My 4-year old, Kessa, asked me today, "Where do the mice play?" I believe it's part of a song she learned in preschool. I told her that at Grandma and Grandpa Lovell's house they like to play in the grain shed, because they like to eat grain. Suddenly a memory flooded over me.
I remember being back in the shed immediately behind the brick shed. I don't remember much else about that shed. I don't remember what was in it. I just remember being out there. I found a nest of baby mice. They appeared abandoned and very sad. It broke my little heart to see them. I tried to convince my mom to let me bring them inside and nurse them back to health. She would have nothing of the sort. (Looking back I can see her perspective. She spent half her life trying to kill mice. Why would she try to save some?) I spent a lot of time out there the next couple of days, holding them, petting them, and speaking encouraging words to them. They ended up dying anyway. I'm sure I was sad about it. But mostly I just remember how cute baby mice were, as opposed to their grown up counterparts. Though, I suppose that's true about most animals, isn't it?
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Prodigy
Once upon a time, high speed internet did not exist. [gasp!] I know. But don’t worry, this isn’t the beginning of a horror story. Let me continue. Instead of high speed internet, we used dial up. We were allotted to a specific number of minutes per month. We kept a little log book next to the computer with “Prodigy” written in black Sharpie. Any time we used the internet, we had to open the log book and write the date, time, and number of minutes used.
I’m not doing a very good job convincing you that we’re not in a horror story, am I? [sigh] Well, let me assure you, the worst is over.
The internet had a password. Before you could hear those glorious screeching noises that the dial-up connection made, you first had to enter some magical pass phrase that I did not know. I was too little. I was not trusted with such grandeur. Damian was, though. (Wha—?! Damian was trusted with something and I was not? I don’t care that he’s 5 years older; I was much more trustworthy than he was!) So Damian would ask permission to get on Prodigy (we didn’t get on the Internet. Oh, no. We got on Prodigy), my parents would say yes, and the two of us would scramble up to the office attached to my parents’ bedroom. Damian would type in the coveted password. We’d wait for that telling screech that announced we were in, and then we’d go to the game section.
In the game section we would play all sorts of games, but specifically I remember the 3D maze. This wasn’t a maze like in a coloring book where you solved the maze from above. Nope. This was 3D! You were in the maze. All you could see was what was right in front of you. I remember watching Damian turn right, left, left, right and being utterly confused. I was lost after 2, maybe 3 turns. But I loved watching him anyway. Here and there he’d let me play and I’d get hopelessly lost. But that’s ok, because I was playing on Prodigy! And then our allotted time would end and we would log our time in the book and go back to more mundane things like reading and watching TV.
I’m not doing a very good job convincing you that we’re not in a horror story, am I? [sigh] Well, let me assure you, the worst is over.
The internet had a password. Before you could hear those glorious screeching noises that the dial-up connection made, you first had to enter some magical pass phrase that I did not know. I was too little. I was not trusted with such grandeur. Damian was, though. (Wha—?! Damian was trusted with something and I was not? I don’t care that he’s 5 years older; I was much more trustworthy than he was!) So Damian would ask permission to get on Prodigy (we didn’t get on the Internet. Oh, no. We got on Prodigy), my parents would say yes, and the two of us would scramble up to the office attached to my parents’ bedroom. Damian would type in the coveted password. We’d wait for that telling screech that announced we were in, and then we’d go to the game section.
In the game section we would play all sorts of games, but specifically I remember the 3D maze. This wasn’t a maze like in a coloring book where you solved the maze from above. Nope. This was 3D! You were in the maze. All you could see was what was right in front of you. I remember watching Damian turn right, left, left, right and being utterly confused. I was lost after 2, maybe 3 turns. But I loved watching him anyway. Here and there he’d let me play and I’d get hopelessly lost. But that’s ok, because I was playing on Prodigy! And then our allotted time would end and we would log our time in the book and go back to more mundane things like reading and watching TV.
Friday, June 4, 2010
James' computer
My oldest brother, James, had the most awesome computer of ever. It was a TRS-80. It was basically a really big keyboard that plugged into a little black and white TV that sat in our kitchen. It came with a book full of code and you had to type it all in to get a program to work. Mom tells me (and James confirmed) that you could record the code onto a cassette tape so that you didn't have to type it every time, but I don't remember that. I just remember sitting in front of the computer, carefully typing in 20 some-odd pages of code so that I could play Pong. I finished, feeling so proud of myself, only to have it tell me that I made mistakes. Luckily it told me what page the mistakes were on, but I still remember carefully dissecting the code to find my mistakes, correct them, then move onto the next one. I spent hours typing and correcting my code, just to play a game or two of Pong.
Thank goodness for much more advanced computers today. :)
James tells me that I was too young to have remembered that computer. Apparently my memory is better than he gave it credit for. Hah!
Thank goodness for much more advanced computers today. :)
James tells me that I was too young to have remembered that computer. Apparently my memory is better than he gave it credit for. Hah!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Butterflies
Most kids learn about butterflies by reading about them in books. I learned about them by raising them myself. We would go out onto a ditchbank somewhere and find milkweed. It's a fuzzy little plant that monarch butterflies love. We would search them until we found one that had caterpillar eggs on it, then we'd break it off, grab a few more leaves for food, then bring it home.
At home we'd put the leaves in a widemouth mason jar, put a lid on top, then use a nail to poke holes in the lid for air. (Usually not in that order. We'd typically poke the holes before we put it on the jar full of leaves and eggs.) And then we'd wait. Every day we'd anxiously crowd around the jar, hoping to see something new and exciting. First the eggs would hatch into tiny little caterpillars. Those caterpillars would grow and eat and eat and eat the milkweed. We'd have to keep an eye on that to make sure they didn't run out of food. We'd also put little twigs and such in there, just to give them variety. Finally, typically at night while we weren't looking (whether it's a nocturnal habit, or a matter of privacy, I never figured out) it would build a cocoon. Typically it would hang from a bit of metal on the lid, product of poking holes with nails. But every once in awhile one would pick one of the twigs or other random things we put in the jar.
And then the waiting began. This was the most horrible part. It often took upwards of two whole weeks before the cocoon hatched. And it was incredibly boring. I mean, staring at a cocoon isn't really anyone's idea of a good time. I'd rank it right up there with watching paint dry.
Finally the cocoon would hatch and out would come… you guessed it, a beautiful butterfly! At this point us younger kids were forbidden from participating in events. Butterflies' wings are very fragile, you see, and if you touch them, the oils from your hand may cause the butterfly to not be able to fly. So only the older kids and parents were allowed to help the butterfly out of its home and into the wild. But we younger ones loved watching it.
I remember once Jalin put the butterflies in my hair. I thought it was hilarious. Mom has a picture somewhere (that I'll put on here if I ever find it) of me grinning with two or three butterflies perched on my head. And Damian behind me holding up some new baby kittens, which I still recall being super mad about. I mean, what if one of the kittens hurt one of my butterflies?! Kittens are supposed to catch bugs! It wouldn't have been their fault. And thus, Damian was cruel to even put them in that situation. (Love you, DJ!)
I even remember doing a science fair project on butterflies. I felt so cool being able to do most of it myself. I knew so much about monarch butterflies! I hope when my kids are old enough that I'll live near milkweed to be able to raise butterflies again.
At home we'd put the leaves in a widemouth mason jar, put a lid on top, then use a nail to poke holes in the lid for air. (Usually not in that order. We'd typically poke the holes before we put it on the jar full of leaves and eggs.) And then we'd wait. Every day we'd anxiously crowd around the jar, hoping to see something new and exciting. First the eggs would hatch into tiny little caterpillars. Those caterpillars would grow and eat and eat and eat the milkweed. We'd have to keep an eye on that to make sure they didn't run out of food. We'd also put little twigs and such in there, just to give them variety. Finally, typically at night while we weren't looking (whether it's a nocturnal habit, or a matter of privacy, I never figured out) it would build a cocoon. Typically it would hang from a bit of metal on the lid, product of poking holes with nails. But every once in awhile one would pick one of the twigs or other random things we put in the jar.
And then the waiting began. This was the most horrible part. It often took upwards of two whole weeks before the cocoon hatched. And it was incredibly boring. I mean, staring at a cocoon isn't really anyone's idea of a good time. I'd rank it right up there with watching paint dry.
Finally the cocoon would hatch and out would come… you guessed it, a beautiful butterfly! At this point us younger kids were forbidden from participating in events. Butterflies' wings are very fragile, you see, and if you touch them, the oils from your hand may cause the butterfly to not be able to fly. So only the older kids and parents were allowed to help the butterfly out of its home and into the wild. But we younger ones loved watching it.
I remember once Jalin put the butterflies in my hair. I thought it was hilarious. Mom has a picture somewhere (that I'll put on here if I ever find it) of me grinning with two or three butterflies perched on my head. And Damian behind me holding up some new baby kittens, which I still recall being super mad about. I mean, what if one of the kittens hurt one of my butterflies?! Kittens are supposed to catch bugs! It wouldn't have been their fault. And thus, Damian was cruel to even put them in that situation. (Love you, DJ!)
I even remember doing a science fair project on butterflies. I felt so cool being able to do most of it myself. I knew so much about monarch butterflies! I hope when my kids are old enough that I'll live near milkweed to be able to raise butterflies again.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Cress Creek
There's a hike near my parents' house that I always loved. Cress Creek. It wasn't a very long hike, though there were two paths you could take. I'm sure I almost always took the short path since I usually went with school groups with lots of young children and because I wasn't a huge fan of things like exercise. :) Looking back, though, I'm sure the longer hike can't actually be that long, either.
Cress Creek was appropriately named. There is a creek running along the hike and in the water grows water cress. I remember Mom bring a bread bag up with her and I would fill it with water cress I picked from the stream. When we got home, Dad would pull out the French dressing and we'd dip the cress in it and eat it.
I learned today that you can buy cress in the store. Who knew? It makes me want to go hike Cress Creek when I next go home. Just for old time's sake.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Dad's cooking
I've always loved Dad's cooking. It's probably partially because it was a novelty (Mom did most of the cooking. Her cooking was yummy, too), partially because it was always yummy, but mostly because it was unique and I envied his ability to just throw things together.
We'll start with the most boring, but my favorite. Spaghetti. Man, Dad could make some mean spaghetti. I loved it. I remember once making spaghetti for dinner and begging Dad to come help me. He kept saying that he didn't do anything special. He couldn't understand why I wanted his help. I made him help me anyway. So he stood over my shoulder and directed me. And it still didn't turn out as good as his. I then decided that Dad had magic in his fingers. Dad's food was good because he was magic! Makes perfect logical sense, no?
The more unique stuff comes when Dad is in charge of cooking. He doesn't stop to get a recipe or anything. He just opens the fridge, looks in the pantry, grabs whatever looks good, and goes to it. It's even better during harvest season when he can also grab fresh veggies from the garden. As an example, while I was up there this last weekend he made Whatever I Found In The Fridge Casserole. Which was more of a stir fry than a casserole, but whatever. The magic isn't in the naming. :) It included sliced potatoes, sliced sandwich meat, peas, mandarin oranges, pineapple and peppered cabbage all fried together with cheese on top. Side dish: carrots, broccoli, cauliflower and celery boiled in water and butter. This kind of dish is very common at my parents' house. He doesn't understand how this is special. He doesn't understand that when most of us just throw things together, we usually end up throwing it out instead of eating it. I mean, really, who thinks to put mandarin oranges and pineapple in with fried potatoes?
I also remember a candy bar he made. Mom had some melting chocolate, so he melted that, added random yumminess like coconut, raisins, nuts, marshmallows, etc. (Sorry, I don't remember the details on this one. It was ages ago.) Then he dropped them on wax paper, stuck it in some Tupperware, and let it cool. I snuck bites of that for days… or however long it lasted.
Someday I'll be brave enough to cook like Dad. And hopefully it turns out for the best.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Memorial Memories
I'm interrupting my cat commentary to give you a Memorial Day memory. It just seemed appropriate.
Memorial Day is a very important day for my family. I have many, many memories surrounding Memorial Day. It's a day that we gather flowers and go to the many surrounding cemeteries to remember our deceased family members. (It wasn't until much, much later in my life that I realized that Memorial Day was meant to honor veterans. I thought it was for all deceased people. So I was wrong. But I still love the tradition of remembering my non-veteran family members as well.) It's a day to go from cemetery to cemetery and visit with all of the other family members that have also gathered there. My mom told me today that my Grandma Hall used to go to the Milo cemetery in the morning and stay there all day to visit with all of the family that would come.
But this isn't a post for Memorial Day memories in general. It's about one in particular. I'll probably write about others later in passing. (Like the time that Brett came cemetery-hopping with us while he was dating Jalin. And then she broke up with him (or almost did anyway) soon thereafter. Don't worry, it's a happy ending. They're married now.)
One day, when I was little, maybe about 8ish? we were at the Milo cemetery. And my mom was being utterly boring and just talking to people. People I didn't even know. About things I didn't care about. Luckily for me, there were other kids there playing. I didn't know these kids, and I'm typically not a very outgoing person, so I'm not sure how I ended up playing with them, but I did. I specifically remember this one spinning gate that Mom tells me has been there since before she can remember. We were standing on the gate while someone else would spin it. It was kind of like a merry-go-round. Except it was a gate. In a cemetery. Pretty sure they don't allow merry-go-rounds in cemeteries.
I also remember the dad of one of the girls giving us all gum. I accepted it happily and eventually made my way back to my mom who asked me where I got the gum. So I told her.
"Wait. Are you telling me that you took candy from a stranger?"
I was stunned. I just stared at her. Holy cow! I did just take candy from a stranger! It was a lot more innocent than I had ever imagined. I always pictured scary candy-giving strangers to be ones that would pull over in their car on the side of the road and shadily try to entice me to take their drug-laced candy. Not some nice fatherly figure of a girl I had been playing with.
I think that was the day that the reality of how innocent something scary could actually be. Sure, my gum wasn't actually laced with any drugs. And the father really was just a nice fatherly figure. But what if it hadn't been? I'm glad my mom took that opportunity to point out potential dangers and how they fit into real life. It would have been easy for her to just not even notice that I was chewing gum. Or to just shrug her shoulders when she found out where I got it. But instead she was observant and quick to use an everyday event to teach me a life lesson.
Thanks, Mom.
Memorial Day is a very important day for my family. I have many, many memories surrounding Memorial Day. It's a day that we gather flowers and go to the many surrounding cemeteries to remember our deceased family members. (It wasn't until much, much later in my life that I realized that Memorial Day was meant to honor veterans. I thought it was for all deceased people. So I was wrong. But I still love the tradition of remembering my non-veteran family members as well.) It's a day to go from cemetery to cemetery and visit with all of the other family members that have also gathered there. My mom told me today that my Grandma Hall used to go to the Milo cemetery in the morning and stay there all day to visit with all of the family that would come.
But this isn't a post for Memorial Day memories in general. It's about one in particular. I'll probably write about others later in passing. (Like the time that Brett came cemetery-hopping with us while he was dating Jalin. And then she broke up with him (or almost did anyway) soon thereafter. Don't worry, it's a happy ending. They're married now.)
One day, when I was little, maybe about 8ish? we were at the Milo cemetery. And my mom was being utterly boring and just talking to people. People I didn't even know. About things I didn't care about. Luckily for me, there were other kids there playing. I didn't know these kids, and I'm typically not a very outgoing person, so I'm not sure how I ended up playing with them, but I did. I specifically remember this one spinning gate that Mom tells me has been there since before she can remember. We were standing on the gate while someone else would spin it. It was kind of like a merry-go-round. Except it was a gate. In a cemetery. Pretty sure they don't allow merry-go-rounds in cemeteries.
I also remember the dad of one of the girls giving us all gum. I accepted it happily and eventually made my way back to my mom who asked me where I got the gum. So I told her.
"Wait. Are you telling me that you took candy from a stranger?"
I was stunned. I just stared at her. Holy cow! I did just take candy from a stranger! It was a lot more innocent than I had ever imagined. I always pictured scary candy-giving strangers to be ones that would pull over in their car on the side of the road and shadily try to entice me to take their drug-laced candy. Not some nice fatherly figure of a girl I had been playing with.
I think that was the day that the reality of how innocent something scary could actually be. Sure, my gum wasn't actually laced with any drugs. And the father really was just a nice fatherly figure. But what if it hadn't been? I'm glad my mom took that opportunity to point out potential dangers and how they fit into real life. It would have been easy for her to just not even notice that I was chewing gum. Or to just shrug her shoulders when she found out where I got it. But instead she was observant and quick to use an everyday event to teach me a life lesson.
Thanks, Mom.
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