Over to the dark side

I've always been a Republican.
My mom was a Republican and I grew up kinda thinking the Republicans were the chosen people while the Democrats listed to the dark side.
Over the years, Marc and I have had a few debates about our leanings because I didn't see any need for him to be a Democrat.
But then his dad was one and he likes to go against the tide so it fits.
However, last night we both went to the Democratic caucus.
I was not impressed with any of my party candidates and he assured me that attending a Democratic caucus could be educational and fun for me.
We drove over to the Lehi Jr. High school where it was supposed to be.
In past election years, the Democrats could sometimes meet in somebody's living room.
Yesterday it was a madhouse.
Cars were lined up both sides of every road leading to and from the school.
The line of people snaked out for blocks.
When we finally got inside it was wall-to-wall bodies.
And they ran out of ballots.
It was a crazy scene.
Somebody ran home and printed more ballots and then handed them out to everybody.
On the Republican side you had to show your ID and walk into the gymnasium to listen to speeches and think.
On the Democratic side, it was good enough to fill out your pseudo ballot and toss it into the box.
It didn't matter that you didn't know your precinct. "We'll figure it out," said the lady holding the box.
As we walked away, leaving the chaos of the Democratic gathering behind and passing the well-ordered, peaceful Republican hallways, I said to Marc, "Hey, this is just like Heaven and Hell."
He laughed.
I then realized there's a fundamental difference in personality here. Order, peace and sense of purpose go with Republican values. Disorder, disruption and obstructionist behavior goes with the Democrats.
Everything suddenly made more sense to me.
Now, seriously, I KNOW there are all kinds of people in both parties and both parties have their virtues and their flaws.
But for us as a couple it was illuminating.
And it made for an entertaining date night.

Bern Baby Bern

Of all the places I would have expected myself to be on a busy Monday afternoon...it's not at a Bernie Sanders rally.
But because I love my grandson Hayden, there I found myself, in the gymnasium at West High in center Salt Lake, on a bleacher seat among thousands of arch supporters of Sanders, most of them much younger than I and much more colorfully outfitted.
It started out that my son thought the event was to begin at 4 p.m. and asked me on my phone if we had any plans to attend. Hayden wanted to go.
Since my husband is a Democrat, my son thought he might be attending out of idle curiosity or just as an opportunity to check out the opposition and could take Hayden along.
Then the TV news announced the rally as starting at 2:30 and seats were filling up fast so I offered to take Hayden up to it since Marc had to stay at work.
(Hayden's parents have a polling and research business so there's lots of political talk at their house.)
Hayden really wanted to be a part of history.
So I hitched up the wagon and we headed out.
Getting there was no problem. Parking was a little bit of a problem. Finding a seat was no big problem. Waiting until Bernie showed was a major problem.
We were on site around 1:30 in a hot, crowded gym with 4,798 other people.
Bernie didn't come in until 10 or 15 minutes after 4 p.m.
We didn't dare leave and we didn't know how long we would have to stay.
There were numerous false starts as people made the wave with their Bernie signs and several hard-core supporters got up to speak in Bernie's absence.
It was a long time without food and water.
Finally the moment came and the elderly Bernie was in front of us in person.
He spoke eloquently of hopes and dreams and lofty aspirations.
He promised cleaner air, cleaner water, better-paying jobs, health care for everyone, improvement in immigration law, legalization of marijuana, less control by the police, a women's right to maintain control her body, free trips to space (just kidding on that one).
Hayden's eyes grew wide.
I sat down in dismay.
All of those things are great things...except for maybe the marijuana thing... but who pays for it all and how?
I couldn't help but shake my head.
I went to this rally with my eyes wide open but I was still surprised.
How can I support somebody with no sense of reality?
Does anyone seriously believe all of this can be achieved without pain and loss for somebody?
I came away not feeling the Bern.

Dream time

Yanni soaking up the love in San Jose

Over the years, I've reviewed Yanni's shows, book and concerts several times. His music speaks to me and apparently to people all over the world as his music continues to sell at record levels and his concerts all over the world sell out.
I've talked with the sexy music man on the phone more than once.
I own every album and a couple of DVDs of his monumental shows.
He's, in my opinion, a musical genius who gives and demands excellence.
Not only does he create stunning music but he's a gracious showman, willing to share the stage and the spotlight with other musicians who excel on the keyboard, the violin, the trumpet, the harp, vocals and the drums.
To be at a Yanni concert is to be transported to another world.
This one in San Jose at the City National Civic Center started about 7:45 and didn't finish until 10:20. (It would probably still be going on if the crowd had had its way.) Yanni and his entourage didn't let up the entire night.
Yanni and the 15-piece orchestra presented old favorites jazzed up for the night, new songs that will add to the array and thoroughly delighted the audience filled with fans of all ages and descriptions.
Lauren Jelencovic singing "Nightingale" was unbelievable as she not only hit all the impossibly high notes but played with them just like the bird does.
Charlie Adams on the drums proved he can handle the drumsticks masterfully and drink from his coffee cup at the same time!

Nowhere better to be

Yanni said he's been doing concerts now for 40 years and intends to return not only to San Jose but to Reno and New York, the only two places where he had concerts scheduled but had to cancel due to bad weather.
But it felt almost like a farewell concert maybe because I'm going to be 29 again this year for the third time.
It was lush and passionately played.
The lights added another layer of dimension and color.
The carry-you-away melodies from past concerts and albums were soothing, inspiring and gorgeous.
It was, in my opinion as an unbiased fan, absolutely lovely.
(If you want to catch one of the shows in this North American Tour, there's still time: see http://www.yanni.com/)
He also has new music out (Sensuous Chill), a new PBS special filmed in Egypt and more magic to come, I hope!

Posting pops

A fool's gold

It doesn't seem like a daunting task.
The grandson in England wants some more Tootsie Roll Pops.
He's eaten and enjoyed the ones I sent a short time ago.
And Easter is coming so it's kind of a no-brainer.
I figured I could find some on Amazon.uk.com and I'd be a hero grandma.
The problem is they only make these lollipops in the United States and it costs a ton in shipping to get them to Jack. I hadn't noticed when I packed in a few with his Christmas presents.
(I'm kind of a cheapskate when it comes to paying shipping.)
I thought I could do better, better than paying $40 for 100 pops.
I took my granddaughter with me to the store and we bought 25 pops and a mailing bubble envelope.
We journeyed to the post office where we tried to self-mail the loot.
The machine told us we had to go to the front counter.
We had time so we stood in line a bit and asked the lady to weigh it for us.
"$22.50," she announced.
I gulped. That much for $5 worth of suckers?
I hesitated and she added, "And you need a customs form filled out."
I said I didn't have one yet. I just wanted to know how much shipping it would cost.
She pushed the envelope back at me.
"She doesn't have a customs form so we can't help her," she told the girl standing beside her, a postal worker in training, apparently.
We left the post office.
I was thinking hard.
Meanwhile, my granddaughter and I both really wanted a Tootsie Roll Pop.
"Let's have one while I decide what to do," I said.
Adell started trying to get the package open again. It had self-sealed really, really well.
She pulled on it and gnawed on it and finally made a small hole. Then she reached in and grabbed hold of a sucker.
"Ah ha!" She got another one and one for each of her siblings.
I went back online later on and found the $40 package. Amazon wanted another $28 to ship it. The $40 was only for the candy.
That came to $67.
Are you kidding me?
I decided it was a bargain to mail it for $26.
So today I rewrapped the suckers, resealed the package and filled out a customs form. I paid the postal service their $26 and the candy is on its way.
There are still 20 suckers so $4 plus $26 is only $30, right? $1.50 a pop?
Oh, and there's me, the biggest sucker of all...
A grandchild's happiness is worth the price, don't you think?

A magical ski adventure

A mighty threesome, Ally, Ellie and Adell

It was one of those magical days when everything just seems to come together.
Marc had been wishing he could get out skiing one more time before spring (it seems to come in late February these years).
He wanted to see the twin grandsons ski. (Their parents take the family skiing every weekend for survival purposes.)
We both wanted to get a couple of granddaughters together, friends who live 100 miles apart.
We wanted to give one a chance to learn to ski at the same time.
And I wanted to see the baby.
So we launched into a plan to get to Beaver Mountain this past weekend. We packed a lunch. We surveyed the territory. (I wasn't going to ski on my newly repaired knee. I was going to watch and tend and enjoy.)
We made arrangements with the various mothers and a reservation for a Learn2Turn lesson.
We left at 6 a.m. and drove to Logan and on to the resort which is about 2 and 1/2 hours from our home.

Paige on skis for her first time

We arrived to find it sunny and warm. The snow was beautiful. The sky was blue.
We got Adell her skis and boots and found out where to go to wait for her teacher.
We met up with Brian the dad and his crazy boys — boys who can ski like they were born on the mountain.
Marc took off for a couple of death-defying runs.
I read a book for work until the baby showed up with his mom.
At lunch we shared sandwiches, chips and cookies. We checked on the new skier who was pretty proud of herself. She was loving it!
By the end of the afternoon, she was skiing like a pro and keeping up with her new friends who had been skiing for years.
The baby and I hung out. The mother of the baby and the twins got in a couple of unencumbered runs. Rare.
The two-year-old got on skis.
All in all, it was a marvelous day.
Everybody was fine. It only snowed toward the end. It was powdery, fine and nobody got hurt.

Hey, grandpa, can I ride up with you? (Brock)

It was one of those days you almost don't believe and you're not sure you'd expect to ever happen again.
We're still surprised at how well it went.
Who's going with us next time?

An expensive passport

You can't even see it, right?

I knew going in that it would be expensive to renew our well-worn passports.
The price has gone up $20 on each since we got them almost 10 years ago.
I also knew it might be a lengthy process so we started early. We read all about it.
I was even prepared to wait in line though the crowd of people standing hopelessly in the Lehi Post Office lobby still dismayed me.
I gamely took up a position and tried to ignore the signs that said "You must have an appointment to obtain a passport." I settled in because I had the time. I was mentally ready for this exercise.
We filled out our applications online. We had our proper pictures from Costco.
I had called ahead and talked to an employee who said — once he understood we were renewing and not applying for the first time — that we could pop by anytime, no problem.
However, popping by didn't factor in the people ahead of me in the line and their protracted needs.
The lady at the passport line had two children with her and a very slow postal worker who was carefully walking her through the process. (Anybody seen the movie trailer with the sloth working the counter?)
At the other window, there was a guy waiting for an employee to come back from somewhere, who knew where.
Neither line was moving at all. Time ticked by.
I sighed.
The elderly gentleman in front of me suggested I plan on this taking a while.

Ahh, but there it still is....

He was friendly, chatty and gave me some tips. He looked at the credit card in my hand and said, "Oh, dear, you're going to need a money order!"
I didn't believe him. This is America, land of the credit card, right?
I stood my ground and waited. When I eventually got to the counter, the worker was still slow but, yes, she told me I needed a personal check with each application or a money order.
I took the envelope, the address label, my passports, my pictures and headed for my car, determined to finish this task today.
The old guy I'd made friends with was right behind me, walking between the cars so I waited to back up. I didn't want to run him over.
I was watching him in the little rear-view camera and backing out when I heard a grinding sound. I stopped and put the car in drive and tried to move forward. More grinding.
Bad news.
I had turned into the car parked alongside mine. My pretty little Leaf is now scraped and dented. There was sky blue paint on the other car's white side panel and wheel well.
I knew it wasn't good.
The cost of our new passports just went up hundreds of dollars.
The only comforting news is that the insurance adjuster I saw had just backed into his son's car in the driveway.
Somehow that helps.

Cutting off your face...

Sometimes my husband listens to me and takes my advice.
I've been worried about an odd bump on his cheek that seemed to me to be changing color and size.
Since I look at the side of his face a lot, I think I can more easily judge if something is different than he can.
So after a few weeks of what I call loving observation and comments (and he calls nagging), he decided to see the doctor.
He went in one afternoon after work and came home with a innocuous spot bandage on his cheek.
He said the doctor didn't seem very worried about it but injected a local anesthetic into the site, produced a sharp scalpel and sliced the bump off. Then he cauterized the edges of the wound, dropped the bump in a bag and asked the nurse to send it off to a lab.
Marc said it was fairly simple and he should have results in a week.
The problem is: he's having a fair amount of swelling and pain just below and beyond the bump site.
It hurts him to chew and to swallow and to hear.
I'm somewhat concerned because it doesn't seem quite right to me.
I have been bugging him about it which annoys him because that's why he went in — because I was bugging him.
I stepped in for a hug the other day and inspected his face.
Wait...something was off.
I looked to the left side and then back to the right.
Hmmm.
I'm pretty sure the site of my original concern was on the right side of his face.
The left side is sporting the bandage.
"Marc," I said, "That's not the one I was worried about. The one I was talking about is still here."
"What?" he exclaimed. "I had him cut off the wrong thing?"
Oops.