Review & Thoughts On "The Collapse of Parenting" by Dr. Sax

My daughter, seven years old, asked me on the way home form school the other day, "Mommy, when are kids allowed to get a cell phone of their very own?" I quickly answered that's up to the parent(s) but that I thought after high school graduation is the proper time. She was stunned. I explained that neither myself of her dad carried cell phones until long after we were married and didn't think it was necessary for kids to own them. Then, I inquired why she brought up this subject. She stated she sees 6th-graders on the bus with phones and assumed that was the age to get a phone of her very own. I thought 6th grade is a tad young for a phone, especially to bring to school. Next, I asked her if those kids ever looked out the window or paid attention to anything else around them; or did they simple look at their phone during the bus ride. She said, "They talk to their friends, too." Well, at least they aren't texting one another when they are sitting in the same seat. I finally let up my cell phone age threshold to consider it when she's sixteen, got a job, and could pay for it herself.

Our conversation made me think of a parenting book I recently finished by Dr. Leonard Sax title The Collapse of Parenting. I borrowed it from the library after patiently waiting my turn in queue. (If I purchased every book that interested me, I'd go broke! Long live the libraries!) It reinforced many of my opinions over current societal values and modern upbringing. I tend to be old-fashioned in this area. I don't think all the hype over fame, fortune, and power is healthy; in fact, it's suffocating our youth into a waste dump of loneliness and irrational expectations. Our fast-paced narcissistic culture has laid out a platform of failure; and most youth have walked the plank. I appreciated Dr. Sax's insight, observations, and suggestions. Here are my thoughts on the book and a few of the points that held the most significance to me.  

The author brings practical yet brutally honest insight to raising kids in modern day America. When youngsters are left to find their own entertainment with no supervision, a shift in mindsets becomes evident. With all the technology, violent media content, and lack of proper adult supervision, they are encompassed by immature upbringing, over-medicated, and not held responsible to their actions. 

The culture of disrespect is explained in the beginning of The Collapse of Parenting: "For the first time in history, young people are turning for instruction, modeling, and guidance not to mothers, fathers, teachers, and other responsible adults but to people whom nature never intended to place in a parenting role--their peers . . . Children are being brought up by immature persons who cannot possibly guide them to maturity. They are being brought up by each other."

"They are being brought up by each other." Let that sink in. This notion of kids raising one another was terrifying to me; I never took that into consideration during my childhood (who really does). I was shy and didn't have many friends so I guess there weren't enough to "raise" me with anyhow. The few I did have were not trouble makers or disrespectful. I was picky about who I shared my time with. In hindsight, I suppose that was a good thing; a mark of character. Nowadays, kids are using technology such as cell phones, social media, and video games, to provide themselves with entertainment and/or communication. Texting and social media particularly add to this dynamic by making it easy for kids to turn to their friends for instant advice rather than entrusting their parents' wisdom. The problem is that, when left with this entertainment, over time children grow up believing those represent the real world, and that there isn't anything worthwhile beyond an electronic connection. Any sense of true living evaporates. At least that's what I grasped from the book, but there is truth to this. For example: parents who play violent video games are more likely to have kids that enjoy them. But what happens when kids constantly engage with other kids who like those things? . . . "They [will be] brought up by each other." Choose friends and activities wisely and limit any potential people, places, or things that could harm moral character.

Something I found interesting was when Dr. Sax investigated upon asking a group of middle schoolers: Would they still join a social media site if their parents disapproved? The group sneered and laughed because they wouldn't even consider asking their parents! They will do as they please and don't care about what their parents think. Another example of the culture of disrespect. Once again, detaching from responsible adults means "[t]hey [will be] brought up by each other" and not value the opinions and concerns of mature individuals, most importantly their parents! It also puts too much control in the hands of kids. They feel entitled to talk back to not only their parents, but teachers, police, or any authority figure, creating and cultivating the culture of disrespect.

(Another point of interest, is that the culture of disrespect is peculiar to the United States, as per the author's own studies. Other countries don't seem to have this issue with their youth.)

Dr. Sax also emphasized the lack of "willingness to fail" with today's youth. Kids are emotionally fragile because they expect instant success, but "[f]ailure comes to us all. The willingness to fail, and then to move on with no loss of enthusiasm, is a mark of character." His theory is that kids "now value the opinion of same-age peers . . . more than they care about the good regard of their parents . . . The result is a cult of success obsession, because "success is the easiest way to impress." This is only greedily fed by the television networks. How many reality shows are out there for people to sing, dance, etc. in a nationwide competition search to find the next star? It's instant success. Gone are the days of trying it on your own, experience failure as a learning opportunity, hop back up on your own two feet, and make improvements to try again. Well, maybe those days aren't gone, but culture has supported an easier way to get there to shield youth from hard work and the disappointment of failure.

A sheltered or overly cautious upbringing can mean the incapability of dealing with failure. Why try or do something that might not turn out favorably? I remember taking a big risk and trying out for dance team in high school and I didn't make it. I was, of course, tearful and recall people reminding me (sometimes with the told-ya-so-attitude) there was no guarantee in making the team. It was as though disappointment should be avoided instead of learning to deal with it. Luckily, I tried out the following year and made the team. I'm glad I followed my desire to accomplish it. I hadn't given much thought at the "willing to fail" correlation as developing into a sensitive personality, but it makes sense.

Lastly, the most important point Dr. Sax makes is who you are, is more important than what you do. American culture dictates that youngsters striving to be stellar athletes or become highly efficient at a skill, is more important than family time, enjoying solitude, or growing into a person of value. You don't have to look far to find families whose time is consumed shuffling kids from one activity to another. They don't have time to eat together or simply spend time doing simple things such as board games or hiking. Fitting all these activities into a scattered, chaotic schedule must be exhausting; and what is it all for? To make the child a better soccer player or artist at the minute chance they would win a full-ride scholarship? I suppose this may contradict the "willingness to fail" section, but I believe what Dr. Sax is suggesting is that there must be proper balance. One or two activities a week that still leaves six days a week for eating meals together would be balance. Three or four activities per week while one child eats in the car on the way to pick up the second is overkill. Clearly, the more children you have the more complicated it gets, but I think his point can easily be made. Many families are eager to boast their busy lifestyles because they don't want to appear bland, boring, or ordinary. What is wrong with being ordinary anyway? What is so shameful in rearing children to have good moral values through ordinary things? Nothing. Unfortunately, our culture's representation of "ordinary" is shifting to doing everything under the sun in order to have an edge over the general population. No wonder we have a generation of kids who are burnt out and have no desire to succeed. They used up all their energy chasing childhood endeavors. 

If you are a parent, then you surely have become subjected to cultural pressures to get your kids involved in all sorts of activities. To be labeled a good parent requires pushing kids to do all sorts of extracurricular activities. Not only are many of them expensive, they are too competitive. For example: For only an amount equal to your yearly social security contribution, kids can play a sport; complete with parents yelling their displeasure from the bleachers over a volunteer referee's failure to call a penalty. It's absurd. Subjecting children to that environment, or forcing them to do something they aren't enthusiastic about, is not going to enhance parental wholesomeness or develop lasting family dynamics. Personally, however, I encourage my child to try new things. If she says she's interested in something, I will generally allow her to give it a go. Sometimes that means committing to a few days of a trial period. I make sure she understands this and agrees to it. At the end, if she decides she doesn't like it, that's okay. (Certainly, at some point, there has to be some discernment between disinterest or lack or desire.) I must admit, with the endless possibilities of activities to occupy kids' time, it's hard to not get caught up in the hype of worrying over lost opportunities. Balance, balance, balance!

The Collapse of Parenting emphasizes a more traditional family upbringing, and to shift American culture back to putting family values first. Spending time with one another, and appreciating small things are important and necessary. Finding a caterpillar or catching a frog are rather ordinary things to pass time; but they spark natural curiosity, wonder, and awe at a world beyond selfish pity. Perhaps because, when not consumed with a daily parade of activities, there is time for the little things. It's the root of the adage, "stop and smell the roses." Take time for the wonders and beauty of just . . . being. When my daughter asks again (which I'm sure she will later on down the road) when she can have her own cell phone, I'm going answer: "When you know it will not affect family bonds, interfere with parental relationships, contribute to the culture of disrespect, or prevent you from smelling those roses." 

Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

An Indefinite Hiatus From Something I Loved

When I get used to having something in my life, it's hard letting go. But it's important to differentiate an accustomed routine versus loving to do it. I'm not participating in CrossFit any longer. At least for the time being. I suffered a nagging injury which is still healing. While I miss the routine of my gym schedule, as well as my friends, I found myself not excited to resume the activity. I noticed I constantly tried to thwart my feelings to simply uphold an accustomed routine.

I'm going to discuss both pros and cons of my experience. If you are an extreme CrossFitter and sensitive to the slightest bit of negativity, I suggest you just stop reading now. I'm entitled to my opinions, my reasons, and my revelations which apply to me. I don't regret my journey or choices. I'm simply sharing my true raw emotions, a.k.a. feelings, which is difficult enough.

I tried out a CrossFit class back in 2011 after some persuasiveness. I wanted to not like it. I simply wanted to just say I completed one CrossFit workout, but I found that I surprisingly enjoyed being physically challenged. I quickly became interested in some of the elements that I seemed naturally good at such as pullups, pushups, situps, and rope climbing. I started attending every other week or so. That turned into every week, and pretty soon a women's class dawned in order to meet the changing needs of CrossFit. It was a non-intimidating atmosphere and it was fun learning technique, improving skills, and making new friends. There was fun, laughter, and enjoyment in surrounding myself with other ladies. All these things were wonderful, but I noticed gradual changes that, little by little over the most recent years, shifted my yearning to continue.

First, was the competitiveness of the classes. As the women's class became popular and membership increased, a competition circuit seemed to emerge which meant those gals needed more fitness challenges than the average woman. The Rx (or standard) weight for WODs (workouts of the day) became increasingly heavy, like those in a regular class. I realize the purpose was to condition competitors which also puts the box's name out there in the winner's circle, but I felt left behind. I'm a petite person and I physically couldn't keep up with the fast changes of the class so I stuck to lighter weights and focused on those elements I was good at. While I felt welcome in class, I no longer felt important. I wasn't a competitor, yet the class's concentration was on those that were. I didn't have the desire to be competitive which began to affect my group interest.

Second, was the introduction of Wodify, an electronic version of the classic CrossFit whiteboard. In the old days, after each WOD, scores were recorded on a plain ole whiteboard. Members walked into class, their names were written in down in no particular order, and scores recorded appropriately. At the end of class, they were simply wiped away. With Wodify, it electronically keeps score and tracks progress, which was handy. However, it also ranks members for the WOD that day. While it wasn't my personal goal to be one of the first-ranked CrossFitters listed on that thing, it honestly was depressing to see my name frequently at the bottom of the list. The score with whiteboard method were so jumbled, it never even crossed my mind to look at the rank order. Wodify partitioned the ranks first by if someone completed the WOD Rx, then those who modified, followed by time and/or repetition numbers. With this method, someone who did the Rx version in 12 mins, for example, ranked higher than someone who scaled to their ability and did the WOD in 8 mins. But lets say Person 1 scaled and used 55 lb weights. Person 2 scaled and used 35 lb weights and did the WOD faster; now they are ranked higher than Person 1 even though Person 1 lifted heavier. There was no organization to the scaled version of the WODs. If you modified you'd better do it fastest. The problem was the hidden competition factor that Wodify fueled within the class setting, and I suppose modifying allowed me to step back and notice this. I loathed observing dirty looks between women, attempts to conceal jealousy, and the cheating. Yes, cheating. It was there with the old whiteboard system, but got insanely worse with Wodify. The yearning was so intense for some, it came down to cheating to get that number one spot on a stupid electronic tallying system! Wodify turned classes into mini competitions; not something I enjoyed, truthfully. I didn't want to let Wodify further shape my attitude, and I tried my hardest to move past it. I stopped looking at results. I would even "forget" to enter my score. Wodify is great for keeping track of progress, but I certainly did not appreciate the daily score stats. Some people may look at this process as motivation to better their skills, but I clearly felt differently. Wodify brought unnecessary and uncomfortable tension.

Third, was my shoulder started to become a pain in my arse. Admittedly, it's easy to become entangled in the CrossFit hype. I wanted to lift heavier, be faster, and continually enrich my skills. After heavy (for my ability) and/or repetitive lifting, my shoulder became inflamed. I'd rest it until it felt better, than go back to lifting. The allotment days to heal slowing began increasing and the time between flare ups decreased. Before I knew it, my shoulder rendered itself useless. I could handle omitting overhead lifting, but after a while I couldn't hang from a bar let alone perform pullups (my favorite) or toes to bar. Every WOD was transformed into a modified-for-Jennifer-version which became frustrating. Unhappiness and discomfort settled in due to my shoulder troubles. I tried non-invasive treatments: several cortisone injections, physical therapy, and chiropractic care all from multiple medical professionals. They helped temporarily, but once I felt better and returned to CrossFit it flared up. When everyday tasks, such as turning on faucets, putting dishes away, and casting a fishing pole become too painful, I finally caved and had surgery where the doc found "profound bursitis" and shaved down bone spurs.

Agreeing to the surgery was not an easy decision. I spent many days and nights alone in silent tears about the procedure. I was scared of the anesthesia. I was scared of what damage the surgeon would find. I was worried if it would even be successful. I was nervous I couldn't return to CrossFit which I had invested the last five years in and began to wonder if I should go back at all. The doctor was hopeful, but at the same time I sensed he was leery about allowing me to return to CrossFit. He was concerned about my joints, which are loose and unstable, and not a good fit for such high intensity like I was doing. I think he was trying to be a nice guy and not burst my determination-to-return bubble since he knew it was something I loved. At the same time, I began questioning my own antagonistic feelings about CrossFit. After all, I felt grumpy after class and left as soon as I could. Something I was once excited about suddenly turned sour, and I found myself preferring to be elsewhere.

Instead of continuing to foster anger and resentment, I decided it was time to start tuning in and listening to where the universe was guiding me. 

My surgery (which was in December 2015) went well, but my recovery is slow. When I asked to extend my membership freeze for a few extra months it was instead terminated. At first, it felt like a slap in the face. I couldn't shake my reaction of feeling unwanted. But then I tuned in and listened at the chance to veer off my current fitness course. Perhaps an indefinite hiatus from CrossFit is what I needed and to free myself from the bitter resentment created in my mind. The universe was speaking and I chose to be attentive. CrossFit will always be there if I decide to return. I told myself it's okay to let it go and allow as much time as I needed to heal. 

So far, I've presented negative feelings on CrossFit. It probably sounds like there is nothing good, but that is far from true. It's allowed me to make many self-discoveries. I have more confidence in life than I ever have. I'm not exactly sure how CrossFit made that happen. Maybe it's the feeling of exuberance when PRing a lift or move. Or perhaps it's just that eureka moment upon completion of a new skill. Even those who absolutely detest CrossFit in it's entirety, cannot dismiss the tenacity that emerges from those passionate about it. It has enlightened my self-esteem in ways I wish I possessed 20 years ago. I'm more willing to take risks and try new things. I've signed up for 5Ks and even done a couple fitness competitions (before my shoulder went out on me). Enrolling at the Community College would not have happened without the confidence I gained from CrossFit. Heck, I even started this blog because of it. Something about the connection between athletes, fostering the good in one another, thus leading to personal self-discoveries, rides with the spirit of CrossFit.

I've also made numerous friends, who I miss quite a bit. I think that's the hardest part for me about taking my hiatus; the withdrawal from the absence of friends. I miss the encouragement and camaraderie (yes, it was there despite the competitiveness). I miss the small talk, our kids' interactions, and complaining about life's annoyances. I miss looking at our muscles exclaiming, "Hey! Look! Here's another one I didn't know I had!" I miss whining joking with the coaches about how my body aches from WODs. I miss watching people grow and improve. I miss watching the top athletes do cool stuff like lift three times what I weigh. I miss the plates clanking and miniature earthquakes as they drop during the WOD. I miss the gentle whir of the rowers. I even miss the loud music I never really cared for. I miss gritting my teeth to get in just one more rep. I miss when a class performing overhead squats, it resembled engine pistons. I miss the feeling of burning oxygenated lungs, the sweat angels, the "see you next time[s]," and the roll of the garage door along its track to close the box for the day. I spilled more silent tears over the reality of leaving a community.

I don't miss being injured. Leading up to my shoulder surgery, I reluctantly came to realize that I lost some of the love I had for CrossFit. I had grown accustomed of the routine and discounted my physical well-being to keep it going. Coming to terms with my physical setbacks was a tough mental struggle. Maybe I was just not made for it. Maybe I am just getting old. Maybe it's just time to take a step back and allow myself to be taken in a new direction. Perhaps, with time, I can recover enough to return to a (much less intense) capacity. But for now, I need a break.

As I jot down my feelings here, I felt bad for being harsh and outspoken with my thoughts. I know what I have to say is going to upset others. But I need to express my feelings to strengthen the mental recovery process, and it has to be the truth. I need to write out the truth; my truth, for me.

Through these experiences and self-discoveries, I have been given the chance to change and grow. My wisdom has matured like the autumn tree who lost its leaves and patiently awaits its next chance to blossom into a sight more beautiful and grand than before. I've learned patience and acceptance and the importance of putting myself first. Perhaps that explains why I'm now content with leaving CrossFit behind for a while; I recognize the need for change and choose to embrace it, knowing that growth from experiences is the ultimate transformation of wisdom.




Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

Worm Wrangling

Photo by Jennifer Miller 02/15/16

Worm Wrangling

My kid is the perfect combination of princess and redneck. She dresses up fancy, yet knows how to get down and dirty. She and T were planning a fishing excursion the next day. Unfortunately, I wasn't feeling well and had to forego it. T decided he wanted to try to catch the trout with some sort of fancy worm set up. Don't ask me what that is other than, "some fancy worm set up." This is as 'fancy' as my husband probably gets. Surprisingly, he was too cheap to support the local bait shop and decided to go hunting in the backyard. He wasn't having luck digging worms up, so I suggested that he wait until nighttime.

"The worms come to the surface. Just take a flashlight to find them and be quick. They slide back into their little worm caves fast," I said.

"I never heard of that. You're full of it."

"This was an old elementary school experiment. Try it."

"Whatever."

"Do you want your fancy worm set up or not?" My point was reluctantly taken.

"Ooooo! Daddy! I wanna go hunt worms, too!" G said, jumping up and down with excitement. She was wearing her new fancy red dress with shimmering embellishments. She slipped her rain boots on and declared herself fit for worm duty.

T and G grabbed the flashlights and headed out onto the abyss the lawn. I dozed off for a few minutes and when I woke, it occurred to me they had been outside for quite some time. I was enjoying the quiet solitude and so decided not to check on them. I was fairly certain there were no man-eating worms in our neighborhood.

The silence was soon broken by the opening of the garage door. Into the kitchen came the clunk! clunk! of G's rain boots, and huffing and puffing after hard laborious work. Her cheeks were flushed form the cold night air. "Mommy! MOMMY! We got some! Loooooooook!"

Sure enough, she had nearly filled up a cottage cheese-sized container with creepy crawlies. I noticed many large night crawlers and quickly turned to my grinning husband with questioning, "So my technique worked? Or did you run to the 24 hour stop-n-shop to fulfill the bounty?"

His grin vanished. "Very funny," he said. After some thought-provoking glares from me he added mumbling, "Fine. You were right." (Music to every wife's ears! Ha!)

He mentioned they received some strange looks from a few neighbors, but I imagine that's nothing new. For cryin' out loud we fillet fish in our front yard. We're practically a roadside attraction!

G wanted to show me how she had professionally mastered the sport of worm wrangling in a single night and insisted I come outside for a demonstration. T is equally excited as this is the easiest way he has collected worms. I got up and followed as her red glittery dress swayed, leading the way out back.

Using the flashlight, T locates the worm and G dives in to snatch it before it sucks back into the earth. Since she is a kid, she is naturally closer to the ground, meaning she can get to the worm faster, and, therefore, has a better success rate than T. Much to my delight, she managed to pluck a final monster night crawler which, in turn, fetched her a nice 3 lb-er the next day. Monster worms fetch monster fish.

Oh here, I have video. Notice the red shimmering dress I was talking about while performing the dirty job--that's my redneck princess! And the fancy worm set up worked on the fish, too. I guess I have a redneck prince as well! It's nice when it all comes together.

Photo by Jennifer Miller

Photo by Jennifer Miller

Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

The Value Of Time

Photo by Jennifer Miller

Photo by Jennifer Miller

I've done it. I went the entire month of January without updating my Facebook status. I looked at my news feed most days and occasionally "liked" or commented somewhere, but I never updated my own status. No photos, random thoughts, or stuff I just had to immediately alert the virtual world to. I learned a few things that enriched my perspective on the value of time.

I found myself taking photos for the enjoyment of the moment, not to please a virtual audience. Admittedly, I took less photos in January. First off, it's kind of a blah month as far as photography for me. I don't like frigid weather, and most of the flowers and fauna I like to capture are hibernating under the shield of winter. I noticed that the few photos I did take were simply highlights of the month. There's a fishing photo of T with his first ever keeper/hatchery steelhead caught on his own, without a guide. There's another of G eating top ramen. I didn't break up the noodles, leaving them long. She asked "take my photo" while dangling one over her tongue. It's not a significant event, but it reminds me of being a kid. There's a few from an RV show, a Girl Scout event, and several from a visit to a local outdoor learning center where G and I got to hold a snake! Interestingly, many of the photos in my camera roll are posters or notices of upcoming events. By forgetting about my Facebook status, I was evidently more drawn to enriching activities to occupy my time. I realized why photography is important to me: to capture a moment worth remembering for myself, not for two hundred souls on a computer to gawk over. By only photographing important events or moments, I was more engaged in the moment.

I was focused on important tasks like school work and volunteering. It was easier to concentrate on my homework assignments when I left my phone alone and not ponder what other people are thinking of me. I'm taking English 102 which is a difficult class. I don't always understand how to apply the writing techniques from the textboook to the assignments. The clarification I do get can create more confusion. Facebook was just another thing to keep me from concentrating, so when I just forgot about it altogether I could at least do my work to the best of my mindset. I've also been volunteering quite a bit more this month. In addition to my weekly assistance in the school library, I gathered donations for G's school fundraiser, helped the PTSA write up a small grant, and organized our homeowners association annual meeting and dues notice. By eliminating virtual distractions, I was much more engaged in priorities.

I realized filling up the calendar can be enjoyable. As I look back at my calendar I see that we were busier than normal this month. Between appointments and other commitments and activities, something was happening nearly every day of the week. I'm thankful to be busy, but I definitely don't want that to overrun our lives. The day T caught his steelhead, I almost decided to stay home. I was tired and just wanted a day to relax. Luckily, I came to my senses and spent a nice afternoon on the river with my two favorite people. Plus, I got to watch my husband's eyes light up like a kid on Christmas as he yelled, "Fish on! Fish on!" On Saturday, G and I attended a Girl Scout event and visited an outdoor learning center, one right after the other. I normally only try to accomplish one event per day as I don't like being rushed. However, this time we really wanted to do both so I sucked-it-up, went to the GS Cookie Rally leaving a few minutes early to check out the animals at the outdoor center. (This outdoor center only has periodic open houses and I missed the last one.) Yes, we were worn out, but I'm glad we managed to attend both. They were fun, educational, better than I expected, and we got to hold a snake named Fluffy! I discovered I can handle a busy day without stressing, even if it's not my ideal arrangement.

So there it is. My summary with a few highlights and reasons why I didn't immediately shout out my life to social media. My time is more valuable when prioritized for, well, priorities. I'm sure this doesn't mean I'll cease posting photos and updates in the future. It means that I'm content to delay sharing my life with the virtual world.




Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

Goodbye 2015

I am ready to say goodbye to 2015. It's been a rather challenging and depressing year, especially the second half. We said goodbye to our dog, my grandma developed severe dementia, and I had shoulder surgery. Then there's the plethora of other life annoyances like busted pipes, broken sprinklers, and boat repairs. The tough moments tend to dim the positive things we did like horseback riding, water parks, hosting our Japanese exchange student, and enrolling at the community college. I am looking forward to having a fresh start in 2016 with things returning to normal and making new lasting memories.

The above photograph I took with my iPhone, with minor app editing, near River Front Park along the beautiful Spokane Falls. It was snowing (for about the fourth straight day!) and G was running along the trail chasing snowflakes. She was laughing childlike and simple and I ran ahead of her to snap a photo. It was truly a loving and memorable moment and I think my image successfully captures that. She turned seven the day before so I'm glad to have a photo that freezes the joy of her childhood before it's over. Plus, how many photos of kids does one have in a fancy dress while frolicking through the snow?! Right before this, we toured the historic Campbell House in Browne's Addition. I feel like this picture could also be a relic of nearly a century ago. Similar activities were probably how children at the turn of the last century enjoyed playtime. Lucky for me I had a modern gizmo to document this precious moment.

My Candid Opinion Regarding The Starbucks Cups

My newsfeed have been littered with controversy over this year's Starbucks's jolly holiday cheer-or lack thereof-beverage cups. In case you missed it (although I'm pretty sure you haven't), Starbucks is using plain red cups rather than a festive design. There are some outspoken believers claiming this is the corporation's way of stamping out religion during the Christmas season. Of course, that attitude has been met with the practical idea that a disposable coffee containers should not be defining your reason for the season. I think it's a bunch of hulabaloo with passive-aggressive efforts to remove any thing that could remotely be construed as offensive.

The holidays should be celebrated with appropriate icons on the cups. What are "appropriate icons?" The vast majority of Americans celebrate Christmas in some way. Some celebrate it with Christ or simply a tree that Santa Claus places presents under. Then there's simply snowflakes, hats, and mittens symbolizing the winter season. Appropriate holiday symbols are subjective and vary from person to person, but none should be construed as offensive.

Christmas is offensive for those who don't celebrate it. Okay. Didn't I just mention that the vast majority of Americans celebrate Christmas?! Even if Christmas isn't celebrated for religious reasons, it is still commonly celebrated with Santa, a tree, and the gift-giving tradition because, you know, IT'S WHAT WE DO HERE! Christmas isn't offensive. If a person of another faith wished someone with "Happy (insert chosen holiday)" there is no need to get your panties in a wedgie-induced wad! It's their way of expressing joy during the holiday season. If Americans moved to another country and protested that their holiday celebrations were offensive I don't think it would fly. I think it's more important to appreciate and welcome all forms of seasonal celebrations. Different customs should spark our interests and curiosity, help us learn about one another, and bring strangers closer together. 

Liberals are trying to wipe out Christmas to be more sensitive to various beliefs. And here is where the heart of Starbucks's stunt lies. Starbucks originated in Seattle, land of liberals and left-wing transplants who force their cockeyed ideas on the rest of the state. There IS a rest of the state outside of the metropolitan blue spot by the way, and we tend to lean red and don't take to all their hippie views too easily. C'mon, the left-wing craziness emitted by the west wing of Washington is as clear as day with their NFL team's colors: Blue for the liberals, green for the pot (I am really the only one who's noticed that?). The middle-of-the-road-to-conservative population of the state doesn't want to give in to their "let's constantly be sensitive to everyone's feelings" antics.

Frankly, plain red is a pretty boring marketing chose if you ask me. I preferred the cups in previous years with a cheery, jolly design on them. I'm not going to be as excited about a seasonally offered flavor served in a plain ol' cup, meaning I probably won't be spending extra money on it. I don't see why there can't be festive cups and just original ones for the overly-sensitive liberal whiners, but it's not my corporation.

Ultimately, yeah, I do think the Starbucks cups display a passive-aggressive way to stamp out Christmas because that's the liberal standard. Starbucks sells other Christmas merchandise in their stores, so I feel the cups should also be a seasonal representation of that. I also feel that this is all blown a tad out of proportion. They're just cups. While I have pretty vivid opinions about the sinister undertone they portray, it's just a paper cylinder that will become trash. Disposable beverage containers shouldn't hinder feelings or beliefs about holidays. Boycott the product, or if it's that bothersome bring stickers to decorate them in a festive fashion. If this plain red cup hulabaloo is, in fact a liberal-minded-anti-Christmas-so-we-don't-hurt-anyone's-feelings-ever-again antic, shame on Starbucks. I know I'm not the only one who is tired and annoyed of being forced to cater to a one-size-fits-all mentality because it can't be done. I'm not letting a giant corporation take control of my happiness during the holidays and neither should anyone else. 

So It's Been A Month

I guess it's been over a month since I started my English 101 class at Spokane Community College. It's intense and I am definitely being challenged. Writing generally comes easy to me, but when I have to think of topic sentences, themes, and following a prompt it makes things much more complicated! I also have to put my creative writing edge on the sideline in order to focus on the assignment organization.

The college had a family fun night in honor of Halloween. I took G to this carnival-type event where she collected a bag of candy, got her nails painted, and jumped on a bouncy house. She even got to meet my professor who we happened to run into as well.

Munchkin has been enjoying first grade. She is learning in a way that seems quite foreign to my recollection of grade school. It's definitely harder. The math is different because the simple things are made much more complicated. Adding basic numbers requires number bonds and fact families and not allowing students to use traditional mathematical methods. I understand that each student learns differently, but if they can add numbers the old way then why do they need to know all the other "new" ways? Well, whatever. She seems to be picking up on most of new ways just fine and even explains it to me.

I don't have much time to free-write so I will just keep this short and sweet and hopefully will come up with more involved subject matter next time.

Egelloc

Egelloc is College spelled backwards. I enrolled at Spokane Community College for the fall 2015 quarter, I suppose I'm going about this all backwards. Most high school graduates go on immediately to college but not me. I don't care to delve into the reasons at the moment but bottom line, I didn't. Now I've changed my mind a bit and would like some experience in college.

I'd like to improve my writing skills (and/or see how they stack up) and have contemplated enrolling in a class before but I just couldn't find the gumption and courage to do it. Everything appeared so complicated: the application process, registering for classes, schedule coordination. When G started Kindergarten last year I gave it more thought, but I was into CrossFit and was devoting my time to that. Then my shoulder continued to worsen and to be perfectly honest, weightlifting isn't exciting anymore since I can't do it. Life became a bit too simple. I was becoming bored at home and there's only so many iPhone games and social media surfing one can handle. A small series of events happened over the spring and summer as well which really got my drive going for school.

The mail flyers. The Community Colleges of Spokane probably send them out to all households, and we've received many over the years, but the last one said, "Enroll now. What are you waiting for?" I asked myself that. I was feeling the need for mind stimulation and may have found the answer to it.

Then my dad had asked me if I ever thought about going back to school to earn my degree. I didn't know about a degree per se, but taking a course or two here and there would be enriching.

Another day after working out at the gym, I made a trip to the public library to check on the status of a book I placed on hold. As I entered the parking lot, I saw Mrs. C my high school Humanities/English teacher. My heart jumped, I was so excited! I crookedly steered into the next available parking space which happened to be quite a ways down the lot. While still hot and sweaty (and tired) from my workout, I hopped out of my car and booked it in Mrs. C's direction dodging other patrons and vehicles yelling, "Mrs. C! Mrs. C!" Huffing and puffing, I reached her just in time as she was entering her car. (All that CrossFit training came in handy at that moment!) It was so exciting to see her again. She didn't remember my name initially but remembered my face and that I was "so creative!" I was incredibly touched by this comment. I remember being quite challenged to satisfy Mrs. C's criteria for writing and whatnot. Maybe what she was trying to push me to dig deeper with my skills. As a know-it-all teenager, though, I wouldn't have caught on to this. Her compliment was what I needed to latch onto my wish to enroll at SCC and take some writing courses.

Nervously, I made the initial phone call the college asking how to get started. I needed to complete an application, take a placement exam (as it'd been so long since high school), and finally register. I asked what to expect about tuition and cost of books. I had second thoughts after figuring the cost as I had to take a prerequisite course before taking Creative Writing. It seemed like a lot of money just to take a class. Then I found a Certificate of Achievement in English Studies offered by the English Department. It sounded challenging and gave me something to strive for. I was elated to sign myself up for English 101 for fall quarter.

I found college life to be an adjustment as most people do I assume. I was nervous that first week. I was unsure of myself and questioning my intellectual abilities. I was thankful for the weekend and the chance to unwind. It was ValleyFest weekend, which is one of my favorite times of the year. I discovered that the effort of studying allowed me to unwind more easily and enjoy free time. I ran a 5K race, took G to ValleyFest activities, and we even, unexpectedly, got the chance to ride in a tethered hot air balloon. I felt free, unstoppable, and fortunate. I was renewed when Monday came along and much more relaxed with the school environment.

It's as though like I'm on a new daring endeavor: Exciting yet out of my comfort zone, unsure of the expectations or outcome. Similar to the unexpected hot air balloon ride, I'm going to embrace the challenge of academics and let it heighten the attributes of my mind.

Remembering Boonie

We knew this day was eventually arriving, just never quite emotionally prepared for it. Early morning on Sunday, August 16, 2015 we lost our precious Boonie. At 14, the arthritis had progressed badly and was causing nerve and bowel issues. We noticed he was also becoming disoriented and confused at times. Our veterinarian said it's possible for elderly dogs to become senile. The night of August 15th into the 16th was awful and I could hardly sleep because I knew how uncomfortable he was. Finally, as I tried to help him onto his dog bed, he whimpered in agony and growled at me which he has never done. I called T at work around 2:00 am and advised him to return home as Boonie couldn't take anymore. It's heart-wrenching to let our pets go, but it's worse to watch them suffer. Plus, it seems as though they need us to make that decision for them because they are too loyal to expire without our permission.

We adopted Boonie when he was about a year old from T's sister who was studying veterinary medicine. Boonie was a pound puppy who she decided was too cute to return and was "saving" him for someone. We named him after Bret Boone, our favorite former Seattle Mariner baseball player, who the sports announcers sometimes referred to as "Boonie." His manner was gentle, laid back, and all around adaptable. His sweetness seemed to emanate where ever he went and it was not uncommon for strangers to comment: "What a nice dog," "He's good-looking," or "I wish I had a dog like Boonie." I have to admit, we lucked out with him. He was an easy going pooch who was truly compliant and loyal. I have never really considered myself a dog person but am proud to call a soul like Boonie our companion.

Not long after acquiring Boonie, T purchased his first boat. We camped and fished and he immensely enjoyed sharing these experiences with us. One of the funniest memories I recall is a time on the boat where Boonie must've leaned over the side for a drink. There was a giant splash and when we turned our heads, Boonie was gone and only a plume of bubbles lay on the water. He quickly surfaced although a bit traumatized, cold, and shaky. It was pretty comical...to us anyways. He was never really fond of the water after that incident.

Boonie absolutely loved his walks around the neighborhood. There was a nature park near our home in Moscow ID which we would typically walk through. Rabbits lived amongst some of the homes and during each stroll he examined the yards for the little fuzz balls with stick-up ears. He also enjoyed car rides and sometimes even got to romp with doggie friends, depending on who we visited. For whatever reason, he had a prejudice against yellow labs and Asians. We never received a clue as to why.

Shortly after we moved back to Spokane, I became pregnant. Around Thanksgiving, about eights months along and home alone, I experienced an attempted home break-in. There was banging at the front door and Boonie became aggressively defensive. This was the only time I have ever seen him act viciously. He snarled and barked with claws protruded, and all his fur stood out like in a cartoon. After that, no one was allowed in the house without his approval. If the doorbell rang he raced to the door ahead of us to stand guard; he refused to take any chances.

He obviously played a large companion roll for G since he has been around since the day she was born. It's fair to say that all our animals were her first friends. He used to alert us of the need for a diaper change by sniffing her bum! Boonie was ever so patient and withstanding when G didn't know any better and would try to ride him or pull his tail. He enjoyed chasing her outside and then letting her chase him back. The first night without Boonie, G cried and admitted that earlier she had ventured outside calling his name hoping he'd return. Oh boy, did that yank at my already tender heartstrings!

We are all having a rough time emotionally with losing him, but we cherish the memories. It's tough when anyone we dearly care for leaves us, because the love we hold for them can no longer be placed with a physical form. All the little things that remind me of our life with Boonie are like phantom whispers: Hearing his paw-steps shuffling to his dog bed at night; Waking and opening the blinds by the slider door, expecting to see a 65 lb black furry mass by my side waiting to be let out for his morning tinkle; The rattle of his food pouring into his ceramic dog dish. I know it will eventually get easier, but for now, it still hurts...a lot.

All dogs go to heaven. They received the greatest one of all.

"Exercise? I Thought You Said Extra Fries!" Grand Coulee Dam Excursion And Beyond.

School started on Wednesday. G has more of a year-round schedule, therefore, she starts earlier than the mainstream schools. We had no big summer plans nor took a vacation. We didn't even go camping, but we've done a variety of little things. One of which was a quick side trip to Grand Coulee Dam. If you aren't familiar, it is the largest concrete structure in the world! It's massive. Have you ever seen Hoover Dam, the one that gets all the attention? It's tiny compared to Grand Coulee. Several years ago, T and I took a tour bus through Hoover Dam and all the other tourists were oohing and aahing over it. We looked at each other and laughed in slight disappointment: "That's it? It's SMALL!"

Back in the 80's, there used to be a laser light show and the dam served as the screen backdrop. The show ceased for a while but recently it was brought back. With only a couple days left of summer we decided to jump in the car and drive over. The show, titled One River Many Voices, was a documentary of the history and creation of Grand Coulee Dam that started at 9:30 pm. By the time we got there the sun was setting. We made a pit stop at the visitor's center which has several hands-on displays and is pretty awesome. By the time we were done, it was dark and I didn't get any photos of the Dam itself this time. (Use the link the first paragraph if you'd like to see pictures of Grand Coulee Dam.)

My photo at the top shows the empty jugs that contained water from each state which was poured over Grand Coulee Dam. The photo in the center describes: "On June 14, 1951, fifty princesses and the queen of the Washington State Apple Blossom Festival participated in a symbolic pouring ceremony. Standing at the top of the canal wall, they emptied gallon jugs of water from all 48 states, the territories of Alaska and Hawaii, and the District of Columbia into the newly completed feeder canal. The ceremony symbolized the entire country's contribution to the project, and the benefit the project would have to the county's economy when irrigation started the following spring." The photo of me is a jack-hammer tool such that the workers used. I squeezed it and felt the vibration, although the sign stated the intensity was 100x that! G is reluctantly standing behind a diving suit. Somehow T evaded the camera!

This place is sorta special to us. G's very first overnight trip away from home was at Grand Coulee Dam when she was five months old. I bet you can guess why we came here. Hint: There is a river, and think of a rhyming word that would complete this sentence: "Wishing I were _______."

Alrighty, I need to back up a bit because part of this experience was the journey there. I spotted so many funny and interesting things, I felt it was writing worthy. First I'll start with signs. In order to get to Grand Coulee, one must pass through a more rural area of Washington State. Two-lane, unlit, windy highways through small towns to be exact. I chuckled at many of the signs we passed. Who says small towns are boring? The first one was a road sign:

Private Road

No Warning Signs

Ummm. Okay, except for that one I guess??

This one was a mattress business' sign:

Don't Give Up On Your Dreams

Just Go Back To Sleep

Pizza Parlor:

Of Course I'm An Organ Donor

Who Wouldn't Want A Pizza This!

And my personal favorite was advertising a burger joint:

Exercise? I Thought You Said Extra Fries!

Driving through rural areas is incredible fun. You see all sorts of crazy things. However, some not so pleasant. A few miles east of Creston we watched a thunderstorm. While it was raining quite hard at the time, it's otherwise been extremely hot and dry this summer. Lightening, while thrilling to watch, isn't necessarily welcoming. The bolts streaked down the sand colored sky with tall trees and thirsty sagebrush surrounding the landscape. We got through the brunt of the storm and then it hit us: The unmistakable smell of a forest ablaze! We couldn't see the source of the smoke, but the strong smell encompassed the car.

As we approach the town of Creston, four emergency fire vehicles pass us in the opposite direction, presumably towards the brush fire. Remember in the movie Planes Fire And Rescue there was the fire truck who had a hard time extinguishing the fire in time because he was old and rickety? Those were the type of vehicles that passed us! An antique parade on wheels out to save the day! Support your rural firefighters folks. Seriously, if that's what these men and women use to work a volunteer position, I can only imagine what their gear is like. I said a little prayer for them as they scooted by.

Finally, around 8:15 pm we enter the Grand Coulee area. Driving down the hill through Lake Roosevelt Recreational Area towards the Visitor's Center gives us a glimpse of the dam. There's a bridge at top that spans the width of the river. Way back when, you were once permitted to drive your car over it. I remember taking a middle school trip doing this very thing. Our bus stopped in the center of the bridge and we got out and looked over the edge of the dam. Once on the other side, we toured the underworkings of Grand Coulee by riding an elevator down to the turbines and such. Unfortunately, after September 11th that all changed. Terrorism isn't just life threatening, it takes away our fun, DAMmit!

As we prepared to leave, I noticed bats feasting around a stadium-style flood lamp. They dashed and flapped using their radar to hone in on insects. G thought they were interesting as we don't come across them all that often. Public Service Announcement: If you stand too close to their feeding ground, you could be mistaken for food and they'll dive at you.

Finally, we are back in the car ready to head home down the same darkened, windy roads. The sky is clear now, and sparkling with stars. I will admit the best part of this trip was witnessing not one, but two shooting stars! The Perseid Meteor Shower was arriving a couple days later and I wondered if these were the group leaders. They were like little laser lights on a infinite black backdrop.

Fishing Princess & Funny Fish Tales

We like to fish. If you know us, then this comes as no surprise. G has been on a boat since she was four months old and has naturally been exposed to the hobby along with the great outdoors. We mostly fish for crappie as they are relatively easy to catch and fillet and they taste marvelous! Bake 'em, fry 'em, sushi 'em; all good. Okay, maybe not the sushi part. Don't want a tapeworm or other parasitical manifestation.

Typically we troll at our favorite Local Lake. It's easier than casting and reeling all the time and covers a larger area to determine the hot spots. But when you're six, that can get boring real quick. Even with the portable movie player and toys, after approximately 17.36 minutes it's simply not entertaining. G gets antsy for some action so she will pick up her kiddie pole and practice casting. Notice I said practice? Kids her age are still uncoordinated which makes this task seem complicated. Holding down a button, throwing the rod backwards and then forwards, and letting go of the button at the precise moment while continuing to grasp hold of the rod, probably appears to be the equivalent of ninja mastering. Boredom overcomes inability so away she goes and gives it her best. One day, her best was a treble-hook crawdad crankbait that nearly hooked my eye. Luckily, I was paying attention. Most days could be considered successful if the lure landed a couple feet from the boat. Her practice is paying off and she can cast far away enough to catch fish now. This makes the fishing excursions much more interesting. If only those finned creatures would bite and hang on every single time. She has also become a bit of a celebrity. The second and third photos above are displayed at the Post Falls Cabela's store brag board. (I figured Cabela's wouldn't appreciate the sported Bass Pro Shops t-shirt in the first photo!) The employees were thrilled to see more photos of kids, especially girls, with their prized catches.

We have recently lost more equipment. Local Lake has now swallowed two princess poles, a no-hook fishing net, and probably a pair of sunglasses. The first princess pole was "accidentally" dropped in the lake. I continue to believe it was a rouse disguised as an excuse for Daddy to make another desired trip to Cabela's. The second pole was drug into the water by, supposedly, "a really big fish." You see, we only have two rod holders so her kiddie pole gets placed in the unused seat pedestal hole. One day it snagged on thick seaweed, I mean hooked onto a monster, and was sucked under the abyss before anyone could react. After raising the water level with her shed tears, G picked out a green spinning reel combo, an upgraded replacement compared to the princess set-up. As an additional insurance policy, we now use three rod holders.

The net. How the heck does one loose a fishing net? When not in use, the net is placed on top of the boat's bimini cover. It's a fairly easy place to reach and it stays out of the way. This act is usually accompanied by a faint female voice traveling through the Captain's first ear known to repeat the phrase "dumb place," which, unfortunately, quickly exits out the opposite ear. When one night fishes, it's easy to forget the temporary storage location in the darkness and, well, you know which way the warning went. Pack up, fasten imaginary seat belts, throttle in forward gear....clank crack SPLASH!! And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how it's done.

Credit Falls To More Than Just Teachers

(Some handprints from G's Kindergarten class. Hers is the green one.)

It's the end of the school year. Honestly, it's hard to believe Kindergarten is over. Alright, I can believe it, but maybe I don't want to accept it. I logged 40+ volunteer hours at G's school mostly in the library. Placing my presence inside the school allowed me to see many of the people that make our children's education possible, and I will tell you it's not just the teachers. Yes, my child's wonderful teacher had the biggest impact on her kindergarten success (duh!), but each day I took her to school I noticed the variety of staff members who make each day's routine possible.

As we drove to school in the morning, Mrs. J, the crossing guard, was always at an intersection near the school. No matter the weather, she risked her life multiple times per day, wearing her bright orange vest and flag, warning drivers to stop for schoolchildren. It's a 20 MPH zone which drivers aren't always mindful of (if that happens to be you, pay attention!). While we don't walk to school, we waved at Mrs. J as we go past just to acknowledge her.

Recently, G began riding the bus home. I trust Ms. Bus Driver to safely deposit my child at the designated stop each afternoon. Think about it. That's a pretty important responsibility. The school releases our kids to one person who also has to drive and operate an incredibly large vehicle full of (I'm guessing) rowdy kids anticipating their arrival home.

As I mentioned, I volunteer in the library. I love books and reading and spent many summer afternoons at my own public library. Mrs. L, the school librarian, didn't have as many parent volunteers like the classroom teacher did. I also didn't realize that library is now a graded class taught by a certified teacher. She works well over the 40 hour work week (probably as most teachers do). Volunteering my time for her mostly consisted of wiping down germy books before organizing and returning them to the shelves. A cartload of books easily took an hour or more to put away. It's not difficult, but it's time consuming. Mrs. L expressed her gratitude each and every day I was there. I was touched that my seemingly minimal efforts greatly eased her duties.

For an end of the year appreciation, I brought these staff members a simple thank you gift with a personalize note thanking them for their services. I didn't want them to be overlooked. The way I see it, every job is important for the successful function of our school. And in case you're wondering, no, I didn't forget about her classroom teacher either. The dedication of our educators blows me away. I'm excited to see what the next school year brings!

Yearly Memorial Day Cemetery Visit

I know Memorial Day was created in honor of military members who lost their lives bravely serving and I give thanks to them. I also feel that Memorial Day is a good time to remember anyone no longer with us. My maternal grandfather passed away 16 years ago and I choose this time of year to go visit him. He also served in the USAF during WWII so it's fitting.

Back up a little to my blog entry about my garden flowers. Remember the yellow irises I received from a Palouse friends? When they bloom, it's also my reminder to head to Holy Cross Cemetery. I believe yellow is the color of peace and when placed with an American Flag it looks rather stunning. Since my yellow flora opened early than usual this year, they also began to die off earlier. So I had to change it up and mix some of the mauve irises with them.

A word of advice when visiting cemeteries: Go alone. I take the back road which has hills. Shortly after I begin my trek, I start choking up with a lump in my throat. Either Grandpa knows I'm on my way, or those hills are aggravating my motion sickness. Ahem, yeah, must that motion sickness.

I lucked out and there was nobody else in the mausoleum when I arrived. I had the whole place to myself. Well, okay, technically I wasn't alone in there if you count all the folks resting in peace. I got the vases set out on the headstones and proceeded to arrange the flowers I brought. I also reflected of the two new family members had been added recently since my last visit, which is sad to me. There's a generation soon to be lost to the sands of time. Cherish what is left of them and don't forget when they leave. Go visit. They know you're there.

My Grandpa Al with my flower and flag arrangement. Miss him incredibly. He used to take my sister and I bowling nearly everyday during summer vacations. We got pretty good at it, too!

Grandpa's brother, Joe, and his wife Yolanda (one of the recently passed).

Grandpa and Uncle Joe's oldest brother, Fileno, and his wife, Louise. 

Grandpa's parents. Someone already placed flowers so I didn't add more.

My Grandmother's parents. I vaguely remember Great-Grandpa Julian while he was living with my grandparents.

Uncle Johnny, Grandma's brother, who recently passed away.

Uncle Johnny's wife. When she passed away it was really my first experience with any sort of family death. I had dreams about her for a few weeks after she died. 

After business is complete at Holy Cross, I head on over to Fairmount Cemetery. Grandpa has two brothers, who died as children, buried there. Also, Great-Grandpa and Grandma Julian had an infant who died only a few weeks old. She would have been Grandma's older sister and Grandma always said she wanted a big sister. Reflecting upon their memories is important to the people who are important to me. I can manage an afternoon yearly for simple remembrance.

I have a hard time finding this nameplate. This time I marked it on my map so I won't spend 30 minutes making the same wrong turns each year!

I had to ask the groundskeeper to turn off the sprinklers in order to find her. I wasn't leaving without my mission complete!

If you have never wandered through Fairmount Cemetery during Memorial Day, they line the pathways with hundreds of American Flags. It's striking and beautiful and even if you don't have a loved one resting here, go take a look. It's a pretty sight. 

Thoughts From An LEOS

MAY 15th is PEACE OFFICER MEMORIAL DAY

Please take a moment of reflection for those 

who bravely served their communities.

Recently a local Police Officer was shot and subsequently died of his injuries. The community is devastated and heartbroken at such a loss. Most of you already know the story. I'm writing about a related variant: Being an LEOS (Law Enforcement Officer Spouse). Countless times I've answered questions such as: "Why does he want to do such a dangerous job?" "How do you handle it?" "Don't you worry all the time?"

The men and women who chose a career in law enforcement are one of a kind. They have to return to their jobs day in and day out after witnessing harrowing circumstances. Long hours at night and on weekends is strenuous. While the rest of us sleep they are diligently keeping watch. Regardless whether they are cussed at, spit on, or fought, they are expected to return to their watch to continue protecting and serving. Afterall, they swore to do just that. If you imagine all the different scenarios and gore they encounter (their job goes beyond those pesky traffic infractions), perhaps you can realize why they appear rough around the edges at first.

I suppose each individual has their own reasons for doing such a dangerous job each and every day, some cases night. I would say most feel that their communities are important enough to them to choose public service. They live here, too, and are making it safer for everyone, including themselves and their families.

To be frank: No, I don't worry about him all the time. He chose this profession fully acknowledging that the worst could happen and I accept that. His job is stressful enough as it is. A worrying spouse doesn't help. No one wants to hear the hallow echoing sounds of bagpipes and know it's in honor of their own loved one, but it's part of the package. I trust he is skilled to take care of himself and his comrades to the best of his ability and vise versa. Sometimes I wake up frightened in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. A quick call to hear his voice is soothing. Leaving a voice mail is comforting enough sometimes (I get to hear his voice on the greeting).

Unfortunately, once in a while, tragedy hits home. Several years ago while living in a small Idaho town we heard the pop-pop-pop of the automatic rifle that killed an officer. Due to coincidental change of events, my LEO had started with another agency only weeks before and therefore not on duty that night. I have never seen my husband weep painfully as he did that day. There is a different connection among them. Something I acknowledge, perhaps not fully understand, but I respect it.

So when another local officer was murdered, it again reminds us of the hazards they work in. I'm deeply saddened by the outcome but I'm not permanently rattled. The man was doing what he was sworn and honored to do. Obviously, I do not wish these circumstances for anyone including our family, but I must be strong-hearted to face the possibility of a final EOW (End Of Watch). How do I do it? I can't say for sure. I simply recognize the universe may call my LEO. I have no immediate control over this. We love each other and cherish our time together as anyone does.

It sickens me that there is this movement against law enforcement personnel. They're just normal people with families and feelings and bills to pay like any ordinary household. Most of them do care about communities and want citizens to be good wholesome people. Perhaps, the reason they were grumpy writing you that speeding ticket was because on the previous call they witnessed the ambulance and fire department wipe up the splattered brains of a driver off the road so the morning commute won't bear witness to it. Sure, there's no way for you to know this but I have a simple suggestion: Thank them for their service and remind them to stay safe. Your loves ones are expecting you to come home safely. We want that, too.

Garden Show-Off

I was given a new camera lens as a Mother's Day/early birthday gift (thanks, Dad!). It's a 50mm F1.8 lens which I wanted for low light use. It also helps me create some superior flower shots. (For Dad's info the first picture was taken at F1.8 1/1600 ISO 400).

I think there's something about each season that I appreciate, but I especially like when my garden starts blooming its colors. I was especially especially excited to discover a new brilliant color of iris: violet. I currently have yellow and mauve irises. I noticed two new plants growing which I had assumed were rhizomes that dropped from last year's thinning. (Iris are a wonderful hearty plant. The tubers spread so thinning is necessary every few years.) Much to my surprise they are this lovely shade of deep violet. A quick Internet search informed me that when irises germinate (not the same as the tubers spreading) they don't necessarily bloom the same color as the parent plant. And since I obtained this information on the Internet it certainly must be true.

My irises are truly my prize garden flower. They are happy-looking and when I give a bouquet to others it brightens their day. I can't get enough of them and wish they would bloom all year long. They smell fantastic and make excellent cut flowers. I received the yellow tubers from some friends down in Palouse who I think of each year when they bloom. I purchased two mauve irises from a gentlemen at a yard sale a few years ago. For a couple bucks I added more color for the yard. 

I also purchased a lilac start from that same yard sale gentleman. I wasn't sure if it would take or survive it's first winter but it did. I live in the Lilac City, I need to have a lilac shrub. 

No one likes wasps, but they are intriguing little creatures nonetheless (annoying animals are smart animals right?). The peonies, from my sister, haven't opened yet, but the buds are leaking some sort of nectar or dew and the wasps enjoy lapping it up. I got lucky with this mid-flight shot and managed to avoid any kind of angry hornet effect.