Happy birthday, Tweetie! It was on March 25, 1981. Yer grandmum and yer mum left for the doctor's office at about 9:00 a.m. for the doctor's office for a routine late-pregnancy exam. The doctor told Barb that she was already in labor and to get to the hospital immediately.
The wind was blowing like crazy that day. Grandma drove as fast as possible toward Cottonwood Hospital. They came to a great big dead end street. They hurriedly searched for a different route. G'ma was as nervous as a flea, and yer ma was trying to settle her down. Soon after they arrived, little Amanda Amber Mortensen was born. Our very first grandchild.
That evening we traveled back out to the hospital to see our new prize. Yer pa was watching "The Greatest American Hero on t.v. Ken, Jodi and Brian were there. You were the star of the production! The cutest bundle ever. Love, Grandma and Grandpa....
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Hiking City Creek
I have meant to do this blob ever since I have been blobbin. Barbara's blog about hiking gets me going. Jodi and Todd and the younguns hike when they are not running. Jodi and Brian are gearing up for Bryce Canyon in July. So I go now. Into 1993 or 1994.
I was restless one Saturday morning. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I decided to hike who knows where. I parked the car at the U of U and set out. It looked like rain so I fished an umbrella out of the trunk. I walked through the cemetery. It started to rain, all right. I walked to City Creek Canyon. Does this sound like a parallel (but opposite season) to Barb's blog? I was in pretty good shape then. I could not turn back. Up the canyon I went. The rain turned to sleet. Like most unprepared hikers, I kept a'goin'. Somewhere in my brain I knew I would have to do it all in reverse. (Not walking backward,but...) The rain turned to sleet. It was coming down sideways. Dumb. But I was having fun, dang it! Two or three joggers came hurrying down the hill. Two woman joggers passed me going up the hill.
That gave me courage. If they could run it I could walk it. The sleet turned to snow, still coming straight in from the north. I hiked all the way to the water treatment plant and a bit beyond. The gal in a bright green outfit came running back down. I finally knew that I had done enough. The snow was beginning to pile up. Down the hill I went, telling myself that I was having fun! I kept looking over my shoulder for the smaller gal in a gray and black jogging suit. I was tiring greatly by the time I reached the mouth of the canyon.
I decided to stop and wait a bit to make sure she got out safely. I knew some things and I "fer sure" didn't know some things. She was definitely alone up that creek. If she had fallen on the icy pavement she was very much alone "up the creek". A broken hip? A sprained knee? A head injury? On the other hand, there were many side trails up the side of the canyon and over toward the state capitol building. A simple manuever on a dry day, but in this weather the likelihood seemed remote that she went there. Cell phones were at least 5 years out.
Would her family become concerned and come straight to the canyon, see her car and go find her? Was she alone in every way with no one mounting a search? Was she sitting in front of a warm fire at this moment? I waited a long time. She could not have run that far up the canyon. Not in this weather. My heart sank. I could not leave her up there and read about her in the next morning's Desnews. I certainly couldn't walk into town and give the cops a cockamamie story of a missing person.
I started up the hill. I walked the better part of a mile. Suddenly, she rounded the bend, running at the same expert pace I had seen before. I turned and started back down. She gave me the strangest look as she ran by me. She recognized my umbrella and understood my instant turnabout. "You are a serious runner," I said. She stopped and walked with me. "Saturdays are my only day to escape my crazy life. I run no matter what." She never acknowledged that I was some sort of wacky guardian angel.. She never thanked me for anything. We chatted aimlessly all the way to her car. She asked me if she could take me anywhere.
I could not allow her to try driving up the hill to the U. of U. I declined. I cleaned her windows as she started her auto. I knew one more thing. I knew that she knew. I would have never left her up there alone. When I got to the city streets I called home. Jodi wanted to come and get me. I couldn't let her go out in that mess. I don't remember ever seeing a bus.
I was a ward Sunday School president at the time. The next morning my phone rang. It was my next door neighbor, a SS teacher. He said, "I'm not going out in this! Bye." I had no time to tell him I had just done fourteen miles "in this". For fun.
I was restless one Saturday morning. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I decided to hike who knows where. I parked the car at the U of U and set out. It looked like rain so I fished an umbrella out of the trunk. I walked through the cemetery. It started to rain, all right. I walked to City Creek Canyon. Does this sound like a parallel (but opposite season) to Barb's blog? I was in pretty good shape then. I could not turn back. Up the canyon I went. The rain turned to sleet. Like most unprepared hikers, I kept a'goin'. Somewhere in my brain I knew I would have to do it all in reverse. (Not walking backward,but...) The rain turned to sleet. It was coming down sideways. Dumb. But I was having fun, dang it! Two or three joggers came hurrying down the hill. Two woman joggers passed me going up the hill.
That gave me courage. If they could run it I could walk it. The sleet turned to snow, still coming straight in from the north. I hiked all the way to the water treatment plant and a bit beyond. The gal in a bright green outfit came running back down. I finally knew that I had done enough. The snow was beginning to pile up. Down the hill I went, telling myself that I was having fun! I kept looking over my shoulder for the smaller gal in a gray and black jogging suit. I was tiring greatly by the time I reached the mouth of the canyon.
I decided to stop and wait a bit to make sure she got out safely. I knew some things and I "fer sure" didn't know some things. She was definitely alone up that creek. If she had fallen on the icy pavement she was very much alone "up the creek". A broken hip? A sprained knee? A head injury? On the other hand, there were many side trails up the side of the canyon and over toward the state capitol building. A simple manuever on a dry day, but in this weather the likelihood seemed remote that she went there. Cell phones were at least 5 years out.
Would her family become concerned and come straight to the canyon, see her car and go find her? Was she alone in every way with no one mounting a search? Was she sitting in front of a warm fire at this moment? I waited a long time. She could not have run that far up the canyon. Not in this weather. My heart sank. I could not leave her up there and read about her in the next morning's Desnews. I certainly couldn't walk into town and give the cops a cockamamie story of a missing person.
I started up the hill. I walked the better part of a mile. Suddenly, she rounded the bend, running at the same expert pace I had seen before. I turned and started back down. She gave me the strangest look as she ran by me. She recognized my umbrella and understood my instant turnabout. "You are a serious runner," I said. She stopped and walked with me. "Saturdays are my only day to escape my crazy life. I run no matter what." She never acknowledged that I was some sort of wacky guardian angel.. She never thanked me for anything. We chatted aimlessly all the way to her car. She asked me if she could take me anywhere.
I could not allow her to try driving up the hill to the U. of U. I declined. I cleaned her windows as she started her auto. I knew one more thing. I knew that she knew. I would have never left her up there alone. When I got to the city streets I called home. Jodi wanted to come and get me. I couldn't let her go out in that mess. I don't remember ever seeing a bus.
I was a ward Sunday School president at the time. The next morning my phone rang. It was my next door neighbor, a SS teacher. He said, "I'm not going out in this! Bye." I had no time to tell him I had just done fourteen miles "in this". For fun.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Commenting
I cannot for the life of me get my comments through the "fog". I tried to comment on Amanda's blog. Hey! That rhymes!. Anyhoo, no, I didn't think too much of the music video. I liked the story of Linnie Luuu and the tooth. My dad always used a pair of rusty pliars on me. Well, they weren't rusty. And he was always careful to keep me smiling. I was proud to have him pull my teeth. The pliars were actually hooked for easy access. Shudder. How well I remember. I don't even try to comment on Barbara's blog. I think her blog is reeeeally difficult to connect my comments with. Maybe the Burton-Hevelone internet connection winds through northern Canada.
Barb, yer mum and I remember the photo of you with the canteen. Yer ma choked up a bit when she saw it. That whole blog was very touching. I think Ideeho actually is somewhere in northern Canada. There is a highway from Vernal to Montpelier. So, maybe it won't be an awful drive. You and Wendy need to stay in close touch...d'Pa
Barb, yer mum and I remember the photo of you with the canteen. Yer ma choked up a bit when she saw it. That whole blog was very touching. I think Ideeho actually is somewhere in northern Canada. There is a highway from Vernal to Montpelier. So, maybe it won't be an awful drive. You and Wendy need to stay in close touch...d'Pa
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Oapmeal
Have you ever noticed that most people say oapmeal instead of oatmeal? Including myself? I think it may be because we are already closing our mouth in preparation of voicing the "m". This causes the "t" to be blocked out. It is impossible to say "t" with your mouth closed. A perfectly unintended "p" creeps in without our knowledge. It happens thousands of times for each of us unless we just don't like oatmeal and never utter the word. Were we to perfectly enunciate the word "oatmeal", it would roll off our tongue (or tongues, collectively) sounding unnatural. Say " oatmeal" out loud ten times. Pay paticcalar attention to the "t". Doesn't that sound weird? Forget 10 times. Three times will suffice. OaTmeal. OaTmeal. OaTmeal. Now say "oapmeal " once. Your life is now back to normal.
What's all this commotion about Facebooking? It seems to be replacing blogging, and blogging has only been around for a few months, at least in my world. A Facebook entry takes only a few seconds. Bloggers (and especially blobbers) get long winded and fill a lot of space. The world is moving too fast for us old crows.
The Deseret News, on March 2, Analyzed Facebooking. 175 million users. Fastest growing group of users: 30 and older. 120 friends per average user. 3 billion minutes per day. I don't know if that's worldwide or just Maudeen. She is on that thing endlessly, and one month ago she didn't even know what Facebook is. She called it "Faceplate". The site was originally started among college students, but has now grown to include people of all ages. Addictive? Yup. Dangerous? Not much evidence. I cannot stop blobbing. Especially when I'm eating Pizza. I go now.
What's all this commotion about Facebooking? It seems to be replacing blogging, and blogging has only been around for a few months, at least in my world. A Facebook entry takes only a few seconds. Bloggers (and especially blobbers) get long winded and fill a lot of space. The world is moving too fast for us old crows.
The Deseret News, on March 2, Analyzed Facebooking. 175 million users. Fastest growing group of users: 30 and older. 120 friends per average user. 3 billion minutes per day. I don't know if that's worldwide or just Maudeen. She is on that thing endlessly, and one month ago she didn't even know what Facebook is. She called it "Faceplate". The site was originally started among college students, but has now grown to include people of all ages. Addictive? Yup. Dangerous? Not much evidence. I cannot stop blobbing. Especially when I'm eating Pizza. I go now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
