Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow. You're only a day away :)

I have made it this far, but I think I am at my limit. There better be progress at the doctor's office, or I am taking all the chocolate we gave him back!! Dad should have landed by now, and it isn't too stormy so he should be home in an hour.

Since he left over the weekend--
I reached my personal best tonight on Planet Puzzle Logic (Ninetendo DS)--22,450!!
I finished typing all the notes for God's Secretaries for seminary.
I've read the first three No. 1 Ladies Detective series.
I've made three house elf hats.
I completed three half-finished counted cross stitch projects.
I cleared off my desk of 6 month's piling.
I wrote "thank you's" to everyone from the ward who brought meals, or even called me.
I watched the entire first season (22 episodes) of Remington Steele.
And I just started Walking the Bible by Bruce Feiler.

I want to walk to the mailbox, I want to pull weeds, I want to wander through the boxes in the basement and find pictures to post on this blog.

I want out of this cast!!!

(Deep sigh) Okay, I am done.

Do you remember "GARANIMALS"?

I smiled at Tricia's account of Dan's 'saving' behavior. It reminded me of his dad's interesting dress history.
When we first met, Ed's wardrobe at Cal Tech was very utilitarian: black slacks, white short-sleeved shirts, black socks. This was everyday wear--no decisions. He also had two sport coats (blue and maroon), a couple of yellow Oxford shirts (button-down collars), and some skinny ties. That was dress-up for Church or dates. (Yes, he wore a sports coat and tie to Disneyland on our first date, but it was a different time.) He had to buy a suit and a long-sleeved white shirt for our wedding.
Life was simple. He never had to decide if things went together.
Over time I think I have helped him expand his color palette, but the colored shirts and varied shades of gray and khaki pants has meant decisions. He bought some shirts on his own at the Joseph A. Banks store. He even chose a couple of stripes! But when I was in CA, he pulled all the pants and shirts out and had me tell him what he could wear with what.
It was a little confusing for him, and at one point he said, "I wish they just had Garanimals on them!"
Yesterday he had to buy a suit in CA without me, and it only took three phone calls. I smile.

Honey for a Child's Heart

This is the title of a wonderful little book about the importance of poetry and reading in raising children. I always had books that were mine alone as a child. The oldest one that I still have is an anthology given to me by my Aunt Ruth (my Dad's sister) for Christmas 1958. It no longer has a back cover, and many of the last pages are consequently missing; but it was my favorite because it started with nursery rhymes and progressed through to excerpts from classics--there was something for every stage of childhood. The illustrations were wonderful, too.
Tom's comment about some of the poetry we shared sent me to the library (in-house) to find the originals of the two he mentioned. Here they are:

THE MOON'S THE NORTH WIND'S COOKY

Vachel Lindsay

The Moon's the North Wind's cooky.

He bites it, day by day,

Until there's but a rim of scraps

That crumble all away.

The South Wind is a baker.

He kneads clouds in his den,

And bakes a crisp new moon that . . . greedy

North . . . Wind . . . eats . . . again!

(from A Pocketful of Rhymes, ed. Katherine Love)

HALFWAY DOWN

A.A. Milne

Halfway down the stairs

Is a stair

Where I sit.

There isn't any

Other Stair

Quite like

It.

I'm not at the bottom,

I'm not at the top;

So this is the stair

Where

I always

Stop.

Halfway up the stairs

Isn't up,

And it isn't down.

It isn't in the nursery,

It isn't in the town.

And all sorts of funny thoughts

Run round my head:

"It isn't really

Anywhere!

It's somewhere else

Instead!"

(from When We Were Very Young)

This last poem I would recite to kids as we sat on the beautiful curved stairs in the Woodland house.

I am so grateful that the joy of reading has passed to another generation.

Turn around, turn around, turn around and you're a...

It is mid-morning of my first full week alone here while Dad is in CA. Through my iPod in my ears is Kenny Loggins crooning my favorite lullaby, "Where Are You Going?" As you kids remember, I sang exactly three songs to you as little people--this one, "Inch Worm," and "The Marvelous Little Toy." This was always my favorite because it put growing up into perspective. You each "turned around" and grew up right under my nose (and in all cases, above it!). Everyone had different talents and different paths to follow. I have watched in awe as your lives have unfolded and included others. You are so special (and yes, Dan, unique), and I have occasionally been startled by what I have learned about you. I have spent many hours on my knees asking for help from Heavenly Father because you were His first and He knows you best. Those prayers have always been answered. When I had the wedding pictures hanging in the dining room on Sassafras, there was a framed quote in the center of the arrangement. It is my talisman.
"I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth." 3 John 4.
No matter what I have been comforted by your testimonies and choices.

Eating Crow--or Bat?

Remember when you didn't have children, but you knew what every parent was doing wrong? Well, we all learned not to judge after we had our own.
I learned another lesson about judging this past week. Years ago when the first Harry Potter book came out, my mom read it and dismissed it as a "children's" book, and wouldn't read any of the series. I tried to convince her they were wonderful, but she had made up her mind.
I did the same thing this summer. When Tricia recommended Twilight, I bought it but I couldn't quite bring myself to read a book about teenaged vampire angst. It sat on the floor for a couple of months. Last week in San Bruno I decided to try it (because Eclipse had knocked Harry Potter off the top of the NYT best seller--ok, I am a snob, but I can repent). Unfortunately, my copy of the first was at home, and I certainly couldn't start with book 3. So Ed took me to Barnes and Noble, and I bought all three (and he never said, "Don't you already have this?" I love him.).
I read all three in 4 days! That's possible when you have nothing else to do. I have one fault when I read a book. After I have become invested in the story and committed to certain of the characters, I ALWAYS read the very last page (only!) to see if those names are still there. If not, I don't read the book--I am not going to waste energy on a bad end. So, I have to admit to the same thing with Eclipse. I was freaked out!! I had to put an emergency call into Lynn to find out if it was going to be okay. I didn't want to know the end, just that it would be okay. She wasn't home, but Eric assured me she had loved the book. She called soon to reassure me that I was going to love the book, too, but that the last page was from the Epilogue and had a different first person narrator. Thank you, Lynn, for understanding your crazy mother. And thank you, Tricia, for staying up on lots of books.
Jen and I talked on Friday, and I agree with her that it is hard to read another book after being so invested in a wonderful tale.
I have one for you, now. I just loaned it to Jen this weekend. The title is Molokai, and I cried a lot through this "based on historical fact" account of the leper colony in Hawaii. I am not a tearful person, but this story just grabs your heart and squeezes.
Thanks for sharing a few minutes with me. I am home alone today, and it feels wonderful to have my home and life to myself.

Home again, home again, jiggedy jig

Well, yes, home again, but no jigs in my future. The doctor said minimal improvement (I'm trying to be positive--I couldn't see any!) The x-rays showed the crack as clearly defined as the first time, although Ed swears there is some fuzziness at both ends. The truth is there is no new tissue/calcification along the length of the break. That means "Come back in two weeks and we'll look again." There is nothing to do but wait.
Anyway, Thursday was an uneventful travel day. Everything was fine here at home. Friday was the doctor's visit and frustration on my part as Ed scurried around cleaning bathrooms and I sat. Now it is Saturday.
Ed and Jen and kids got here last night. The kids will be with us during the day while they go on a stake temple trip. They will go back tonight and then we will go over there tomorrow. Dad goes to Chicago on Monday, and life goes on.
I realized I may be a Cali-girl with sun on my face and sand between my toes, but I love the green of PA. The air is getting crisp and color change is coming. This is why I moved. I need seasons. I just have to accept that this is also a different season in my own life.

Dinner in Daly City

This is quick because Dad's computer has not been available all day, and now he is packing everything up for us to go home tomorrow. He's giving me a few minutes while he undoes all the handicap adjustments he made to his bathroom to accomodate me.
Last night Bill came down from Chico (as Ed appreciates, that is a 3 1/2 hour drive one way!), and we went to dinner in Daly City. That is the town we first lived in when my family moved to California in 1952.
We lived in an apartment, and two important things happened there. (1) I got a puppy, a fawn boxer, and (2) I started kindergarten. I will give you more about Tessie of Tanforan another time. My only recollection of starting school is that all the other kids were crying and clutching their mothers' skirts, and I was running down the hall to my classroom as fast as I could because I was so excited to go to school. I have ALWAYS loved school !!! After bringing home a few papers that apparently were not good enough, I remember my mom sitting me down at the coffee table in the living room and teaching me how to draw things that she felt were more recognizable, like a house with a tree and flowers and an airplane in the sky. I still feel self-conscious about anything that requires drawing.
Okay, more to come from Pennsylvania!!

Clearing up the antecedent confusion

I am an English major. I should have known better, but the Engineer in the house said it wasn't clear last time who was the nurse, my grandma or my "new mom".
It was my grandmother-- an unusual woman for her time. She was the company nurse and wore the old fashioned white uniform, hat, pin, and squeaky white shoes and hose. My grandfather had retired from being a postman because of health, so she was a primary bread-winner. She was a brilliant woman, who usually did too many things at one time. She always had a book in her hand, along with a cigarette, even while cooking (which she was TERRIBLE at). She would crochet and do crossword puzzles at the same time. She collected coins (I still have the dimes, Dean got the nickles, and Karl the pennies) and stamps (don't know where they are). She played the stock market successfully for years. I called her Nana. She died of lung cancer when I was in junior high. (When I get home, I will post a picture of her and my PopPop.
More on him another time.)
She and my grandfather lived in a farmhouse that had belonged to his uncle George Richmond. They had moved there so she could care for Uncle George in his old age. (He is another story--unmarried, traveled the world.) When I was at the house, it was really old. There was a hand pump at the kitchen sink, and the furnace burned coal that was delivered to the house and dumped through a chute into the bin in the basement. They didn't work the farm or have any animals. I had two rabbits, Snowball and Eight Ball (white and black, of course), and a Cocker Spaniel named Cookie.
Remembering is fun and sad.

"The End of the Prophets"

I AM FINISHED!! Several years ago there was an article in the New Era showing a method for marking footnotes in the new publication of the scriptures. I did that for my old smaller scriptures. Last June I began the process for my large-print books since I am teaching seminary. Yesterday I marked the last verse, Malachi 4:6. That gave me an interesting reminder.
As you recall, the verse begins, "And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, ..." Well, that is what this blog is all about. I intend to use this format to record my personal history.
There is a lot you already know, but I want to bring it all together. Some things are still not clear to me, and I hope Bunnie can fill in for all of us.
A brief outline: I was born October 15, 1947, at the Philadelphia Naval Hospital, to Dean John Munt, Jr., and Mary Eleanor O'Hare (right, Bunnie-mom?). They were divorced after my 4th birthday, and I ended up with my grandparents, Dean John Munt, Sr., and Christina Elizabeth (Bacon), in LeRoy NY. My dad remarried May 22, 1952, and I remember the day I met my "new mom" in Grandma's office. She was an LPN working as the plant nurse at the Jello factory in LeRoy. I stayed with a daycare lady across the street. We moved to California where I lived until Dad and I moved to Tennessee for 3 years, then to Ohio for 10 years, back to California for
22 1/2 years, and now to Pennsylvania. That looks to me like a full circle.
With most of my life spent in California, it makes perfect sense to me that deep in my soul I am a "Cali-girl" with the background music of the Beach Boys ringing in my ears, occasionally with an overlay of "California Dreamin'" from the Mamas and Papas.

Why I smile

Since I have been here the daily schedule has been very stable. Dad goes in to work at about 4 am and I stay asleep. Around 6:30ish I get up, and he is back around an hour or so later to fix breakfast. Then he does a tasting panel and goes back to work. He comes here to fix and share lunch and does another panel. He heads to work until about 5:30 when he comes home and makes dinner and we talk a little. He works here until bedtime (9 pm) and that's the day.
Soooo, I fully expected today to be the same. It started that way, but after the morning tasting he put on his tennis shoes, got my insulin test kit, and unfolded the wheelchair. Off we went in the car!!
He drove over to the airport Marriott parking lot, unloaded the chair and me, and we went for a long walk along the bayshore trail. He said I needed to feel the sun and wind. I LOVE HIM !! He pushed me for thirty minutes all the way down to the Max's restaurant at the Broadway offramp of 101 where we had lunch. (Ed, you and Jen may remember this as the place we all had dinner the night Jen's family arrived for the wedding.) I love their Rueben sandwiches.
We walked all the way back to the car and then we drove around and took some pictures (for a future post). He stopped at the South San Francisco Sees plant/store because he thought I might need a few dark chocolate almond clusters.
HE LOVES ME, TOO !!

September is always a new beginning

Well, I've done it!! Here is my maiden entry to the family network. Sitting at Dad's laptop in the San Bruno apartment, I am grateful for Lynn's help over the phone in launching this new adventure.
With nothing to do but read (First Among Sequels), cross stitch, and color-code the footnotes in the Old Testament for seminary, I am going stir-crazy.
Today marks four weeks in the cast. Three to go. I am pretty quick in the wheel chair, but there is no room to use it here. I hop around okay with the crutches, but it's only from the bed to the couch to the table to the desk--pretty limited. Dad is glad I am here, though, so he doesn't have to worry about me and the stairs at home. We go back to the kitties next Thursday, and then I will stay put. With any luck this will be over on the 28th.
I have always believed the start of the school year is the real "New Year." I know this is especially true this month. Grandma Munt is settled into her new home in Texas and very happy to be back close to Karl's little girls. I am glad a difficult year is behind us, and we are looking forward to new adventures.
Stay tuned for updates and memories from the home of the bears and apples.