felt that starting with mixed compounds and detergents was a bit extreme or might set it so chose to use the simplest things I had on hand. Please do your own research as to what mixes involve.
I also saw no point in spending money to purchase various stain removers that I don't use otherwise anyway - and that none of you recommended. If I needed to spend money I would rather buy a NEW item of clothing. Some friends loaned me some products - that did not budge any ink/color.

All sources available suggested rubbing alcohol or hairspray.

First I tried the pj's.

I saw little difference in the effects but both did loosen the ink and cause it to bleed into the pad underneath AND the pad I blotted it with. Hairspray (I tried several kinds) seemed to really spread it quickly and created a messy halo effect that did hand wash out using a paste of Tide. The stains were now slightly smaller and lighter - and purple - they became a fairly bright shade of purple while in contact with the alcohol.

A word about padding: Use it - lots of it and then a little more.

Protect all surfaces and be careful to keep your hands ink free.
I choose a couple of worn out hand towels.
Most of my towels are white. Some are ready to replace.
*mental note: answer the why on laundry post*

When I became careless I nearly stained my white counter merely by setting things down

and I got it on my hands and made a mess on my green shirt that had to be spot cleaned before I could continue.

I started the alcohol process on my shirt - dip, dab, dab, dab, dab, dip, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dip, dab, dab,dip, dab, dip, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dip, spill, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab, dab - ENOUGH ALREADY!!!

There was no other way! put the cloth behind, put drops of alcohol on the spot and blot.  Move towel pad to clean spot and repeat. It was getting lighter though. It was coming out.  I was bored! I could only stay at it for short bursts and then go work on something else - and that isn't exactly how I had planned to spend my day, much less my week!!! I persisted because I really do like that shirt.

Some sources suggested fingernail polish remover.
I rummaged in my cupboard and found some.
I vaguely remember buying it perhaps at the $ store.
I think its name brand  (at that price) piqued my brain -
AMES brand - I am not kidding! made in Ames CT.
It was a non-acetone protein enriched remover. That means it had glycerin and, among other things, fragrance - really? -
 Pheww - these smells are very strong and I ventilated the area.

I stared at it awhile before I decided to actually apply it. I decided not to waste anymore time avoiding David's shirt. I got some cotton swabs and tentatively applied it to the tiniest spots on the back (far right) I didn't want to damage the fabric - oh yeah - I didn't mention these before because I found them later.

The first and most amazing thing that occurred was a strange yellowy residue that blotted out almost instantly.

(The next day I saw the yellow spreading out of spots treated with alcohol.)

I was a bit afraid of the polish remover on the green cord but tried it too. It made it look like a scab.

The stains generally did not lift significantly until the yellow blotted out.

JOY! Astonishment!

The smaller spots, on the tan shirt back, almost disappeared in 4 or 5 dabs, but they were only the size of a glass pin head.

I moved on to bigger stuff and decided to use paper towel on the top side. The ink seemed to be more on the outside so I began from that way.  A first application looked like an ugly bruise. I could see the yellow crud coming out first.

The nail polish remover mostly did not bleed through to the pad on the back - or rather the ink didn't.  It seemed to almost peel the ink off the fabric. I checked the label.  100% cotton just like my cord shirt but this one has a smooth finish of some type that launders like PermaPress. [There's another blessing! I remember when there was no such thing.]

In an hour or so I had most of the ink gone from that shirt.

When the ink was a light gray-blue, hairspray seemed to become more effective.

 Half an hour later a grey blue spot identified each stain - still.

I took a break.






The now lighter and smaller 'w' shaped spot on the front would not budge. I tried everything.

Putting more on by tipping the bottle directly onto the stain.

Soaking it in alcohol, nail polish remover, etc.

I started combining stuff according to directions.
I tried the more radical ones on the pjs first.
Between each attempt I hand washed the area out, sometimes only rinsing, sometimes with a paste of Tide. It lightened, slightly.


My green cord shirt was not fairing as well.  The nap was holding the ink. When I saw the area start to lose some color I decide appliqué/embroidery was the best option for it. A small berry over one and a leaf traced from the original design for the other (both on upper right).

I started trying and combining anything and everything even solvents.  Sometimes I washed it out, sometimes I didn't. I spilled the remover.  My friend loaned me some that was different from mine. I was willing to risk a hole in the fabric to learn what might or might not work. I tried the harmless acidic foods. I even tried the stuff on the other fabrics. Nada, zip, nothing helped.

BTW - that is when the sweater became history.

So far I hadn't tried anything on it. I applied the polish remover and it wicked ink into a huge spot. I attempted  to wash it out just to see if I could but admit that I was not diligent or persistent in treating it.  I couldn't be bothered. I did learn to be very cautious about stains 'wicking' into surrounding area in the future. It is always good to work from the outside to the middle - often the stain is not as heavy on the edge.  Other things to consider would be color fastness and fabric types.  Some solvent type of treatments would harm, shrivel and/or dissolve some fabrics. Some fabrics are fragile enough that abrasion might cause thread breakage or other signs of wear.

Finally I washed it thoroughly and started again with my friend's remover.  It lightened a bit more.  When it stopped lifting again I decided to see if sunshine might help.  I put lemon juice on it and laid it outside on my back step for a couple of hours in full sun.  Next I washed it out completely in the machine. It was light enough that I had to look for it.  I left it with a paste of Tide on it overnight, washed that out and put Sunlight Dishwashing liquid on it and left it for several hours and then washed it out again.

I decided I am done.
It is good enough- not perfect but OK.
If I don't have my glasses on I can't see the light grey w shaped spot or find the small spots left on the back.

It is air drying on the back of a kitchen chair. I will treat it again before the next wash.

Oh and since it is staying so blue/gray I decided to experiment on my royal blue T-shirt.A few months back bleach accidentally flicked a few tiny spots on the front.
They turned completely white.
I tried writing on them with a blue pen on purpose.
It laundered out.
I wear my green shirt buttoned there anyway.
I asked David to retrieve the pens (he wore gloves).
After I wet the shirt I carefully pressed the ink onto the white spots. They look absolutely black.

I intend to let them dry completely, heat set them with my iron,
 and see if I can 'stain' my white spots blue!

Can I deliberately do what happens accidentally?
Wish me luck.

COWS

I have been traveling again -
same road, more boredom, more cows.
Mostly black cows.

My friend Nancy made me laugh.
Apparently among the Navajo people of Arizona
a standard goodbye involves black cows.

 I love it!

This trip provided more food for thought.
I promise it isn't as long as my last cow diatribe -
 I have to finish washing out ink.

We were just driving along in the zoned out mode with scenery passing - one field after another - a herd here, a herd there, every now and again strays or singles not in a herd ...
pretty much same, same - yawwwnnn.

Then there was this one Holstein cow. JUST ONE.

The thing that made this cow stand out was that she was in the middle of a herd of Black Angus. Not only did her bony hips jut taller than the surrounding cattle but she was mostly white. You've heard of standing out in a crowd? she stood out in the herd.  My husband (driving) even woke up enough to notice it at the same time. She was very different.

It got me thinking.

Holsteins are mostly known as dairy cattle for their super ability to produce an abundance of milk, yet because of their great size may also be used for beef.

Angus are known for beef production - especially known as tasty beef, yet they also produce milk, although less of it generally for shorter periods of time.

Sometimes (and we may be so zoned out we don't notice) there is an abundance of one thing, all around us, all the same. Maybe, sometimes, being different could be a very good thing. True it makes one stand out, but where would we be if we only had meat, not milk? or milk and not meat?

Milk vs meat - sometimes I need the simplest things - the beginnings.

Simplicity. Starting like a baby on milk.

What (I wondered) is the most basic and simple thing missing for most of us? For me?

At my daughter's, my grandson begged me to read some books written by Max Lucado. He especially liked the one about wooden people labeled with gold stars and grey dots (I think it was titled 'You Are Special').  One girl was different - she had neither dots or stars.  She went to see her maker and talk with him every day.

I think that is a good starting place:
talking with my maker everyday -
getting rid of my stars and dots,
 my pride and my prejudice, (and that of others)
 and restoring the surety that I was created by him
and that he made me the way I am -

so I can be different!

ATTITUDES

A friend posted a link to a you-tube video that tickled my funny bone titled "Secret to Happiness is to Be Thankful"

I feel like that when I use my cordless or cell.
Wow!
In my hand! In my pocket!

I feel just like that when I go on an airplane.
I AM FLYING - in the air - I love it! Every time!

Also as I sit here and type out this blog on the net.
Incredible!
HI MOM! I love you Grandma give me a kiss -
I can see you AND talk with you.

Miracles and wonders are a part of every day, every day.

My house has fingertip temperature control.
My bedroom, as a child, had frost on the roof - yes inside!
On the slope of the attic over our heads.
Mom had no trouble keeping us in bed at night - it was warm there.

And getting up? We made a dash to grab clothes and run downstairs to stand  over the furnace. That was a miracle too. Early every morning my father built up the banked coals (below the 3' square floor grid) in the furnace in the basement that created heat by burning wood and coal - yes - real fire - with smoke and ashes. If the fire went out or the chimney malfunctioned we knew what a wonder that warmth was - not to mention a father who faithfully day in and day out kept it burning. He even got up and stoked it in the night when Canadian winters were exceptionally harsh (temps lower than -30 degrees F). Usually banking it for the night saved fuel = money.

He was a wonder - but I often tell things I remember about him and mom.

And of course we got up - we wanted to eat.
If you stayed in bed you missed breakfast.
And that mattered even if it was 'mush'.
We were grateful to have food.
Treats were, well - treats - not everyday but an event.

Today I am counting blessings again.
 One by one x1x1x one x one by 1 by 1 x 1 . . .

INK ON PINK

or
THE ADVENTURE BEGINS ...

Warning: always, always, ALWAYS check pockets -
especially when you are sure they are empty!

Be paranoid - go ahead! you have my permission.

We had a nice trip to visit family last week.
I wore my pink pajamas.
We did not sing ('Comin' Around the Mountain')
and I don't care that now they have nasty ink spots -
 on pj's who cares?

It is my green shirt I am sad about (see a glimpse of it here)
 and some other things ...

We got home late enough to use our front room as a dump until this morning. Then I began the laundry. I sorted, emptied and gathered from home and sorted - old and new - we bought several 'new to you' shirts for my husband. Like new condition at Value Village usually is $5 - $10 for a name brand shirt that in stores usually  prices between $25 and $60. His sandpaper, neck whiskers destroy collars in a few months and VV is an excellent budget solution.

The first batch buzzed. It was mostly the lighter colored dress shirts David wears to work every day. As I started to transfer the load to the dryer I spied ink on my light green pinwhale cord shirt with the appliquéd leaves. Of course it is a favorite of mine. It is one of those 'throw it over a T and jeans' and be ready to party shirts. I dig it out of the back netherlands near the first frost of the year and don't tuck it away until Thanksgiving is over, done and dead.  (And yes, I did buy 2 back when - a burgundy one and this green one).

 GGAAAHHhhhh!!!! A PEN!

What else might the ink be on? (The pj's soon showed up.)

The culprit was discovered on top of the next item down and promptly lynched - execution style, directly to the nearest garbage. At least it had the decency to only leak!

Then I found the ancient but warm neutral sweater -

 a victim that will simply join the pen.

And last, but not least, a shirt. Not just any shirt. The one I like! You ladies know - the one he could care less about but you try to coax him to wear ...

As I finished emptying the washer guess what I found - go ahead - try ...

I was so surprised!

Another PEN?!?!?! you've got to be kidding me.
Two for one! 'If that don't beat all'. How can that even happen?

Please send you personal favorite tricks and tips for ink removal.
Since I have an abundance of ink stains right now I will experiment to find out what actually works and let you know.

My first line of defense is always plain water and common sense.  The ink was so thick I could scrape and rinse some of it off with plain room temp water.

Next I applied some detergent and rubbed a bit under running water - almost no ink came out.

I have tried alcohol, see green shirt - it caused it to spread and get a halo even though I had padded the back and was blotting, that I finally managed to get out. Maybe I just need to keep 'dabbing' but I think that shirt will just acquire a couple more appliqués - I will have to decide if it is worth the effort - it is not new.

Does hairspray work any better? Isn't it just alcohol?

I will keep you posted - after I calm down.
After I try a few things ...

TURKEY TREATS

I have spent the weekend with several grandchildren.
We made turkeys - lots of turkeys!

My daughter suggested I do a post.  I don't have completely detailed pictures but some of you may have fun with these. And here is a link for some from a different year.

Krispie Rice Turkeys

First visit your local grocer or department store for krispie rice cereal,  butter and mini marshmallows that you need to usually make squares, sandwich cookies (I prefer chocolate for the contrast), some Candy Corn, and a container of icing (you can make your own or be lazy like me and use ready made).

[And you may want some pretty and disposable plates and Zip closure bags that they fit in for deliveries].

Note: Watch for Candy Corn in individual bags near Halloween.  One bag, per person, per turkey when large groups or classes make these is very handy.

Find a largish bowl that can be microwaved (the lazy way) or a large kettle that will hold at least 8 cups (bigger is better). I tried it both ways. On the stove top the treats set harder and in the microwave they stay more soft and malable. Just use the recipe that works for you!

It also depends on the brands you are using.  The marshmallow brand at one store, that has 'great values', made treats that were way too soft and sticky. If you encounter this problem let the mix cool more before handling. [Aside: and their icing sugar tastes like it is mostly starch!]

 Note: Most mini marshmallows have 6 cups to a bag - this store's brand does NOT!

I use:
1/4 cup butter
6 cups of mini marshmallows
6-8 cups krispie rice cereal
vanilla to taste (about 1/2 tsp)

I measure the cereal very precisely [ NOT] and dump it into a very large bowl,

Put the butter in
 large cup/bowl

(real butter makes real taste!)

and zap it just long enough to make it liquid.

Then pour in about 2/3 of the marshmallows (whatever fits in with extra room to mix)

and stir a little bit to coat with butter. 

Next microwave the marshmallows approximately 30 seconds (will depend on your power settings - I use high)

until they soften and then add the rest of the marshmallows and zap them again until they are puffing and ready  to beat.

I then add the vanilla

and beat it in until smooth and uniform in texture. Make your cereal and marshmellow mix with your recipe and the way it works best for you. 

Add the marshmallow mix to the cereal and stir until cereal is coated evenly.

Let cool slightly.

I put a small amount of butter on my palms, and using a large spoon to scoop out the mix, make balls about 1 - 1/2" to 2" in diameter.

These are your turkey tummies.

not cool enough to shape easily

Cooling helps the shapes hold together better -otherwise the mix tends to stick to your hands not itself - the butter just melts.

Split sandwich cookies in half and if icing is not sticking onto the cookie remove it. If it is not firmly adhering to the cookie it will cause trouble later - the tail falls off or the tummy rolls off the base.

I discard it but kids and husbands that are hanging around may enjoy eating it.

Spread inside of both cookie pieces with frosting (beware of icing that is too soft or thin).

Place ball firmly in center of one cookie. Some cookie brands are quite fragile and break easily.

To avoid breakage always lay the cookie on a flat surface when presssing the turkey tummies into place. They are now in an L or chair (without legs) shape.

Place one Candy Corn, pointed tip down, at top center of cookie between tummy and cookie(chair back) but extending slightly above cookie edge.

These are the tail feathers. Sometimes they are easiest to insert by laying the cookie 'back' flat onto the table or counter.

 Add an additional piece on either side, (making three) and another one on both sides, making 5 all together.

If you run short of Candy Corn (as I always seem to do) use only 4 evenly spaced.  Pieces of Candy Corn that come in the package broken can readily be used for feather 4 and 5. If needed dip Candy Corn into icing to help secure it into place.

Sometimes I also find I need to gently encourage better shape by giving some pats and a squeeze here and there.

BE ADVISED: this is often when cookies break - so do the pats and squeezes while the cookie is flat on a hard surface.

Last but not least select a very nice Candy Corn for the turkey's beak and head.  Use frosting to 'glue' it to the front of the 'turkey tummy'. Keep it fairly low to the base and if desired tilt slightly to create attitude.

Most of all, have fun and let the kids lick their fingers and generally do it themselves.

I personally prefer keeping a wet cloth handy for the inevitable sticky fingers.

You are sure to also get the creative child that wants wings - look at this marvelous creation!
 He made one chocolate and one vanilla.

 If you want uniform, sanitary, picture perfect turkeys for table place settings or neighbor gifts make them when you have time to relax, or keep separate trays and don't stress out the kids.

 I let the kids eat their own - it is my rule!

REMEMBERING

In Canada Poppies,
such as pictured here,
were produced
 by Veterans and are worn
each November 11

In Flander's Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place.
And in the sky,
The larks still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead, short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunsets glow, loved and were loved
but now we lie in Flander's Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you from failing hands we throw the torch,
Be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with those who die
We shall not sleep
Though poppies blow in Flander's Fields.

Learned in school, retrieved from memory when my sister posted this image of a poppy on her Facebook profile, and far from perfect but nevertheless a part of who I am.

My grandparent's oldest son, like so many others, did not return from World War II. Every year on Remembrance Day (known in the United States as Veteran's Day) our school class would walk to the Cenotaph to hear and see the program conducted there to honor those from our small town whose names were written on the stone marker commemorating their ultimate sacrifice - they would never return.

Photo taken by Rex Forsyth about 1933 

We were taught to remember: to 'take up the quarrel with the foe'.

In October 2001 Genreal Conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints President Gordon B. Hinckley spoke about 'The Times In Which We Live'.  He said, "We are people of peace. We are followers of the Christ who was and is the Prince of Peace. But there are times when we must stand up for right and decency, for freedom and civilization, just as Moroni rallied his people in his day to the defense of their wives, their children, and the cause of liberty." Alma 48: 10 He also asked us to each examine ourselves and turn in prayer and repentance to God and plead his help.

As I read the story of Moroni I wonder where my 'weakest' fortification is and how I may strengthen it.  What battles do I need to fight? greed? self indulgence? sincerity? service? Perhaps my greatest need is in small things:  less food and more exercise, less idleness and more diligence - [did I cast a valid vote?], and especially less disregard and more kind words and thoughts - to you, my immediate family and friends.

I remember standing with my father at the Cenotaph, at various times, tracing the raised brass names with my fingers and questioning the whys and ways of war.  My father answered.  I learned war is a terrible thing but there are things worth fighting for - even to the death.  He honored those who had.

My oldest brother is named for dad's oldest brother.

May we all seek peace first.

And may we never forget.

COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS

Harvest Time.
Autumn.
Thanksgiving.
Family.
Country.

These all seem ingrained and entwined in my psyche.
I was born in the fall.
Canadian Thanksgiving is mid October and in the United States it finishes November nicely after both countries honor veterans.

Falling leaves and crisp air carry color and scent past routines
and daily activities to the very chambers of my heart and mind.

Something primal struggles to surface.
I apply many labels but never feel quite satisfied with a resultant full emptiness that wallows in steady exuberant feelings (that I still as they seem too private to shout or flaunt) until snow finally freezes winter into place and melts that confused state of being into the joyous Christmas season.

A loved hymn encourages me to voice some of those labels, thoughts and feelings - sometimes only to myself.

I start listing labels in my prayers, and they seem to pop out of my mouth each time I open it enough  to breathe.

1 x 1 x one x one x 1 x 1 x one x one x 1 x 1 x one x one x -

you get it ....

TRY IT!

Suddenly it is impossible to be discouraged or 'lost' and burdens become bearable.

1. When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,

When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings; name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.

[Chorus]
Count your blessings;
Name them one by one.
Count your blessings;
See what God hath done.
Count your blessings;
Name them one by one.
Count your many blessings;
See what God hath done.

2. Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
Count your many blessings; ev’ry doubt will fly,
And you will be singing as the days go by.

3. When you look at others with their lands and gold,
Think that Christ has promised you his wealth untold.
Count your many blessings; money cannot buy
Your reward in heaven nor your home on high.

4. So amid the conflict, whether great or small,
Do not be discouraged; God is over all.
Count your many blessings; angels will attend,
Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.

Hymns of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, no. 241

Text: Johnson Oatman, Jr., 1856–1922  Music: Edwin O. Excell, 1851–19

CHANGE

This summer my son and his family came to stay with us as they experienced some significant changes in their lives.  Naturally that meant some changes for us too.  We took everything out of the office/den that used to be his bedroom and emptied part of another room that seems to always be in a state of chaos because it is where things are made and piled and changed and moved - yes it is also my sewing/craft area.

 UCKY! Where did all that stuff come from?
and where should it go to? - maybe byebye!
*"I will think about that tomorrow," says Scarlett.*

(We had to find somewhere 'safe' to put some of it -
the 'some' that is files and mostly genealogy and family history journals and letters and albums and pictures and - A MESS - I am working on making order and use of it -slowly - but I am picking away at it).

It went to our room -
except for the 3 garbage bags and several bushel boxes that went to the garbage - WHAT?!? What is this doing in here? Why is this in this pile? Why is this kept at all?  4 filing cabinets and 6 bushel boxes/Rubbermaid tubs to look at every night was a BIG change that has changed my priorities and perspectives - again!

Having it 'in my face' every single day made me think about it.

I love history. I especially love family history.
So why have I been wasting my time going to work?
And not doing what I actually prefer to be doing?

Now it is time to change again.
They are gone.
The house feels so empty.
And we miss little Cyndi so much.

After I finished cleaning I sat on the floor in each empty room/place and took a trip through memory lane. If you know me at all you know I only sat down there for a break and to rest up before moving on ....

When my children were at home I read books they read, and listened to music they liked - not exclusively but enough to become aware of things entering their minds and perceptions. I would go to their room every now and again and sit where they often sat or lay down on their bed, look around, and ask myself, "what are they seeing/hearing - or not?" I often was quite surprised (and occasionally even shocked) by what they saw or could hear every day; so much so that I varied the times I went to their 'places' to see and hear and feel some of their perceptions.  I also gained greater love for and understanding of them.

Casey - you should have told me that the sun shone in your eyes at that end of the table - I never sit there - at least not at dinner time! Thank you for simply adjusting the blinds and not complaining. Thanks for all the ways you adjusted and did not expect me to!

Before they came the house felt overwhelmingly full, but of what?

Sometimes, perhaps, we have to empty the 'junk' to allow 'joy' -
in our hearts and homes as well as our houses.

GIFTS

The most precious gift my father ever gave to me 

is the ability to read well and the desire to read 

… most specifically the scriptures. 

One of my earliest and fondest memories is of my father reading bible stories to us children - all piled on his lap and grouped around him snuggled up, all together.  He made the stories alive and wonderful as he read and I can remember him helping me learn to read those same stories (with much help and encouragement from my mother too, of course) when I began 1^st grade at age 5.  I read all 10 books that year. [The Bible Story by Arthur Maxwell with pretty blue covers and lovely pictures to look at]

I could always ask my Father's guidance and direction, opinion or help not only about reading, but always about anything at all.  I knew it. I still can - and do.

That is a significant gift that stands out on its own merits - having a loving father I could trust and rely on to be gentle and patient - he modeled the very things he wanted me to know about our Father in Heaven.

He could be trusted to tell it real and straight and kindly. When dad talked I knew he spoke truth. He has always had an uncanny ability to convince people of whatever he is trying to tell them.  

He often expressed disgust at salesmen that could say things just to sell something.

When he talked, you knew he was sincere. If he decided to sell you something or convince you of a principle usually you listened and seldom did you finish without agreeing … even when people really were contrary he could work with them.  From him I learned love and acceptance for all good - people, animals, things, places, events, plants, abilities - everything, all good - and to seek it. 

A scripture comes to mind -

“… by their fruits ye shall know them.”  Matthew 7:20 ; 3 Nephi 14:20

A STRANGE COMPANION

I love waffles. I made some for breakfast today!
I love blueberries, too!

When I bake them I use the timer on my microwave to let me know the perfect time for a perfect waffle. EASY - except -

I have this strange companion, named Habit, that keeps getting in my way.  When the microwave beeps, and I have wandered away and gone on auto-pilot, I tend to open the empty beeping microwave - and look inside BEFORE remembering my waffle.

 (I know myself well enough to plan for the contingency of an irritating continuing beep to ensure my kitchen has no smoke damage and that I eventually get breakfast).

How many things do you do on auto-pilot? I have tried to open my front door by clicking the remote for my car - weird, I know!
Make your own list.  You know you have one - or more.

A few years ago our kitchen floor was replaced.  As is often the case, there was a 'hitch-in-the-get-along' and instead of taking a couple days my frig stayed in the garage for 2 weeks or more.  When it returned to its rightful domain my sons would come home and go straight to the frig - still in the garage, right? NOT!

One day one of them stuck their head into the kitchen and asked me, "Mom, do you have any idea what I came out to the garage for?" I laughed and pointed to it.

He had built a strong continuing habit in a only a few days!

Since that time I notice habits more - my own and yours.  Some are funny (taking a bite of something because it is in your hand - or trying to write with it - icky either way).  Some are down right scary - have you ever driven somewhere and realized after you got there that you set out to go somewhere else and that where you arrived is where you usually go on a regular basis? One day I needed to pick up my child and drove halfway to town (in the opposite direction) before I realized I was on auto-pilot.  Scary to think other drivers are paying that same amount of attention or less ...

Prophets tell us regular scripture study and prayer are beneficial habits. My 2 year old grandchild gets 'her' scriptures and demands our nightly routine if we miss it. She opens an inexpensive copy on her lap, points at pictures, and recites a verse as it is read slowly for her to parrot. She wants to take a turn like everyone else in her world is doing.  This habit will print the rythmns and nuances from God's words onto her very soul.

Now she is learning reverence in prayer as her family bows in a circle together. She is just beginning - she will learn that jumping on or yelling in the face of someone kneeling with closed eyes or hitting them will not help her (or those around her) find real happiness. Kind example with gentle teaching and guidance will change her more quickly than any scolding or punishment ever can. For now I imagine Heavenly Father smiles at her naivety.

I hope he smiles at mine. I pray he will patiently and gently help me learn the things that will help me and others find genuine joy - here and now as well as more enduring and lasting happiness - help me build beneficial habits of obedience and diligence.

All his commandments are intended to lovingly guide me and assist me to that end. Prophets tell us that his work and his glory are to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man - our joy and our happiness.

I learned, as a child, many things that I habitually take for granted.  I know the reality of a supreme being - a loving, kind, generous, devoted Father in Heaven. I know I can talk to him and with him. The habits of my parents and grandparents, influenced by the habits of generation upon generation of their parents and grandparents, are now passed to a new generation.

Yet each generation must chose for itself its own habits - its own companions.

What companions of habit walk by your side? compassion or addiction? generosity or gluttony/greed? thankfulness or ingratitude?

Each of us have a few strange companions.  I seek good companions - habits that are better practices. We can know and define them easily. Service and kindness were the practice and repeated examples that Jesus Christ lived.  His actions brought light and life to himself and all people at all times.  He lived the perfect example.  As I read about it, learn from it and study that example I find habits that are not such strange companions at all.

THANKS

SURPRIZE!!! how fun!!

I finally have a purple bow ... Nena - I'm lookin' at you!
 (and feeling it too!!) and a brand new kitchen range. 

Thanks so much to every one of you.  I am speechless - 

As I sit looking at my bow the picture says it all,
look closely ...

especially under the arrow.

HUGS to everyone.  I am proud to be your mom - you did this together.

LICENSED TO SMILE

My driver's license is expiring on my birthday this year.
Happy Birthday to me.

I realize today is a few days off but today was 'D' day.

I have known for a couple of months that I was about to expire.
I noticed, even before I got the letter from the DOL.
I felt rather relieved actually.
5 years ago I considered losing that licence
so I could get a new picture - the same day I got it.  

Would that be dishonest?

This morning I looked in the mirror and thought,
"Hey - I think I 'cleaned up' OK today."

I've had a BIG helping of humble pie since then.

I have been dreading and privately plotting to beat my birthday renewal deadline. I went to the hair stylist about 10 days ago and asked her to cut my hair so it didn't look fresh from the salon. Yes, I admit I have to ask for such things. Perhaps because I am fundamentally a cheapskate, I usually ask to get it 'short to last as long as possible'. I told her I was shooting for a better license picture - she laughed. These pictures really are notorious.


I could have renewed on line but if you do they keep the same picture.
If I had been gorgeous back then that would have been OK but my long-pulled-back hair that day merely identified the way I looked on 'those' kind of days and emphasized the roundness of my overweight face.



Where was this policy when I was 30 something?

I figured that since I knew in advance,
 I could pick a day I looked decent,
 and I've been waiting - and waiting ...

For about a year now when a clerk asked for ID it was apparent that the picture no longer identified me.  After a quizzical look or two between my face and the license invariably I was asked,
"Is this you?"

DUH! - No - I carry a funky picture of someone else around with me pretending it is me! REALLY - time for a new one.
The clerk at DOL agreed.
She thought I looked very different too -
you've really changed she says ... !?!?!?!

After a quick eye exam -

(oh, whoops I didn't mean that,
 let me try again using letters not numbers -
 where did that come from??
 and what red dot? where? I don't seeeee one ...
you forgot to turn it on? now we're even)

- she tells me they don't take debit or credit - I am dumbfounded!
I have to run to the bank.
I never carry more than a couple bucks on my person.
Why would I when a card or two will fit in a pocket?
I have never carried a purse and I am not about to start now.
I tried it once but I kept leaving it.

When I got back and paid I was directed to stand in front of the blue banner with my toes behind the line for my 'glamour shot'.
I was kind of looking forward to that part - the getting a new picture part.  It fit my plot. I even checked in the restroom mirror to be sure my hair wasn't too windblown - I thought.

"Smile," the guy said while I was looking to see if my toes were behind the line. I looked up to see where the camera was as the flash went off.

I asked him to take a new one.  He said they never do.
What a way to generate cash flow!

My 'honest as the day is long' husband suggested I lose this licence.
It's only 5 bucks to get a replacement.

At first I thought I looked like a 'caught in the act' candid
after a college night with a white porcelain bowl!
Since I haven't ever really attended college I couldn't quite see myself mocking it that way.

I am wondering if perhaps the Department of Licencing wants the police officer to be able to compare the license picture with my face as the officer says, "do you know how fast you were going?" or "do you know your tabs are expired?"

I may keep it.  It looks like I am about to spit -

Every single day that I carry it in my pocket I will remember to put on my royalty face - my smiling RS face!Wave to our public dear - one never knows when someone will snap a picture.
Paste the smile on!

I think of Elder Richard G. Scott's general conference talk this October. He taught that we
"... become what we want to be, by being what we want to become..."
What a noble sentiment.

Don't sigh yet! The jury is still out!
I will decide when the color version arrives next week.

Meanwhile you decide?
What labels would you attach to such a picture?

Defective Laptop Notebooks

Recently I got a card in the mail saying if my laptop was not working to go here because mine was one of the ones that was sold with a defective GPU and NVIDIA chip.  We bought it in 2007.  It worked a while - and then spent more time in the shop than on any lap (we had extended warranties - I think extended warranties usually are dumb but in this instance we happened to get one).


How's your lap top working? 


It affected HP, Dell and Apple notebooks.  


Oh yeah ... HURRY - the deadline is 5 November 2010 if yours is one of the 'teethgirinding' laptops.

CONFIDENCE

What can you do confidently?

Why?

I can walk. I have two feet. 

My feet are attached to my two legs and by various joints, muscles and other structures common to the human body they move me about without any real need to consciously consider them.  At least that was the case when I was younger. I loved to run and hike, actively participate in work and play,  and dance - and dance and dance.  I expected to always do so.

A morning of September 1988 changed my confidence levels forever. That morning, in the early cold of predawn,  my youngest son stood crying on the stair landing as everyone hurried down to warmer kitchen and living areas.  No one, even me really, wanted to deal with the sodden, droopy 'morning' diaper or the endlessly running nose. I scooped him up and turned to descend the dozen or so steps and join our brief morning gathering to read scriptures and join together to pray as a family before everyone began their other usual schedules and activities.

My father allowed his children to work along side him on the farm and construction sites IF we obeyed and IF we worked. Many of the tasks we learned required agility and endurance.  'High wire' walks along beams and rafters was routine.  We walked up and down ladders, extending more than one story, with habitual confidence the way most people walk up and down stairs  - yes we did go down walking forwards, facing out from the building! I think Dad told us not to but he did it to transport larger loads so why wouldn't we? I once saw him sit on the edge of a high ladder and slide - zip - just like that, to the bottom.  He was in a hurry. I was never that brave. To my brothers it was like a game.

Our confidence was gained over time and based on acquired experience, tested and repeated again and again.    Like a toddler learning to walk, we began climbing ladders one rung at a time clinging to each step and having difficulty negotiating the transitions from ladder to roof and roof to ladder.  Soon we could scramble up a ladder in no time at all and then we learned various ways to carry things needed for ourselves and others.  Incentives of all kinds encouraged us: the simple challenge of doing it - of being 'up' there, being with dad, wages given for nailing sheeting and shingles or other simple but tedious jobs, and what child can resist being a hero - taking daddy a drink of water, more nails or his dropped hammer?

That morning of 1988 as I turned and confidently stepped down the first step, with a young child in my arms, my left heel caught on the rubber stair nosing. I tried desperately to regain my balance and stay upright or even to only sit down. Many scenarios and options flashed, like a movie reel on fast forward, through my mind. I was instantly certain of impeding injury.  I could imagine my child's head hitting the distant vinyl covered, concrete floor like a pumpkin thrown onto a sidewalk. I could imagine my body twisted or my face skinned, scabbed or bruised purple yellow. An instantaneous impulse of self preservation provided the option to drop him and grab the handrail. The same split second evaluated holding him with one arm and grabbing with the other.

My mother instinct, combined with that image of a smashed pumpkin, provided to mind the only option being to lean backwards and hold him tightly to my chest so that my body would be his cushion.  My left leg remained caught. As I began to slide my full weight fell onto the leg as it folded behind and underneath me.  I felt the skin tear from the shin and foot and knew this was going to be a big nuisance - and I had so much to do.

I was extremely exasperated to consider how my busy schedule would be so messed up. Part way down the stairway I heard and felt the snap.  I knew the bone was broken. I tried to conjure solutions to what I considered a ridiculous situation. I was too busy to have this happening!

My husband roused a neighbor, backed our car over the apartment complex lawn to the door and they carried me to it. I kept the leg bent at a 90 degree angle - that seemed to lessen the immense pain. At the hospital David drove up to the ambulance entrance and ran into the hospital. Soon he returned with a nurse.  She wanted to know if I wanted a wheel chair or if I thought I could walk!?!?!

My confidence in anyone's sanity, including my own ebbed when I had to insist I could not get into a wheel chair. In her defense I later learned she had asked him if I was pregnant. When all she could understand of what David told her was that 'it was broken' she assumed my 'water broke'.

The oblique fractures of the tibia and fibula required a 10 day hospital stay, shortened my leg by 3/4" and required extensive Physical Therapy. A cast from toe to hip provided very limited mobility for approximately 8 months.

My visiting teacher came to the hospital to see me.  She reminded me that if I had enough faith in Jesus Christ that I could 'rise and walk'.  I knew I could IF that was God's will, but I did not feel like it was. I tend to trust God.  I trust that He knows what is best and will bless me to have what I need when I need it.  I have complete confidence that He knows me and loves me and will bless me with what is best for me and right for me - especially when I ask for the blessings I need. (My family prayed and asked for me and I asked for Priesthood blessings also.)

Later I wondered what took more faith - to 'rise and walk' or not to. I thought of the man in Acts that was lame all his life that was lain near the door of the temple to beg.  He was not healed by Christ but by Peter and John after the crucifixion. How much faith does it take to submit my desires and will to God and trust Him to grant or withhold omnisciently?

At first I held a rather big pity party. When I could at last turn over from side to side doctors discovered injuries to my back. After being informed that I was really lucky that my leg took the brunt of the fall and saved my back I was suddenly quite happy to have only a broken leg.  In my heart I knew what doctors were saying was sort of correct - I had been 'lucky' - blessed and protected and so had my son.  He had no injury at all.

At the hospital one specialist voiced that I might never really walk again.  That made me quite cranky. I had a life to live, a family to raise and besides I wanted to dance.  One of my pleasures in life has always been to dance. I consider my sweetest moments to have been encircled in my husband's arms as we waltzed or jived.

The next couple of years I did not dance.  Wheel chairs are MUCH more mobile than crutches and besides I could look my 5 year old and toddler in the eye AND they loved to push mommy and go for rides.  We were even able to go to the park on nice days. Crutches allowed me to negotiate restricted spaces and after a few weeks I was able to resume many activities and take care of most basic needs for myself and my pre-schoolers. Who needs dancing when you can manage basic hygiene with minimal help?

2 years later I walked without crutches or canes. Climbing ladders, even carefully, was out of the question but I continued to work on mobility and could walk up and down stairs.  I never know when the joint, leg or weight of the built-up shoe will do something strange or unpredictable.That leg has not inspired confident activity since. Experience induces caution.

 There are many things I can do. There are many things I can't.
 I am now confident that caution is needed when I walk or run, climb or dance.

What inspires confidence?

In 3rd grade I took piano lessons for 6 months. The teacher indicated mom should find another teacher.  I frustrated her - but that is a different story.  I have plunked away on the piano every since then.  I am not a confident piano player.

When one of my brothers was married I had sheet music for a popular song. At home I could play it well enough that it was recognizable.  I was asked to play that song as part of his wedding program.  I hesitated but was 'talked' into it.  You might think I would have begun to seriously practice playing it - you might be wrong.  When his new sister-in-law (an accomplished pianist my age) played her song, I knew my stumbling plunking should never have a public hearing.  When I was pushed to play and refused everyone thought I had stage fright. I knew better.

I walked out and did not return until the last item on the program was being performed.  The master of ceremonies then announced that I would play.  I could have died.  Of course everyone thought I was just nervous and told me not to worry about it.  My fear had nothing to do with the stage.  I had not prepared properly.  I could have.  I didn't.

Confidence does not come from laziness or neglect. Confidence and faith are the opposite of fear.

The Book of Hebrews in the Bible teaches about Faith.
(see chapter 11)

Faith is an action word. Faith requires me to do and think.

How many hours each day do professional musicians practice?

I seldom practice consistently every day. If I did I likely could play the piano more confidently. It isn't a priority for me. I don't have sufficient desire. It seems to be merely an idle curiosity. 

What can I do confidently? Why can I do it with confidence?

I can do almost anything I truly desire to do - God willing.

What do I really desire? What am I willing to practice? repetitively make a priority?

Do I want to dance? Will I make the effort?

Consistently?

Persistently?

I am a seamstress. I make, alter and mend clothing and furnishings of all kinds. I have learned, practiced and applied rules and techniques many times. Consistently!Persistently! I know I can do most things and figure out things I may still need to learn.

Modern scripture teaches that confidence begins with obedience to true principles and faith.

"All true faith must be based upon correct knowledge or it cannot produce the desired results. Faith in Jesus Christ is the first principle of the gospel [of Jesus Christ] and is more than belief, since true faith always moves its possessor to some kind of physical and mental action; it carries an assurance of the fulfillment of the things hoped for. A lack of faith leads one to despair, which comes because of iniquity." Bible Dictionary: Faith

What can you do confidently? Why can you do it with confidence?

You know you can do it because you have paid a price. Jesus Christ the only begotten son of God the Father paid a price for our confidence in him - he gave his life and all his love. What will I do/give for confidence in him?

I can do almost anything I truly desire to do - God willing
- so can you..

What do I really desire? How about you?

What are we willing to practice? repetitively make a priority?

I need to just try!

AND TRY AGAIN!!