Daily Read #11: Fruit of the Loom

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I have weaved. or is it woved? or is it weaven? or woven? Whatever it is I've done it-- weaved/woved/weaven/woven on a loom where you pass a shuttle of thread back and forth as you step down on pedals that moves sets of threads up and down creating an interlocking textile. And I'm not talking about some 2 minute exhibit at a history museum. I mean I've sat down and made a rug. Doesn't that make me sound terribly ethnic? Where was this memory when I was writing personal statements for college?

Though I couldn't claim to be a weaver, I would imagine that few in my demographic can make a similar boast of such an accomplishment. My grandma is a weaver and actually has a loom in her house and no she doesn't live in a village in a hut nor does she sit outside with the fruits of her loom and haggle with tourists over the price of her wares.

Henry Ward Beecher would argue that I'm not so special after all and that everyone of us is weaving. “We sleep, but the loom of life never stops, and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down is weaving when it comes up in the morning.”

I'm just now getting to the point where I have had enough stages and seasons in my life to begin to see the pattern emerging from life's loom. Colors and textures appear and disappear creating designs of momentary interest but that don't seem significant until later when they are repeated. [Does someone have a gong that they could wack with every period or maybe a harp or a tambourine that they could strum or shake in the background of this stream of metaphoric prose?] At times what we expected to be only a narrow strip becomes a color block and other threads run out before we think we're ready to move on. Some colors seem inescapably pervasive--once introduced they seem to give everything that follows a particular hue or sheen.

Everyone's life is so much more interesting, more significant than they would think. Sitting at your own loom of life it's inevitable for what's always before us to become mundane particularly when we get a glimpse at what someone else is creating or has already woven. I had that envious thought tonight talking with Ryan on the phone. [Believe it or not I do occasional do my due diligence and fact check my stories and events.]

It is very common for young men in our church to spend two years serving a mission as a representative of our faith, as anyone who knows a Mormon probably already knows. Each mission is of similar length and purpose but each has a very unique development and design [insert continuation of rug metaphor here]. A guy can talk about their mission* like a woman can talk about a pregnancy or delivery *[yes I know that some women are fortunate enough to have both experiences of mission service and childbearing at their conversational disposal, frightening that one person could yield such power. Heaven be thanked sisters don't have babies while on their missions...now that would be nuclear].

I've talked to Ryan about his mission on several occasions sometimes in more depth than others. Tonight as he shared some more specific about different parts of his life particularly related to his mission, instead of a feeling of singularity there was a feeling of interconnectedness. Ryan's mission was far from being an isolated event rather there have been threads before and after that were both premonition and continuation of his mission's service.

Ryan tells that a decision to serve a mission was far from being determined until about the time he went to boot camp. Ryan left for boot camp about 3 months after graduation from High School. He went alone or atleast ended up alone--the only member of our church, which anyone who didn't grow up in small town Utah would have difficulty envisioning how exposed and alone this would make an 18 year old feel.

I would imagine that one reason why they call it boot camp is because of the reality that if you fall out of line they will quickly boot you back in. Individual identity is discouraged and Ryan for the first couple of weeks was bound and determined not to draw attention to any aspect of himself that was unique, none of which was likely more unique than his faith. Consequently he had purposefully avoided any outward appearances that would mark him as LDS.

Several weeks from when he arrived, a friend sent him a postcard size reminder of what he was denying himself through his self-imposed distance from his faith.


For those of you without eagle eye vision the caption shares a scripture from John 14:18 that read, I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you. Ryan knew that not only was he strong-arming back the love of his Savior he also was not living up to his personal responsibility to stand as a witness of Christ at all times and in all places. He said that this was the beginning of a paradigm shift where he realized it would be impossible to isolate the service for his country from the service for his God. Where before there may have been doubts that missionary service should be part of his life's journey now there was a sense of certainty and indebtedness.

Ryan returned for a semester of school and also began his missionary papers. Once they were submitted naturally friends and family began the 'Where in the world'guessing game. During which a particular friend guessed that he would go to Canada. Ryan said that that guess seemed different from the others, seemed right. Ryan would ultimately be called to the Montreal Quebec Mission-French speaking.

[Now nothing against the French but it has always been hard for me to combine my knowledge of Ryan's military background and his speaking of French. I mean Napoleon spoke French so at some point the two weren't quite as distant as they seem now, but for some reason, French conjours up images of Pepé La Pew, rather than G.I. Joe. Any agree?]

But there were several instances as Ryan talked about his mission where I felt there were threads of incidence that would be connected to his post-mission Guard missions.In his first area he taught an young Iraqi woman. Ryan said that even then in the back of his mind as a Guardsman there was the thought that he could have later interaction with her country of origin. I think that it was fitting for Ryan to have these early positive interactions with Iraqi's and muslims in general. Where many servicemen's perceptions and interactions with the people of that part of the world are one dimensional, Ryan's been able to look through lenses* of moderation [purposeful reminder to vote] that were tempered by the depth of his mission experience.

Ryan said that if he were to define a single take away point from his mission experience it would be the reassurance of or confidence in the goodness of humanity. His time in Canada was quite multicultural the effect of which was likely only heightened by being from Richfield a place not known for its diversity. Canada gave him real world affirmation of his future mother-in-law's mantra, 'There are good people everywhere you go' and a surprising degree of goodness in most people you will meet. I'm quite confident Ryan's been able to take this lesson and incorporate it into his interactions with the world as a guardsman.

Ryan was also blessed to be sent to a mission where there wasn't a single language identity and he was able to teach and preach the gospel in both English and French. He said while it was frustrating to just be getting to a point where he was feeling comfortable with the language and then be transferred to a non-French area but in retrospect he's grateful for the experience and practice of teaching and testifying in his own language. These English experiences have had in many ways a much longer shelf-life and more direct application since he returned much of which has been related to the Guard.

That's not to say that Ryan hasn't had language opportunities since he returned. A trip to Zion is all that it takes to find most European languages.* *[Granted you have to be able to maintain eye contact while speaking to someone who is rocking extremely short shorts and a chest/midriff exposing tankini top and fanny pack of alarming girth]. Ryan said he also was able to explain to French speakers that wandered into the crowd of a demolitian derby what exactly was going on.

Where if before there had been distinct color blocks in Ryan's rug [and hopefully it's clear that I wouldn't agree he was ever privileged (or should it be victim) to such isolation] some of the most prominent colors and textures of previous life events all came together when Ryan was able to go on a short National guard mission to Morocco* in 2008, 2 years following the activation in Iraq. Many people reading this likely don't know that Morocco while very much an Arabic influenced country has a prominent French language undercurrent. Ryan was selected to go on this training mission because of his French ability. *[This may or may not be what triggered the rug thing; I'll be the first to admit it's one of the only things I know about Morocco, it was either rugs or Casablanca. Haven't seen Casablanca so wouldn't have carried me very far].

From the sounds of it the trip was certainly a trifecta. From my own experiences, a mission language is inextricably tied to service as a missionary, so to be speaking French with the national guard in a predominately Arab country was likely a very strange blend of past lives. I think in every way it could be considered mission accomplished: brush up on French [missionaries are quite limited in their ability to carry out war games], serve his own country through strengthening an ally, and have interactions of goodwill rather than war with people of Arab descent.

Ryan had a fantastic time and I hope that he has a chance to go back. I think anytime you can have such a blantantly obvious lesson in the interconnectedness of our life's choices and experiences it's a good reminder that we should all be living with our hearts and eyes wide open. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow are not as different nor far apart as we often think them to be.

Ryan thank you for the reminder of our individual responsibilities for service both to our country and our God. For someone so horrifically nearsighted, I'm quite impressed by your ability to weave.

Vote for Ryan. He deserves it more everyday. Hopefully you agree.

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For those whose Sunday Schedule has room for even more metaphor:

"The Plan of the Master Weaver"
Author Unknown

Our lives are but fine weaving
That God and we prepare,
Each life becomes a fabric planned
And fashioned in His care.

We may not always see just how
The weaving intertwines,
But we must trust the Masters hand
And follow His design.

For He can view the pattern
Upon the upper side,
While we must look from underneath
And trust in Him to guide.

Sometimes a strand of sorrow
Is added to His plan,
And though it's difficult for us,
We still must understand.

That it's He who fills the shuttle
It's He who knows what's best,
So we must weave in patience
And leave to Him the rest.

Not till the loom in silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needed
In the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

Daily Read #10: Kwanzaa with a K

National Guard Weekend is this week. Ryan's Unit will have new purpose to their training as they and their families begin to prepare for next year's activation.
Here's a great opportunity to show your appreciation.
Vote My Dads Eyes: http://www.hoopesvision.com/contest/vote.html

Let your neighbors friends and family know about it so they can too, because when we're helping we're happy.

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I think that part of what a parent can do to create emotionally resilient children is to present their children with low threat opportunities to overcome some cognitive and emotional turbulence. I think it's kind of like those studies that show that parents who overuse hand sanitizers create children with less than robust immune systems. Parents who never let their children experience a wide range of emotions and cognitive realities such as the reality of even purposeful deception could arguably be doing them a disservice as they step out into a world taking everything that anyone says at full face value.

Now I'm not saying it's a good thing to carry this to the extremes of mental or emotional abuse or even to the extent where you lose your child's trust but a little harmless, 'gotcha' now and again if nothing else gives you a funny story later in life and arguably better prepares your children for interactions in the real world.

I say this as one whose parents did occasionally pull one over on their kids and we were left no worse for the wear. Rachel has been the first to have kids who were of the age where this is really possible but already they have some very funny 'everyday is April Fool's day stories'. Here are two.

Rachel's oldest came home from Kindergarten one day with the class photo roster. Below each child's picture was their first name on one line with their middle initial and then on the second line their last name. Emma of course was pleased to show her mom her classmates but also confused by her own picture where next to her first name instead of B for her middle initial there was a K. Too young to fully understand what a 'typo' is She of course asked her mom for an explanation.

Rachel thinking real quick looked at Emma with measured seriousness and said, 'Well actually we've needed to tell you about this for a while. The K is the first letter of your secret middle name.' Emma now in equal seriousness, 'I have a secret middle name?' Rachel, 'Yes, and it starts with K.' Emma of course pleased at this information in hushed tones asked, 'Well what is it?' Rachel had to think pretty quick and said the first exotic K word that came to mind, 'Kwanzaa'. Emma said to herself, Emma Belle Kwanzaa Palmer. Rachel of course got an immediate chuckle and Emma left quite content.

A few weeks passed and all involved had forgotten this interaction. Well all but one that is and as you may guess it wasn't Rachel. She of course was reminded when Emma introduced herself to a new neighbor as, Emma Belle Kwanzaa Palmer. Rachel had to explain to two people that day that Emma didn't have two middle names. Emma was no doubt a little disappointed* but some day she'll be told the story or maybe read about it on this blog and think, 'My mom was pretty cool'. [Disappointment will grow later in life when she realizes that there is a good chance anyone named Kwanzaa immediately receives a scholarship].

Even harmless teasing can have more of a potent effect than one initially anticipates. Rachel had her two younger daughters with her at a store after Halloween. As naturally happens the older of the two daughters wasn't keeping pace and was an aisle or two behind Rachel. Rachel turned to go back to get her just as she was passing some Halloween masks when inspiration struck. Rachel picked out a reasonably frightening mask with quite an ugly face and long stringy black hair. She then walked to the end of the aisle and called out to Sophie. Sophie came running around the corner and instead of seeing her mother saw a withered old hag that began to limp towards her.

Instead of the playful shriek that Rachel had predicted. Sophie froze in absolute terror. Rachel reacting without taking off the mask said Sophie's name and started to walk towards her to comfort her. Sophie finally broke the terror paralysis that had her feet glued to the floor now she began to scream, turned and ran straight into a display. Rachel now mask off picked up the quivering Sophie and began apologizing and probaby will be for a while still.

We all can laugh about it now and even Sophie will live to learn that's pretty funny. Rachel also gained a good opportunity to teach her children that even if you didn't intend for something to have the effect that it has you make apology for and seek forgiveness of all the consequences of your action.

Sophie still doesn't like masks and who can blame her, but all of the Palmer's girls are learning that to Error is human, to love, laugh and forgive are divine. No doubt the tables will turn at some point and Rachel and Ryan will have to dine on what they dish.

Make it easier for Ryan to see what's coming.

Vote: http://www.hoopesvision.com/contest/vote.html

Thanks.

Wow Early Bird I'm Impressed.

If you are reading this, you should go back to bed.
If you are reading this and you can't go back to bed you have my sympathy and respect.

Feel free to vote and come back because today's post will be up around 8:00 am. But it is the weekend you know.

Daily Read #9: Bows and Bras

They say Necessity is the mother of all invention [I think it was Plato actually; fact check me if you will.]

I think that it is no coincidence that Mother, Necessity, and Invention made it into the same sentence.

Throughout my life I've seen instances of a mother/wife face a situation of necessity with a high degree of optimism and the spirit of invention. After all this is pretty much what got us started here. Mother/Wife Rachel identifies need. Existing resources are insufficient to meet need. Rachel invents means to meet need that only use existing resources. Genius.

Meet Two generations of female inventors/entrepreneurs.

If you are uncomfortable talking about bras or hairbows. Today might not be your Good Read Day.

Go ahead and just vote for my Dad's Eyes: http://www.hoopesvision.com/contest/vote.html

My parents decided that they were going to do their best to ensure that our mother didn't have to work*. As a result our dad like Ryan would have had his own very impressive bread winner badge earned through a series of less than ideal work situations and arrangements. [The fact that my mom could be considered 'out 'of the workforce is one of the grossest oversights in our society as if being a SAHM was the same as being a stay on the couch mom].

My mom did her part which in addition to running a home as efficiently as possible also meant complementing the role of the breadwinner by being the butter churner--that is generating some extra cash for non-necessities* *[if you consider Christmas a non-necessity]. The primary way my mom did this was by making hair bows. Hair bows were big back in the Full House decade and have made a resurgence* in recent years after waning in the late 90s. *[A resurgence like antibiotic resistant bacteria. Most hair bows now look like something out of a Dr. Suess book. The Lorax need to look no farther than his church meetings to find the tops of his beloved truffula trees pinned, poked and plastered onto the much smaller heads of little girls].

Bows by JJ was her moniker, she sold the hair bows from our home in a little room just off of our living room that we called appropriately enough the little bow room. Next to the little bow room was the corner bow room which is where my mom would assemble her goods and store all of her supplies. To this day even though these rooms have long since been repurposed one as a library, the other as a guest bedroom, we still call them the bow rooms more often than not. Had she been operating in the now era of Etsy and Ebay she could have likely been even more successful and reached a much larger market, but as it were it was profitable enough to do it while it needed to be done.

Rachel like my mom graduated with a teaching degree but also made the decision to stay at home. This was a combined decision of wanting to spend time with her kids but also not wanting to spend time with the children of others [who can blame her]. Rachel, like my mom, has definitely had to use her creative talents to churn some butter to go with Ryan's bread.

From wedding and family photo montages to painting boards for those wall hangings* that say something like 'All because two people fell in love' and hang over the perpetual mess their kids make. [Though I'm generally opposed to these crafty cliches I plan on purchasing at least one that says, 'Tender Moments' and then use it as a paddle]. While Rachel has had a range of fairly interesting [others tedius and mundane] forays into creative industries none could be more interesting (or profitable) than when she launched a website called Big Bust Support.


And by Big Bust Support I don't mean pedestals for oversized statues of the head and shoulders of philosophers and politicians. I mean [insert awkward gulp] a website that provides support in the form of advice and how to's for women with breasts, chests, and bosoms, of above average size. Trust me it's not easy for me to necessarily talk about this topic in such broad and varied company as the internet. [Granted it's likely much easier for me to explain here and now than it was for my dad to explain to his mother the purpose and audience of Rachel's website].

Ladies' chests and the internet have an understandably scandalous reputation. Unlike most sites where the two cross paths, Rachel's site is about flattering rather than flashing, coping with rather than scoping out, and dressing rather than undressing this inescapable anatomical feature that most women have a love/hate* relationship with *[As Rachel can attest for most women size tends to tip that scale to the right] .

You couldn't get a more tasteful, informative and comprehensive collection of tips and facts than what Rachel has compiled and authored at her website. She's got product reviews, do's and don'ts for all seasons and situations of dressing and accessorizing the curvy figure and much much more. Check it out if you fall into her target demographic. Even if you don't, you may have a well endowed woman in your life. Not only will BBS make Christmas shopping for her easier it will make you much more aware of the complexity both in structure and psyche of the woman figure.

Rachel's tone through the site is equal parts knowledgeable, empathetic, and lighthearted which is arguably what her BBSisters appreciate most about her. What has long been a feature and aspect of her life that has made her self-concious and guarded has actually empowered her to help a good many others. She has learned to more fully love herself by helping others do the same. As I mentioned earlier and Rachel is quick to affirm, Ryan's own unconditional love and acceptance of all that she is has been the catalyst that has initiated her own acceptance and love for herself.

All the while being a wealth of information, believe it or not ,there are growing clothing companies that are rising to the challenge of making fashionable and flattering full-figured wear, Rachel's website has been able to bring their products to their targeted market. She's a great mediator between clothes that fit and the women that could and should fill them and is compensated fairly. It's been a great way to bring home some butter [if by butter you mean replacing the coal furnace (yes they do still exist)].

So with no further adieu check it out yourself here. I'm glad to finally have the opportunity to help spread the BBS word. In most scenarios I've played out in my head approaching a buxom female in the supermarket and saying, You look like you could use more support than a single underwire, have I got the place for you.'is likely solid grounds for a sexual harassment suit. So I haven't been passing out leaflets from door to door, leaving the URL on my napkin on top of my tip at IHOP, or writing it on the price tags of any brassiere at Walmart that wouldn't make the honor roll.

If you do wander over to BigBustSupport.com, notice the call for help in the Hoopes Vision contest . As Rachel so effectively explains in her call for visitors to add their votes in this campaign, "Help! My husband has never seen my curves! (with his naked eye) and that's not Fair!'

Again one of many reasons, though not one I'd like you to entertain in very much detail (she is my sister remember), that should help you skip over to the ballot box in the sidebar to your right and cast a vote for 'My Dads Eyes in the Humorous category.

Daily Read #8 - Tooth Fairy/Grim Reaper

Thank you for sticking with us.
Thank you for inviting your friends to join you in sticking with us.
Thank you for most of all voting for Ryan to win Lasik because that is of course what this is all for.

If you feel that not all of the above apply to you, I will not rescind a single appreciation, which means you just need to start living up to my assumptions:) Trust me you'll thank me later as with all this good you're doing, the blessings are in the mail I'm sure.

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So in honor of an entire week maintaining a blog, my wife and I did something we haven't done for a long, long time. Well since before she was my wife actually. We both went to the dentist. For my wife it had been half a decade. For me it had only been 58 months which I'd say was significantly better.

I honestly held out hope that maybe the dentist had just returned from humanitarian work so that maybe we wouldn't look so bad because he had just paid a visit to this guy's village:



What does it feel like to go to the dentist after a 4-5 year unexcused absence? What does it feel like to not pay your taxes for 4-5 years and then get audited? On the latter I don't have a clue but if it's anything like the former, it's pretty uncomfortable. We hesitated in the parking lot wondering if we really had to do this today or even this year. But we've been paying for dental insurance for two years now might as well get our money's worth.

We eventually went in separately agreeing that if it wasn't really bad for both of us there was no need for the other to suffer from guilt by association. I actually shielded my mouth when I spoke with the receptionist for fear that she was wearing special black light glasses that give her the heads up on dental derelicts.

Take a stab at who was the grave offender of the almighty tooth for our marriage?

Is it my wife who has a crush on Willy Wonka and has stashes of hard candy throughout the house cached away like a squirrel does winter nuts? No she's the slender candy fiend with teeth as strong as Jaws the James Bond villain.

Now she didn't get off scot-free--she had three cavities but two were on the single tooth that has an existing filling so that hardly counts. And the other one was tiny on on a back molar.

When the assistant called me back, I thought what do I mention first? The crown that fell off a year ago and has yet to be replaced? The filling that fell out last month? Or nothing, if they're worth their salt as a dentist those things should be obvious. I'll take number 3 please.

Dental Assistant: How are you?
Me: Fine, Thanks.
Dental Assistant: Anything causing you pain.
Me: No I think we're fine [Royal 'We' to include the teeth of course].
Dental Assistant: Anything the dentist should know about?
Me: No not really. I'm sure we'll get to know each other.
Dental Assistant: Okay well I'll just get started on the X-rays then.
[inserts first x-ray film]
Dental Assistant: Huh! Those lower teeth bothering you at all?
Me: [Mental check. Filling fell out of upper left missing tooth upper right] No the lower teeth are fine.
Dental Assistant: Ok. That's good. I just think I see some cavities there. I'm glad they're not causing you pain.
Me: Thanks [Thinking. If you can see them with the naked eye must we proceed with the formality of x-rays?]

Teeth polished. Teeth cleaned. (not sure why they proceeded in that order) Meeting with the dentist.

Let's just say the polishing was like mashing potatoes with a ceiling fan. For the cleaning she had to use a hammer and chisel. The examination--More like the Spanish Inquisition--went pretty much like Battleship with someone who can read minds.

18 f,19 do,20 m,21 ac: You just sunk my battleship, Dr.

I'm literally going to need enough crowns to outfit a size-able royal family. And we didn't even talk about the tooth I am missing. Other than him confirming that I was aware that it was missing. [Thank you good sir my tongue has been wondering about that].

Laying out the 'treatment' schedule was like orchestrating D-day. The receptionist had to add more paper to the printer and asked if I'd like it stapled or spiral bound. Naturally I said that I wanted to wait to make any appointments until after we've gone through Open Enrollment; Figuring we'd likely want to up our coverage. Is a snaggle mouth a pre-existing condition?

I'm not sure when I'm going to finally break down and decide that having teeth is better than not having teeth. When I do, I'm going to wear a T-Shirt to the appointment that says 'May I pay your mortgage this month?'.

Now lest you think this post is only about me. I shared my own tale of the end of an extended sabbatical from the dentist in order to transition into a story about how an extended absence from the dentist began for Rachel.

Naturally it was before her wedding in the mad dash to get all 'elective' procedures done before leaving dependent status on my parents health coverage. It was decided that Rachel should get her wisdom teeth out. Now I did make fun of an eldest's exaggeration about the snow boots but the oldest child does have to go through a couple of a parent's painful 'Firsts and Only's'.

Having an oral surgeon sounded too expensive so it was decided that our regular family dentist would extract Rachel's wisdom teeth without sedation. Our family dentist has been the family dentist for decades. Our mother babysat his children who would almost all grow up to be dentists for the same clinic. The patriarch of the practice was very good friends with our grandparents and even after retirement would often come into the clinic particularly to work with long time patients/friends.

Well Rachel had her wisdom teeth out as planned, all but one of which were impacted. The extraction was not very pleasant but that pain paled in comparison to the pain when she developed dry sockets before they healed. The dentist had her come back so that he could address them. While Grandfather DDS wasn't the one who had extracted her wisdom teeth he was the one that attended to her in her swollen agony.

Apparently a common treatment for dry sockets is to rinse them with a salt-water solution [which you will see that it creates a salt-water problem]. Now when you have an inflamed open wound, salt, in any dilution, is never a welcome guest. A squirt from his little syringe of the salt solution directly into her wound had the same effect as if rocket launchers had engaged below that reclined examination chair. She described the pain as intense as an atomic bomb. In her writhing, Rachel reacted by grabbing this very seasoned old man's leg and squeezing with all the intensity of the pain she had just had endured. She looked him straight in his grandfather eyes and said, 'You will never hurt me like that again.'

She got up, walked out of the office and never walked back in.

Dry sockets healed; apparently the salt water worked. The dentist decided that maybe retirement wasn't so bad after all.

[For the record, We still love this dental office. They've been so good to our family. And I would recommend Brown Family dental to anyone within a 200 mile radius of Cedar City. Even if it's been five years since you went to the dentist, they would find something nice to say like, '#5 looks really good; I can tell that you're doing a lot to take care of it.]

I'm sure at some point in their marriage Ryan has felt the kind of leg squeeze now referred to as 'The Retirement Party'.

Just another reason,

He deserves your vote.

Much Thanks.

Daily Read #7: By the Sweat of your Brow

Those of you in Utah may have caught on the news last night that the 222, Ryan's guard unit has received mobilization orders for late spring 2011. The mission specifics haven't been announced, but there isn't much chance of them being sent somewhere that didn't have a lot of wind and sand. As anyone using means of vision correction can attest. Getting Lasik before being caught in a wind storm in a war zone would be awesome. Not to mention those military glasses.

One more reason to vote:http://www.hoopesvision.com/contest/vote.html

One more reason to bring your friends over to be entertained by my wit and charm convincing them do the same.
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I have a hard time admitting publicly I was a boy scout for fear that somehow I'm going to end up in a situation where someone's life depends on my tying of a clove hitch. All heads turn to me and say in unison quick, 'You're a boy scout do your duty!' My clove hitch naturally fails--a life is lost; I'm taken to the towns square where they tear my merit badges off one by one as the towns people take turns kicking my shins and screaming 'For Shame! You Sham!'

I shudder to find out what would happen if the townspeople were to discover I was a [nervous gulp] Eagle Scout.* *[A credit to a mother and three excellent scout leaders who would have seen that a house plant made it to that Eagle's nest had it been under their stewardship].

Anyway I bring it up merely because my therapist thinks that it will help me overcome some panic issues associated with parades, the color combination of tan and olive and the word Jamboree. Don't even mention the whole 'Friends of Scouting' drive that makes me as comfortable as a career criminal being brought in for questioning by the FBI.

So that's not exactly where I was intending to take this but it does kind of feel good to get that off my neckerchief.

The real reason is one of the awards in scouting that I was actually enthused about getting was a round Zion national parks patch. The real honor was getting the three pieces that encircled the central patch when you completed three major hikes in the park. Kolob Arch, West Rim, Narrows (?). At the time I was a boy scout, my aerobic threshold was similar to what it is now--meaning looking at stairs winded me--so I considered making it through these hikes a major accomplishment.

Okay so the point. Let's say that we started giving out patches for fatherhood. I would estimate there would be a similar patch to the ZNP that I would call the breadwinner patch. Surrounding the patch would be the various posts of employment that you had held to fulfill this obligation. These surrounding patches would increase in size depending on the ick factor to earnings ratio of your position so that people could pat you on the back for your efforts in executing your paternal/husbandal duties.

From my vantage point, Ryan would need to wear another shirt just to accommodate his breadwinner badge and the encircling pieces. I know he wouldn't want to toot his own horn* about how admirable he's been in this regard but that's why I'm here.

There are likely some real 'job' winners before I met Ryan, but we'll start at the point of meeting Rachel. Ryan was working at a plumbing supply store. As glamorous as that sounds trust me it's not all it's cracked* up to be [pun totally intended]. It was a good job for a college student* and he gained some good expertise that his in-laws will continue to exploit for a long time. *[Granted with a mission and two National Guard activations, Ryan was a college student for a decade so it kind of ended up being like me trying to still wear my clothes from high school, covering the vitals but a little short where you would hope things would meet]

After the Iraq deployment, Ryan returned to finally graduate until which got an on-campus janitorial job buffing floors and did a lot of athletic trainering* for university sports teams. [I know this isn't a word but it should be and I'm not sure he got paid for this or if it was just part of his education and a genuine passion. All I know is that he did and that he liked it].

After graduating, Ryan was able to get a job working with a physical therapist in Richfield. Perfect fit for what he wanted to do with his degree, only draw was that as you can imagine there is only so much physical therapy needed by the citizens of Sevier county and MWF* employment for a family man is a recipe for an empty kitchen. [This is deceivingly unrepresentative of the amount Ryan was working, spending tens of hours weekly as a volunteer trainer for the high school and managing a blackhole of a property protected by the State Historical society that deserves it's own post, but it does represent the days and time he was actually getting paid for].

Rachel and Ryan will both admit divine intervention in finding the bridge employment that got them to today. Most people would have a hard time becoming humble enough to be grateful when prayers for employment are answered by the heavens handing you a mop, but when Ryan was able to get a job doing night janitoral work for a cleaning agency that cleaned the DI (a local thrift store) and a sheet rock factory to supplement his other job it was a definite blessing.

Maybe it's the result of SEOP career counseling of sixth graders but I think there are some unhealthy perceptions of 'acceptable' employment held by a sector of the working class [or unfortunately for many, currently the 'needing to work'ing class]. A job is at its core meant to provide you with the income necessary to support yourself and your family. If it gives you more than this be grateful. If you happen to love it or derive great personal fulfillment at the same time, Awesome. If it validates your level of education or experience all the better. If you get to test ice cream at Ben & Jerry's or product test mattresses, you are the envy of many.

But the root of the word recession is not recess and the job market today is not conducive for fun and games. As the Palmers could cross-stitch on a pillow, 'You get what you get and you don't throw a fit'. Ryan's taken it a step further and not only done the dirty job but I'm sure done it very well.

Good things happen to those who don't stand around waiting for them to show up. The dark ages of cleaning toilets sat on by those outside his own gene pool have passed. Ryan was able to get a great job working at the National Guard Armory in Richfield and he's continued working some at the PT clinic and doing some volunteer work with the high school as well.

Here is a picture of Ryan as he walked in the door after his final night of cleaning.



Just because you are happy to have a job doesn't mean you can't be even happier when it's over.

Now for 'the rest of the story'.

Apparently there is a lot of dust in the air at a sheet rock factory--dust made of very fine razorlike particles. Ryan began having problems with extreme eye irritation earlier this year while still rocking the coveralls and pushing a garbage can around. He stopped wearing his contacts and expected to see a full recovery after finishing up. This hasn't been the case. I'm making the inference that this eye problem is likely the primary reason why Rachel stumbled into the Hoopes Vision site and consequently this competition.

Just something to make you feel even better when you click this link and vote for My Dad's Eyes.
http://www.hoopesvision.com/contest/vote.html
If this encourages you to think of a couple of people who would also like to help a recovering custodian out, we wouldn't mind (in fact we would love it).

Daily Read #6: Sad Stories of Happy Meals, Breadbags, Peanuts and Eggs

L is for the way I look at you
O it's only a fuzzy blob I see.
V is very very extra-blurry
E is even more myopic than anyone that you adore.

A Vote is all that we will ask of you.
A Vote every single day or two.
13 more days Baby we'll make it.
You can watch another video but please don't pick it.
'Caus 'My Daddy's Eyes'- 's the one for You.

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Like only an oldest child can, Rachel tells some of the saddest, 'My childhood was so deprived' stories since Dickens. I think the reason my parents had her learn to play the violin is so that she could play sad songs to go along with her sad stories. She should consider going out to New York City opening up her violin case and play a mournful little ditty while she tells the following heart wrenching tales* *[My mom had a song of her own--let me teach it to you--"Life's not fair, Life's not Fair, Life's not Fair and I don't care". She occasionally would snap her fingers and doo wop while she sang it. Let me tell you it's incredibly catchy--hear it once and it rings in your ears for ages. ]

Two of the saddest woe is the oldest tales to come from the trail blazer of our family are as follows:

Rachel claims that her first happy meal was after puberty. I mean I should say her first Happy Meal was after puberty. Yep that's right she won't be joining a class action suit against Ronald McDonald anytime soon.

Do you need a tissue? Salt water is bad for your keyboard so if you need to take a moment to collect your emotions. I'll wait for you.

Second. According to her during the winter, because Rachel didn't have snowboots she had to wear bread bags over her shoes to school. Uphill. Both ways. She would occasionally get swarmed by a roaming flock of fowl Alfred Hitchcock style that were after the bread crumbs in her boots.* *[Okay so now I'm just exaggerating].

But seriously? Bread bags, the poor thing. They probably weren't even designer bread bags like Sarah Lee or the Gucci of bread bags Grandma Sycamores. She was probably rocking a pair of country pride--oh no they couldn't have been matching. I bet one was a whole wheat bag of country pride and the other a wonder bread bag, that both had been reused for home made bread before finally being retired to snow boot status.

I know. I know. We should have made a video of these two tragic aspects of her life to enter in the serious video competition. Sure she has 20/20 vision now but likely the recurring nightmares of going to school wearing nothing but bread bags will cause macular degeneration eventually.

I can't go on the pain is too, too sharp. Cuts me to the quick. Wouldn't you agree?

Now unfortunately Rachel's two wisdom tooth tale just won't garner any sympathy from her daughters, well one in particular.

No no they have snow boots and they've been to McDonald's; it's nothing that sad.

Okay it is. Even worse. A lot worse.

Rachel's second daughter is allergic to eggs

and nuts.

Take a minute and think about your favorite foods. Now with a giant visual eraser eliminate all the ones that contain eggs and or nuts (either in any derivative or that have even brushed up against an egg or a nut in a crowded subway). If you are like me any food that brings me any real satisfaction is gone and I'm left with kimchi and cantaloupe. Now that's happiness.

Like any good parent, Rachel and Ryan check the girls' Halloween loot for razor blades and syringes. Lil 'Peanut' gets anything that could turn her into a pumpkin removed from her sack too. This year after 'clearance' all that remained were 4 pixie sticks and a piece of double bubble.

Thankfully she's not lactose intolerant or gluten sensitive but she is still young. Who knows what could develop later in life? Better start the violin lessons now Sis.

However like every time they're dealt a bad hand, this doesn't keep the Palmer's from shooting the moon anyway. They've made the most of what could create almost a state of paranoia. She's honestly so allergic to peanuts Reeses peanut butter cup commercials make her swell up but Rachel and Ryan haven't forced her or anyone else to wear a hazmat suit. They are careful and keep an Epi-pen handy [They've been fortunate to not need one yet]. She knows to ask before eating for a short synopsis of the contents. Her sister knows to reinforce* like a good sister would, 'I'll have hers--she can't eat that.' *[At least when the getting is good.]

Given these two limitations nothing is more affected than baked goods which in our family is its own foodgroup. Actually the Hart/Judd/Palmer Family FDA recently approved a second foods pyramid that is just for baked goods.

We've attached the recipe for one of the only cookies (other than oreos which are impossible to be allergic to because they have no natural ingredients) that this adorable little girl has tasted. And even those of us with a much more lethargic immune response find them quite tasty.

If any of you know someone who's been afflicted by a similar condition please pass it along.

Sugar Cookie Recipe
1 pkg. (8 oz.) PHILADELPHIA Cream Cheese, softened
3/4 cup (1-1/2 sticks) butter, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
2 tsp. vanilla
2-1/4 cups flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda

BEAT first 4 ingredients in large bowl with mixer until well blended. Add flour and baking soda; mix well. Refrigerate 30 min.

HEAT oven to 350°F. Roll dough to 1/8-inch thickness on lightly floured surface. Cut into assorted shapes, using 3-inch cookie cutters. Place, 2 inches apart, on greased baking sheets. Sprinkle with colored sugar.
BAKE 10 to 12 min. or until edges begin to brown. Cool on baking sheets 3 min.; transfer to wire racks. Cool completely.

Nice thing about sugar cookies is that they never go out of style--the only thing that changes is the cookie cutter. [No one wants to eat egg shaped cookies at Christmas.Actually I wonder if she'd be allergic to egg shaped cookies?]

Also even kids with egg allergies have birthdays. So here's a cake recipe that will keep you from playing pin the pen on the birthday girl.


Vanilla Cake Mix: 1 pack
Milk: 1/2 cup
Yogurt: 3/4 cup
Vegetable Oil: 2/3 cup
Vanilla Extract: 1 teaspoon

1 Preheat oven to 350F/180C for metal pans and 325F for dark non-stick pans. Line an 8-inch cake pan and a muffin tin with parchment paper and paper liners.

2 In a large bowl blend cake mix, yogurt, milk and oil at low speed until moistened.

3 Beat at medium-high speed for 2 minutes. Scrape bottom and sides of bowl. Continue beating at medium-high speed for 2 minutes. Pour batter into the prepared pans.

4 Bake according to the instructions give in the pack. Mine was done in 25 minutes. The cupcakes even sooner. Cake is one when toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.

5 Cool in pans on rack for 10 minutes. Remove from pans and cool completely before frosting.*

*egglesscooking.com

I guess I'll conclude by saying remember the next time you eat a Snickers that there are people less fortunate than you. Also if you can read the wrapper of a kingsized snickers without it tickling your cornea you've got it better than one person.

Ryan.

But that's about to change.
Thanks to your vote: http://contest.hoopesvision.com/vote.html

And the vote of your friend who you are about to send the link of this blog to.

Daily Read #5 - Parenting Tips

So it's a Monday and who has time for much reading on a Monday. This post will be more pictorial than any of the previous. So I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Really pressed for time, everyone has time for a few short clicks right.

Vote:http://contest.hoopesvision.com/vote.html

We thank you and your pointer finger [unless you're clicking with one of your other phalanges. If so that's kind of weird but who are we to judge].

As you can probably imagine Rachel and Ryan are great parents. I've been fortunate to have them as some of my personal models of successful parenting. Before the birth of my first, Rachel sent me some very insightful parenting advice. It was a good laugh then and it is still today. Both times I've needed that good laugh.














I like to think that in all seriousness these pictures reflect part of what makes Rachel and Ryan's parenting style effective. No I don't think they needed (or really thought I needed) these tips.

But I do think that they believe that while their children mean the world to them it's important to keep some perspective of the resiliency of children. In addition to this I think they also subscribe to the following parenting truisms.

• Love each other. A healthy marriage enables good parents to parent well. It's definitely the horse before the cart.

• Laugh at yourself (and your kids). Life is funny even when it's not. Learn to laugh and make others laugh and if nothing else you'll feel better.

• Forgive yourself and learn from your mistakes. There are times when you do error as a parent. Everyone does but as long as you're channeling common sense and acting out of love and your child's best interest, most errors will be nothing more than a funny story before too long.

• Look to good parents. Ryan and Rachel both have excellent sets of parents and they model their parenting techniques after these role models with some subtle updates, adaptations and advances.

• Children want you before they want anything else. Palmer Family Fun day that occurs once a week highlights the reality to the Palmer kids that while their parents may not be able to buy them everything, they can be their everything.

• Sibling Synergy. Foster good relationships between your children and your job as parents becomes easier. R&R's 1st potty trained their second and third. The greatest gift I recieved from my parents were my siblings. Rachel and Ryan have certainly carried on that tradition.

• Find a Rock. Every parent deserves to parent from a foundation that sures their footing in an increasingly wobbly world. For Rachel and Ryan this foundation includes their religion, their patriotism and their desire to be community builders.

Rachel and Ryan Thank you both for giving me some small confidence that I might just be cutout for fatherhood after all.

Now friends, let's rock the vote!

A good dad needs discriminating vision! Particularly one with only daughters. At some point Ryan will need to let some young wildcat know that he has his eyes on the situation which is more effective if there aren't coke bottles between you and the young man.

Pitch in!

Watch:http://contest.hoopesvision.com/finalists.html
Vote:http://contest.hoopesvision.com/vote.html
Now get your friends/family/coworkers to do the same.