Foreign Quang

Sunday Serenity 11-8-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 18:19:00 +0000

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies,
but the silence of our friends.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

The Answer!

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 17:33:00 +0000

The photo of the ladybug, snail, and the ones below were all taken at the Bellagio Botanical Gardens at the famed Bellagio hotel in Las Vegas.

Another Clue

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 02:59:00 +0000

Here's Mr. Snail, also made from flowers.
This picture was taken at the same place as Ms. Ladybug

Sunday Serenity 11-1-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 14:39:00 +0000

Sunday
A good day to sit on a rock and bask

Can anyone tell me where this photo was taken?

It's a Holiday!

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 04:50:00 +0000

And what holiday is it, you might ask?

Why, it's National Candy Corn Day! The only holiday dedicated to one of my favorite fall foods.

You may remember a few weeks ago, when I got challenged by one of Foreign Quang's readers, to put candy corn in my mouth to make it look like teeth on National Candy Corn Day. I accepted the challenge and received one other photo.

PLEASE DO NOT LET THESE PHOTOS RUIN YOUR APPRECIATION FOR ALL THINGS CANDY CORN

Anonymous Quangster~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Queen of Quang as a Cullen

And people say there's no fun left in the world.

What Was I Thinking?

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 16:25:00 +0000

Remember two short Sundays ago, when in a fit of delusion, I couldn't remember why I dreaded the fall season?

Today I remember!

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 05:29:00 +0000

Glitter Text Generator

Sunday Serenity 10-25-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 23:30:00 +0000

Mormon Temple

Although I am not a Mormon, the beauty of this building, set high on a hill and viewable for miles around, never fails to inspire...

Thoughts of a Twitterless Thinker 10-23-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 05:04:00 +0000

Most adult women know the sensation of being groomed by other women.

Not grooming in the sense of having another woman pick lice out of your hair and then crush the lice between her teeth in the manner of a female monkey. No, grooming in the sense of having another woman walk up behind you and kindly push the care tag back inside the neck of your shirt.

Or having a woman pick a stray thread off your wool coat or release the strand of hair that got tangled up in your hoop earring. Or even silently mouthing, “You have lipstick on your teeth.”

Yeah, women groom each other like that.

So last Sunday in church when I felt someone fussing with my hair from behind, I assumed I probably had a curl that had gone awry and was boinging out ridiculously from my head. I ignored it until I felt the gentle tugging again.

I turned around to see which woman was courteously grooming me.

It was a man! What in the world?

“Sorry, I’m just trying to catch that spider that’s in your hair.”

AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!

Can I say that again?

AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!

I was totally amazed at my self control, sitting frozen while every cell in my body wanted to leap out of that chair and yell to all present, “There’s a spider in my hair! AAAAGGGGHHH!”

After a few agonizing seconds I heard one of the most joyous phrases in human language:

“Got it.”

I wonder if he does lice checks too?

Kids tell it like it is.

Earlier this week, the 6th grade science teacher asked if I would watch her three-year-old daughter, Ella, while she taught class for an hour. As it was my lunch break, I agreed.

I had never spent any time alone with Ella, and I found her delightful. I read several books to her, and found a child’s picture dictionary to be especially entertaining. She enjoyed naming each picture as I pointed to it.

When we reached the “H” section, I pointed to a picture of the heads of three children and tried to get her to say “hair.” Repeated attempts failed and I got the bright idea of pointing to my own hair instead. I grasped a hank of my hair, and asked, “Ella, what is this?”

“Tangles?”

Indeed. Maybe that’s why SPIDERS like to live there.

One of my students brought his Buzz Word game to school last week, asking if we could play it in class. Since I teach literature and the game contains a lot of well-known phrases the kids should know, I agreed. Later, another class wanted to play also.

We had such a good experience with the first class, I told the next class they could play too. I had to explain the rules though.

“You pick a card. Each card has a word at the top, say for example, the word UP.
You tell your teammates the word is UP, and then they have to provide answers based on clues that you give them, but each answer must have the work UP in it. For example if the clue says sometimes you’re in a good mood and sometimes you’re in a bad mood, we would say you HAVE YOUR UPS AND DOWNS. Get it?”

They all said they got it. It was time to pick the first card. I reached into the card box, which contained four hundred possible words, and guess which word I picked out?
You guessed it---UP! I kid you not. What are the odds of that? Something like 1 in 400 I’ll bet.

One of my newest simple pleasures: Opening up Facebook to see a notification that says I have one new friend request. There’s always that moment of anticipation while I click and wonder who waits behind the door. (Kind of like when you never knew who was going to walk through Dean Martin’s door on his TV show.)

You all know how much I love surprises, right? My son brought in the mail the other day, and along with the ads was a big brown envelope addressed to me. I opened it, and inside were two amazing card making magazines! The especially keen thing was that they came with pretty papers, templates, stickers, adhesives and embellishments. And even better? They were from the UK, so I had never seen these two magazines before. The gifts were a surprise from one of Foreign Quang’s UK readers. Since I haven’t asked her permission yet, I will acknowledge her anonymously. Thank you so much, my dear friend! My week went so much better because of you. You helped me ignore the first nasty message that I got from a commenter this week.

Dear Son is off on a mountain biking trip this weekend without the old folks. Well, without his own old folks, that is. Scout leaders will be there. I’ve been really grateful to the Scouting program because Weston is learning to be a Mountain Man. He does manly things like dig his own potty hole, pitch his own tent, learn how to use knives with more than one function, and raccoon-proof his food. He loves it. I would teach him how to do those types of things but I DON’T CAMP.

Computer Geek camps and has tried to get me to camp too. I’ve never really seen the purpose in camping. Camping means that I must be willing to make my life extremely miserable for at least one night. Really, why would any sane person say, “I will sleep on the ground guaranteeing sore muscles and a headache the next day; I will wrap my arms around a skinny tree so that I can go to the bathroom without soiling my clothes; I will agree to cook around a campfire then try to clean the pans without running water; I will look forward to washing the smoke smell out of all clothing I took with me---even clothes that I did not wear; and furthermore, I will agree to pretend like purposely making my life harder for the duration of the trip is actually fun. And trying to put contacts in without a mirror, curling my hair, putting makeup on, and actually BATHING? I won’t even go there. So, have a good time, Son!

Confession time: I fell in love with a Miley Cyrus song this week. I’ve been singing it in my mind ever since I saw it on my cousin’s Facebook page the other day. My nomination for cool video of the week is a way cool kid doing sign language to the song. It just makes me so darn HAPPY. And now I want to learn sign language so I can rock like that!

So I’m watching Super Nanny tonight and it’s way interesting because the father refuses to acknowledge his daughter when he gets home from work. Doesn’t speak, doesn’t hug her, doesn’t even seem to see her. Super Nanny takes father and daughter for a ride in a cable car and stops the car in mid-air until they work out their issues. They end up hugging in a touching moment. Then it’s dad’s turn to work on his relationship with mom. Things seem very strained and he seems unwilling to change. I’m on the edge of my seat.

What happened next? I will never know because the next thing I knew I was awakened by some man in a yellow suit jacket on Ugly Betty.

Edge of my seat------ZONK. Edge of my seat-----ZONK. How do these things happen?

It’s called OLD AGE, people. It’s called I TURN FIFTY IN TWO MONTHS.

Anybody know how Super Nanny ended?

Sunday Serenity 10-18-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 05:22:00 +0000

Oh Autumn,
Why do I dread your arrival,
When you greet me like this?

How the Other Half Lives

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 04:46:00 +0000

My daughter Em and my hubby Computer Geek went to their employer's house for a party last Saturday. As CG promised me, he took photos of his employer's amazing new house.

The house is complete with 4-story tree house, an indoor slide that goes from the third floor to the basement--ending in a room full of plastic balls, a fireman's pole that covers two stories, a theater room with massaging recliners and full service concession stand, a trampoline room with Velcro on the walls so you can jump and stick, three kitchens, a beach in the backyard that leads to a pond with paddleboats, and get this--secret passages in some of the rooms!

I don't begrudge L.L. Cool Guy his house because he shares everything he has and is extremely generous. He allowed employees, some of them unknown to him, to wander freely through the house, exploring the rooms and passages.

Here's a fun peek at how the other half lives!

The shallow end

The deep end

Grandson, Avatar

Two of my nameless, faceless 9th grade students

The treehouse

The backyard!

Another backyard view

The pool house

Daughter Em, Grandson Chunk, and Computer Geek

Thoughts of a Twitterless Thinker 10-10-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 17:46:00 +0000

Greetings Quangsters! For those of you who are new to the Quang, this is where I --oh, once a week or two--spill out those thoughts that normally would be assigned to Twitter if I twittered, or if I could ever limit a thought to 140 characters. Yeah, right. It's also where I get to use my two favorite font colors--purple and green! So grab a snack and hang on while I set out to prove just how pointless most of my thoughts really are!

This week we found out that Computer Geek’s employer is having a barbecue for all employees. The party will be held at L.L. Cool Guy’s house this weekend. Computer Geek walked into my daughter’s office (she’s his boss.) Daughter Em saw him and said, “The party is from noon to 4 p.m. at his house, you don’t have to bring anything except swimsuits, there will be parking available and if Mom has any other questions, tell her all further details will be forthcoming in an email.” He laughed and said that wasn’t why he was there. Em later told me of this little transaction, at which point I accused her and my husband of laughing at me and mocking me. “Of course we were. What good is it to be related to an anal person if you can’t make fun of her?”

On the downside, Computer Geek decided to go to the barbecue with some co-workers and there was not enough room for me (Waaah!) so I didn’t get to go. He promised to take pictures of L.L.’s awesome new house for me though!

Congratulations to Foreign Quang readers Ken Devine and Pen Ort who were blessed with new grandchildren this week. Welcome to Ken’s granddaughter, Edith, and Pen’s grandson, Harry. We love new babies!

These fall days have been absolutely KA-RA-ZY! Between teaching all day, then helping my son with his homework, then doing MY homework (“Yes children, teachers have homework, and it takes a lot longer than YOUR homework so quit your whining,” she said with a clenched teeth grin,) making dinner, cleaning up after dinner, getting small boy to Scouts or Kyuki-Do depending on the night, getting laundry done, and getting small boy to bed, my weekdays are full. On Saturdays I try to do the housework that I pretended didn’t exist all week, plus prepare for my Sunday School classes. On Sundays I am involved with Sunday School, church, and church related meetings from 9:00 a.m. until between 2:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. depending on the Sunday. Then I come home and prepare school lessons for the week. Why am I telling you all this? So I will feel less guilty when I plop my grandmotherly behind into bed at night and look at my cell phone screen that says, “You have 8 missed calls.” Not to mention about 5 unresponded-to text messages. So for those of you who call, or email, or text me, and I don’t respond right away—I STILL LOVE YOU! I am trying to be more organized---really I am!

Speaking of being organized, one of my BFF’s said to me yesterday, “I really am a very organized person; it’s just the upkeep that I suck at!” Boy, did I identify with that one. I have file folders for every topic imaginable, but no time to put all my papers into those neatly organized folders. I have a place for everything, including a huge pile of stuff that’s waiting to be organized into those specific places! My goal this week is to put away/throw away five papers per day. (Janice, you are such an inspiration!)

Do you want to know a super duper simple yet really yummy nummy fall snack? Go buy a large jar of Planters Dry Roasted peanuts. Then buy a huge bag of candy corn. Mix together in a bowl. Leave out so snackers can grab a handful. Tastes like salted nut rolls. MMMM!!! Plus, it looks cute and autumn-y, especially if you have a pumpkin shaped little bowl or some red leaf accents to nestle the bowl into.

I have a picture of my son on my sidebar, in the feature I call Ten Zen: Question of the Day from a Child Who Hates School. (Loves learning except when it takes place at a rectangular desk in a square room.) My son’s friend, who we call The Huntsman, said to Jere yesterday, “I love the way your mom can take a picture and make it look like you are in the air, or by the ocean. That’s cool how she can do that to pictures.” What? Is he accusing me of Photoshopping? I believe he was! I will have him know, that I do not own, nor do I know how to use, Photoshop. The picture of Air Jere was taken while he was jumping on the trampoline. I told him I was going to take a picture, so being the clown that he is, he went into a semi-yogaish position. I snapped it at the right time and there you have it. This picture of him by the ocean is taken using an actual boy and an actual ocean. The boy, once again, is Jere. The ocean is called the Pacific and the beach was somewhere on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington, on the way to Forks (Yes! The home of Edward, Bella and Jacob!) He’s happy because it’s his first view of an ocean. Photoshop. Hmph.Seriously, if I knew how to use Photoshop I would get rid of that annoying smudge that is on the right side of every picture I take.

In honor of October being Down Syndrome Awareness Month, I would like to make a proposal. Let’s quit using the “R” word as a slam. I joined a Facebook group called “Getting Rid of ‘Retarded’ in Everyone’s Vocabulary.” Long before I joined that group though, I started becoming sensitive to the use of that word.

Last year in my class, one of my students said, “That is so retarded!” I had to stop teaching for a moment and address the issue. I said, “I have had the privilege of teaching, or being around, children who you would call ‘retarded.’ It simply means that their bodies grow faster than their brains can keep up. Every one of those children that I knew, was totally incapable of hurting someone on purpose. Can you say the same? Every one of those children has no idea what it means to sin. Can you say the same? I know right now that if God had to choose between sending me to Heaven or sending a “retarded” child to Heaven, who would he pick?” The room was really quiet because they all knew I would be the one left behind.

My friend, Gut Laugh Girl, had a daughter who had cerebral palsy and was at a mental disadvantage. Yet, she was so happy with her beautiful, always smiling, daughter in a wheelchair. She said to me once, “Yes, she’s a teenager and I have to still lift her into the shower and help her get her clothes on. Hauling the wheelchair everywhere we go is a drag. No, she can’t discuss things with me on my level. But she will never break my heart. I will never have to watch her get involved with smoking, drinking and drugs. I will never have to cringe at her choice of boyfriends. I will never have to worry about her feeling left out because everywhere we go, people come up to her and smile, or hold her hand. She thinks she is the most loved girl on this planet. And I have a daughter who will never sin. How can I ever be upset with that?”

So how about it? The next time you hear a child say, “Oops, that was so retarded of me!” or “Hey, retard!” let’s put a stop to it. Are you game?

Sometimes life can be made easier by something so simple. My cursor for a long time has been a pointing hand. It always drove me nuts because it seemed I always had to click an option more than once to get my computer to respond. Finally the other day I said, Duh! Why don’t you just change your cursor? I changed it to a pointer and dang, life has been good. It just “feels” more accurate and precise. And if I'm not mistaken, it just "feels" like chocolate.

Here’s my nomination for funny video of the week.

Have a fantastic weekend!

Jes' Hangin' out til the Cows Come Home

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 16:25:00 +0000

We’s a little slow here in these parts.

Fer example, we’s bin drivin’ cattle through town fer a hunerd and fifty years. In the summer, we takes them cattle up the mountain fer some free grass. Free food for the cows and our cows help clear away dead brush. That’s real helpful cuz we shore hate forest fires round here. In the fall, we drive them cattle back down that mountain and right through town agin. Everbuddy’s happy.

Well, ‘cept them townsfolk. They get right uppity when those cows go trouncin’ through their yards, tramplin’ their purdy flowers, kickin’ up divots, and splatterin’ cow pies all over their driveways. We kinda make people mad too when they’s tryin’ ta get ta work and the cows got a convoy goin’ on. Shore, the highway’s got four lanes now, but since when cattle bin little bitty critters? Not since I kin recall. But I swear---there ain’t no other way t’get them cows from the mountain to the farms without a cuttin’ through. There’s lotsa us ranchers round here and in a hunerd and fifty years we ain’t found no better solution.

Lucky for us, there’s a right purdy cowgirl named Shannon in town. Shannon, she’s a thinkin’ ta herself, “Hmm. What if we had a party when them cows come home? Instead of folks bein’ all mad and everything, we’ll get them to gather round at daybreak for a party. We’ll feed ‘em, play ‘em a little country music, let the young whippersnappers ride some horses, and then cheer when the cows come bouncin’ through. People’ll be right happy now, stead a bein’ so dang cranky.”

A lotta folk liked that idea. They headed to a nice grassy area behind a fence, to wait for them cows. Got there at 6:30 a.m. It was real dark and real cold, but I’ll be danged if two of the local restaurants didn’t have some grub for us to eat. Nice hot cocoa, and a rice, burger and egg platter, smothered in brown gravy. Burgers for breakfast? Hey, we’s cattle people. We don’t eat no pig.

Instead a gripin’ at the ranchers, they had a right nice little program, honoring all their hard work. Even gave 'em a gilded cow pie "award." What with the awards and all that live country music playin’ in the background, people were actually smiling.’ Men with radios kept track of the cows’ progress down that mountain, and soon somebuddy yelled, “They’s a comin’! The cows are comin’!”

The crowd ran up to the fence. We was told ta be kinda quiet cuz them cows get spooked purdy easy. And instead a bein’ all grumpy and ever thing, the folks was excited to see them cows prancin’ right through town.

And it only took a hunerd and fifty years.

October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month---Part II

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 01:31:00 +0000

Why We Write

By Madonna Dries Christensen

English author Samuel Johnson said, “No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.” Quite likely many writers would disagree with that statement from the 1700s. We commit words to paper for a myriad of reasons, and the fact is, for the majority of writers, there is little monetary gain. Suffice to say, we write because we are compelled; because we must. We might go into remission, but it’s an incurable addiction. For some, the itch to write begins in childhood; others come late to the publishing party.

The subject of this profile, Kathryn Lynard Soper, says, “Although writing has been an interest of mine since I was a child, I did not pursue personal writing until 2003, when I was trying to digest a series of life-changing experiences. The writing process itself was so transformative that I decided part of my life work would be crafting personal writings and helping others do the same.”

This decision led her and two other mothers (Kylie Turley and Justine Dorton) into establishing The Segullah Group, a non-profit organization that publishes Segullah, Writings By Latter-Day Saint Women. Soper is editor-in-chief of the magazine, which features essays, poetry, historical and theological writings, artwork, and photography.

On her web site Soper describes herself as “Wife of one, mother of seven, memoirist, essayist, editor, nonprofit CEO, practicing Mormon, depression survivor, Down syndrome advocate, wanna-be guitarist, Greek-blooded Utah transplant, WordTwist addict and Coldplay groupie. (Not necessarily in that order.)” http://kathrynlynardsoper.com

I became acquainted with Soper (via e-mail) after an essay of mine was accepted for an anthology she edited.

MDC: First, what was the life-changing experience that led to your writing career?

KLS: In 2002 my fifth child, Matt, badly fractured his femur in a freak accident—he was only eighteen-months-old. A few months later, my sixth child, Sam, was born with premature lungs and had to spend three weeks in the NICU. His condition deteriorated at first, before he rallied and recovered. These were the first times children of mine had been seriously injured or critically ill, and the occasions shook me hard. I realized how little control I have as a mother over what happens to my children, and by association, to myself. I also realized that these painful and frightening experiences changed me for the better. They made me more open and compassionate, more tender-hearted. I explored those two themes—vulnerability and compassion—in my first essay, titled “Shaulee’s Door” (which can be read on my website).

MDC: I read it. The prose is heartbreakingly honest––and detailed. Am I correct to assume that you kept a journal during this time in order to write about it later?

KLS: No, I didn’t keep a journal at the time. I wrote the essay because the memories were so strong and vivid, they wouldn’t let me rest until they were expressed.

MDC: Tell me about The Segullah Group and its mission.

KLS: The purpose of the organization is to produce personal writings which include, inform, and inspire. In short, we want to create literary works which strengthen and support individuals, families, and communities. I founded the organization with two friends in 2005, when we were creating a new literary magazine by and for Mormon women. Since then the group has produced three anthologies, with one more currently being compiled.

MDC: What was the group’s first major project?

KLS: Our first book-length project was the anthology titled Gifts: Mothers Reflect on How Children with Down Syndrome Enrich Their Lives. As the title suggests, this is a collection of essays written by mothers of children with Down syndrome. The book explores the gifts of respect, strength, delight, perspective, and love that children with Down syndrome bring to their families.

MDC: And the idea for Gifts emerged after you gave birth to a son with Down syndrome?

KLS: Yes; I had spent time at an online forum for parents of kids with Down syndrome. Reading their experiences made me realize that lots of people had feelings similar to mine––that is, many parents are scared at first, but outgrow their fear as they bond in love with their child. I felt these voices needed to be heard, and my intent was to create the book I wished I’d had during the dark winter following Thomas’s birth.

MDC: Did Segullah publish the book or did you find a traditional publisher?

KLS: We published the book at first, because landing a contract can take a great deal of time, and we felt a sense of urgency in releasing Gifts to the public. But we were fortunate––shortly after our version hit the market we signed a contract with Woodbine House, a respected publisher of materials regarding people with disabilities.

MDC: Now you’re publishing Gifts II. How does it differ from Gifts?

KLS: Gifts was written entirely by mothers, and the majority of the stories focused on experiences with young children. Gifts II includes stories written by a wide variety of people whose lives have been touched by Down syndrome—from siblings and grandparents to teachers and coaches. Also, there are many stories about school-age children, teenagers, and adults with Down syndrome.

MDC: How do you mix raising a large family with a writing and editing career? Do you have a specific time slot for writing?

KLS: It’s a constant challenge to balance my domestic and non-domestic pursuits. I write during my preschooler’s naptime, and when I’m under deadline I usually work for a couple of hours each morning while my children at home play. When I was writing the final draft of my memoir, it was summertime and I had my older children babysit the younger ones.

MDC: Do you ever use your children’s behavior and activities as writing material? Do they mind?

KLS: I’ve written quite a bit about my children on my blog, some of which is available for reading in the notebook section of my website. I’ve never had them object, but I try to be sensitive in what I say in public places, especially about my older children. They’re excited and proud to be prominently featured in my recently completed memoir. In fact, my oldest son keeps telling me he deserves a cut of the royalties because I write about him as part of the story.

MDC: You have a young entrepreneur on your hands. Now, about your memoir, The Year My Son and I Were Born (Globe Pequot Press)––what does the title mean?

KLS: The memoir is about my first year as a mother of a child with Down syndrome, my son Thomas. “Born” refers to the transformation I experienced that year. When Thomas arrived I was deeply upset by his diagnosis. I had always been uncomfortable around people with disabilities, and I feared I wouldn’t be a good mother for Thomas. I thought I wouldn’t be able to accept him for who he was, and truly delight in his company. I was ashamed of my fears and doubts, and thought they were a sign of unacceptable weakness. But in time, I came to fully embrace Thomas as my son, and I also came to terms with myself as a mother and a human being.

MDC: So, despite what you thought you’d learned from the experiences with your two younger sons, you were daunted by a child with Down syndrome?

KLS: Yes, I felt overwhelmed by all the implications. The injury and illness my other sons suffered were short-term, but Thomas’s disability would last as long as he lived. People told me that special children come to special parents, but I didn’t feel at all special. There was a wide gap between the mother I was and the mother I thought I needed to be, and at first I had a deep sense of inadequacy and even failure. But Thomas led me out of that dark place within myself and into the light of acceptance.

MDC: He found his purpose in life at an early age. How old is Thomas now?

KLS: He turned three in October. He’s quite the active preschooler these days.

MDC: Lastly, because I started with the premise “Why We Write,” why did you write the memoir?

KLS: I wrote it first of all for myself—writing is the way I make sense of things, the way I process experiences and integrate them into my life. So much happened during my first year with Thomas, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around it without writing. Secondly, I wrote for the benefit of others. I know there are mothers having similar experiences, and I want them to feel validated and understood. Just as importantly, I feel that the awakening I describe in the book is relevant to any reader, and I hope that my experiences will be of benefit to a wide spectrum of people.

MDC: I look forward to reading it. Your experience should be helpful to families who need encouragement and guidance in accepting a child with special needs. I hope they come to know that these children really are gifts (as all children are). I wish you continued success with your family and with your writing.

KLS: Thank you for this opportunity, Madonna.

[This interview first appeared in The Perspiring Writer, Spring 2009: www.theperspiringwriter.com. Look for The Year My Son And I Were Born, and Gifts 2: How People With Down Syndrome Enrich The World on Amazon.com or any major bookstore.

Sunday Serenity 10-04-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 03:38:00 +0000

"I brought children into this dark world
because it needed the light that only a child can bring."
Liz Armbruster

Two ladies who have been on my mind a lot this week-
My love to Sarah and Liz

Photo credit: Sarah's Mom

October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 15:13:00 +0000

A Child Shall Lead Me
By Madonna Dries Christensen

In 2004, my daughter and her husband were living in South Africa when their second child was prenatally diagnosed with Down syndrome. When they informed family and friends, they added, “This baby is still a gift, just in different wrapping.” We all eagerly awaited this addition to our family.

With an immense geographical distance between us I could not gauge the extent of the couple’s feelings, but surely their minds eddied through a storm of emotions, fears, and questions. Still, I felt confident they could handle whatever came their way. This baby, who would require open heart surgery, was in the best parental and professional hands.

My daughter went into pre-term labor at 36 weeks. With medication, they were able to control contractions for a week before she returned to the hospital, where Sarah was delivered by C-section. Due to difficulty breathing and eating, she remained in NICU for three weeks.

At home, lacking the strength to breast or bottle feed, Sarah took formula and medication through a tube and was attached to an oxygen monitor. If her oxygen level dropped too low, a buzzer sounded. She did well on her own and needed assistance only a couple of times. Pride and admiration spilled over when I watched my daughter change the tube with speed and precision, causing Sarah the least amount of trauma. Soon we all relaxed a bit and began treating her like any newborn.

At three months, the cardiologist determined that it was time to repair Sarah’s heart. Family and friends formed a prayer circle that wrapped itself around the world via the Internet. The surgery went well, and Sarah’s walnut-sized heart began functioning properly. But a day later one of her lungs collapsed and doctors began a treatment they warned might not be successful. Again, we collectively held our breath and prayed. She rallied, but we later learned that she almost didn’t survive. After three weeks in NICU, she went home.

Back in the United States at five months, Sarah plunged into life full speed ahead. She wiggled across the floor when laid on her tummy. One could hardly hold onto her when changing her diaper. Enrolled in early intervention programs, she crawled at eleven months, spoke her first word at fourteen months, and walked at eighteen months. At twenty-eight months, she shouldered a pink backpack and eagerly climbed aboard a bus to the public school’s special needs class. Her first communication was signing, but she’s now verbal. She attends a regular Kindergarten, with supplemental Special Ed. Stepping off the “big girl” bus on her first day, Sarah clasped her sister’s hand and yelled, “I did it, Gracie.”

Sarah’s upbeat personality brightens a room. Children gravitate toward her (her mother silently calls her Queen Sarah). Boy classmates vie for her attention, but since the day she and a boy named Conner met in pre-school, they’ve been best friends. Sarah captivates adults with her disarming smile, her blue eyes, her corn silk blonde hair, and her sunny disposition. Well, sunny most of the time. Belying the myth that people with Down syndrome are always cheerful, Sarah exerts independence, spunk, and stubbornness.

Her energy propels me to keep physically and mentally active. Babysitting her and her siblings is a lesson in staying fit. When my grandchildren ask me to play, I’m ready. We enjoy endless games of Hide and Seek; walk to the playground, or to the creek to feed the ducks. We all love books. Having them snuggle on my lap while I read aloud is as luxurious as life gets.

Through Sarah, I’ve also earned to slow down. I’m more patient when waiting in line, or when an automated telephone voice puts me on hold. If the interim music is too loud and not to my taste, I remember that all birds sing, not just those with pleasant voices. I realize that different voices can be uplifting.

Before Sarah, I paid little attention to people with Down syndrome. Now I recognize beauty in their distinctive features, the mischief in their eyes; the honesty of their smiles and laughter. I chat with the young man who pushes my grocery cart to the car. I talk about reading with the teenaged girl who shelves books at the library. I understand that people with Down syndrome want to be, and can be, productive members of society. My husband and I attend Special Olympics and cheer each athlete’s performance. Confident of Sarah’s capabilities, we contribute to her college fund.

Sarah, with actor Chris Burke

An old adage claims that children with special needs are given to special people. I don’t believe that babies are distributed in that manner, but I believe parents who love and cherish these children become more understanding and nurturing because of them. I admire my daughter and son-in-law’s knowledge as they make decisions regarding Sarah’s future. Through their example and by watching her steady progress, I’ve learned to value the lives of people of all ages, with and without visible problems. At seventy-plus, I’m blessed with being led by a child who knows how to live each day to the fullest.

[This essay appears in the recently published anthology, Gifts 2: How People With Down Syndrome Enrich The World.]

Wal-Mart Whiners---You Know Who They Are

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 22:06:00 +0000

Last Saturday was typical. I was in line at the check-out at Wal-Mart.

Ahead of me were two boys, who will be affectionately named Six and Twelve, in estimation of their ages.

Six decides he wants an ice cream sandwich.
Twelve tells him “no.”
Six skirts around Twelve to the ice cream freezer right before the check-out.
Twelve again tells him “no.”
Six gets into the freezer and puts an ice cream bar into the cart.
Twelve retrieves it and puts it back in the freezer.
Six scuffles with Twelve in an attempt to get the prized ice cream bar back. He is unsuccessful.

Six drops to the floor to show that no progress will be made until he gets his ice cream bar.
Twelve tries to pick him off the floor.
Where is Mama? I am wondering.
Six begins frantically kicking Twelve, strategically aiming for Twelve’s manhood.
Twelve tries to grab Six, while trying to avoid getting kicked.

Yay! Mama appears! I am confident that Mama is going to set Six straight!

Twelve tells Mama that Six keeps trying to take an ice cream bar.
Mama says nothing and steps up to the counter.
Six seizes his opportunity. He dashes back to the freezer and gets the ice cream bar.
He walks right up to Mama, and puts the ice cream bar next to her hand.
Mama dutifully places the ice cream bar on top of the other items she is purchasing.
Six is triumphant!

And thus we see that Six has trained his mother well. He probably started his parent training at the age of two, and has gotten increasingly better. If Mama wants a calm visit to Wal-Mart, she knows what to do.

How I Stopped my own Wal-mart Whiner

Jeremiah was about two and a half when he realized that Wal-Mart was for getting things. He saw Mommy getting things at Wal-mart and so he naturally assumed that he should get things too.

On the first couple of trips after he realized the miracle of getting things, he made his wants well-known by trying to grab things off the shelves, just like Mommy did. Mommy kept placing Jeremiah’s hands back in his lap.

By the time the next trip occurred, little Jere realized that simply trying to grab wasn’t working. Mommy needed verbal instruction.

“I want that.”
“No.”
“Please. I want that.”
“No.”

The grunting began, along with the pointing of the finger.
“Unh. Unh.”
Since I didn’t allow grunting as a form of communication, I said nothing.

With no response from Mommy, the wailing began.
The more Mommy ignored the wail, the louder it got.

Poor Jeremiah. He did not realize that he was not my first child. I had played this game before.

Calmly, I retraced my steps, and began putting items back on the shelf.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, just putting everything back.”

“We’re not getting anything?”

“Not this time.”

He was quiet for a moment then said, “Why are you putting everything back?”

“Because you threw a fit.”

“I’ll be good. Please, Mommy.”

“No. It’s too late. You already threw a fit,” I said as I continued slowly walking down the aisles, returning things one by one to their spots.

The crying began anew. “Please! I’ll be good!”

I put the cart back into the stall and carried him to the car, saying nothing. He screamed, arching his back as I tried to keep hold, begging me to go back.

The next time I went to Wal-Mart, I got my purse and put on my lipstick, signifying to Jere that I was going somewhere.

He was frantic when he learned he would not be going. He begged and cried, but I stood firm. I explained that he would have to stay home with big sister Em, because of his past behavior. He promised that he would be good. There were parts of me that wanted to soften--that wanted to say he could come. Had I done so, I might still be dealing with tantrums. I knew then, that my decision was critical.

“No. You have to stay home.”

The time came for another trip to Wal-Mart. He asked if he could go. I simply said yes, without putting conditions on it, such as “If you go, you’d better be good.”

The highlight of the trip that day, was when we heard another Wal-Mart Whiner. A child in the aisle next to us was screaming because he didn’t get what he wanted. Jeremiah only said, “I think that boy needs to be taken home.”

I never again had to deal with my own Wal-Mart Whiner.

The Most Important Word You Can Teach Your Child

Shortly after that Wal-Mart episode, I decided to teach my son one very simple command. Stop.

I had read that most people put more effort into training their pets, than into training their children. Was it true? Could I avoid having to discipline by using training instead?

We tested this theory by playing the “freeze” game in the living room. Jere would play with his toys. When I said, “Stop!” he had to stop what he was doing and freeze in position. He thought it was superb fun. Trying to freeze while in an unusual position became his favorite spin on the game. Often he would say, “Let’s play the stop game!” Little did he know, I was preparing him for “real” life.

Several times, my simple command, “stop,” has kept him from getting hit by a car in a parking lot. While most kids learn early on that a street is a dangerous place, it takes longer for them to learn the same about a parking lot. After all, most cars are just sitting there. How dangerous is that? In situations where he has walked ahead of me, I have been able to just say “stop” when I see a car’s back-up lights come on. Other times, I have been able to keep him from dashing across the street when picking him up from school. One simple word.

When he was six years old, we were visiting a mall in another city. Computer Geek and I were out in the mall foyer, sitting on a bench while Em and Jere were shopping inside a Radio Shack. Jere found a toy he wanted to show me. I looked up just in time to see him walking, toy held high, toward the store entrance, which was surrounded by the usual shoplifting alarm. From out in the foyer, I yelled “Stop!” He froze in position about one inch from the alarm. While the situation was not life threatening, I was saved from major embarrassment.

Even today, although the situations have become fewer, I can still stop him in his tracks with that one word. He’s eleven and I just tried it. Because he’s eleven, he laughed at me, while he waited for me to say, “You may proceed.”

A Related Story

When I married Computer Geek five years ago, I explained my “stop” training to him. One day he decided to show me how he had trained his children when they were small. Without warning, he yelled “Duck and Cover!” I watched as his three adult children hit the floor and covered their heads. No one moved until he said it was OK.

And so we learn that some parents train their children to avoid getting hit by a car, and some people train their children to avoid getting hit by the bullets of a tyrannical government employee's machine gun. :)

Sunday Serenity 9-27-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 04:36:00 +0000

Relax
Take a Nap
Enjoy your Sunday

Thoughts of a Twitterless Thinker 9-23-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 05:59:00 +0000

When Em got back from the Philippines last week, she presented me with a beautiful three-strand necklace with aubergine colored beads. She says when she put the necklace into the sack, it looked gorgeous. When she pulled it out of the sack to give it to me, it had been attacked by the chain sprites. Somehow they had gotten into the sack and played a rousing game of Jungle Knots.

I told Em I would work on untangling it at home. I’ll be darned like a sock if those pesky chain sprites didn’t sneak back into that sack on my way home, creating an admirably magnified tangled mess. I am not a visual thinker (I stink at chess and lose mightily at Risk) therefore after trying on and off for a day, I handed the knot to Computer Geek. He used his awesome manly thinking skills to untangle my necklace in a matter of minutes. Hmm…maybe he was a chain sprite in a previous life.

I was thinking, as people without Twitter are wont to do, about airports. Em was mentioning how she purchased Dan Brown’s latest novel The Lost Symbol, while waiting in the airport in the Philippines, a full fourteen hours before it was available in the U.S. (There are advantages to time changes while traveling. The disadvantage was that she didn’t get to have a September 9 this year.)

Back in the olden days, pre-Patriot Act, people could hang out in the airport while waiting for loved ones to arrive. This means they could sip a latte at the airport Starbucks, buy some cheesy souvenir toys for the kids, or yes—even buy the latest Dan Brown novel.

If your relative’s flight was delayed, then you could justify spending even more money—going back for another slice of pizza, picking up that pair of $14 socks that you always wanted, or actually buying a birthday card on time.

Now, the people waiting for someone to arrive are allowed nowhere near the airport stores. We have to bring our own games to play.

Having managed businesses for most of my adult life, I started wondering how keeping the flying customer sequestered from the general populace has affected sales in airport stores. Surely, the stores must have taken a huge bite when part of their clientele was no longer allowed access. Didn’t they?

And don’t you feel sorry for them?

There. I’ve spoken my piece against injustice in the world.

The end of summer always causes a feeling of slight melancholy in me. The days of splashing in creeks and pools are gone. Garden greenery turns crisp and brown. Days are spent with open textbooks instead of lawn chairs and sprinklers.

That slight sadness disappears the first time the temperature drops a bit. A few days ago, I looked out my living room window to see sun-highlighted golden leaves shimmering against the backdrop of a charcoal gray sky. A cool breeze rustled the leaves that had already fallen.

As the first raindrops fell, I felt energized by the change in season. Instead of regretting that summer had gone, I looked forward to the freshness of fall.

Last year, a group of friends decided to ring in the new season with an outdoor breakfast in the park. At eight a.m., almost on cue, it began raining—a light autumn mist. The fathers were assigned cooking duty and the kids were assigned to decorate their aprons. We snuggled in sweatshirts and under blankets as dads prepared pancakes, hash browns, bacon, sausage, orange juice and hot chocolate. Some of the mothers were on decorating duty, arranging luminaria on the tables and pumpkins and cornstalks around the pavilion.

If you find yourself dreading fall, pick a cool October morning to have breakfast in the park. Invite all your friends and their kids and enjoy what the season has to offer.

I watched The Biggest Loser last week for the first time. The show is amazingly good and I chastised myself for never having watched it before. The story of Abby, who had lost her husband, 5-year old daughter and 2-week-old son in a car crash, especially touched me. I couldn’t wait to watch it again this week, all the while wondering why I had never watched it before. When Tuesday came, I remembered. It’s Dancing with the Stars night. Sheesh. What was I thinking? Will someone tell me if Abby wins?

Kids give us such great perspective. After a day at the lake, creating moats and rivers, my son looked on his creation and said, “Mud is a good gift.”

There are actually days in my life when I think to myself, “In order to feel complete, a salad must be eaten.” And then I go eat one.

Here’s my nomination for Amazing Video of the Week. I could go through a hundred boxes of Tic-Tacs and would never think of doing this. (Hayden, here's an example of what we were talking about on your site, about the internet being a catalyst for creativity.)

Sunday Serenity 9-20-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 14:50:00 +0000

Cave on Boracay Island
The Philippines

Who Wants to be Just Like a Millionaire?

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 21:32:00 +0000

How many times have you received an email, or answered a Facebook interview, or written a school essay that poses the question, “What would you do with a million dollars?”

In my younger years, my answers always involved extensive traveling, buying a four-wheel drive truck that would get me to work during the worst of Iowa blizzards, a new house complete with dance floor and Japanese-style garden, and a trip to Ireland for my mother. I came of age during the Yuppie years, and briefly entertained doing what it took to have a Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous existence. Then came children.

My focus became less on buying cool new toys and more on paying for quality child-care while I worked. The Yuppie work schedule was there, but my decisions were based on what would provide the most stability for my children, rather than what would promote me the fastest, or what would provide the most pay.

What would I do with a million (or more) dollars? These days my answer would be based on my observations of how a real millionaire acts.

I am very fortunate to be acquainted with a young entrepreneur, who has made millions. Out of respect for his anonymity, I will refer to him as L.L. Cool Guy.

It was about five years ago, that I first met L.L. My step-daughter was employed by him at the time, though his headquarters is in a different city. She called Computer Geek and me one day and said that L.L. had flown his plane into the area and was giving free airplane rides for all employees and their families. Would we like to come?

L.L. patiently took family after family up in his 5-seater airplane. We talked to him after our ride, curious as to why he would travel from his city to ours, just to do this for his employees.

He said that at times, his extended family had been both wealthy and destitute, and had varying opinions on the morality of having wealth. He reasoned that being wealthy was not evil, unless one chose to do evil with his wealth. For his part, he decided to go about doing good.

A friend of mine, a single mother, has been blessed by his generosity. She was working full-time and had eight children at home. Due to her being away from home, her children were getting into all sorts of trouble. When L.L Cool Guy found out about her plight, he went to her and told her he would give her a part-time job that she could do from home, with the added benefit of being paid whatever it would take to meet all her justified needs. L.L. and his Equally Cool Wife take my friend and her kids to California every year for a vacation. What a blessing he has been in her life!

Once last year, we received a phone call from a friend. It seems that L.L. had left a truckload of food for him to distribute as he saw fit. After he divided it all out, over 100 people, our family included, received enough food items to last for several months. In this economy, such a gift was much appreciated.

Last Christmas, L.L. Cool Guy went to our local Wal-mart and walked through the store observing people in need. He handed out $100 bills over and over that night.

Shortly before Christmas last year, another acquaintance had both her stove and clothes washer break down at the same time. All the money she and her husband had saved for Christmas for their three children would instead have to go toward appliance purchases. When L.L. Cool Guy heard about it, he anonymously had $1000 delivered to their house.

When my fourth graders had all mastered their times tables, he took them for a helicopter ride in the mountains, then took them out for lunch. It was the highlight of their school year.

Last year, he had a contest for his employees in our town. The winners would have a weekend stay on his houseboat, with full use of his speedboat and wave runners. We got to go because Computer Geek works for him and was a winner in the contest. He paid for our gas to get there, plus all of our food as well. He even left his credit card behind so the employees could keep filling the wave runners with gas as needed.

Daughter M, hereafter referred to as Em, has been very blessed by working for this generous soul. She manages 120 people at his local site here in our town (he has many other business sites.) Two years ago, he and some associates had a business meeting in New York City. Knowing that Em had never been to NYC, he invited her along, telling her that she would be on her own, except when they all met for dinner. He gave her $1000 to shop with, and left her to her own devices! She had a great time, even calling me as she was walking inside Saks’ 5th Avenue. Although she spent the whole time alone, except for dinners, she had some well-deserved down time and got to see some sights as well. I never thought I would be speaking to my daughter via cell phone while she hailed a taxi in Manhattan!

A few months ago, L.L. Cool Guy and his wife, gave Em and her family a free vacation to their beach house in California. They had free lodging there while playing on the beach and visiting Disneyland. (He paid for the Magic Kingdom trip as well.) Em knows that without him, she and her family may never have gone to Disneyland.

Every year, Em receives $15,000 from him to have a Christmas party for the employees. She has such fun shopping for prizes like big screen TV’s, motor scooters, digital cameras and $100 gift certificates. This is in addition to the gift of chocolates and one week’s pay Christmas bonus that he gives to every employee.

Em was chatting with L.L. Cool Guy about business one day, when he asked her about her dream car. She admitted to wanting a red Lexus. A few days later, guess what Em was driving?

Last year, for Christmas, our family was a recipient of his giving. We received $500 cash, another $500 worth of presents for Jeremiah, and another $500 in Wii game system products. It was all delivered anonymously, but by this time we were well aware of L.L.’s modus operandi.

Today, Em gets back from a week-long trip to the Philippines. L.L.’s business has contacts there, and Em has daily dealings via phone with her Filipino colleagues. She has made many good friends from there, and this was her second trip. It’s because L.L. Cool Guy visited this small, economically disadvantaged town in Utah, and decided to build a branch of his business here, that my daughter is able to have such beautiful experiences. [see photo of Em on the beach in the Philippines.]

So when someone asks me again, “What would you do with a million dollars?” I would like to think that L.L. Cool Guy has influenced me somewhat. I would like to put my money where it does real good, to real live people, whether it be to an employee or a fourth grader or a single mother or a random stranger at Wal-mart. I would like to be so generous and unconcerned with my own wealth that if someone steals my Mercedes sports car, I can say, as L.L. did, “Oh well. They probably needed it more than I do.”

What would you do with a million dollars?

Sunday Serenity 9-13-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 06:20:00 +0000

To become a grandparent is to enjoy one of the few pleasures in life for which the consequences have already been paid.
~Robert Brault

Happy Grandparents Day

How to Strengthen Relationships by Using Surprise

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 05:51:00 +0000

Have you ever walked through your living room door on your birthday and had people scare you by yelling “Surprise!” and tossing confetti in the air? How did you feel? A little embarrassed? A little awkward? A lot loved?

“I was loving you even when you didn’t know I was loving you!” is what a surprise really says.

How many times a day do you think about your spouse? Your children? Your mom, dad, or siblings? Probably many more times than they will ever know. Would it shock you to know how many times a day people think about YOU? Do you know there are people who think of you during the day, people of whom you are totally unaware?

A surprise brings an unaware moment into full awareness. It says, “While you were doing something else, I thought of you and was planning a way to show you how much I care.”

A surprise is an intimate connection, even though it may be exhibited in public, or by many people at once.

A surprise brings joy to the giver and a feeling of being appreciated to the recipient.

What a Surprise is NOT….

If you’ve never surprised someone, let me enlighten you on how NOT to do it.

A surprise is NOT sneaking into the bathroom at night while your little sister is taking a shower and shutting off the light. And when she steps out and reaches for the light switch, DON’T have your hand covering it. Bad surprise. [My brother.]

A surprise is NOT finding some red food coloring, then dripping it down your arm, and running up to your mother screaming, “Mom, I got bit by a bat!” [My brother again.]

A surprise is NOT playing hookey from school, then tying a string to a kitchen chair so that when your sister comes home from school to find a snack, you can yank on the string from your hidden vantage point, sending the chair flying across the room, and your sister flying out the back door screaming. [ Hmm…my brother?]

A surprise is NOT walking into the produce section of the grocery store ahead of your wife, turning the intermittent vegetable mister outward, then watching as your wife gets misted instead of the vegetables when it comes on. [Sigh… My brother. They’re divorced.]

A surprise is NOT putting baby mice in your sister’s bed. [Surprise! This was NOT my brother. This was my mom’s brothers.]

THIS is how you pull off Exquisite Surprises

Years ago, my mom expressed a wish to see Wayne Newton. Knowing that I would not be able to take her to Vegas, I filed that desire into the back of my brain card catalog drawer.

Oddly enough, shortly thereafter, I heard that Wayne Newton was coming to the big City of Sioux. I hauled myself down to the auditorium to snag up some tickets.

I called my mom and asked her if I could meet her for lunch the next day. She was working so I met her outside at a picnic table on her break. I had told her not to pack a lunch because I would be supplying.

As she bit into the sandwich I had provided, she got a strange look on her face. She peeked between the slices of bread to find two Wayne Newton tickets wrapped in plastic.

Now wasn’t that fun, ladies and gentlemen? I could have simply told her that I was taking her to Wayne Newton, but it was much more amusing for her to bite into him. She was the star of the day at work as her co-workers all gathered around to laugh with her.
********************************************************************

Last week, my son came home from school, ravenous as usual. He raided the fridge, as we all do, expecting that during his absence, the Food Fairy had magically stocked the box with chocolate pudding, root beer, blue jello, chicken nuggets, bubblegum yogurt, and Boston Creme pie. Finding only celery, strawberries, leftover hamburger, milk, broccoli, pepper jack cheese and various condiments, he whined, “Don’t we have anything to eat?”

Enter the sneaky mother. “I saved one peanut butter ball for you. It’s in the freezer.”

“Just one? OK, I’ll have it after I unload my school bag.”

Because it was his birthday, I had made him a baseball sized peanut butter ball, as opposed to the quarter sized ones I usually make. The look on his face as he opened the freezer was priceless. He’s been gnawing on it all week. Today, a week later, he finally finished the last of it.
********************************************************************

I was at work about seven years ago, taking care of customers. During a lull, the phone rang. It was Daughter M.

She needlessly asked if I had my Franklin Planner handy. Pshaw.

“Open it to April 17 (or whatever day it was.)” I was used to her asking me to put important dates in my planner so that I could remind her, so I did as she asked without question.

“Now write, ‘I am going to Riverdance.’”

“You’re going to Riverdance?” I asked with supreme awe in my voice.

“No, silly. I told you to write I am going to Riverdance.”

My co-workers thought I had gone crazy as I did the dance of joy right there in the office.
Do I have an amazing daughter, or what?

********************************************************************

Not only do I have one amazing daughter, but Holy Schnikey I’ve got two of them!

Daughter K was in college in South Dakota a few years ago. I had not seen her since she graduated from high school the previous year. It was spring break and she was unloading on me about how she was going to spend the entire break working at her two jobs, to try to save some money. I empathized with her, having done the work-every-minute-I’m-not-in-school stint myself years ago. I wished I were not in Utah, several states away, so that I could be there to help her.

Daughter M was over for a visit one afternoon. She was in a different room chatting with Computer Geek. I was at my computer, checking email. Suddenly there were hands over my eyes. I accused M, only to hear an offended gasp. It was definitely not M’s gasp. I turned around and K was standing there. She had plotted with Computer Geek over the past week to come out to Utah for a visit during her break. Even M was shocked. She had been in the living room when she saw K walking across the yard, and blurted “That’s my sister!” Luckily Computer Geek shushed her in time and I didn’t hear a thing.

While I had spent the last two days feeling sorry about her work schedule, she was traveling to surprise me.

That surprise meant so much to me, so much more than if she had simply called me and arranged to come out.

********************************************************************

About 2 hours away from our house is an exciting play palace called Trafalga Square. It’s a child’s dream home, complete with bumper cars, batting cages, mini golf, ice cream shop and arcade. Every time we had a shopping trip planned in that city, and we passed Trafalga Square, Jeremiah would lament, “Please can we go there today?”

Being loving parents, we would always reply, “Not today. Maybe some other time.”

One fine Saturday, we were very tricksy. Computer Geek and I told Jeremiah that we needed to go out of town to buy some supplies. The two-hour trip is always boring enough, but to know that he was going to be subjected to adult shopping was excruciating.

After driving for two hours, we turned at the Trafalga Square exit. His little eyes popped open widely.

“Where are we going?” he asked hopefully.

“Aw there’s some store around here that we’re looking for.”

He resigned himself to the fact that this was going to be time number 27 that we passed Trafalga Square without stopping.

Except we didn’t. We pulled into the Trafalga Square parking lot and told him that this was his day. We still talk about the magical experience we all witnessed that Saturday.

During a rousing game of mini-golf, Jeremiah swatted at the ball with his club. He struck a little too exuberantly and the ball bounced off the green, over a small wooden border and down toward a pool of water. We were starting to tell him that he would have to go inside to get a new ball, when suddenly the ball flew back over the wooden fence, bounced back onto the green, and made a hole in one! The only explanation we had was that the ball struck the cement curb, which sent it back over the fence. Or, an angel was sitting by the pool, caught the ball, lobbed it back over the fence, and laughed. Yeah.

He has never forgotten that surprise day, full of parental love. (See accompanying photo after the implausible shot.)

********************************************************************

One thing you should know about Computer Geek is that by the very nature of being a Computer Geek, he is subject to many phone calls, all from friends requesting free computer service.

He gets these types of calls every week:

“My monitor went out. Do you have a spare one lying around that I can have?”

“My email is not working. I need you to come over right away.”

“You said you would come check out my sound card as soon as you could. That was yesterday and you still haven’t come.”

“I know it’s midnight, but this is urgent.”

Free. Yes, Free. (Computer geeks of the world, you know what I’m talking about, right?)

Last year, Computer Geek was turning 5-0. I thought this would be a good time to have a party, giving all his friends a chance to show their appreciation.

But…how to get him to the party? Since I was a teacher at the elementary school, I told him that we were having a school book fair, and requested that he show up at the school after work, to support me while I tried to sell some books. It was to be held three days before his birthday.

He fell for it!

It wasn’t until he got closer to the building that he suspected something. When he walked in, he was greeted by over 60 friends all yelling, “Surprise!” For the next two hours, we ate, played musical trivia and expressed appreciation for someone who gives on average, 15 hours a week helping others with computer issues. For free.

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Two years ago near Christmas, Daughter M asked me if just she and I could spend a special day alone, to celebrate my birthday. She said she wanted to take me shopping in Provo, then out to dinner in Salt Lake City. We arranged to have the spouses take care of kids, and off we went.

It was nice to spend driving time just chatting with a lovely daughter. She took me out to lunch before we shopped. While chowing at California Pizza, M got a phone call from a mutual friend. After she hung up, she presented a dilemma.

“Mom, Jake left his Blackberry at the airport last week. He knew we were going out to eat in Salt Lake tonight and wants to know if we will pick it up. One of the stewardesses has it set aside for him. Do you have any objections to stopping by the airport for him?”

I had no problem with it, so after we ate, we went shopping. M bought me a new pair of black Skecher shoes. She was taking a lot of phone calls, but I thought nothing was out of the ordinary because she manages 120 people at work.

Shortly before it was time to wrap up our shopping and head to Salt Lake for dinner, M received another call. This time she handed it to me, saying “It’s K” (my other daughter in South Dakota.)

K: “Hi Mom. What are you doing?”
Me: “M and I are just doing some shopping and now we are headed off to dinner. What are you up to?”
K: “Oh, I’m just sitting at the Sioux Falls airport.”
Me: “Why are you at the airport? Meeting someone?”
K: “No, actually I have to go to Salt Lake City and my flight is delayed.”
Me: “M and I are going to Salt Lake City! What are you going to Salt Lake City for?”

It took me a second and then I said, “Jake didn’t really leave his phone at the airport, did he?” My sneaky daughters had surprised me. M had paid for K to come visit us for Christmas. Had her flight not been delayed, she would have surprised me at the airport while we were there supposedly picking up Jake’s phone. Now, she would still be meeting us in 2 hours.

We had a wonderful week together as we celebrated Christmas. The trip shopping with M was enjoyable enough, but was accentuated by the wonderful surprise by my two girls.

All of these surprises mean something—that the recipient was loved and thought about, even when he or she had no clue. These surprises bind us to each other and strengthen our relationships as we show love and appreciation for those we care about.

Do surprises have to be elaborate?

No. I was once surprised by a gift of simple purple ink pen, given to me by someone I knew. He said, “I knew you loved pens and I knew purple was your favorite color, so I got this for you.” A simple act, yet it spoke volumes.

This week, as your mom, or husband, or daughter or co-worker crosses your mind, resolve to surprise them in some way. Let them know you were thinking of them.
Send a postcard. Drop off a batch of cookies. Kidnap a friend and take her to a movie.
Or buy someone a purple pen.

Have you ever been surprised by someone who loves you?

Sunday Serenity 9-6-09

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 04:17:00 +0000

This is one of the most beautiful pieces of instrumental music I have ever heard. I'd like it playing in the background of my life. It's a combination of two songs, Love Story by Taylor Swift and Viva La Vida by Coldplay. I've listened to it over and over again. I've never seen anyone rock a cello the way that man does.

Enjoy.

The Mystery Bird

foreignquang@gmail.com (Randi) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 23:53:00 +0000

Having grown up in a city, I am not familiar with different types of wild animals. I can readily identify dog, cat, bunny, squirrel, bug, or bird, i.e. robin. Any animal existing outside those parameters, I have trouble with.

OK, I jest. I can also identify zoo animals such as horse, sheep, elephant, giraffe, and tiger.

Back in the city, I loved to go for walks. Most of my neighbors did too. It was almost a social event to stroll down a mile long length of avenue in front of a local college. People would drive by, honking and waving at pedestrians they knew. Almost everyone walked with a friend or relative and the more people who greeted you, the more popular you appeared to your walking companions. Did we ever run into wild animals? I swallowed a mosquito once on my walk.

When I moved to this small rural Utah town, I wanted to keep up with my nightly walks.

The first night, I set out at about 9:00 p.m., like normal. I walked about a half block before I realized I was not in Iowa anymore.

First, there were no sidewalks. Second, there were very few streetlights. I realized that I either had to walk in the street and risk getting hit, or I had to walk on the property owner's yard, close to the street. In the dark. On the bumpy gravel and grass parking area in front of each house.

I got about a block away from home when I heard a strange noise. In the darkness I could not see the origin of the sound, so I tried to determine the source by listening carefully.

Snort. Wheeze. Cry.

I tried to hold on to the neighbor's fence, but something brushed my hand. I yelped.

Walking quickly home, I cursed this small town and its lack of proper walking facilities.

I told my husband about my escapade. The next day, he drove me past the route I had walked. I pointed out the place where I had stopped, due to getting assaulted by strange noises and caresses.

"That's what scared you? The neighbor's sheep? Ohh, baaa, baaa!" He couldn't stop laughing, apparently thinking my frightening experience was hilarious. From then on, whenever I heard a strange noise, he would taunt, "Maybe it's a sheep!"

Animals are a common sight around here. On another occasion I saw two sheep trotting through the town, looking as if they were just headed over to Little Bo Peep's house for some tea and gossip. Another time, when I risked a daytime walk, a horse nearly gave me a heart attack when he stormed the fence next to where I was walking, then stopped suddenly, throwing up a cloud of dust in my face.

During the winter months, walking across your yard in the dark could bring you face to face with several deer, intent upon ravaging what's left of your garden or lawn. And like the sheep, deer feel completely comfortable prancing down main street at dusk. They say that deer frighten easily, but I don't believe it. I have on occasion, sat in my car, honking for deer to get out of the road. They look at me arrogantly as if to say, "Please remove yourself from my grazing path you lowly piece of tin."

It was no surprise then, when I encountered these two birds walking down the street the other day. They are not robins but I assume they are birds. They did not fly, but rushed down the sidewalk, intent on reaching their destination. Computer Geek, who has raised many birds in his life, including chickens, peacocks, ducks, geese and a pigeon, had no idea what they were.

Are they turkeys? Chickens? Peahens? What are these mystery birds?

What say ye, denizens of the Quang?