Odd, Old Home

I've been playing around with Google Maps recently. To be more specific, I've been typing in addresses and looking at the pictures of houses from my memories--my in-laws' house, my parents' new house, apartments I've rented. The Google Maps pictures always show the front of the house. I searched for the house I grew up in; the small split-entry with a large backyard.  When the picture appeared on my screen, it was a shot of the side of my house and my backyard rather than the front of the house. "Strange," I thought, but then remembered there was an explanation: My house was built facing the wrong direction.  The front of the house should have been facing south, but instead was built facing east.  It never really bothered me when I was a kid; I didn't know any better. But looking back, I realize that it's kind of funny.  Who builds a house facing a direction different than the other houses on the street?

 



 

So yes, my childhood home was strange, and, quite possibly, the family who lived there was also odd.  But there was a lot of memories and love in that small house.

UPDATE: This story of my strange, wrongly-built house continues.  During the summer of 2021, I was serving on jury duty in downtown Salt Lake City.  My dad sent me a text message with multiple pictures of a house firs.  Turns out, it was this house that I used to live in.  I've heard just parts of the story of the house fire, but here is what happened:  one of the current residents (or someone he knew) was smoking on the back deck.  The deck built by my father.  When the smoker discarded the cigarette, it was evidently not fully extinguished.  This caused the deck and then the house, and then the carport and the garage to catch fire and burn nearly to the ground.  The house was a complete loss and the puppies from the puppy mill that was stored at the house nearly lost all of their lives, too.  My neighbor's house nearly burnt to the ground.  It sustained some damage and had to be repaired.  

I think the person impacted the most by this fire (with the exception of the current owners) was my father.  I remember my father spending hours of his free time working on our house.  I mentioned before that he built the deck on the back of the house, but I didn't mention that he also build the garage with his hands.  It wasn't the biggest or the nicest house, but it was well-kept, at least when we lived there.  

UPDATE Part II: The old, bunt house was torn down and a new house was built.  The new house was also build facing east, not south like the other houses in the neighborhood.

Things I Don't Miss

Before I became a mom for the first time 6 months ago, I thought I would miss activities and things that I used to enjoy because my time would be spent taking care of a baby.  I realized today that I don't really miss much.  Here are a few of the things I don't miss:

• Watching a movie on the couch...I would much rather be entertained by my son.  He's better than any flick!
• Taking long, hot showers.  I'll admit I did miss this one at first, but now I am perfectly happy with a quick shower. I'd rather sing a song to him than sing to nobody in the shower.
• Relaxing time at work.  Before the baby, I would spend portions of my work day just hanging out and relaxing.  I can't do that anymore.  I have to use every minute of the workday so I can get home to see my son. And that doesn't bother me one bit.
• Being pregnant. I loved being pregnant--feeling the little baby moving inside of me. But watching little baby moving outside of me is far more rewarding.



 

I am a Public Library Devotee

I took a respite from life to the public library today.  I’m lucky enough to live a few blocks away from what I consider to be my brick sanctuary.  When I need to clear my head or find inner peace, I go to the library. 

I suppose I love the library so much because as long as authors are writing and publishing books, humanity is thriving. I am assured, peering at the shelves of published material, that democracy is alive and well.  Of course our society has its problems—social inequality, disease, war, poverty, and the failing alternator in my husband’s 2007 Ford Focus; however, as long as text exists, is created, and is accessible, life is good!  Freedom is alive and well! 

Today when I walked through the automatic doors and security monitors at the entrance of the library   (evidently, people steal material that you can check out for free), I noticed two pre-teenaged boys parking their BMX bikes and entering the library.

 I thought, “Wow.  Those are impressive young boys.  They are on summer break and are going to expand their learning by reading.”  I felt like all was right with the youth of America.

I slipped the lame fantasy novel that I attempted  and failed to read into the return slot and then picked up my book I had placed on hold, Twenty Five Books that Shaped America  by Thomas C. Foster(I am considering this book my summer professional development  because I did not sign up for any classes).                      

                                                                                   

Then, I followed my regular route through the library: a quick stop at the “Readers’ Choice” display to see if anything looked interesting.  No luck--only some trashy romance novels.  Then, a careful glance at the young adult section. I was searching for a copy of Ally Condie’s novel Matched.

 There were plenty of copies of the sequel  titled Crossed, but no Matched. So, I moved to the adult fiction section.  I didn’t have a specific book I was looking for, but I always seem to find a book to read when I wander up and down the aisles.  My strategy is to look for books with multiple copies lying on the shelves.  When the library has multiple copies of a book, I assume it must be a good read (I have found this is not always true, especially when the novel is a cheesy romance with a religious theme.  I won’t name any authors, but you know who they are).

This time the novel How Green Was My Valley caught my eye.  Not only were there multiple copies, but I’ve heard of this novel.  I thought I would give it a try.

I moved towards the self-check-out and noticed that the two boys I had been impressed with were also checking out their selections.  As I strolled past them to the exit, I glanced to see what books they had chosen to read.  They both had a stack, at least 7 or 8 copies, of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Graphic Novel.”  I guess if a drawing or two of Sarah Michelle Gellar can get kids reading, who am I to judge?

Baby Story

Every time a baby is born, there is a story worth telling.  Here is my son's story:

I was 40 weeks and 1 day pregnant one Saturday morning.  My husband and I were awake early in the morning, so we decided to take the dog for a walk. Our dog is not leash trained and I was hoping the erratic pulling would start my labor.  We trekked rapidly around the park and returned home for a low-key Saturday. 

My self-induced labor idea was effective because my water broke 1/2 hour after we returned home. 

My husband and I made our way to the hospital, stopping once for gas.  The hospital receptionist admitted me for a "labor check."  When the nurse examined me, she said, "Yep, it's pretty obvious that your water broke."  She even said I was already having contractions, although I could not tell.

The nurse administered pitocin and my contractions suddenly became real. There was no doubt I was in labor!

Approximately 10 hours later, I was pushing my 7 pound 1 ounce baby boy into the world. He was, and still is, the cutest thing I have ever seen.  I am so happy that my pregnancy, labor, and delivery were complication-free.  My husband and I love our little boy so much and we adore every little move, squeak, and wriggle he makes!



Belly Whack-a-Mole

Remember that carnival whack-a-mole game? The little plastic moles randomly pop up through holes and your job is to whack them with a padded paddle. Well, I've been playing a modified version of that game with my belly. Baby boy keeps popping his feet up in random spots of my belly. My job is to gently touch his foot with my hand before his foot retreats. Who says pregnancy isn't entertaining?