Your Baby Can Read? My Baby CAN Read!

Yes, I bought the DVD's. For my 4 year old son (who is now 8). It was too late for him to succeed with the program. So when I had my baby daughter Summer, I made sure I followed the instructions to a tee. 3 months old, and I had her sitting in front of the TV and watching the first of 5 DVDs. At 10.5 months old, I finally decided to quiz her. Being a somewhat hard-nosed parent, I was trying the hands off approach up until that point, afraid I'd push her too hard. So on that day I made 20 flash cards with 20 words from the first video. At this age, she'd been through all 5 DVD's and still watches them from time to time. To my surprise, my 10.5 month old baby, who obviously, can't talk in sentences yet, and barely saying mama, and dada, etc., read to me 8 of the 20 words as I showed her the flash cards. STUNNED! OMG! It actually worked! What was even cooler, was I didn't have to do anything more than turn on the DVD player! Great time to do housework folks - baby is GLUED to the tv... they love it! Yes, my flashcards helped, but such a very small investment in my time and more entertaining than anything. I eventually bought their word pack - it was just so much better than my crappy pieces of paper.

The next year while I was agonizingly waiting to move back to the USA, I made her 3 more DVDs (hey, I had a lot of time on my hands). These were personalized, with more words, music, photos, video clips of the family (i.e. "this is Grandma Helen!"... on the screen), and of course, interspersed with little pieces of my upbringing (Roger Whitaker singing "Yellow Bird", or "Stewball" by Arlo Guthrie). My final piece de resistance was a DVD I called "Tribute to America", including the typical 4th of July fare, "Proud to Be An American", "God Bless America", and "The Star Spangled Banner". She loved them all! And it was kinda fun learning how to make DVDs on Windows Movie Maker. It's on your computer in the Accessories section and so easy, you should try it!

I gotta ask you non-believers out there... HOW STUPID ARE YOU? $80 bucks to get your infant reading??? Seems to me a much cheaper investment than 4 years of college - I'm betting my daughter has a full-ride scholarship. HUGE bang for my buck! I never even saw the commercials (I was in Italy when I bought it). I was just thinking one day that there has to be some program out there where you can help your young children learn to read. So I googled "baby read" and I found these DVDs. And since I'm a horrible, horrible teacher, this fit the bill perfectly! I am so surprised how cheap parents are. If I could pay someone $80 to teach my child to read, wouldn't that be totally worth the investment? Duh! I think so!!! I have had children who have struggled in school, so believe me, I know what I'm talking about.

I have to tell you, if you haven't tried it and you have a child under 2.5 (I don't know if a child older than that will have the patience to do this), then definitely go buy it NOW! The guy who made it is a child psychologist. And I don't care what some of the naysayers say... my daughter is VERY NORMAL, and WAAAAAY ahead of the game. She is 26 months old now and can read about 650 words; knows her ABC's by site, sound, upper and lower; can count (with help) to 30, and also counts by 2's, 3's, 4's, 5's, 6's,' 7's, 8's, 9's, 10's (typical multiplication fare), she sings every song on every DVD I've made (including the patriotic ones), and has started reading words on her own - things I never taught her! Along with this, she has started learning other things, physical things that I'm sure is because she learned to be observant at such a young age. My current crack up is seeing her doing ballet imitations while watching her Barbie Nutcracker DVD. I just don't think that's par for an average 26 month old. The thing is, I think my daughter is normal. I just think she learned things early and got a head start. In other words, ANY CHILD CAN DO THIS!

Okay, so you don't believe me??? Watch the video... She's 15 months old here.

P.S. I have enclosed a link, but I don't see it here. So you can always copy and paste the following into a new browser window.

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?v=app_2392950137&ref=profile&id=1168311614#/video/video.php?v=1026797868047


Rachel

The Rut of Life

You know how you feel like sometimes your life is in a rut? And when it's in a rut, you want to shake it loose a little? Maybe make a change? Well, my life was in a rut once... did the same thing day in, day out. Went to work, came home to the family and the house, cleaned the house on the weekend, shopped at Home Depot, the Mall, etc., maybe went to a movie, or out to a restaurant, got up and went to work again on Monday. So when this happened for a very long time, I felt like I was in a neverending rut. Or on a very straight road with no detours. And then I moved to Italy.

Italy has been a roundabout in my life. A 4-year roundabout. Can't get off, can't go anywhere permanent, can't do anything "progressive" for my life, home, etc. Everything is temporary, including my job (which I obviously don't have anymore). It's kind of like being on pause. Okay, so maybe since Italy is a very, very cool place to live, it's better than just a roundabout. It's the Alice in Wonderland teacup ride at Disneyland. Or since I live near the Alps, the Matterhorn ride. Or the "Pirates of the Caribbean" in honor of nearby Venice. Or, maybe still that isn't fancy enough... how about an antique, beautifully painted, carousel (like the one at Lagoon) with vibrant colors, flashing lights, and great experiences of up and down, and I get to rent it for a while! Fun, isn't it? A truly great experience! Yes, it has been one of a kind.

Four years later, I yearn for that rut. I'm a bit dizzy from all the round and round - I can't wait to feel balanced again. Ah, to be settled, to own our own property, to be able to plan a future around a locale and mostly to experience again the wonder of that thing called the American lifestyle that I used to have, and that so many, many want! Right now I'm preparing to exit the roundabout and go straight in a new direction that points to "Destination Freedom, USA". I'm very grateful to be able to have this future, even if I used to think of it as a rut. The grass isn't greener, folks. I will never take the rut for granted again.

Rachel

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I wrote this last Summer. We moved back to the USA in early November. I thought it being New Year's Eve and all that I share my wonderment at being able to start a new year in a new rut! Yaay! I LOVE MY RUT!

Health Soup

Lots of people are sick! Thankfully, I don't get sick much anymore. I attribute some of that to not having little ones in school around - they've all grown up and have their own little ones who bring germs home. Here is a wonderful and easy chicken soup recipe that I call Health Soup that I hope you will give a try. This is quick to make, which is wonderful when you are doing the caring for yourself. And sometimes I make it just because I'm having a garlic craving! (Garlic - food of the gods).

Health Soup

6 cloves garlic, crushed

1 Tb cooking oil

4 Tb Chicken base (the pastey kind)

4 C water

1/4 t ground pepper

2 eggs, beaten

fresh parsley, slightly chopped

Cook the garlic in the oil until tender but not burned or brown - couple of minutes on medium heat should do it. Add the water and begin to heat. Add the pasty chicken base, stir to disolve, then add the pepper. Fresh ground is really delicious in this. Cover and simmer for 12 - 15 minutes. Remove from the heat, and while it is still very hot slowly pour the beaten eggs into the hot soup in a thin stream, stirring gently until it looks kind of shredded throughout the soup. Add the parsley and eat up!

I always feel better after I eat this delicious and easy soup, and after I have chanted, "I Am Healthy, I Am Healthy, I Am Healthy, I Am Healthy..."

Victoria J Mecham

Albert & Marilyn

When you look at this picture in a closer look you see its Albert Einstein.But if you stand 15 feet away, It will become Marilyn Monroe. Give a try.


Teri Mecham

Arse Kickers, My Arse

I was reading some posts on Facebook from some nieces and a sister – they were talking about exercise videos. They do have their favorites. Hilari’s favorite is so old, it is a VHS. Her ancient VCR finally ate the tape and sent it to VHS heaven, so she has ordered it on DVD. Gayle says Callanetics is an arse-kicker; Jen says she loves Pilates – doesn’t get as good results as with Callanetics, but she feels really good after. And I don’t know what Minna is, but they seem to like it, too. Rachel’s favorite is an older one from 1984 by Marine Jahan, the woman who did the dancing for Jennifer Beals, apparently – says it seriously burns calories.

And you know what? I don’t know what those ladies are thinking – but I have tried Pilates and Callanetics. I have watched each of those dvds several times – in fact, Gayle gave me the Callanetics. Watched them many, many times. Nothing, and I mean nothing, has happened!

Anyway, my favorite exercise is reading.

Victoria

Naughty or Nice? Nooooo, just plain crazy

I'm sitting here stuffed to the gills from a very delicious Christmas Eve dinner. This dinner seems to have slowed down my brain functions. But I'm going to force the gears to crank out some more of my humble perspective on life despite the fact that I keep burping and it tastes like banana cream pie, string bean casserole, turkey, smoked ham, and many other delicious items. At least they were when I first ate them. Now that I'm tasting them all at once, not so good. So as I sit at the computer in this bloated state, I'm facing a dilemma. Is this post going to be naughty? Because it's in my nature to be so. Or will be nice? Also something that's in my nature. It's true, really it is! Just ask me, don't listen to my brothers and sisters. They're all just jealous. I'm tempted to go with nice because it is Christmas Eve, but I feel a little mischievous at the same time. So I'm going to try for a happy medium. I'm new at this compromise thing so tell me how I do at it.

I caught a bit of flak for my recent comments about the twilight series, so I will first try to apply what I've learned since then from some of my dearly loved, and informative as well as intelligent, female cousins. First of all, I now know that these books were essentially romance novels. I feel like I was duped due to the fact that not one of the books had Fabio on the cover! Apparently the main vampire character (edward for those who don't know) is a very attentive and romantic guy. Despite the fact that his skin feels like cold marble. I'm still not sure how that makes him romantic but I'm going to keep trying to understand, so have a little patience with me. I also had a few other misconceptions. Him staring at her literally ALL night long was very sweet, not kind of crazy, obsessive and stalker like as I had originally thought. His domineering and controlling nature is just an expression of how she means the world to him. As he should since he is her entire world.

And on that note this entire post just took a turn into...The Twilight Zone! I was literally typing the word domineering when I start to hear a man and woman arguing loudly outside. I ignore it and finished the paragraph and the arguing gets louder. I can make out swearing and accusations that don't bear repeating here. I open the door to look and see a young man walking up the street angrily. His hysterical girlfriend is driving next to him and alternating between yelling at him and pleading with him about something I couldn't quite make out. She wants him to get in the car he won't, it's freezing rain and sleet coming down and a pretty brisk wind. So I instantly think to myself, Wow! That's pretty manipulative of him, he's playing the suffering martyr. She's so bad that he would rather be out in this weather getting soaked and cold, than to be in her company in the warm dry car. This in turn makes her feel horrible since I hear her scream out, "Why are you doing this? You mean everything to me!" Of course she she says this after he walks up to the car and grabs her hair and slams her head into the steering wheel a few times. He then takes off up the street again at an almost jog. She continues to drive next to him and they keep yelling back and forth and are quickly lost to my sight. I call the police and report what I saw, but I have very little information to give them since I couldn't make out faces or a plate number. So I doubt anything will happen to him because of this except she will feel even lower and will probably accept any thing this guy wants to do just to keep him near, he does mean everything after all. I'm not making this up, it really happened right before my eyes. And I am more convinced than ever that some of the things I said about those books are true. All joking and sarcasm aside, this is truly what I think will be the outcome of many girls reading those books. What I saw tonight. I will try to explain why, and I ask those of you who love and like those books to please try to keep an open mind on this one. As this is not an attack on you or what you think, this is just what I've observed in living a life in the fringe elements of society as well as within the mainstream.

Women want a man who is completely devoted to them, like my cousins said. And in turn because so many want this they will make the man they are with the center of their world. They also do this when there are red flags all over the place. (In the books he thinks she is the most delicious human he's ever smelled, and let's not forget that he's feasted on human flesh before. And animals never quite satisfy the hunger like a human does.) The female character gets so hurt when he leaves her that she starts hearing audio hallucinations of his voice when she is in danger. So she continues to put herself in danger just to hear this disembodied voice. That is how completely dependent on him she has become, or should I say co-dependent. Yes I should, as this is exactly what it is. Just like the girl I saw tonight. She could have driven away to safety any time she wanted, but she kept right along side him, right after he slammed her head repeatedly into her own car! The girl in the book has everything turn out happily ever after. Sadly this is quite often not the case. Edward resembles a recovering alcoholic, or drug addict to me, and many women fall for this type. The edgy guy, the brooding type, the strong and silent type, the bad boy with a heart of gold, the moody artist battling inner demons. He epitomizes those types perfectly, even to the point of wanting to kill himself when he thinks he has lost her for good. That happens in real life too, with these types of men. For example a man with the obsessive qualities or traits that edward has, will fall apart and lose it if they are this co-dependent and obsessed about a girl. Then a couple of things are likely to happen, he just might kill or hurt himself just to hurt her, or he just might hurt or kill her out of rage for hurting him. The books are fantasy, the characters are deeply flawed and dangerously dependent on one another. In the fantasy world they have a happy ending, in the real world people like this usually have a tragic ending. I have witnessed it first hand several times, as I'm sure many of you have. Some of you might have even experienced this type of situation yourselves and know exactly what I'm talking about.

To be frank, I'm pretty dismayed by tonight. This post was going to be light and funny. I was going to talk about fond Christmas memories that would give people a chance to laugh at me. I had the intention of leaving people with a feeling of good cheer and mirth after they read what I had to say. Sure I was going to poke a bit of fun at some of you , but that would have been a loving invitation to poke right back. But that's not going to happen, instead I'm going to be spending the rest of the night pondering what I saw, and why I saw it at that exact moment. I love Christmas, it's my favorite holiday and I get in the spirit of giving every year. Since it is Christmas I'm still going to try to rekindle the warm feeling of sharing and love I've been feeling this entire week. And maybe I can do that here.

I know this season is all about giving, (or at least it's supposed to be) peace and love for all mankind etc. And I want to share what I've observed all week. The times are hard, everyone seems stressed out and money is tight. And yet so many are still cheery and full of love and joy. Still many are not, they are overwhelmed. They seem downtrodden and hopeless. As I wandered through various shopping places, I noticed one common thread among all the unhappy people. This is supposed to be a season centered around giving, but so many are concentrating on getting. It's supposed to be about ALL of us yet I see a lot of people making it all about ME. This is sad and unfortunate, yet I still see those bright and shining faces poking out in the otherwise dreary masses that are just trudging through the Holiday season like it's a dirty chore they've resigned themselves to. Those smiling faces give me hope and make me smile back. So I guess I will just hold those people in my thoughts and hope that maybe that young man and his girlfriend will be affected the same way I am by one of those smiling faces with the twinkling eyes.

So when you find you are getting frustrated or feeling a little down because of the Holiday mayhem, be the bigger person. Smile at a Scrooge, or wish a Merry Christmas to a Bah-Humbugger. Just be kind to the nastiest people you meet, you never know who's spirit you might lift. Besides, it drives them crazy when your genuinely kind in response to their nastiness. It dumbfounds and makes them feel chagrined. I personally love killing them with kindness. But I've got to get to bed so Santa can come by, I think I've finally been good enough not to end up with coal this year.

Merry Christmas Everyone!!!
Jonathan Schroeder

My Life As A Car

I have it! I do. The dreaded Mecham curse... Hypothyroidism. Or maybe it's the Helen curse, except I'm pretty sure a few Aunts have it as well. I like to call it "Hippo"-thyroidism, because that's exactly what happened to me.

For those of you who don't have it, COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS! I'm not a high energy person in the first place, but whoa... a minute of de-regulation in the metabolism department and WOE is LIFE! The battle between my dress sizes is old! 10 years old now. I used to love the time when I had the Pedersen metabolism - I could eat just about whatever I wanted and remained pretty thin. 109 lbs exactly one year after the birth of my first child! Then several years later, overnight I gained a whopping 40 lbs. We won't even talk about my current weight - I refer to myself by size only now.

There's always some mental argument going on in my brain about if I'm helping myself daily, or if I'm doing worst for my body. Each morsel, each minute of rest I analyze and have guilt issues. In reality, I shouldn't have guilt issues. I don't eat that much. True, I do not get out to exercise much. Solely, because of my current status as a housewife/mom and my clinging 2 year old daughter. I had more freedom the 16 years I worked full-time. Thus goes the argument in my head... am I responsible for being as fat as I am, or is it my damned genes?

Sometimes I get control of the other areas of my life and make exercise more convenient (usually involving good weather and no mountain lions in the neighborhood [a blog for later]). And then I restrict caloric intake enough for my particular biological functions and along with a much healthier diet (think salads and lots of veggies), I ever so slowly begin to lose weight. One glass of wine or alcohol and forget it - game over. My body also has a problem with water retention. So then something happens in life (like the intercontinental move I recently made) and the weight just piles back on. Ah, I just HATE my body!

As the years have passed I swing back and forth both on the scale and in my attitude. Various thoughts have begun to percolate and I have found myself always wanting to be able to explain just what it's like to have a thyroid problem. I have come up with the following analogy:

I was born a 1971 Chevy Corvette. 350 cubic inch engine, with a blower on top. 8 miles to the gallon, but boy, was I fast! And light too, with a fiberglass body! I could suck in all kinds of fuel and race around all day long. Over the years=I stayed a Corvette, but upgraded the body style until 1998. At this time, I defected to Japan and became a low-end Lexus (made by Toyota). Big, fat, Japanese car, doesn't require much fuel and can go forever, albeit not super fast, on very little fuel.
Know what's funny about this analogy??? As soon as I thought of it this way, I didn't feel guilty anymore. I like to think that my body is more fuel efficient! In fact, I often lie to myself and tell myself that I am just physically evolving faster than everyone else in this new age of abundance. It's everyone else that is behind, not me! It has to be all that blue blood we have in the Mecham line - I always knew we were better in some way. Now I just need to learn how to mentally adapt to my new life as a Lexus.

from

Rachel Pedersen Stewart

Niece/Daughter of The Girls

What the heck is a Zoo-Farm?

Farm life, even small farm life such as we have, is nothing like I ever imagined. I don't even know what I imagined. I guess something along the lines of "Little House on the Prairie". Add into that the "zoo" factor and we have a whole new lifestyle going on. Let me explain a little.

Four kids, all in various stages of being into themselves and whatever happens to be around them at the moment. Sometimes up to six kids, depending on what weekend or time of year it is (my stepson & his other sister, who is no blood relation, but like my own child anyway). That makes up half of the zoo. Seven dogs, plus the 10 (yes, TEN) puppies that were just born on the 22nd, at 4 am no less, on Josh's bed, while he was sleeping. Three cats inside plus a handful roaming around outside somewhere. That is my zoo.

A horse that doesn't seem to want to be touched, let alone ridden, ever since the farrier (horse shoe/hoof cleaner guy) first came out to work on her. A beautiful steak/prime rib/roast/BBQ burger just waiting to be big enough to slaughter (his name is T-Bone). Pork Chop, she's kind of my almost 200 pound baby. She barks like a dog, likes to be scratched like a dog, but will someday (hopefully in the next year) provide us with offspring to make good bacon/sausage/pork chops, etc. My Girls, the cluckers. I like to call them the Rulers of the Roost, even though they are all female, all 15 of them. They provide us with more eggs than we can possibly eat. In the spring, we'll be getting more, to build up to the ability to sell most of the eggs. Oh, I can't begin to tell you how soothing the Girls are to be around, can't explain why. Excuse me, they are not just my Girls, they are my smart girls. Then I have my stupid girls, which I like to call Thanksgiving dinner for next year. There are 10 of them, so I don't think all of them will be dinner, unless my entire extended family decides to show up! ;-). Last but not least, the goats. There really is no way to describe them, other than 3 girls and 1 boy. Should be having some kids worth some $$$ come March/April. There's my farm.

Do you see the Zoo-Farm yet?

Add to all of this the fact that I am no longer a stay-at-home mom. Up until this month, I was always home (unless it's baseball season, then I'm NEVER home), working on some project or other involving my farm. I don't think that I've slept a wink since I started my full time job (away from home) 2 weeks ago. Farm chores wait for no-one. They have to be done, whether you can see what you're doing or not.

But you know what? I would not trade this life for anything. It has always been our dream to have chickens, maybe some goats. We never thought of having all that we have. But I believe this is the life I was meant to live. I feel like I belong right here, right now, doing what I am doing. Even though I sincerely HATE California (more specifically, the Central Valley).

Vampires!

I know that many of you out there will disagree with me on this. That's ok, I'm used to that. I just wanted to comment on a strange trend in our society right now. I can usually understand trends and pop culture to a certain degree, you might even say I'm kind of fascinated by it. But I have to admit that I'm completely stunned, maybe a little dismayed as well by the popularity and acceptance of the twilight series. I read all four books just to give it a fair chance, and I have to say I feel polluted after having read that tripe. Is this seriously what people like?!
Correct me if I'm wrong, (well, don't actually - many have tried and it's a lost cause) but isn't this entire story glamorizing and celebrating co-dependency? This girl bela just crumbles apart without her sparkly and depressing vampire boyfriend. And he wants to commit vampire suicide because he's a depressed vampire living in some hick town in northern Washington. I know, he really wants to do it because he just can't cope (after existing for centuries just fine) without his clumsy, socially awkward, and might I add boring but delicious smelling human girlfriend. This entire story makes me smell bile just by recalling enough of it to comment on it.
If you haven't guessed by now, I absolutely loathed the entire story. It is written in such a style as to appeal to whiny little preteen girls with daddy issues, halitosis, body odor, and absolutely no hope of being asked to prom. But somehow this literary travesty has found it's way into the mainstream. I see shirts saying, team edward, and team jacob, or edward likes cheerleaders, (I refuse to capitalize the names of said characters) and I just feel sad. When did vampires become so lame? I liked vampire stories when they were the souls of the damned, but no that wasn't good enough. I even liked Anne Rice's take on vampires because it was still dark and edgy, yet got me to like and dislike certain characters. And now some lady decides to make them into dark, brooding, emotionally deep genius creatures with X-men like powers and a Romeo and Juliette-type of twist that really turns out to be a Disney-esque happy ending. And everyone eats it up and praises it like Jesus himself wrote it. I see this series as one of the tools that will contribute to the further moral decay and degradation of integrity in the youth of today.
And I won't even get started on the movies, in part because I couldn't even sit through more than half of the first one. Probably because it seemed like the girl playing bela acted like a female version of Ozzy Osbourne crossed with George W. Bush every time she spoke!
I guess what I'm saying is that I give this entire series, and everything about it and that has been spawned by it two thumbs down. But to be fair I have my own guilty pleasures. Lady Gaga for one, Erasure for another, **head drops down in shame as shoulders slump** and I'll just stop there.
Until next time, happy Holidays with much love.
Sincerely, your grumpy old man in training
Jonathan Schroeder
Nephew/Son of The Girls

Hi Cuz, Can You Give Me Some Bone Marrow? or My Confusing Family Tree

I have the WILDEST family tree. Not only do I come from polygamist stock (3 generations back) on my mother's side, but my Mom has 9 sisters, and I have like 40 million cousins because we pretty much were all raised Mormon. I preface every discussion of my numbers of siblings with the statement "I was raised in Utah." The reaction is a collective "Oh!" as in they get it - no further explanation required. So being the times that we are in now, well, divorce happens. And as a result, I have 4 brothers and sisters from my Mom, and 4 brothers and sisters from my Dad. But this isn't really about my siblings, so I guess I'll start with my Paternal Grandmother. Whiplash! Keep up! I have changed direction and you'd better get used to it.

My Grandma Eliza married my Grandpa Pedersen at a very young age. I'm thinking 15 or so. He must have been a real hottie because her sister decided to marry his brother. Cool, right? Okay, so now think of this... both sisters have kids. These kids go to Maternal Grandparent's house for Thanksgiving, and their cousins from their mother's side are there as expected. At Christmastime, they go to their Paternal Grandparent's house and again, same cousins are there... why? They're double cousins! So this is the story of my Dad, Hal, and his double cousin Karl.

Fast forward 36 years. My dad is single again, and my mother is single again. They get married. How did they meet? Well, because my Mom's sister Sherolyn is married to my Dad's double cousin Karl. I'll give you a minute here to catch up. Perhaps it would be better if you drew it out family tree-style. Odd Fact: My parents marriage was the second for both of them. But for my mom's first marriage, she wore my dad's first wife's wedding gown! Okay, back to the story...

So now, my mom has 4 kids, my dad has 4 kids, and they got married and had me. Yours, Mine, and Ours. I'm the Ours. Now here's the kicker......

If I ever need some sort of closest matching relative's tissue, I can't ask my own siblings, because believe it or not, I'm more closely related DNA-wise to my cousins from my Mom's sister Sherolyn and my Dad's double cousin Karl. They have exactly the same gene pool as me, and my 8 half brothers and sisters only come half way close.

You'd better read it again - I didn't understand it all until I was about 14... and I'd been trying for years!

from Rachel Pedersen Stewart

Niece/daughter of The Girls

Snowballs & Guns?

There was a snowball fight in Washington DC over the weekend. Apparently a plainclothes policeman’s vehicle was hit. I saw a video of it - it looked like he got out of his vehicle and drew his weapon. This is what I saw, I swear - I am not making this up. I heard a guy say (with incredulity in his voice), “He’s got a gun.” Then someone said, “You don’t bring a gun to a snowball fight.” Then people picked it up as a short-lived chant. ????

I saw a comment by a Canadian – “Only in America.”
I wanted to write a blog on this subject. …. ??

Silence. It has actually happened. I have been stunned into silence. I can’t think of anything else to say, besides O.M.G., WTF, or “Are you serious!?

If I hadn’t seen the raw video, I would have thought it was some kind of stunt, or even something dreamed up for a bad movie. If it was in a movie, the critics would have trashed the scene for being too unbelievable. Well, I guess it is unbelievable.

Victoria J Mecham

A Little About Me

About Me

A little about me. I'm the 8th out of 10 girls - no brothers. I have 4 adult children. And as I was not always Mother-of-the Year, who would ever have guessed my children would all grow up to be such wonderful people? And I have 13 grandchildren - how'd that happen? So, without intending to, I find myself defining ME as the doting grandmother, albeit long-distance for more than half of them.

Currently, my most repeated activities appear to be Sitting on my Ass, blogging, writing stuff I'm not sure about. Such is the way of writers, apparently. I was laid off a job I had for 9 years in March of 2009, so I have more time than I'm used to, and I'm loving it. Not so much that I wouldn’t rather be hired by someone – preferably in the field of writing.

My current interests tend to be mostly Reading Trashy Books, and some that aren't so trashy. Currently I'm reading Homer. Not easy, but interesting. I used to wish for some personal time to read all the things I could imagine. I even imagined that the only way that would ever happen would be if I was in a slight accident and had to be hospitalized or just on bed rest for several weeks. Now I have the time. I hope soon to have less personal time.

For music, my favorite is – eclectic. Most genres. Not much rap, thank you, and whatever that stuff is I’ve heard my son listen to. The hip-hop stuff? Well, thank you very much, but I listened to some last year. I’m good from here. Most currently? My sister Roni gave me a CD of Susan Boyle. I’m "absolutely gobsmacked" by Susan Boyle. I weep over something every time I listen to her new CD.

Favorite TV Shows: TV? Hmmm. Well, Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Next Generation. What? They aren’t a regular offering any longer? Actually, I knew that. That is basically when I stopped watching TV. Except my daughter’s children forced me to watch “Spongebob Squarepants” and some show about a real survivor – he goes out alone, sets up a camera, and usually hurts himself in a gnarly way. Also, once, when my washer broke down, I went to the Laundromat and they were playing something horrible rather loudly. It was freezing cold (I mean in the teens) outside so since I hate the cold more than TV, I was force-fed what they told me was a great show, “House.” The worst thing I had even seen on TV (and that’s including Dynasty).

For my favorite movies – To be truthful, there are Too Many! Some of them are - Rob Roy, the Bourne movies, Cast Away, Harry Potter (his best hair was in the 2nd and third, though), Lord of the Rings trilogy, (and don't tell anyone, - the Twilight Saga), Master and Commander, Meet Joe Black (for Anthony Hopkins, not degenerate Brad Pitt), Shipping News, Ladies in Lavender, A Fish Called Wanda, August Rush, Defiance, P.S. I Love You, King Arthur, Matrix (just the first one) Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day, Sense and Sensibility (with Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson - I love Alan Rickman), Troy (I know, I know), Princess Bride, any Star Trek:TNG (wish they would make DS9 movies), Star Trek 2009, The Bird Cage, What the Bleep Do We Know: Down The Rabbit Hole, Terminator movies, Shawshank Redemption, Julie & Julia (soo in love with that one) and I admit it - the X-Men movies. In my exploration of escapism, I've seen at least 100 movies since my job ended last March.

As for my favorite books, there are many - Earths Children Series (Clan of the Cave Bear, Valley of the Horses, etc.); Eat, Pray, Love; Harry Potter series; Twilight series; Sue Grafton's ABC mysteries; personal expansion books - i.e. - books by James Arthur Ray, John Assaraf, etc.

Favorite Quotations: If At First You Don’t Succeed, Fry, Fry a Hen
Useless Stuff About Me: I’m ageless; I’m enjoying an extraordinarily long youth.
Political Views: Ever Evolving
Spiritual Beliefs: Universal/Quantum Spirituality/Personal Expansion (whatever that is, and I don’t mean my girth, although that is happening with all this personal time).

Victoria J Mecham

Beauty and the Beast

And the Beast in question is unsightly aging. Not just aging –people like Susan Sarandon and Sigourney Weaver who age beautifully look great, and I react with envy. But I am aging, well, icky. In an unsightly manner. I have never agreed with those crackpots who embrace the Crone. I don’t want to get all haggaly-looking. I like being older because I am finally getting a teensy bit smarter. I would like to look as good as one of the two older women previously mentioned. I don’t like this goofy neck-thing I’ve got going on. I don’t like the saggy nose-to-mouth thing. And what’s with this overhanging upper eyelid and baggy under eyelid stuff? It’s so unsightly!

The picture that accompanies this blog? It’s four years old. (The infant is my granddaughter, Valerie). I have changed a bunch, and there is no way I will even have a picture taken, let alone display it for all. (My adult offspring continue to try to capture my image, however). I have an acquaintance who is 7 years younger, and she looks 17 years younger. Nay, even younger than that. Ungghh! She is just naturally that way. The unfairness of it all. She is teased about it, some are now calling her “Barbie.” But she’s waaay too cute for even that, and more personality, too!

So, am I vain? You betcha! Too vain? Maybe. I’m just used to looking different. I’m used to not looking like I’m getting closer to 60 every year, every day. I don’t think anyone else in the family is as vain, not even my mother, who is 93 and isn’t used to not being amazingly, youthfully beautiful. (She’s wrong about that – she is beautiful). I guess I have at least a couple of different choices here. I guess I can continue to avoid looking in the mirror much – I am always so shocked! I can continue to wish for what isn’t, and be unhappy, maybe even miserable about this process. Or, maybe I can learn to just love everything about me, including the beastly aging. Be grateful for my amazing health.

Man, this is going to be some process. I think I’ll try it.

Victoria Jane Mecham

I Am Woman

“I am woman hear me roar,” is a phrase I have heard many times in my life, but never really understood fully myself. Yesterday, my laundry routine was put on the back burner, because my washer was making a loud, grinding noise during the spin cycle. My exhausted husband looked it over, after a very long day at work. He took it apart and found money, lint, and a few various treasures (courtesy of my little people) inside the water pump. He also discovered that the lint trap had become dislodged from its home in the pump, adding to the loud noise. He put everything back together, and declared it fixed. He is pretty fast at the whole process, as he has had to perform this kind of service about twice a year for the last 6 years. No matter how vigilant I am about checking pockets, things always sneak through, and every time they do, I promise to be even more vigilant so he doesn’t have to clean out the water pump again.
So today, I started my first load, and then I heard it, a loud knock, knock. I looked high and low, and could not find the source. The knocking continued, and then I heard the now familiar groan from the washing machine. I called my very tired, overworked husband at work.
Me “Hi, did you do something to the washer?”
My husband “Yeah, I fixed it last night, remember?”
Me “Yeah, well it is making this weird knocking sound, and groaning, and now it won’t spin.”
My husband “I bet it’s the lint trap, I wasn’t sure where it went, so I just put it in the hose. I checked for leaks though”.
Me “Oh, when will you be home to look at it?”
My husband “Probably around midnight”.
Me “Never mind, I will figure something out.”
So never having fixed much in the way of well, anything, I thought I would try my hand at washer repair. How hard could it be? I pulled the hoses off, so far so good, dislodged the lint trap from under the drum, placed it back where it actually belonged, then set about returning hoses to pipes. That’s when the trouble began. Taking the clamps off the hoses was a cinch, putting them back on was a nightmare that lasted 2 hours. I pinched, I pried, and I cursed, and even cried just a bit. Then came the brilliant idea to use tension clamps; that worked on the first hose, then the second, then came the third. It was stuck, I could not attach it, no matter how hard I tried, it just would not come close enough to the pipe. Why? Because I had attached the first one too far to the right, so I had to start over. There was much wailing, cursing, and grunting, but nevertheless, I finished. When I was done I was a bloody, soggy (lying next to the very wet laundry in a bucket on my floor), frazzled mess. But I was something else too. I was proud of myself, and I felt empowered. In the past I have always just left the machine fixing and general “guy stuff” to my husband; he likes it, he is good at it, so why not? I have never thought myself capable before either, but today - I am Woman, Hear me roar.

From Jen Schroeder Martinez

Niece/Daughter of The Girls

Discoveries of a Two-Year-Old

Why do little kids stick things in newly discovered orifices? My 26-month old daughter stuck a pea up her nose the other day. I have nightmares this is going to turn out like one of my Aunt's (Gayle?) childhood adventures when she stuck a bean up her nose and no one knew it was there. A few weeks later, when she was taken to the dr because of an odd smell radiating from her general direction, they discovered the bean and it had sprouted. Of course, the pea is already dead, and I'm hoping I got it all out. We should be doubly grateful for diapers - not only do they prevent gross mishaps, but they cover more orifices.

from Rachel Pedersen Stewart
Niece/Daughter of The Girls

Following in the Footsteps of My Father

The key slid easily into the lock and made a snickety-click as I turned it to unlock our apartment door. My sister and I entered and threw down our school backpacks and turned our attention to the kitchen to find an after school snack. Our father was most likely at work and would be home in time to prepare a simple and nutritious meal for our small family. Then our father would help us with our homework before tackling his own. This sequence of events would be repeated with a few variations for a few years in a few different towns. The biggest difference I remember is how much clothing we had to wear to protect us from the elements which ranged from the bitter cold of northern Montana to the winter rains of Corvallis and the sweltering heat of Louisiana’s bayou country.
Looking back as I now enter school with two young children of my own I see many parallels between my present circumstances and what my father went through as he pursued his Master’s degree. It is amazing to me that my father took in stride things that seem nearly insurmountable to me. I often wonder how my father was able to attend school full time, work full time and still find time to raise us on his own with little outside help. I vividly remember innumerable trips to discover the natural world around us, whether it was fossil hunting in the Badlands of Havre, Montana, exploring the Cascade and Coast Ranges of Oregon looking for mushrooms and other fungi or mucking through the swamps of Louisiana trying to find rare amphibians.
I have asked my father how he was able to juggle two young children, full time work and a 4.0+ grade point average and his response was “I don’t remember”. Initially, I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get any advice from him. Now, as I think about it more and more, it makes me wonder if he felt much the same as I do, nearly overwhelmed with all that appears to be facing me yet unwilling to give up no matter what. I never once got the impression that the demand of furthering his own education and raising two young children was difficult for him. Perhaps this is what other people see from me and this gives me a great sense of comfort. I’ll just put one foot in front of the other as my father did and with a little luck I can give my children the skills to do the same.

Nate Slocombe
Nephew/Son of The Girls

WHAT WAS I THINKING?

A Snippet of a Story



“What was I thinking?” I thought to myself, carefully keeping the expression on my face calm and pleasant. We haven’t spent thirty minutes alone together in the past ten years, and now I find myself jumping into a week-long, one-on-one, very isolated experiment with my slightly older sister. I very deliberately thrust my left foot into the car and my body quickly followed, the words, “WHERE NO ONE HAS GONE BEFORE,” echoing in my head. Conversation for the first twenty minutes was slightly stilted, determinedly pleasant, and scant. So far, so good. No alarming swerves or slamming of brakes. She was concentrating on her driving and I was free to grab quick, assessing glances in her direction.
She was beautiful. Once blonde, now bright red, cropped hair was youthful, and her silhouette was classically pretty. Our years of separation allowed me the distance to observe the fine lines that had appeared at the corners of her eyes and to appreciate the continued existence of her beautiful mouth and very slightly perky nose.
The car was approaching the first of many junctions at which we would, together, determine which way we would go, and suddenly, I remembered my raincoat, which I had decided would be wise to bring on a trip to the rainiest area in the US. “My raincoat!” I gasped, slapping my hand over my mouth. “What’s wrong?” my sister asked, swerving a little from the shock of my outburst. “I was going to pick up my raincoat at the drycleaners about five miles back,” I said, a little less emotionally than my first startling yell. Now, my sister was not the patient, nurturing older sister of some reminiscences, and I expected her to say, “Oh, well,” or “You probably won’t need it,” at the very least; more likely, she would roll her eyes and ask, with a not-so-subtle sigh, “Do you want me to turn around?”
The car swerved across a lane of slower traffic to an off ramp and sped onto a surface road going in the opposite direction. “Tell me where to go,” she said calmly, a little smirk turning into a smile. I waited for some kind of sarcastic/teasing comment in the fifteen minutes it took to get back to the drycleaners. Nothing. And, looking back, I now recognize that that one, unexpected, uncharacteristic (I thought) deviation from our course would set the tone for the glorious adventure on the road (and beyond).
The fourteen-hour drive turned out to be pleasant, and I was surprised at how alike we were; potty break needs were compatible, and our appreciation of the scenery was a shared treasure. That first, unanticipated swerve heralded the spirit of our adventure, as we shared our food and our music and chattered nonstop. Several days passed during which we traveled as we desired, visited with relatives and marveled together over the incredible scenery, which slowly changed from sagebrush desert to greener pastures to mossy rainforests.
There were some serendipitous moments, like the time I spotted a LDS (Mormon) Temple suddenly rising just off the freeway in a misty stand of evergreen trees. I excitedly pointed out the spires to her, and the next thing I knew, we were sailing across four lanes of sparse traffic to the off-ramp leading to an hours-worth of howling fun as we drove through an unfamiliar city looking for access to the illusive building we had seen from the freeway. By the time we re-entered the freeway in time to once again see the same building rising again from the forest, our journey had once again taken on the mantle of happy-go-lucky adventure rather than a sprint to get somewhere in a specified time.
There were some tense moments, like the time we found ourselves on an unfamiliar, seemingly endless freeway in an overwhelmingly large city and the time our car (her car) suddenly just stopped (while I was at the wheel, of course). What could have added the flavor of tension and disharmony only added the feeling of strength and unity to our band of two. We were a dynamic duo, slightly surprised to be capable of finding our way through a strange land to a promised wonderland of untold excitement and adventure. We had become a team, jaws set, determined to find every minute particle of fun and passion and adventure which hung in the misty unknown future of the next two weeks.
We had arranged to meet several family members in Seattle, where we would all set off on a cruise to the north to seek the rugged and mystical land known as Alaska. By the time we arrived at the appointed meeting point, our companionship was easy and surprisingly strong. Our arrival at the dock from which we would sail was a bit daunting and anxiety-laden; the crowd of people which had arrived before us was large, and as we approached the large doorway into which they were disappearing, I realized that our journey had just begun. Our expensive, thrilling, and long-awaited vacation had taken on the feel of a huge roundup; the crowd of people were being herded into a make-shift maze leading from where we had entered the building to our goal – the long row of desks on the other side of the large, hanger-like building behind which stood an alarming-looking group of officials who were eyeing us with as much suspicion as we were eyeing them.
We looked at one another for a second: I was thinking of turning and booking it back to the security of the car and vacation plans be damned. I suppose that my sister recognized the look on my face, because she grabbed my arm and hissed. “The faster we get into that line, the faster we’ll be through!” Claustrophobia hovered over my psyche as I reluctantly acknowledged the logic of her reasoning. I sighed loudly at her and hustled to join her as she entered the maze. “This is going to take hours!” I whined quietly at her, re-employing an old childhood ploy. “These people are going to be our very close neighbors for the next week,” she muttered quietly toward me. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be glad for all the security,” she added. This unexpected wisdom coming from the mouth of my sister who had been known as the dumb blonde throughout our teen-age years quieted my mouth for a time. Well, she might have encouraged the dumb blonde image, but I was holding tight to my long-forgotten-now-remembered self entertainment of earning the title of ‘resister of authority’.

Roni

Joyous and Wonderful State of Being

I was fortunate enough to witness something very powerful recently. I was taught a great lesson about love and forgiveness by a tiny little dog. This particular little dog had gotten into my friend’s Christmas chocolates that they had put a lot of time and effort into making. This friend was understandably upset, so they proceeded to discipline this tiny little dog to an excessive point. Well, this poor little animal must have been terrified because he suddenly lashed out and bit his master, and this shocked the owner back to his good senses and the abuse stopped. He instantly felt terrible about the entire set of events. The dog avoided him for over an hour. We talked the entire time; I didn't try to console him, I just agreed that he should feel horrible about it and that he should try to use this moment to grow and change.
After a time the little dog came to me. My friend called the dog to him and this awesome little guy went over and started licking him and looking for approval. The friend picked up the dog and just showered him with tender affection. Instantly the demeanor of the dog changed - he was excited, running in little circles and wagging his tail vigorously.
I was struck deeply by this entire display, and I thought how similar little children and animals are in the ways they love. It is true and unconditional love. They don't hold grudges either. They just want to exist in that pure state of love. And they want us to exist in this state with them. I for one am going to try to join them, for it appears too joyous and wonderful a state to not want to.
From Jonathan Schroeder
Nephew/Son of The Girls

Last-Minute Christmas Stuff – Hallelujah Chorus

Christmastime and I’m wrapping up some last minute gifts for the grandkids so I can get them sent off in the mail to California and Oregon. And I am, of course, listening to Christmas music. Nice mood-setting music. I just listened to a choral group do the Hallelujah Chorus, and I think I just realized something.

The thing is, I’m from Salt Lake City. I don’t consider myself an expert on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir; I don’t really like to listen to them, hate when someone in the extended family wants to listen to them if we are visiting. I’m not even Mormon. But I realized that no other choral group can do the Hallelujah Chorus like The Mormon Tabernacle Choir can. Once you hear them, it’s all over for any other attempt. Oh, the little group I just listened to is nice enough, but nobody, and I really believe NOBODY, can do it like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. It’s like comparing Eartha Kitt singing “Santa, Baby” to, um, well, me singing “Santa, Baby.” Don’t even go there, please.

I’m thinking it’s gonna be kind of like Pace’s Picante Salsa. No matter how interesting something new seems like it’s gonna be, I’m just not going to like it much, once I know I've discovered the best. Although, I bet I keep trying.

Victoria