Tuesday, February 14, 2017
Anyway, back to the story of the day. When I arrived at the Oquirrh Mountain temple, the parking lot wasn't full. Cool, I thought, no lines. Then, I pulled on into the parking lot and I realized there were NO cars--it was closed for a couple weeks. So, I headed to the Draper temple, about 20 minutes away. That parking lot was full, but the inside didn't seem crowded inside. The sisters at initiatory welcomed me with open arms and the wait was minimal, for a Tuesday morning. As I was waiting, it occurred to me how amazing it is to live in an area where I have 3 temples within 20 minutes of our home.
The beautiful, but currently closed for remodeling, Jordan River temple--10 minutes from home.
Oquirrh Mountain temple--15 min from home.
This one I took myself, this morning. A gorgeous spring morning. 20 min from home.
Mount Timpanogos temple--30 min--I think I'll go here next week.
Salt Lake City temple--always a treat to come here, 30 min by train,
Bountiful, Utah temple--two of my kids married here, about 30 minutes by car. Spectacular setting.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Sunday, September 21, 2014
One of my regrets in life is that I never asked my father very much about his military service. These regrets have bubbled to the surface recently as I followed the events of the Utah Honor Flight—where numerous volunteers and sponsors provided an opportunity for 66 World War 2 vets to fly to Washington DC to visit their monument, and other sites on the Mall. My emotions were very close to the surface as I listened to interviews and memories shared, of experiences that some of the men, in their 80s and 90s, hadn’t spoken of for years. These men were my father’s age, and once again, I realized that I’d not taken the opportunity to learn about this time in his life.
Some of the few things that I do know are:
He was away from home, in southeast Idaho—Rockland—living with his Uncle Richard and Aunt Dorothy, attending high school, when he realized that he would be drafted. Rather that wait for that, he returned home, to Bonners Ferry, Idaho, where he enlisted in the Army Air Force. (I just learned, on Friday, why it was the Army Air Force and not the Air Force. There was no Air Force, as it’s own branch, until 1947. I’m sure Dad could have told me that if I’d bothered to ask.)
He was sent to boot camp in somewhere in Texas. I don’t know where. He went down with some buddies, but while there he came down with the flu and they shipped out without him.
While figuring out what to do with him, someone discovered that he had a natural ability to teach and he became and instructor on the base. I’m not sure how long he worked as an instructor, I just know that this is how he realized what he wanted to be when he grew up!
At some point he was sent to Europe. He traveled by ship, out of New York City, and got sea sick. But it seems like he worked through it after a few days and managed to enjoy part of the journey.
He was stationed near Wiesbaden, Germany as part of the post war occupation troops. There was a lake nearby, in which he enjoyed fishing.
I don’t know what his duties were, I don’t even know how long he was there.
I’m grateful for his service and I’m grateful that he avoided the fighting.
I’m grateful to those who gave their lives and to those who returned home safely, so that I enjoy the blessings of freedom.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
The second interesting event involved a "moving sale", held by a gal in our neighborhood. The sign said, "Name your own price." I drove past just to see what she had. I spotted a bread maker and got out of the car to check it out. There were a few other people mozying around. Someone asked about a price on an item. She said, "Whatever you feel comfortable paying. It's name your own price." A few minutes later, someone else asked for a price. She repeated, "Whatever you feel comfortable paying. It's name your own price." I noticed that one person seemed to be making a purchase, but it also seemed that the others chose not to buy what they were asking her about. I didn't purchase the breadmaker. I wasn't comfortable offering what I was willing to pay, for fear of insulting her by offering too little. I suspect she would have accepted it, but perhaps would have felt short-changed. On the other hand, maybe she would have been fine with my paltry little offer. I just couldn't bring myself to find out.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Friday, January 3, 2014
I love this style of the put stacked on the cup.
From Beatrix Potter’s home in Windmere, England. Thank you, Sarah!
Same trip of Sarah’s—Big Ben!
From Oaxaca, and Atzompa, a small village famous for it’s green pottery, just outside of Oaxaca, Mexico.
Another great Christmas pot over a cup combo.. I have a plate, cup, bowl, and platter to match this.
From Brazil-- Sarah brought them when she came home from her mission.
Bekah picked this up for me at the White House gift shop—Martha Washinton’s teapot (probably not!)
From my sister-in-law, when she visited her daughter in Okinawa, Japan!
I don’t know…. but I like it!
From Sarah’s China trip. It’s an actual tea set, not meant to be just decorative.
It came with it’s own cool tea set box!
From San Miguel Allenda, Mexico. We searched high and low for this one.
I have four little teapot ornaments, but they’re all packed away. I’ll add them onto the blog next Thanksgiving, or so.
Here they all are. I’ve decided that I need to get back to Disneyland because I need a Mad Hatter Tea Party tea pot, and perhaps a Mrs. Potts!