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A Cerulean Blue Ice Cream

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  Being a grandma, I have a tendency to like to ‘kidnap’ one of our grand kids and take them out for an ice cream. Not just because I love my grand kids and want to establish a relationship with them, but also because I like ice cream. You learn a lot of things from your kids if you watch and interact with them. Things like you can’t leave a three-year old unsupervised with scissors for very long. Disaster is definitely going to happen. Or with a permanent marker…around leather furniture. That kind of learning from your kids. Guess what?! The learning goes on with grand kids too! I took a grandson out for an ice cream. Small shop, 31 flavors of ice cream to choose from. With so very many options to choose from, the choice can be overwhelming. He chose his favorite color. He loves cerulean blue, so it stands to reason, in the mind of a young child, that the ice cream flavor had to be as endearing to him as the color was. He ordered it, was handed it and took a lick and before I ev
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You're My Favorite....

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 My sister-in-law (down syndrome) once said to me when we came to visit, "You're my favorite sister!" Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Man, I was on top of the world knowing that out of her eight or nine sister-in-laws and one blood sister, she called me her favorite. Then one of my brother-in-laws said, "Don't take her too seriously. She says that to all her sister-in-laws."  Wind out of my sails moment. Kicked in the gut. But wait just a minute. Why 'let' him deflate me like that? There's absolutely no reason to allow him to make me feel less special to her. This whole 'lesson' took me a few years to process and decide how I felt about it and what I was going to do with it. Raising six children isn't always easy. Somewhere deep inside I wanted for them something I couldn't buy at the store. Something they couldn't buy at the store. I wanted them to know what they were doing right. I wanted them to know how special
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Critical Race Thinking - My thoughts

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Short and sweet. Watch kids in a nursery. You know, what's the politically correct term? Diverse. A diverse mix of little kids in a nursery. Look at a 'diverse' group of kids on a playground. What do you see? What I've observed is kids playing. They act like they are all equally kids and equally can play. When is it kids start picking up the intolerance for a difference of skin color? Is it when kids start hearing their parents making comments about races? I was a young child when I heard dad make comments like, "Those damn (insert a race)." Nearly a decade later I heard him say, "The (insert a race) are going to take over the Church." I had to wonder. I was old enough to reason at this point and ponder on what he said. Yes, that particular race was joining the Church at a faster rate than other races. So. Did that matter? Were they going to be able to 'take over the Church'? Who did the Church belong to? Who was running it? The Church belong
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Memories that Seep

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  Looking at David’s ancestry and knowing he has ancestors buried in the Paris, Idaho cemetery, we just wanted to go see their graves-just because it’s a way of connecting with our ancestors. The mapping of the cemetery and plots leaves much to be desired-but after an hour we did find our ancestors and true to norm, they were largely buried in very near proximity to each other. Once Ruth enlightened us about the existence of a ‘man-made’ geyser in Soda Springs, Idaho, we needed to spend a little time there, watch it go off and know a little more about it. Like it was originally discovered as someone was trying to develop a mineral swimming pool, but the silly thing didn’t want to stop gushing. And another interesting tidbit, the Secretary of the Interior had to ask the City, via telegram, to ‘put a cap on it’ as it was throwing off the ‘precise’ eruptions of Old Faithful. FYI: https://www.sodaspringsid.com/recreation/geyser_park/index.php Sometimes married couples are ‘touched’ b
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THROWBACK THURSDAY MEMORY TIME

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  I knew you were excited about this story finally finding the light of day. Back when, well, a little further back than that. Actually, a LOT further back. Okay, it’s like five and a half decades ago! Mom and dad would go grocery shopping. Usually, we kids got to go too. When we got home, everyone helped bring the food in and then I got to put it away. Oh, not just the throw it in the cupboard, separate it into dinner size for six packages and throw it in the freezer-that was simple. I got to cut up the chicken. Raw, cold, chicken. It was cheaper to buy the whole chicken than it was to buy cut up chicken. Besides-the butchers never took care how to carefully cut the wishbone piece away from the breast. They must not have taught that in butcher school/training, whatever. I learned how to cut the whole leg off, then separate the thigh and lower leg at the joint. Next came the wings and then the wishbone. Now to separate the back and ribs from the breast. Then you break the back
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