Time for a new journal

I love starting a new journal. It's kind of like starting all over. Like Anne Shirley's teacher told her (in Anne of Green Gables), "Today is a new day, with no mistakes in it. Yet." I'm sure I must certainly have misquoted that, but you get the idea -- a new journal without a single writeover or cross out. A book of blank pages waiting to be filled with all manner of good thoughts, a few struggles, and happy memories to be savored some quiet rainy day in the future.

This journal is different than any other I've had.



Each page has a few lines to fill in for each of the following thoughts:

Something that touched my heart
Something good
Something funny
Lesson learned
Challenges

Those are good things to be anticipating each day, knowing I will need to fill in the blank. And then the rest of that page and the one facing is for regular journaling.

This journal has a pen attached. So much better than closing the journal with the pen inside, or having to rummage through the drawer in my nightstand to find one. But I think I'll trade this pen for a green pen. Some years I color coordinate the ink with the journal. I think this will be one of those years.

I still have a few pages -- maybe 3 or 4 -- left in my old journal. But I'm really tempted to start this new one tomorrow. Don't you think it's best to start a new journal on the first day of a month, rather than on the third or fourth? Me, too.

Lunch Out With the Girls (and a boy)

Debra, Sandra, Sheri, Chloe, Gayle and Carter

Before and since we moved to Utah, a large number of our friends from our ward in Maryland have moved here. We could probably even form a Gaithersburg branch here if we included Marylanders from all over Utah. Some of those who have "crossed the plains" include a former bishop and his wife, several elderly friends who came out to be near their adult children, Young Men and Young Women who came to BYU, UVU, UU and SUU and decided to stay, and many others, including several of our closest friends.

Debra and John and their family have been our friends since about 1983. They moved from California to Maryland when their children Chris, Sandra and Sheri were eight, five and two. Although Gayle was a little older, our families blended well. Not long before Gayle and Bill were married, we learned that Bill is John's 3rd or 4th cousin. Small world! We agreed that it was fitting and good there was now an official familial relationship between our families. John and Debra finally moved to Utah a few years behind us, and live not far from Gayle. Sandra and her husband also live in the area, as does Chris. Sheri is temporarily living out of state, but will be returning to Utah this summer to get married and settle.

Last week, Sheri was home for a visit and she and Gayle made plans for us girls to get together for lunch. We had fun catching up on one another's latest news and Gayle and I enjoyed hearing about Sheri's wedding plans.

Here's their family when we vacationed together in Michigan in 1990


As Carrie Nuttall, another of our Maryland friends always used to tell me, "It takes a long time to make an old friend."

My Mama Cat

She hobbles over to where I sit at the kitchen table tapping away on the keyboard of my laptop computer, nudges my leg and waits for me to reach down and pet her. Which I do without hesitation. She sits patiently, soaking up the ear- and chin-scratching until I resume what I was doing. She settles at my feet. After watching her move around our house since she moved in with us, I have concluded that MamaCat is protecting me.

My relationship with this kitty goes back several years. She was born to a scraggly, malnourished feral cat who disappeared shortly after teaching her two kittens they could find food at the Warrens' Carport Diner where we left food out for our cats. Bob and I simultaneously named her "Wolfie" one day when she peered at us over the fence from our backyard patio. She was black verigated with small splotches of orange, and she looked rugged -- like a wolf. She was "he" to us until the following spring when she plumped up and suddenly slimmed down, and we discovered a litter of kittens under our deck. Wolfie became MamaCat.








A few weeks later, MamaCat brought her family to the Carport Diner, as her mother had done with her. Shy and hesitant at first, eventually bold and untouchable they came. It was a busy summer for us, and the thoughts I had of taming them got lost in the shuffle, and we soon found ourselves swarmed in feral kittens who were quickly becoming cats. One morning we knew they had to go. While they still had a chance of adoption, Bob called animal control and borrowed a trap. Silently rooting for the kittens, I kept score. Kittens 1, Bob 0. They outsmarted his efforts. Kittens 2, Bob 0. I was impressed, and had to share my glee -- kept score online with my sister and niece on our family website. I'm afraid that jinxed the kittens. From then they were quickly gobbled up by the trap one at a time. Bob put the trap and kittens into the car and delivered the them to the animal shelter. When he came back with the trap, I was puzzled.

"She has to go, Pam. We can't have her putting out kittens several times a year, " he insisted.

"Bob, they'll euthanizer her. She's wild. She doesn't have a chance," I pleaded.

The argument went back and forth, and finally he succumbed. "Ok, but you have to tame her enough to catch her and take her in to get her fixed."

I promised. And I started working immediately on the taming of MamaCat. After a short time, I could touch the top of her head while she ate at the Carport Diner. If I moved too quickly, she panicked and retreated. But she knew I was her friend. And I knew she was mine. Daily we met there and visited together while she ate.

One fall morning I stepped outside to feed her and was surprised that she wasn't waiting on the other side of the carport for her breakfast, a recent habit. I looked around, called "Kitty, kitty? Where are you, MamaCat?" I was puzzled. Something was wrong. I walked to the front yard, and almost immediately, I spied MamaCat sitting in the street by the curb in front of the house across the street. As I slowly approached her, I talked to her softly hoping not to spook her. I expected her to run as I had never approached her like this before. But she didn't. She just sat there looking at me. I stooped down and reached my hand out to her. She sniffed it, but still didn't make any effort to escape. There was no blood, but I knew she was hurt. I touched her cautiously. We were becoming friends, but she was a feral cat, unvaccinated, and I had no assurance that under stress she wouldn't go into defense mode. Something about the position of one of her hind legs wasn't right. She was going to have to see a vet. I came back home and quickly found a box the right size to confine her for the ride and returned to where she sat in the gutter. After talking with her quietly for a few minutes, and petting her to keep her (and myself) calm, I slowly picked her up. Her one hind leg dangled lifeless, her body tensed at this first experience of being held by a human, but she didn't struggle.

Now I had my own struggle. I knew her injury was not minor. Veterinary care is not inexpensive. I needed reassurance. I called Bob at work and told him what had happened. His reaction was not surprising, but maybe it was what I needed to strengthen my own resolve. "Put her to sleep, Pam. She's a wild cat. I'm not paying for a vet for a wild cat."

"But she trusts me, Bob. She's not wild anymore." -- I was definitely stretching the truth here.

"I'm not paying for it."

"That's ok, I am. I can't put her to sleep. She trusts me. It's probably not a serious injury. I can't put her to sleep because of a broken leg."

So off to the vet we went, MamaCat and me. Dr. Dicou took us right away, and after a visual evaluation, she told me what I already knew, that MamaCat had a broken leg. The extent of the injury was more apparent when Dr. Dicou put the xrays up on the screen. The break was very close to a joint and would be hard to repair. And even with surgery, there would be no guarantees of a permanent fix. She might need her leg amputated. We could skip the repair, if I chose and go right for the amputation. No, I said, let's try to fix it. A veterinary orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Smith, was called and would do the surgery as soon as he could. I went home and waited for the news.

The call came sooner than I expected. Dr. Smith said he had taken a look at the xrays and found that her other hind leg was also fractured. To repair the fractures, he would need to put pins in to pull the bones back in alignment and hold them together. He confirmed what Dr. Dicou had already told me: because of the break(s) being so close to the joint, there was no guarantee the surgery would work. And of course, the fee for the surgery went up considerably with the second break. What did I want to do? What did I want to do, he asked? What did I want to do? Mostly I wanted not to have this problem, nor have to make such a huge decision on the spot. I had to err, if I were to err, on the side of this sweet kitty. "Do it," I told him.

A day or two later, MamaCat was released to my care. She had to be confined so that she wouldn't walk on her legs any more than necessary. We kept her in a kennel in our living room, near the dinette, where she could see us most of the time. She required pain medication and antiobiotics several times a day. She was a good patient.




MamaCat's legs seemed to be healing, and upon Dr. Smith's instructions, we allowed her out of the kennel a few weeks later for short periods of time. Daisy and Oreo were house cats at this time, but after their initial inspection of the newcomer, they seemed to prefer to ignore her. I confined them in the basement when I let MamaCat out for exercise. She didn't run from me, she couldn't. But she was still very shy.

One day as I picked her up to put her back into the kennel I felt something sharp on her leg poke my hand. Closer observation showed the screw holding her leg together had become dislodged and was poking thru the skin. I was horrified. I called Dr. Smith immediately and he said to bring her in. Another surgery, another recuperation. A few weeks later, it happened a second time.

We took her to Dr. Smith's office in Sandy. I sat quietly in the exam room with MamaCat waiting for him to come in. He ordered xrays. He brought them in to show me what was happening. The bone in the leg that had been most severely damaged had become diseased somehow and would not hold the pin. I was in emotional agony. She had come so far, had been through so much pain and discomfort. How could I put her through any more? Should I? Or had Bob been right in the first place? Should she be euthanized? I asked Dr. Smith what he thought. He hesitated then said, "If she's just a feral cat and you have no feelings or attachment for her, then maybe euthanasia is the right thing. But, we can amputate this leg and she will be just fine." I was also thinking about another vet bill, although Dr. Smith had generously not charged me for the second surgery. I wouldn't expect that kind of continued generosity. He must have read my thoughts because he added, "If you want me to amputate her leg, there will be no charge. I'm in this with you to the end."

So MamaCat endured her third surgery, and returned home a few days later to her kennel in the living room. Round three recuperation was underway.

This time, there were no setbacks. She healed completely. And, just as Dr. Smith had promised, she adapted very quickly to being a three-legged cat. For her protection, (we thought), we moved Daisy and Oreo outside. A kind of role reversal just took place. She was the live-in cat, and they had become the yard cats. MamaCat was still basically a feral cat. She scattered away on her three good legs when she saw us coming. She would come to me if I stooped down and talked to her softly. Fast moves still spooked her. She allowed Bob to live here, but she wasn't about to be his friend. If he looked at or spoke to her, she made a quick getaway.


MamaCat, 6 months after The Accident

Little by little she became more at ease. There were no major turning points, but a gradual acceptance of her new life and of us as her family. There was only one milestone that was notable, and it happened two or three summers after The Accident. In that time, she had finally accepted Bob as a necessary evil and didn't always run when he came into the room. She even let him pet her occasionally, if he didn't move fast or speak harshly. But if a stranger came into the house, she hobbled up the steps and hid under our bed until she could no longer hear the stranger's voice. The summer of 2006 my sister Kathie and her husband Carl came to visit. MamaCat made herself scarce, coming out in the open to eat and use her box mostly at night or while we were away. One morning, Kathie and I were sitting at the kitchen table and while we were engrossed in our conversation, MamaCat quietly came in and sat at Kathie's side. When we noticed, we glanced at each other, the surprise apparent on both our faces. Kathie slowly reached down, speaking softly calling her by name, and touched her head. MamaCat accepted her affection. Other than the times that I have held MamaCat and let Brody, Kennedy or Carter pet her briefly since then, Kathie is the only person other than Bob and me to touch her.

In the beginning of her house confinement, when Daisy and Oreo lived in, MamaCat seemed to realize she was the newcomer and the house cats were unthreatened by her. They guardedly passed each other, and an occasional low growl was heard from one or the other. But no obvious hostility. That is, until Daisy and Oreo were banished to the outside. Each day that went by, MamaCat became closer to me, following me around during the day and sleeping in our room at night. One day it occurred to me that if she wasn't at my feet, she was often laying by the door of the room I was in, facing outward. That she might be "guarding" me seemed possible. That hunch was validated one day when I let Daisy come in to go to the basement. MamaCat suddenly attacked Daisy as she ran straight toward the basement. Fur flew. Cats screeched and hissed. But in the end, there were no injuries, except Daisy's pride. This had been her home, and now she was humiliated by some punk three-legged cat
half her size.

I don't remember when MamaCat decided that rather than sleeping under our bed, she wanted to sleep on it, but one night she came to my side of the bed and tried to claw her way up. Even though her one hind leg had healed enough to walk on, it is not fully functional and she cannot leap as other cats do. I reached over and lifted her onto the bed. She sat quietly for a moment not quite knowing what to do. She licked my arm for a few minutes. Then she put her face in mine and gave me one little lick by the corner of my mouth. Thus started our nightly ritual of "bath and a kiss". So she really is My MamaCat. She gives me a bath, and tucks me in with a kiss each night.

She's Baa-aaaack

Or maybe it's the next generation of friendly neighborhood arachnids. This one came and went in pretty much the same manner as her predecessor: now you see her, now you don't. My kitchen sink is the place. I can live with it. At least under the current circumstances -- small spider, appears rarely and quickly disappears.

Here's What Cap and Trade Will Do For Your Electricity Bill

Have you wondered what the President's proposed "Cap and Trade" will do to your electricity bill? (Cap and Trade is part of the current Budget legislation being considered in Congress right now.) Here's some information that I received in an email last night from my Representative in Congress, Jason Chaffetz. I apologize that the Table didn't transfer intact, so I've just included the annual cost increase per capita.

March 27, 2009

Dear Mrs. Warren,

Data released on March 26 by the House Committee on Ways and Means demonstrates that every state in the Union - and every American - will be hit hard by a new and highly regressive "Cap and Trade" tax.

The President's recently-released budget imposes a $3.01 billion tax on Utahns. On a per capita basis, each Utahn will be hit with $1,115.47 in new taxes on their electricity bill alone (Table 1). Families will be hit even harder. The data show this new tax will increase the average Utah family's (3.08 people/household) annual electricity bill by $3,435.65 or by nearly $290 per month. While other energy costs are low as a result of the recession, all energy costs will increase as the Administration increases the velocity of its frontal assault on American energy security.

At a recent congressional hearing on energy consumption I asked Mr. Howard Gruenspecht, an expert witness from the Energy Information Agency (EIA), a non-partisan federal agency dealing with energy issues, what percent of Americans consume some form of energy. He replied: "All of them." Further, I asked him what percent of Americans would be impacted by a cap and trade tax. His answer: "Probably all of them."

Since everyone in America consumes energy, then everyone in America will suffer the consequences of the Obama Administration's foolhardy proposal to regulate climate change through so-called "Cap and Trade (Tax)" policies. The Administration's proposal will not only further cripple the economy, it will impose a crushing energy consumption tax on every man, woman, and child in the United States.

With so many individuals already living on the margins, this massive new tax increase will destroy our hope of recovering from the current recession. The financial security of all Americans will be jeopardized if this tax is enacted. Now is not the time to increase taxes, nor is this the way. Despite the President's assurances that 95 percent of Americans will not see their taxes increase by one dime, the numbers clearly show his plan will actually increase taxes on 100 percent of Americans.

Table 1:

Annual Increase in Electricity Costs
(based on the Stern Review's recommended carbon price of $85 per ton)



State Increase in Electricity Costs per Capita

Alabama $1,528.26

Alaska $535.49

Arizona $671.57

Arkansas $784.69

California $126.45

Colorado $702.81

Connecticut $280.19

Delaware $22.79

Dist of Col $977.30

Florida $604.40

Georgia $783.26

Hawaii $595.87

Idaho $74.42

Illinois $664.04

Indiana $1,627.46

Iowa $1,138.23

Kansas $1,141.84

Kentucky $1,798.23

Louisiana $1,100.39

Maine $455.69

Maryland $502.82

Massachusetts $350.82

Michigan $668.94

Minnesota $633.04

Mississippi $727.35

Missouri $1,147.83

Montana $1,717.63

Nebraska $1,052.30

Nevada $848.45

New Hampshire $527.51

New Jersey $206.60

New Mexico $1,402.42

New York $263.61

North Carolina $699.46

North Dakota $4,350.56

Ohio $975.60

Oklahoma $1,200.68

Oregon $201.08

Pennsylvania $865.23

Rhode Island $210.51

South Carolina $775.41

South Dakota $348.80

Tennessee $819.00

Texas $903.78

Utah $1,115.47

Vermont $1.93

Virginia $521.97

Washington $193.47

West Virginia $3,972.29

Wisconsin $815.11

Wyoming $7,249.54



Source: Committee on Ways & Means Republican Staff analysis

Sincerely,
Jason Chaffetz

Member of Congress

An interesting article

From a reputable conservative website:

March 18, 2009
Missouri police given chilling instructions
Timothy Birdnow
Police in Missouri apparently are being instructed to keep on eye on conservatives.

According to this AP article the government of the state of Missouri has issued a report "informing" state police that people with third party bumper stickers on their cars or who believe the NAFTA superhighway is an attempt create a North American Union are subversive members of paramilitary militias and potential terrorists.

The Missouri Information Analysis Center (a division of the state police) has compiled an enemies list of warning signs for state police officers, signs that are supposed to help them determine potential terrorists. Such signs include Ron Paul bumper stickers, or "Right to Carry" handgun stickers (I have to wonder: does it include Support Your Local Police stickers, too?) and our friendly state troopers are warned to proceed with extreme caution against such radicals.

Click here for More

Read the whole article. Also suspect are Christians, those opposed to abortion,
tax revisionists, and anti-illegal immigrant advocates. I guess we should be careful about what bumper stickers we have on our cars.

If you're getting your news from the mainstream media only, you probably would never hear about this.

My Sweet Carter

My sweet Carter came for a visit today while his family went skiing with out-of-town friends. He arrived with a smile on his face, as he always does, and his "sweeper" in his hand. The first thing he did was suggest I get mine so that we could sweep together. I was so grateful -- my dinette was in bad need. He also swept the living room. (I think Carter sweeps daily with his mother.)



After we finished our indoor chores, we headed for the back yard. Carter knew where to find his favorite outside toys. From the shed, he dragged the small plastic golf bag with its clubs. He explained to his non-golfing Grandma that one was his driver and the other, his wedge. We hit a few balls around the yard when the little lightbulb that hangs over my head suddenly lit up. I wondered out loud if the mini golf at Cascade Golf Course was open yet this season. Carter's eyes widened. He loves mini golf! I cautioned, "We'll go IF they are open."
I called. They were. We went.

Grandma's no dummy. She didn't keep score. He might've won.


As he was getting out of the car back at our house after golfing, he softly said, "Thank you, Grandma," and gave me a hug. Be still, my heart. (When he raids the cookie jar, he gets me one, too.)

He found his fishing pole in the back shed....and quickly caught....a catfish!




A few minutes later, he wandered over to where I was raking, fishing pole in hand and asked, "Grandma, is Michigan open yet?"


The huge pine trees that border the deck in the corner of the yard with their cave-like underside have been the "secret garden" for Brody and Kennedy since they were very young. Four year old Brody (the age Carter is now), insisted it was his "Club". Kennedy came along and claimed it with him.



Carter wandered back there today....



"What does that say?" he asked.

"It says, 'Brody and Kennedy's Club'," I answered.

Thoughtful silence.

"Where's me, Grandma?"

"Oh, Carter, you weren't born yet when we made that sign."

"I wanna be there."

"Ok, we can do that."

He was as captivated by the spot named "Brody and Kennedy's Club" as his brother and sister were before him. Soon his imagination carried him away into the world of make-believe, and the "club" was magically transformed into a kitchen. He dragged the small plastic picnic table from the deck into his new abode. I placed a flower pot with last year's dead geranium onto the "kitchen table". Carter announced I could be the mom and he would be the brother. He would make dinner. We had "corn dogs".



He even did the dishes!

It was late and time for bed...



We spent two more "days" in this magical place and time, with dinner being "brother's" favorite part. We had "spaghetti" one night, and "macaroni and cheese" the other. "Brother" always did the dishes, and he went to "school" during the "day".

Suddenly Grandpa was home from work, and Carter quickly returned to reality. Grandpa is one of his favorite people. (Grandpa is tops with all the kids.) Carter showed Grandpa that Grandma had lost the sinker and other paraphrenalia from the end of his fishing line in the tree with a misplaced cast. Grandpa fixed it for him. And then took him to the playground at Edgemont. It was a great day for Grandma, with several unforgettable moments. Days spent with my sweet Carter are often like that.

Turning Tears to Laughter ...

and back to tears, of laughter.

Lynne is my Visiting Teacher. She's also my friend. I really should put "friend" before "Visiting Teacher" because, although she was my VT first, she now will always be my friend.

Lynne is the best kind of friend. To everyone, not just to me.

-- She listens to the Spirit and knows when someone needs special attention
-- She always sees the best in everyone and is quick to point it out
-- Lynne scatters sunshine and leaves blooming flowers in her wake
-- She lifts up the arms that hang down, comforts those who need comfort, rejoices with those who rejoice, and mourns with those who mourn
-- Lynne is one of the best listeners I know (she does more than her fair share with me)
-- She makes the very best caramels in the whole world and generously shares them
-- Lynne will drop everything to run an errand with me (and with you,too)
-- She'll drop it faster if I suggest we get a J-Dawg while we're out
-- She makes me laugh
-- Even when she wants to cry

Today we ran an errand together at the mall, and ended up in the Hallmark store browsing the cards. Lynne was subdued, and admitted she was feeling low. We talked a bit, and wandered over to a different card rack.



She pulled a card from it's place, read it and snickered.


She handed it to me. I snickered, too.


Then another...

a few more snickers.

I found this one




and laughed out loud.

It was all downhill from there.




(The signs read "Happy Birthday" "Happy Birthday" and "I like corn on the cob.")

























We weren't sitting on chairs, but if we had been, I'm sure we would have fallen off them...and rolled all over the floor holding our sides.

Life is good with a friend like Lynne.

(sorry about the blurry pictures, but it's hard to focus when everything is shaking)

(P.S. to Lynne: I hope you're feeling better this evening, my friend.)

A (very brief) "Brody Story"

Brody is an avid reader. He consumes books. Last year he had a little more time for reading, but this year he is in a special program which heaps mountains of homework upon him. Last Thursday when I was with him on a short trip in the car, he brought a book along, A Long Way From Chicago, by Richard Peck. He had me read Chapter 2 while we traveled and we talked about it. A day or so after that, I mentioned it to my friend Lynne, and I was not really surprised to find that not only was she familiar with the book and the author, but she offered to lend me that one and another by the same man, so that I could further discuss them with Brody.

Another day or two later, I was chatting with Brody on the telephone, and I told him that Lynne was going to lend me the book to read.

"Did you get your copy at the library?" I asked him.

"No. I got it from my teacher. Our room at school is filled with books. It has more books than germs, Grandma."

And this grandma laughed.

Then I smiled a warm and loving smile for his teacher, whom I love more and more every time Brody shares a school experience with me.

Salt Lake City Tea Party

Citizens from as far away as Price began gathering on the west steps of the Utah Capitol building in Salt Lake City about 11 a.m. this morning. By noon we had a nice gathering of people who had come to peacefully declare their concern for the current economic conditions and the accelerated spending programs this new administration in Washington is putting in place.

The organizer of this Tea Party is David Kirkham, a small businessman of Kirkham Motor Sports in Provo. He lives not far from me in Edgemont, although I had not met him before this event. David, like many of us who participated today, had never taken part in any kind of demonstration before this one. He did a great job of putting this Tea Party together, and I thank him for taking the time and making the effort to do so. Standing together with like-minded citizens was encouraging.

At noon, we moved inside the building where a podium had been set up for our use. David addressed us (please read his message at www.davidkirkham.blogspot.com), as did Chris Herrod, Utah State Representative of the 62nd Legislative District in Provo, and three others, whose names I didn't get (but would be glad to add if someone will tell me). The concensus in this group of speakers and demonstrators is that the government is doing great harm to our country by its massive spending and borrowing.

Another round of Tea Parties nationwide has been scheduled for April 15. Watch for one near you.














David Kirkham, the organizer of this Tea Party














David Kirkham introducing Rep. Herrod


Chris Herrod, Utah State Representative, 62nd Legislative District (Provo)