10. Being able to TiVo it so I don't have to watch every little event until the event I want--20 minutes before the end--comes on. Oh, and then rewatching the most exciting parts over and over again.
9. Amazing crowd support even if the home team isn't doing as well. The crowd gets behind every match as though the athlete were from their home country. In the Olympics, country lines are blurred and everyone is cheered on.
8. Incredible athletes that are pursuing lifelong dreams. The least fit of these people surpass my fittest ever and I'm always in awe at how much of their life is devoted to their sport.
7. I really enjoy watching an underdog come in and shatter the dreams of the favorite. It makes me think, in a perfect world, any of us could be there doing just that.
6. Human interest stories that tug at your heartstrings. It's nice to put human characteristics to these amazing athletes--like having to swim in the final with the new girlfriend of your former love interest.
5. Beach Volleyball bodies. Nowhere on this planet are there more sculpted, tanned bodies. These ladies look incredible. I keep thinking I should take up beach volleyball, but alas I live in Utah. And I don't tan. The guys aren't too bad to look at either. I'm glad they play in the long shorts and not the speedos though.
4. The end of primetime viewing montage where a popular song is chosen as the "Olympic anthem" and we get to see the most exciting parts of the day. It always brings tears to my eyes.
3. I LOVE how the announcers get so excited. Take for example the 4x100 men's relay last night. I would imagine they were jumping off the couch with excitement and anticipation the last 25 yards to the finish. However, they should give pointers to their gymnastics and diving counterpoints. Women's gymnastics has always been a favorite event of mine, but lately the girls look like they're being marched to their deaths and the announcers nitpick and criticize every little move. It's too much stress for how young these girls are. This is a lifelong dream. Let them revel in it for a moment before snatching it away.
2. Surprise endings. With the time differences and the internet displaying the results--whether I want them to or not--before I can watch the event, it's refreshing to get completely surprised by the ending, as what happened with the men's 4x100 relay final last night.
1. Close finishes. I'm a sucker for things that come down to the very last and you truly get to see who wants the gold medal more. Athleticism and odds are thrown out the window and all that is left is pure willpower and adrenaline.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
Book Review Friday August 8, 2008
Book: Escape
Author: Carolyn Jessop
Pages: 413
This is a definite must-read for anyone interested in the FLDS saga happening in Texas. When news broke that they had taken all the children into state custody, I was a little torn. My thinking was that they were being unfairly prosecuted for their religious beliefs, but at the same time, they have to respect the laws of the land. If it's true they are abusing their children or marrying them off at teenage years, then they need to be held accountable to those charges. But, just because they're "different" doesn't necessarily make them a menace to society and so there's a fine line there that needs to be weighed accordingly.
This book shed a whole new light on my original thoughts about the FLDS. Carolyn grew up in the FLDS compound in Colorado City. Her father, at the time of her birth, was not engaged in a polygamous marriage, but later, did take on another wife. In the book, Carolyn eludes to the tumultuous relationship between her mother and father and how much happier he was with the second wife. Carolyn's childhood was marred with physical beatings from her mother, though Carolyn thought this was how it was suppose to be. Most everyone she knew came from abusive backgrounds because it was the way they were taught to discipline their children.
Carolyn's dream had always been to go on to college and become a peditrician. She knew, early on, that this goal was unattainable, but she pressed her father to allow for her to continue her education past high school. At the time, the FLDS was trying to mainstream a few of their female members as to not appear out of the ordinary and to bring new meat into the sect. Carolyn was given permission to continue her eductation--as a teacher--in college. After her first year, she was assigned to marry a 50 year old man in the community. She had no say in the matter. It was "revealed" to the man that she was to be his next wife, so three days later, Carolyn became the fourth wife of Merril Jessop.
The tale that Carolyn weaves of being under the rein of Merril Jessop and his "trophy" wife, Barbara is horrifying. While many images from polygamous groups have emerged over the years, I can clearly remember those pictures of all the families sitting docile around the man--as though this is the best thing to ever happen. Oprah even did a show where polygamous wives came on and shared that this was the best situation to live in. Carolyn's depiction painted an entirely different picture.
Carolyn is allowed to continue her education at Dixie State College in Cedar City, and even lives there during the school year, returning only on the weekends to Colorado City. This is highly unusual and I would've thought with that much influence from the outside world she'd see her precarious situation a little more clearly. However, things that have been that indoctrinated in one's self is hard to shake.
After 17 years of marriage and 8 kids in 15 years, Carolyn decides it's time to leave. Her story of how she escaped from the compound is harrowing and intense. If caught, she and her kids would be branded for the rest of their lives.
While it's important to remember that this is just one book written by a former (presumably disgruntled) member of the FLDS sect, it was an interesting read into what goes on in this secretive society. Many of the teachings are hard to comprehend, but a lot of them run parallel to the LDS faith, making the distinction between the two a little blurred. I can see why many people who have no other connection to either faith believe the two are one and the same, though it's very clear they are not.
I would definitely recommend this book, though I caution that many books have been written by former members of the LDS faith that don't always paint the truth correctly, and so the same discernment needs to be applied here. However, if only a tenth of what Carolyn reports is accurate, it's still a terrifying look at what's going on behind closed doors.
Author: Carolyn Jessop
Pages: 413
This is a definite must-read for anyone interested in the FLDS saga happening in Texas. When news broke that they had taken all the children into state custody, I was a little torn. My thinking was that they were being unfairly prosecuted for their religious beliefs, but at the same time, they have to respect the laws of the land. If it's true they are abusing their children or marrying them off at teenage years, then they need to be held accountable to those charges. But, just because they're "different" doesn't necessarily make them a menace to society and so there's a fine line there that needs to be weighed accordingly.
This book shed a whole new light on my original thoughts about the FLDS. Carolyn grew up in the FLDS compound in Colorado City. Her father, at the time of her birth, was not engaged in a polygamous marriage, but later, did take on another wife. In the book, Carolyn eludes to the tumultuous relationship between her mother and father and how much happier he was with the second wife. Carolyn's childhood was marred with physical beatings from her mother, though Carolyn thought this was how it was suppose to be. Most everyone she knew came from abusive backgrounds because it was the way they were taught to discipline their children.
Carolyn's dream had always been to go on to college and become a peditrician. She knew, early on, that this goal was unattainable, but she pressed her father to allow for her to continue her education past high school. At the time, the FLDS was trying to mainstream a few of their female members as to not appear out of the ordinary and to bring new meat into the sect. Carolyn was given permission to continue her eductation--as a teacher--in college. After her first year, she was assigned to marry a 50 year old man in the community. She had no say in the matter. It was "revealed" to the man that she was to be his next wife, so three days later, Carolyn became the fourth wife of Merril Jessop.
The tale that Carolyn weaves of being under the rein of Merril Jessop and his "trophy" wife, Barbara is horrifying. While many images from polygamous groups have emerged over the years, I can clearly remember those pictures of all the families sitting docile around the man--as though this is the best thing to ever happen. Oprah even did a show where polygamous wives came on and shared that this was the best situation to live in. Carolyn's depiction painted an entirely different picture.
Carolyn is allowed to continue her education at Dixie State College in Cedar City, and even lives there during the school year, returning only on the weekends to Colorado City. This is highly unusual and I would've thought with that much influence from the outside world she'd see her precarious situation a little more clearly. However, things that have been that indoctrinated in one's self is hard to shake.
After 17 years of marriage and 8 kids in 15 years, Carolyn decides it's time to leave. Her story of how she escaped from the compound is harrowing and intense. If caught, she and her kids would be branded for the rest of their lives.
While it's important to remember that this is just one book written by a former (presumably disgruntled) member of the FLDS sect, it was an interesting read into what goes on in this secretive society. Many of the teachings are hard to comprehend, but a lot of them run parallel to the LDS faith, making the distinction between the two a little blurred. I can see why many people who have no other connection to either faith believe the two are one and the same, though it's very clear they are not.
I would definitely recommend this book, though I caution that many books have been written by former members of the LDS faith that don't always paint the truth correctly, and so the same discernment needs to be applied here. However, if only a tenth of what Carolyn reports is accurate, it's still a terrifying look at what's going on behind closed doors.
Welcome Home, Wayward Son
Last night, I had settled down with a puzzle while Josh was watching Barney on our computer in our bedroom. At about 9:30, I hear our remaining cat, who was sitting in the window, pawing at the window pane. She usually does this to alert us that whatever is happening outside is much more interesting than what's happening on the inside. I excitedly got up to see what was going on. I opened the door and didn't see anything. Then...around our porch swing, I saw a little black face emerge. It was Mocaco! He'd made his way back home. I grabbed him and went back inside.
Troubles, the other cat, was none too pleased to see the return of her wayward brother. I was apprehensive, thinking maybe in my excitement, I had pegged the wrong black kitty as mine and now I've introduced a complete stranger to our inner sanctum. But, within seconds, I knew it was Mocaco. He ran straight downstairs to where the litter box and food are and he talked nonstop for about 5 minutes.
However, Troubles was still not happy that Mocaco had returned. We asked Mocaco several times where he's been hiding out all this time (it'd been roughly 4 days since we last saw him) but he was mum on the subject. He followed us around, trying to keep out of Troubles warpath, until nighttime. Then he assumed his regular spot on the edge of the bed and slept there the whole night. Even Wade managed to keep from kicking him off during the course of the night. Troubles, however, assumed an entirely new position against my face and stayed there the whole night, keeping an eye on Mocaco. Several times during the night, he'd shift and Troubles would hiss at him. We've tried giving her equal amounts of attention, but she's not interested in us anymore. She's mad.
So this leads me to a few theories as to where my beloved cat went for four days.
(a) Mocaco Lost a Bet: Sometime during church on Sunday, Troubles and Mocaco sat down for a friendly game of kitty poker. Things got heated and bets were made. Troubles won the final hand, and Mocaco was left with nothing to his name so he was kicked out of the house to make it on his own. He'd show up under the cover of night and wistfully look into our home and dream about what life use to be like. Thursday night, however, he showed up before it was completely dark and Troubles was warning HIM not us that he was early for his daily reminiscing.
(b) Government Overthrow: Troubles has felt the need for more power as she has aged over the years, and so in a fit of power weilding superiority, she kicked Mocaco out so she could have us all to herself. Mocaco made friends with the little white kitty that shows up periodically and sent him/her over to check on the state of the Troubles Union. At 6 am Thursday morning, I awake to hear Troubles wigging out behind the blinds and go investigate. There sitting in the front yard is the white cat assessing what's going on inside. Troubles is making a complete freak show of herself inside the window trying to get to the white kitty, and the white kitty is calmly sitting there watching the spectacle. White kitty returns to Mocaco, who then insists on checking it out himself. Maybe the Queen has gone senile and he can return safely to his kingdom?
(c) Prank Gone Awry: Troubles has always been the brains behind any operation, while Mocaco's left to be the muscle man. Troubles has a bright idea to pull a prank on us and pretend to go missing. However, she's not about to be locked out away from food and water so she convinces Mocaco to carry out her plan. Little does she know that we wouldn't start looking for him until nearly 36 hours later. Mocaco, thinking we've left him out in the wilds to fend for himself, wanders aimlessly during the night time hours (you know, if you're ever stuck in the desert, you're suppose to sleep during the day--when it's hot--and walk at night. Unless it's the African safari, at which case, you need the sunlight to determine that you're not going to be eaten by big game) until one night, he stumbles upon his old home and we welcome him back with open arms. Troubles, now use to being the only cat being loved, is mad that he's come home.
(d) Is There Life Out There?: Mocaco, growing suspicious of the baby crib being set up again and the mother of the home's swelling midsection, puts two and two together and realizes that another human is joining the household soon. Having been terrorized for the past 3 years by the alien creature that descended into his tranquil lifestyle, Mocaco can't stand the thought of having to compete with another one, so in a fit of panic escapes through a door carelessly left open. Free to roam the neighborhood, he realizes that he's ill-prepared for what's on the outside. The other outside kittens have formed their own gang and won't allow a meager housecat to join them. And he's hungry. Meanwhile, the mother of the house has set up a bowl of water and food to lure him back and it works. Troubles gives away his position by pawing at the window when he approaches the food and now he's stuck back inside. But he tasted freedom at last. Though since he's not clamoring to get back out, I'm thinking he's been there done that and he'll rest happy inside.
In any case, whatever his reason, we're glad he's back, safe and sound.
Troubles, the other cat, was none too pleased to see the return of her wayward brother. I was apprehensive, thinking maybe in my excitement, I had pegged the wrong black kitty as mine and now I've introduced a complete stranger to our inner sanctum. But, within seconds, I knew it was Mocaco. He ran straight downstairs to where the litter box and food are and he talked nonstop for about 5 minutes.
However, Troubles was still not happy that Mocaco had returned. We asked Mocaco several times where he's been hiding out all this time (it'd been roughly 4 days since we last saw him) but he was mum on the subject. He followed us around, trying to keep out of Troubles warpath, until nighttime. Then he assumed his regular spot on the edge of the bed and slept there the whole night. Even Wade managed to keep from kicking him off during the course of the night. Troubles, however, assumed an entirely new position against my face and stayed there the whole night, keeping an eye on Mocaco. Several times during the night, he'd shift and Troubles would hiss at him. We've tried giving her equal amounts of attention, but she's not interested in us anymore. She's mad.
So this leads me to a few theories as to where my beloved cat went for four days.
(a) Mocaco Lost a Bet: Sometime during church on Sunday, Troubles and Mocaco sat down for a friendly game of kitty poker. Things got heated and bets were made. Troubles won the final hand, and Mocaco was left with nothing to his name so he was kicked out of the house to make it on his own. He'd show up under the cover of night and wistfully look into our home and dream about what life use to be like. Thursday night, however, he showed up before it was completely dark and Troubles was warning HIM not us that he was early for his daily reminiscing.
(b) Government Overthrow: Troubles has felt the need for more power as she has aged over the years, and so in a fit of power weilding superiority, she kicked Mocaco out so she could have us all to herself. Mocaco made friends with the little white kitty that shows up periodically and sent him/her over to check on the state of the Troubles Union. At 6 am Thursday morning, I awake to hear Troubles wigging out behind the blinds and go investigate. There sitting in the front yard is the white cat assessing what's going on inside. Troubles is making a complete freak show of herself inside the window trying to get to the white kitty, and the white kitty is calmly sitting there watching the spectacle. White kitty returns to Mocaco, who then insists on checking it out himself. Maybe the Queen has gone senile and he can return safely to his kingdom?
(c) Prank Gone Awry: Troubles has always been the brains behind any operation, while Mocaco's left to be the muscle man. Troubles has a bright idea to pull a prank on us and pretend to go missing. However, she's not about to be locked out away from food and water so she convinces Mocaco to carry out her plan. Little does she know that we wouldn't start looking for him until nearly 36 hours later. Mocaco, thinking we've left him out in the wilds to fend for himself, wanders aimlessly during the night time hours (you know, if you're ever stuck in the desert, you're suppose to sleep during the day--when it's hot--and walk at night. Unless it's the African safari, at which case, you need the sunlight to determine that you're not going to be eaten by big game) until one night, he stumbles upon his old home and we welcome him back with open arms. Troubles, now use to being the only cat being loved, is mad that he's come home.
(d) Is There Life Out There?: Mocaco, growing suspicious of the baby crib being set up again and the mother of the home's swelling midsection, puts two and two together and realizes that another human is joining the household soon. Having been terrorized for the past 3 years by the alien creature that descended into his tranquil lifestyle, Mocaco can't stand the thought of having to compete with another one, so in a fit of panic escapes through a door carelessly left open. Free to roam the neighborhood, he realizes that he's ill-prepared for what's on the outside. The other outside kittens have formed their own gang and won't allow a meager housecat to join them. And he's hungry. Meanwhile, the mother of the house has set up a bowl of water and food to lure him back and it works. Troubles gives away his position by pawing at the window when he approaches the food and now he's stuck back inside. But he tasted freedom at last. Though since he's not clamoring to get back out, I'm thinking he's been there done that and he'll rest happy inside.
In any case, whatever his reason, we're glad he's back, safe and sound.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Convenience Parenting
A lot has been discussed over the years about the most effective parenting techniques:
Hyperschedulers: These parents schedule every minute of every day of their children. I've run in to a few parents who fit nicely in this category. When I looked at this parenting technique, I realized it's not for me. I like to be able to adapt to situations and not be homebound because of nap/bed times and eating times.
Purely Flexible Schedulers: These parents have no schedule. Bedtime naptime and eating are completely arbitrary to what ever the day brings. However, they too are bound by what their children want or need.
So evolved our parenting method: Convenience Parenting. This evolved, for us, over time. I tried to be consistent with Josh as I was nursing him and he was sleeping through the night at six weeks. However, if something came up during his usual feeding time, I'd just adjust it to fit my schedule. I didn't worry that he ate an hour earlier than usual or 1/2 hour later. We were careful not to make bedtime a long ritual. We rarely read books at night. When it was time for bed, we'd lay him in his crib, turn off the light and close the door. He'd spend time playing and then he'd fall asleep.
On Josh's first birthday, I was sick and tired of washing bottles, so I packed them all away. I don't know if this was traumatic for him. I never got in the habit of having him carry a bottle around with him everywhere. It was strictly for meal times and a few other times during the day. He didn't seem to mind me carting all the bottles downstairs. But he went to strictly sippy cups from there.
At 14 months, I was sick and tired of looking for his binky before he'd go to bed. Some days it would be a half hour ordeal. So one day, we stopped looking. We put him to bed without his binky and three nights later he finally fell asleep. (Okay, an exaggeration, but it felt like three nights.) In actuality, it really only took three nights for him to stop crying for an hour or more before succumbing to slumber. I think it helped that he wasn't talking yet so I didn't have to hear him whine about his missing binky.
When it came time to potty train, we let him go at his own pace. We never pushed and one day he just did it. This isn't always the case, but it was for us.
So last night we encountered another "convenience parenting" moment. We have been allowing Josh to sleep with his bedroom light on because he's afraid of the dark. However, he's now directly across from our bedroom and the light is bothersome. Also, when baby #2 comes, I don't want the light on to keep her up. So yesterday, we picked out a really cute Mater lamp at Walmart. Then we unscrewed his lightbulbs from the ceiling light. I'm happy to report that he wasn't too mad. He did finally fall asleep. The light emits just the right amount of light and all was well until about 4:30, when he came crying into our room and was banished to the floor. (We don't allow him to sleep in our bed. It's too small of a bed for the three of us).
So while there's nothing wrong with the aforementioned parenting techniques, ours is truly for our benefit. For the most part, having a child has not interfered with our lives that much. We've just adapted to taking him with us. Sometimes, Josh has to remind me he hasn't eaten. But other than that, I think we're doing pretty good.
Hyperschedulers: These parents schedule every minute of every day of their children. I've run in to a few parents who fit nicely in this category. When I looked at this parenting technique, I realized it's not for me. I like to be able to adapt to situations and not be homebound because of nap/bed times and eating times.
Purely Flexible Schedulers: These parents have no schedule. Bedtime naptime and eating are completely arbitrary to what ever the day brings. However, they too are bound by what their children want or need.
So evolved our parenting method: Convenience Parenting. This evolved, for us, over time. I tried to be consistent with Josh as I was nursing him and he was sleeping through the night at six weeks. However, if something came up during his usual feeding time, I'd just adjust it to fit my schedule. I didn't worry that he ate an hour earlier than usual or 1/2 hour later. We were careful not to make bedtime a long ritual. We rarely read books at night. When it was time for bed, we'd lay him in his crib, turn off the light and close the door. He'd spend time playing and then he'd fall asleep.
On Josh's first birthday, I was sick and tired of washing bottles, so I packed them all away. I don't know if this was traumatic for him. I never got in the habit of having him carry a bottle around with him everywhere. It was strictly for meal times and a few other times during the day. He didn't seem to mind me carting all the bottles downstairs. But he went to strictly sippy cups from there.
At 14 months, I was sick and tired of looking for his binky before he'd go to bed. Some days it would be a half hour ordeal. So one day, we stopped looking. We put him to bed without his binky and three nights later he finally fell asleep. (Okay, an exaggeration, but it felt like three nights.) In actuality, it really only took three nights for him to stop crying for an hour or more before succumbing to slumber. I think it helped that he wasn't talking yet so I didn't have to hear him whine about his missing binky.
When it came time to potty train, we let him go at his own pace. We never pushed and one day he just did it. This isn't always the case, but it was for us.
So last night we encountered another "convenience parenting" moment. We have been allowing Josh to sleep with his bedroom light on because he's afraid of the dark. However, he's now directly across from our bedroom and the light is bothersome. Also, when baby #2 comes, I don't want the light on to keep her up. So yesterday, we picked out a really cute Mater lamp at Walmart. Then we unscrewed his lightbulbs from the ceiling light. I'm happy to report that he wasn't too mad. He did finally fall asleep. The light emits just the right amount of light and all was well until about 4:30, when he came crying into our room and was banished to the floor. (We don't allow him to sleep in our bed. It's too small of a bed for the three of us).
So while there's nothing wrong with the aforementioned parenting techniques, ours is truly for our benefit. For the most part, having a child has not interfered with our lives that much. We've just adapted to taking him with us. Sometimes, Josh has to remind me he hasn't eaten. But other than that, I think we're doing pretty good.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
An Ode to Mocaco
Five and a half years ago, we adopted two kitties from a co-worker of Wade. She had found the mother cat dead in the church parking lot and a litter of kittens trying to nurse off of her. She successfully got rid of the other kittens but had two left. Whichever one we didn't choose was headed to the pound the next day. When we arrived at her house, they were locked in a room to keep the German Shepherd from eating them. The lady opened the door and out flew two balls of fur. We had originally intended to only take one home, but I knew right away that I couldn't choose who lived and who died. I told Wade it was either both of them or neither of them. So that's how we ended up with two.
I named the black male kitty Mocaco (monkey in Portugese) and Wade named his gray sister Troubles. And they've lived up to their name. Mocaco has always been the most vocal of the two. He would meow at the mention of his name and rarely hid for very long. When he was little he'd climb the doors and sit on the top of the door. Troubles is more people friendlier. She wants to be around people whereas Mocaco will hide if there's little children. I think this stems from a scarring incident when they were mere kittens and I found one of Wade's nephews in the back bedroom with Mocaco's head in his mouth.
They're both very gentle and obviously care a lot about each other. Troubles use to bathe Mocaco daily but I haven't seen them do this for a while. Maybe once a week or so. One night Troubles got outside and we forgot about her. At about 2 am, I awoke to Mocaco's meowing. I finally got out of bed to check what the problem was and he was sitting at the front door. I opened the door and in flew Troubles. Another time, when they were still kittens, one got closed inside our bedroom when we left for work. When we got home, one was sitting in the hall with their paws under the door and the other one's paws were seen coming out. I imagine that's how they sat the entire day.
We've had some close calls to losing one of them. Troubles is the more adventurous of the two and you can't hear her meow as much. She tends to like to be outside and roam so we have to be careful. One night, we heard a car screech and ran outside. The driver said that a gray cat had darted in front of him, but he was able to stop in time. Every once in a while, we have to go looking for one of them who's escaped. Since Mocaco is all black, it's nearly impossible to find him in the dark. But, he always comes back.
Until today. I can't remember what made me start looking for Mocaco, but I did. And I looked everywhere. Usually, you just have to call his name and he comes running. Occassionally, you have to run downstairs like you're going to feed him and he'll definitely come then. I tried both tricks to no avail. I looked in closets and dressers and under beds, but no black kitty. When Wade got home, I told him our dilemma. He looked everywhere too. Nada. We called for him outside. We drove around the block. No Mocaco. He's gone. In the almost six years we've had him, he's never taken off like this. We sat down and tried to remember the last time we had seen him. I remember seeing him on Saturday night, but Wade can remember seeing him Sunday morning. Where he is now is anybody's guess. I'm saddened it took me until Tuesday afternoon to realize he was gone. They use to be our "babies", but when Josh joined the picture, they were pushed aside.
I never got to say goodbye. That's the hardest part. Of all the cats I had growing up, none of them ran away. We always had to have them put down and so we got to say goodbye. But, today, I mourn the loss of my little black kitty and I can only hope that some poor sap took him in when he wouldn't stop meowing. That's what I have to tell myself because the alternative is too much to bear. I hope wherever he is, he's happy and well fed.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Clean Up, Clean Up
In some bizarre twist of fate, we have decided to finish our basement this fall. We had maintained that we were going to get our house paid off first (in about 5 or 6 years) before tackling that particular home improvement job, but the present economy has us changing our minds. Construction materials are at an all time low, and Wade's current job is paying him well enough that we can hopefully do this without taking out any Home Depot cards or loans. This situation could all change itself in the next few years, but we're confident at least for the next six months, we'll be stable enough to pull it off and so this weekend we started.
The first thing we have to do is figure out how to fit five bedrooms worth of stuff into three bedrooms upstairs. As well as everything else we have stored down there. Baby stuff. Memorabilia. Home repair items. Our basement has been the world's largest storage area for nearly six years. Of course, to fit everything upstairs, we also have to clean out the closets upstairs to make room. And in the process, we need to move Josh over to our TV room, move the TV room to the front room and reset up the nursery for baby #2. To make matters worse, there's not a lot of lifting I can do. But this seems to be our MO. Do everything the hard way.
So we started with the "easiest" thing. Moving the rooms around. Saturday, Wade disassembled our TV couch. Though the couch was the ugliest thing ever, it was nice to sit in and watch movies. There's no room for it anywhere else except out in the front room and I told Wade it was me or the couch because I wasn't putting that sucker out there for all to see. He relented and carted it in pieces to the garage. Meanwhile, we discovered that the couch was a man-eating couch. I've never seen so much stuff come out of a couch and it's now strewn across the house. Next, we had to move the TV to the front room. I've been resisting this since we moved in. The front room isn't set up to really accomodate a TV nicely and it's a little awkwardly placed, but I have to keep telling myself it's just a temporary solution. We don't use the TV that often--most of our tv watching comes off the computer in our bedroom--but we do watch movies occassionally on it, so it had to go somewhere. This concluded Saturday's activities.
Sunday, we spent much of the evening cleaning out the TV room and moving Josh's bed over to his "new" room. He was so excited. I have been given the task of cleaning the house today and cleaning out our bedroom closet. I can sense the jealously raging out of control throughout the wide web at how much fun I'll be having today. Tomorrow will be even better. I get to clean out the hall closets and make room in there for loads of stuff from the basement.
Our goal is to move everything but the treadmill and weight bench and a big metal desk upstairs so that we don't have to work around everything when we're finishing the basement. We'll see how well we accomplish this goal, but I'm optimistic that we'll get pretty darn close. We may have to use some of the garage.
So, let's mentally tally up the current stresses in our lives: Wade starts "new" job today (same job, new company), Sandra is 21 weeks pregnant and still feels icky, Graduate school starts in three weeks for Wade, Sandra's last class for her belated bachelor's degree starts in three weeks, new baby coming at Christmas time so Christmas shopping needs to be done with by Thanksgiving, high-maintenance church callings in a big ward for both Wade and Sandra, and--oh yeah--let's finish our basement while we're at it.
I just have to keep reminding myself that we need the room, it will be nice. We need the room, it will be nice.
Here's to happy cleaning!
The first thing we have to do is figure out how to fit five bedrooms worth of stuff into three bedrooms upstairs. As well as everything else we have stored down there. Baby stuff. Memorabilia. Home repair items. Our basement has been the world's largest storage area for nearly six years. Of course, to fit everything upstairs, we also have to clean out the closets upstairs to make room. And in the process, we need to move Josh over to our TV room, move the TV room to the front room and reset up the nursery for baby #2. To make matters worse, there's not a lot of lifting I can do. But this seems to be our MO. Do everything the hard way.
So we started with the "easiest" thing. Moving the rooms around. Saturday, Wade disassembled our TV couch. Though the couch was the ugliest thing ever, it was nice to sit in and watch movies. There's no room for it anywhere else except out in the front room and I told Wade it was me or the couch because I wasn't putting that sucker out there for all to see. He relented and carted it in pieces to the garage. Meanwhile, we discovered that the couch was a man-eating couch. I've never seen so much stuff come out of a couch and it's now strewn across the house. Next, we had to move the TV to the front room. I've been resisting this since we moved in. The front room isn't set up to really accomodate a TV nicely and it's a little awkwardly placed, but I have to keep telling myself it's just a temporary solution. We don't use the TV that often--most of our tv watching comes off the computer in our bedroom--but we do watch movies occassionally on it, so it had to go somewhere. This concluded Saturday's activities.
Sunday, we spent much of the evening cleaning out the TV room and moving Josh's bed over to his "new" room. He was so excited. I have been given the task of cleaning the house today and cleaning out our bedroom closet. I can sense the jealously raging out of control throughout the wide web at how much fun I'll be having today. Tomorrow will be even better. I get to clean out the hall closets and make room in there for loads of stuff from the basement.
Our goal is to move everything but the treadmill and weight bench and a big metal desk upstairs so that we don't have to work around everything when we're finishing the basement. We'll see how well we accomplish this goal, but I'm optimistic that we'll get pretty darn close. We may have to use some of the garage.
So, let's mentally tally up the current stresses in our lives: Wade starts "new" job today (same job, new company), Sandra is 21 weeks pregnant and still feels icky, Graduate school starts in three weeks for Wade, Sandra's last class for her belated bachelor's degree starts in three weeks, new baby coming at Christmas time so Christmas shopping needs to be done with by Thanksgiving, high-maintenance church callings in a big ward for both Wade and Sandra, and--oh yeah--let's finish our basement while we're at it.
I just have to keep reminding myself that we need the room, it will be nice. We need the room, it will be nice.
Here's to happy cleaning!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Book Review Friday August 1, 2008
Book: Doing Time Together: Love and Family in the Shadow of the Prison
Author: Megan Comfort
Pages: 197
The subject matter of this book was how incarceration of males reaches out and touches the females in their lives--particularly, their wives, fiancees, or girlfriends. Overall, I thought the book was intriguing and quite interesting. However, there were some huge pitfalls.
For starters, the author made the women out to be "secondary prisoners" being held captive by the correctional system. In the first chapter, the holding area for visitors awaiting access to their inmates was described in great detail. Posters describing which items were not permitted into the jail, as well as what was appropriate to wear inside the compound was described at length. The author seemed aghast that the prison system would put such restrictions on the "freedom" of the women. Having never been to a jail to visit someone--as my life and those I choose to have around me tend to not run afoul of the law--even I knew what would constitute as inappropriate wear for a jail visit. See through clothes--nada. Skirts with slits higher than two inches above the knee--nope. Tank tops. Cleavage. Short shorts. You get the drift. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why these options are inappropriate for a place holding men who haven't seen a woman in a long, long time. What I failed to understand is that why was this such a big deal to the author? In every aspect of our lives--work, church, restaurants--we are essentially told what is appropriate and not appropriate. Why should jails be any different. It's for the protection of the woman. I don't feel that it's a way to undermine the female counterpart to the inmate.
Another issue that seemed to arise was the lack of things that could be taken in to the visit the inmate. This isn't summer camp. Mom can't bake you a cake and bring it in. There is a reason someone is behind bars. The author seemed to find that many women were distraught that they couldn't bring their loved one something home baked. Again...no need for a degree to figure this one out.
The third thing that irked me were the racial undertones, as though the prison system is made up of bigoted, racists who are out to get the minorities in the country. While I agree that some of that goes on--as it does in all other aspects of life--I can't quite get myself to believe that prisons are here solely for the purpose of ridding the streets of minorities, particularly black men.
So on to the good parts: There were three groups of women used in this extensive study. The first group of women were financially self-sufficient, working primarily in white collar industries. They either had no children or adult children from a previous relationship. All of them met their spouses or fiancees after the men had been sent to jail. This was the most interesting group of women because they didn't seem to mind that their husbands were behind bars and they were on the outside. They could afford the costs of visiting. Many of them couldn't even enjoy conjugal visits because their spouses are on death row or lifers. None of these women voiced that they thought their husbands/fiancees were innocent. They seemed to accept the fact that their spouse was locked up for something horrendous they did.
The next group were also, for the most part, self-sufficient, though some were lower on the socioeconomic scale then others. The men in this group had all been in jail at least once before and these women were choosing to stand by their men. This group seemed to be the most racially charged, believing that their men were behind bars because of their skin and not necessarily anything they did. These women tended to be very political and marched for different causes relating to their cases.
The last group were the typical women I think of when I think of jailhouse women (stereotypical, I know.) The wealthiest one made 35k a year (mere pennies in California) while most were subsisting on 5-10k. Some lost their places of residences when their spouse/fiancee/boyfriend was incarcerated--and all the men were incarcerated a lot of the time--and would wait until the eventual release of the male partner and start again. There were a lot of children in this particular group. The most surprising thing I found in this group were that many had been set up with their current squeeze by somebody in the inside, or a relative of the inmate. I can only imagine my initial thought if someone said they had someone that they knew I'd love--at the State Penitentiary. A lot of the women in this particular group rely on the correctional system as a "social agency of first response". They often commented on how much better it was when their men were locked away--both emotionally, financially, and physically. There's a lot of abuse in this particular group.
Of course, there were some important issues not raised at all in the book. For instance, there is the underground sex world that we on the outside hear about. This is not mentioned at all--about the fear that your inmate would pass on something deadly contracted inside the jail during your family visits. The only mention of "jail sex" was in a footnote mentioning that homosexual acts were illegal inside the jails in California.
Like stated at the beginning, overall I found the book to be very intriguing and quite interesting. I just wish the author would've had more of an unbias view. It should be noted somewhere that the women are doing this out of "free" will. No one is forcing them to abide by these rules and live like this. They are free to choose another partner with which to procreate and love. But, they haven't. And so they must abide by the rules set aside for them and that does not make them "secondary prisoners" in my opinion.
Author: Megan Comfort
Pages: 197
The subject matter of this book was how incarceration of males reaches out and touches the females in their lives--particularly, their wives, fiancees, or girlfriends. Overall, I thought the book was intriguing and quite interesting. However, there were some huge pitfalls.
For starters, the author made the women out to be "secondary prisoners" being held captive by the correctional system. In the first chapter, the holding area for visitors awaiting access to their inmates was described in great detail. Posters describing which items were not permitted into the jail, as well as what was appropriate to wear inside the compound was described at length. The author seemed aghast that the prison system would put such restrictions on the "freedom" of the women. Having never been to a jail to visit someone--as my life and those I choose to have around me tend to not run afoul of the law--even I knew what would constitute as inappropriate wear for a jail visit. See through clothes--nada. Skirts with slits higher than two inches above the knee--nope. Tank tops. Cleavage. Short shorts. You get the drift. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why these options are inappropriate for a place holding men who haven't seen a woman in a long, long time. What I failed to understand is that why was this such a big deal to the author? In every aspect of our lives--work, church, restaurants--we are essentially told what is appropriate and not appropriate. Why should jails be any different. It's for the protection of the woman. I don't feel that it's a way to undermine the female counterpart to the inmate.
Another issue that seemed to arise was the lack of things that could be taken in to the visit the inmate. This isn't summer camp. Mom can't bake you a cake and bring it in. There is a reason someone is behind bars. The author seemed to find that many women were distraught that they couldn't bring their loved one something home baked. Again...no need for a degree to figure this one out.
The third thing that irked me were the racial undertones, as though the prison system is made up of bigoted, racists who are out to get the minorities in the country. While I agree that some of that goes on--as it does in all other aspects of life--I can't quite get myself to believe that prisons are here solely for the purpose of ridding the streets of minorities, particularly black men.
So on to the good parts: There were three groups of women used in this extensive study. The first group of women were financially self-sufficient, working primarily in white collar industries. They either had no children or adult children from a previous relationship. All of them met their spouses or fiancees after the men had been sent to jail. This was the most interesting group of women because they didn't seem to mind that their husbands were behind bars and they were on the outside. They could afford the costs of visiting. Many of them couldn't even enjoy conjugal visits because their spouses are on death row or lifers. None of these women voiced that they thought their husbands/fiancees were innocent. They seemed to accept the fact that their spouse was locked up for something horrendous they did.
The next group were also, for the most part, self-sufficient, though some were lower on the socioeconomic scale then others. The men in this group had all been in jail at least once before and these women were choosing to stand by their men. This group seemed to be the most racially charged, believing that their men were behind bars because of their skin and not necessarily anything they did. These women tended to be very political and marched for different causes relating to their cases.
The last group were the typical women I think of when I think of jailhouse women (stereotypical, I know.) The wealthiest one made 35k a year (mere pennies in California) while most were subsisting on 5-10k. Some lost their places of residences when their spouse/fiancee/boyfriend was incarcerated--and all the men were incarcerated a lot of the time--and would wait until the eventual release of the male partner and start again. There were a lot of children in this particular group. The most surprising thing I found in this group were that many had been set up with their current squeeze by somebody in the inside, or a relative of the inmate. I can only imagine my initial thought if someone said they had someone that they knew I'd love--at the State Penitentiary. A lot of the women in this particular group rely on the correctional system as a "social agency of first response". They often commented on how much better it was when their men were locked away--both emotionally, financially, and physically. There's a lot of abuse in this particular group.
Of course, there were some important issues not raised at all in the book. For instance, there is the underground sex world that we on the outside hear about. This is not mentioned at all--about the fear that your inmate would pass on something deadly contracted inside the jail during your family visits. The only mention of "jail sex" was in a footnote mentioning that homosexual acts were illegal inside the jails in California.
Like stated at the beginning, overall I found the book to be very intriguing and quite interesting. I just wish the author would've had more of an unbias view. It should be noted somewhere that the women are doing this out of "free" will. No one is forcing them to abide by these rules and live like this. They are free to choose another partner with which to procreate and love. But, they haven't. And so they must abide by the rules set aside for them and that does not make them "secondary prisoners" in my opinion.
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