The Gold Girls

Funeral Processions

After getting an e-mail from Karie about a funeral procession that honored a fallen serviceman, Spc. James M. Kiehl, I decided to take Kristen’s advice (read it under the comments from my lemon post) and I googled the story. (Thank you for the forward Karie, I loved it)

I mostly googled it because I thought that the story was so sweet, I had to know if it was really true. Is there still such humanity in the world? According to the forwarded e-mail, it occurred in TN, and I wanted to be so honored to be surrounded by these good people.

Here is what I read about on Snopes. (an amazing site where you can check the origins of internet garble) So, the touching story is true. Spc. James M. Kiehl was killed in action, and the people of his hometown really gave him a true hero’s goodbye. The community members lined the streets from the service to the cemetery, standing in total silence with their hands on their hearts and waving flags.

I would like to add my personal moment of silence in thanking Spc. James M. Kiehl for his ultimate sacrifice. How can one put in words the true gratitude they feel for their freedom that is won every day from the sacrifice of another family’s son/husband/brother/father?

Now, I would like to tear into the person who saw it fit to change the original e-mail. (which I am sure was not Karie) The part that so perplexes me was this sentence: “There is a lot to be said for growing up in a small town in Tennessee.” (compare this sentence to the original from the link above – “There is a lot to be said for growing up in a small town in TX”) This story didn’t take place in TN, but in TX. Why would anyone really feel the need to put their own state in there? As if this story wasn’t just as good if it happened in TX. I think that sometimes Tennesseans have a little bit of an inferiority complex. Can’t we all just be happy that the good people of TX can honor a man as good, if not better than us?

I know that the people of TX honored this man better than I did some person who was buried in Kingsport a few years ago. After reading Laura’s recent post about Southern traditions, I was reminded that I am not totally Southern. In fact, after I tell you the following story, you may wonder if my husband is either.

The first thing that came to mind after reading Laura’s post that if to be truly Southern, you have to appreciate the lack of sidewalks, I will never be Southern. I so miss sidewalks. In California people actually get out and walk, just for fun. You can’t do that here without worrying that someone will run you right over.

The other thing that Laura mentioned about being Southern is the ability to stop on the side of the road for any funeral procession. So, (Alice, focus, off soapbox, back to story) years ago LG and I decided to sneak away and catch a movie. It was a last minute decision and we found that a movie we wanted to watch was starting in just 15 minutes. It takes 10 minutes to drive from my in-laws to the theatre. We said goodbye to the fam and ran off. My in-laws live out in the country and you have to pass a cemetery on the way.

We were cruising along, glad to make it to the movie on time, when all of the sudden, we spotted a funeral procession ahead. There was a line of about 30 cars. Lucky for us, they were just turning into the cemetery, and they were lined up on the opposite side of the street. We thought and discussed that because they were so close to pulling in, we would be safe to just keep on our merry way. We thought very wrong. The front car (the hearse) decided that he needed to teach us a lesson. He yanked the wheel as to spin his car out in front of us while simultaneously flipping us the bird.

All I could think about was the poor deceased soul in back of the hearse. The decease’s driver seemed more concerned about these strangers on their way to what would be their only date in months than the person who may just come tumbling out of the back when he jerked the car like he did.

Now, you can all call me insensitive. And, LG and I both may need some lessons on funeral etiquette, but really, I don’t expect anyone to stop or get out of the way of the car that is taking me to my resting place. I especially hope that the driver of my hearse won’t pull out any offensive gestures in front of my posterity. Really, what good would it have done for us to just stop there? Did all of these people expect us to just stop in our tracks as they all so very SLOWLY pulled into the cemetery? It’s not like we needed to get out of their way.

I very much respect the deceased. May they all rest in peace! I have even volunteered beautifying cemeteries before, multiple times. I just don’t think that we have to pull off on the side of the road to show respect, and that, my brothers and sisters, makes me a Westerner. It is just so hard to give up that fast paced life sometimes. Really, when I am dead in a casket, I truly hope that strangers to me will go on living their lives as usual….especially if it means they don’t have to miss the previews!
And the quote of the day: You are alive. So live. ~ Tomi Miyasaki

Sophia Speaks

Sophia can by shy, although she is overcoming it a little at a time. Playing soccer has been great for Sophia, as well as her friend Allie, who I recently posted about.

The other morning, I took all the girls to their dentist, Dr Bo. (I will have to blog about Dr. Bo another day – LG always teases me that I have a crush on him – not true – but, he is just so cute with the kids – not to mention nice to me when they have cavities – Are there any other moms out there who just can’t forgive themselves when their kids have a less than perfect check up?)

Anyhow, on with the story. On the way from the dentist to the school, Sophia noticed that LG and I had not packed her a lunch. She started crying and begging me to take her home first, so that we could get her a lunch. I said, “Sophia, I don’t have time to go home, and they are having nachos at the school today and you like those. Just eat the nachos.”

This sentence again was replied with the saga, of which we’ve heard at least 10 times since the school year started. “But, mom, they always put chili on the nachos and I don’t like chili.” I replied the same way we always do, “Just tell the lunch ladies that you don’t want chili.” The thought of actually speaking to the lunch ladies was too much. Sophia started crying again. (This child must take after her father, I just don’t get her fear of people. It’s no wonder her father never formally proposed…that is just too much pressure!)

So, when we got to school, I decided that I was going to put an end to the nonsense. Sophia’s grade would be eating lunch in just 30 minutes. I told her that we were going to take a detour through the cafeteria to talk to the workers. She froze and planted her feet as to permanently attach her shoes to the piece of tile that is in the middle of the hall adjacent to the school’s office! I said, “Sophia, this is ridiculous. It is their job to feed you. You don’t have any problem asking me to tell every McDonald’s worker that you want katsup only. C’mon, I am going to show you how easy this is.”

I dragged her into the cafeteria where all the workers were sitting at their big table enjoying their last bit of a break before the kids came stampeding. There was no need to get their attention. All 8 workers were staring at me as I held Sophia in place. Sophia would not look anywhere but her feet and was squirming to get away. I said, “I am sorry to bother you, but this is my daughter Sophia. We just got done at the dentist and I forgot to pack her a lunch. Sophia loves nachos, but it a little nervous about asking you to leave the chili off. Is this something that someone could help her with today?”

Sophia was mortified. The head cafeteria worker didn’t quite get the seriousness of this situation. She stood and as she walked over in our direction, she replied, “We have to give her the chili, it is federal regulation.” (C’mon lady, work with me here.) I must have given her the perfect look of desperation. After staring Sophia and I down, she said, “But, we can put it on the side.” I said to Sophia, “Do you think you can ask this nice lady to put it on the side?”

Only silence followed. The lunch lady wised up and said to me, “Whose class is she in?” I told her. She said, “Don’t worry, we will help her today.”

I walked away, dragged by Sophia’s eagerness to escape. She was trying to keep her crying under control. I sat down with her as she tried to creep away. All I could do was hug her and tell her that I was trying to help her, not embarrass her. She kept repeating, “Just let me go to class, mom.”She finally broke my hold, and as she ran off to class, I hollered, “I love you Sophia, have a great day, and enjoy your nachos.”

I cried on the way home and called LG. I was plagued with the question as to whether or not this fiasco was even worth it. LG assured me that I did the right thing and told me that because I make Sophia face things that are so overwhelming, she will be better in the long run. For once, I didn’t totally believe him.

I was left wondering all day as the whether or not it was worth the trouble. After school, Sophia got in the car triumphantly. (I immediately thought to myself that I was the best mom in the world) I asked Sophia, “How did lunch go?”

Sophia replied, “It was great mom, they had a bunch of trays with the chili on the side already. I didn’t have to ask.” Well, I have to admit that this was wise of the lunch ladies (easier than staying on the lookout for the wreck of a kindergartner named Sophia), but I felt a little sabotaged. Where did the cafeteria workers leave my lesson? Didn’t they understand the depth of the execution?

A few days later, I took the kids to Wendy’s. (We love Wendy’s, here is another funny story about it.) As Sophia shouted from the back seat of the van that she wanted a hamburger with katsup only, I turned back and announced, “I am sorry Sophia, I am a little too shy, I don’t think that I can ask the Wendy’s worker for katsup only.” Sophia thought that was the funniest thing she had ever heard and responded with, “Mom , you always ask them for katsup only”, and almost as an afterthought she declared assuredly, “And, you are not shy.” After I ordered as directed, I reminded Sophia that talking to the lunch ladies should be as easy as it was for me to place that order. (Not that the additional pep talk would do any good, but a mother has to try)

Sometimes parenting is so futile. I guarantee that the next time we are going through the morning routine of, “For lunch you have a choice between teriyaki beef bites, peach and cottage cheese, or nachos…do you want to buy?” Sophia will automatically respond with, “I want to take, please.”

On a side note, because this post is about Sophia speaking: Sophia gave a talk in church today. She was so cute as she repeatedly said “The Dr. of Covenants”.

For LG
I hope you never change.
I like you just this way.
You are mine,
my best told secret.
I pray for all your dreams
to be achieved.
And when you get there,
you’ll still be mine.
I will remember you now.
And, somehow, I will love you more.

To the man of my dreams and the keeper of my heart.

The Edited Flu

Lori chronicled the flu of what seemed to be her whole blogroll. (that’s how bad this flu has been, or maybe there is some way we have all been passing it from between keyboards?)

Cally (if you link, scroll down to #2, couldn’t get the piknik post to work) inspired me to give you this edited picnik version of the flu at our house.

What does a woman do when she is supposed to rest, her husband is studying for the bar, and they cancel two days of school?

No prob…”Children, you have free reign of the TV, toys, and the snack cabinet. Yes, those 4 boxes of fruit roll ups are not only yummy, they will keep you alive and semi-healthy.” (If you add in the gogurts and dry cereal, they almost get every food group.)

Yes, they wore those pj’s for two days straight. Sophia has been really into keeping up with her new “days of the week” panties that she got for Christmas. Last night I told her that she needed to change out of her pj’s before she went to bed. This is what I hear Abigail exclaim from the bedroom, “Sophia, you are still wearing Wednesday.” This statement was echoed by Sophia in between her fits of laughter.

My mother-in-law will be so stunned…she thinks that I am the clean underwear nazi. I don’t know where she gets the notion, except for the fact that I always pack the girls double underwear when they go to her house. I once said to Faye, “I am not an underwear nazi, I only make them change their undewear daily. How often did your kids change their underwear?” She never did answer me.

We are now in the beginning stages of clean up. I have found at least 50 piles of wrappers that look just like this. Maybe we should clean up after the bar, what do you think?

The Cable Guy

LG was a little concerned when his pants felt a little tight this morning.

Maybe we should go on The Larry the Cable Guy diet.

He brags in this article that now that he is down 50 lbs, he is down a whole Olsen twin!

Yeah, that is funny!

Sidenote: he blames his initial weightgain on the pregnancy of his wife. Sorry honey….those babies just like to pack on the pounds. (If it makes you feel any better, I think that Larry the Cable Guy is sexy…I like a man with some meat)

Domonick’s back!

I just read this story from my Wierd news RSS feed. It talks about a cat who bolted away from her owner on a trip to the vet 3 years ago. When the found cat’s microchip was scanned he was taken back home.

LG refused to pay for a microchip for our cat. I understand his cheapness, but I wonder if he was changing his mind during several of my sleepless nights that we couldn’t find Kitty Bear. One night when she was a baby I stayed up all night and cried when she wandered away.

I went all around town putting up lost pet signs the next day just to have my neighbor across the street come rushing over to tell me that she saw the sign down the street and her daughter had taken the cat in for the night. (My neighbor is a HUGE animal lover – I could have kissed her)Kitty Bear had been meowing at the wrong door. Yes, she is smarter than that now. The only time she gets lost now is when she slips into someone’s dresser drawer for a good warm night’s sleep. But, man I was a wreck. LG had the nerve to say, “Man, Alice, what will you act like if anything ever happens to one of our kids.”

But, between this story, my previous post, and thinking about Kitty Bear I have been reminded of our cats growing up. I cannot tell you how many cats we had growing up…..at least 20. The funny part: we always thought it was the same cat coming back.

We would always exclaim, “Mom, mom, Domonick’s back.”

My brother had named our first black cat with one little white spot under his chin, Domonick (after Dominoes). Of course the cats would disappear from time to time. (Wouldn’t you want to escape from a family with 7 children?)

We were always a little sad whenever our cats would go missing, but to no avail. it would turn out o.k. when another black cat would show up…I guess black cats with little white spots must be quite common because I am sure that Domonick could never survive the surrounding wild infested with coyotes. Or did he?

For my lover boy

Everyone seem to have posted something really sweet for their spouse yesterday, and all I came up with was the depressing last post. Give me a break, I was up throwing up the whole night before.

I do love my man, and was especially grateful that he was there for me yesterday….not because it was the big holiday, but because he took care of the kids while I slept away most of the day, trying to recover.

This video is for you LG, I know you will enjoy!

Dead People

Abigail went out with her group of church girls last night and sang to some people at a nursing home. (This picture is not from last night, but from a school thing last year – I included the pic. to give you the idea of how cute 8-11 year olds) Aren’t they darling? I am sure the nursing home loved their company last night.

Anyhow, on the way home, I was very impressed with Abigail’s observations of the night. She was telling me all about the people that she met.

“Mom, there was this really old guy who was 97. There was a lady who was deaf and they had to write everything on a paper for her. There was a black guy, and it was his birthday.” She even told me the people’s names.

Sophia and Bella were listening to the conversation and started asking Abigail questions about her adventure. Bella being inquisitive about the aforementioned deaf person asked me, “Mom why would they sing to a dead person?”

I was glad that the girls were paying attention to Abigail’s story, but who would have guessed the dead person association of my 4 year old? I guess I better start writing my mommy speech now for reassuring Bella when it is her turn to go to a nursing home to sing. Really, how am I going to handle this with honesty? It’s not like I can say, “No Bella, don’t worry, there aren’t any dead people at nursing homes.”

This reminds me of another story. Back in December, we had an unfortunate death in the congregation that shares our building. I was in charge of our ward party that was to happen the evening following the funeral. I had a bunch of things that I needed to drop of at the church early because I had to work the next morning. So I stopped by the church late after the funeral was over.

I wasn’t sure if they would have left the casket at the church overnight until the following day’s graveside service. (I believe they did this with Grandma Gold in VA – every state law is different to this effect and I wasn’t sure what TN law was) As my girls love to run the round hallways as soon as they get into the church, I warned them to stay close by because there may be a casket in the cultural hall. You can imagine where the conversation went from there…

“Mom, what’s a casket?” “Why do dead people sleep in a casket?” “Why do they leave dead people in the church?” “What’s a funeral?”

I had tried to play off all the questions so that they wouldn’t be too afraid of ever entering the church ever again. I had told the girls that a funeral would be over the next morning and there was no reason to be afraid because a funeral is “like a party for dead people”. O.k. hindsight is always 20/20! Yes, I could and should have given a better explanation than that.

If you couple Bella’s amazing imagination with her slight anxiety, you can imagine what she thought was going on in the church at the party for dead people. I was surprised that she still wanted to go inside when I had given her the chance to just stay in the car while I ran a few things in. Do you think that she was showing bravery or did the sure terror of being alone in the van when the party all came out of the building egged her forward into the building with mom? I think it must have been the latter, the way she was clinging to my leg.

Either way, whenever I die, I hope all my girls will remember that they are invited to my party for dead people.

dad = goat


So this morning as we were getting the girls ready for school, all of the girls were telling their dad about their trips to see our friend’s baby goats. Thanks to Grammy for the field trip. The girls just loved these baby goats. And thanks to Steve and Stori for their fun petting zoo.

Here is the goat with Bella. Isn’t she cute? I was talking about the goat. This baby goat’s name is Carameletta. Isn’t that a cute name? Again, I am talking about the goat. The other two babies are Dotty and Pedro. (Pedro’s the boy)

So, back to the name of the post. This morning the girls were telling LG all about the goats:

“We had to chase the babies dad. We caught Dotty. The baby one is called Dotty
because she has a lot of dots. The dad has a long beard. The dad is
harry-er. The mom goat looks like she is mad at you and being protective,
but she doesn’t really care. The dad goat is bigger than the mom goat. They
were all so cute dad. They were so fun. The dad goat has bigger horns.”

LG in response to the girls: (yes his wit is really keen in the mornings) “So, I think I got it all, tell me if I am right: the dad is fatter, harrier, and hornier?” Yep I guess that dad really does = goat.

I just rolled on the floor laughing. What a great way to start the day.

I think that Gina’s hubby’s humor is also a little twisted. Gina informed her hubby that I suggested he win a good hubby award, he said, “What does a man do to win the chubby award?”