Burn it down...

Nothing says Merry Christmas like a burnt carpet.

We have been so happy with our decision to buy a length of electrical cord with 10 sockets for 10 Christmas bulbs to light our Christmas village.
For years I struggled flat on my stomach to wrestle with fitting multiple cords under the tree from tiny house to tiny house.
I wanted each of my 10 houses lit up so the scene would look all cozy on the fake snow.
It was worth it to me to struggle and sweat as I snuck the cords under the big piece of sparkly white fabric, past the railroad track, up to the center of the tree stand and over to the outlet.
Over the years I had marked holes in the fabric so the houses loosely sat in places that put the houses in the "residential" district, businesses like the bakery, school and post office near the show house and the candy station on the corner so the train could easily make a stop for the tiny bears to get a treat.
Last year, we noticed a Modern Display outlet in Sandy, much closer for us than the one up on Highland Drive.
We tried to buy a length of cord to use to connect the houses on one cord.
Alas, we bought the wrong one with sockets for bigger lights than we used.
We returned this year determined to get it right, with the right lists in hand.
We were so proud or ourselves and spent only $10 dollars. All we had to do was count our bulbs and cut the right length of cord.
It's been fine.
The little village structures have cast soft lights on the snow and the villagers from under the tree and snow for weeks now.
Yesterday I decided, though, it was time to clear out Christmas.
I packed up all my little houses, including the little church, the nativity, the bridge over the fake ice pond.
That's when I noticed a melted socket and a funny brown spot on the snowy fabric.
On further inspection, I noticed two brown spots, one not as big but still odd. One light had flared. Another had gunky black stringly stuff all melted on it.
I pulled back the fabric.
Gasp! There was a much bigger, deeper, blacker hole in the carpet beneath the "snow." The light was crusted with crispy, black, burned carpet fibers.
The light was covered in a lacy, black web of burnt, crispy rug.
The cord further from the light was black and purple.
Obviously something had been too hot and too close for a dangerously long amount of time.
I'm not sure who is at fault here, probably us for putting too many lights on a cord not designed for combat duty.
I'm going to have a conversation with Modern Display.
And three things need to happen; No more using the new cord with the fried lights, put the couch over the burn hole and thank God that our house didn't burn to the ground!!!

Merry Merry

My new nativity and Marc's Christmas - just kidding, his real Christmas is the big Lego.

A very Precious Nativity

I have a growing collection of beautiful and remarkable Nativities.
I have one of snowmen, one of Charlie Brown figures, one plaster Mary, Joseph and Mary that Marc hand-carried home from Spain, one carved into a porcelain egg, two created by Jim Shore, one that's just the stable animals looking curiously at the Baby Jesus, nesting dolls, a glass set, one made of popsicle sticks, two Mexican sets and one carved into an acorn.
I love them all and enjoy unwrapping them each year and setting them up with care, remembering where I found them and what each one means.
But one stands out and not just because it was the first.
But because it was purchased over four years at a time when we had very little money for extras.
Then, Marc and I had a busy, full, house with a dozen kids headed in every direction. We had a limited income and many demands on our tiny Christmas budget.
It was rare to have a spare $10.
My husband bought the components for my Precious Moments nativity when he could save up the $50 for each year's addition in spare change.
The little set is a miniature Precious Moments Nativity with a Baby Jesus and a Mary and a Joseph and eventually, three Kings on their camels, an angel holding a star on a wall, a drummer boy, shepherds and tiny sheep. (One is a little gray one.)
It was truly a gift of love.
Marc knew I enjoyed these.
He's been dragged to more than a few Creche collections over the years.
He helps me guard my collection from little children and guide their little fingers to the more kid-friendly Nativity sets I have of plastic and fabric.
I'm thinking he's precious too.

The Round Tower

At first glance, the Round Tower in the park at Newport in Rhode Island looked like just that, a round tower of stones.
Nothing extraordinary and in fact, I wondered why the bus had stopped here in this park to let us out to look at it.
(We were just starting a tour of sites that included places where the prophet and founder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had lived and worked.)
I gazed at the structure and tried to make sense of it in my mind when a middle-aged, slightly greying man rushed up to us. He was out of breath and clearly excited.
"I'm so glad to see you all here. Let me tell you a few things about this place," he said. "I own the museum across the street and I have studied this tower for years. There's some incredible things to know about this."
He went on to point out the skylights and slit windows that allowed the sunlight and moonlight to come in at very specific angles during the equinox, the solstice and multiple astronomic times in the year.
Also known as the Touro Tower,  the Newport Stone Templar Tower and the Old Stone Mill, many considered it the remains of an old windmill at Truro Park.
It originally consisted of three stories of stone but was used as a munitions storage place during the American Revolution and lost the third story when it was blown up.
We were to hear about the archeoastronomy of the tower from our tour leader but this guy obviously knew tons more about it than our leader did.
His name is James Alan Eagan, he is curator of the museum and the author of several books about what he believes is one of America's oldest and most interesting secrets.
He showed us the patterns and the hidden secrets of the tower which he maintains is a horologium and camera obscura designed by John Dee in colonial America. (The website tells all about him and the tower: http://newporttowermuseum.com)
He explained how the whole thing was actually a standing camera and an astronomer's tool.
His museum was fascinating as well, a cubbyhole full of scientific tidbits that made us feel like we were kids in a candy store.
It's a lesson in never assuming anything is just what it appears to be.


 

This is not goodbye to Donny and Marie

I always wanted to impress my father.
But he had what I considered unrealistic expectations of me and my career.
He kept telling people I would be an award-winning journalist one day when I was just happy to be writing for a weekly at first and then a daily and a better daily.
I am a realist and while I loved writing and felt I was doing well to find good stories, meet my deadlines and handle my interviews with some grace, I knew I wasn't probably going to win a Pulitzer.
After all I had six kids to raise while I was having a career.
I taught myself to use the computer and learned several different programs along the way.
I had basically taught myself all I knew and said thank you every night in my prayers that I hadn't made any fatal errors.
I was paying the bills and enjoying the education. People talked to me and trusted my stories.
But my dad kept saying these things and I always kind of felt I wasn't living up to the hype.
So when I was doing a story on Donny and Marie and the renewal of their show in Las Vegas, I again heard the prediction from him.
Meanwhile I was working with their publicist and arranging a visit to the show.
I've interviewed each of the famous Osmonds over the years, Jay when he wrote a book, Jimmy when he produced a children's book, Merrill when he went on tour, the brothers for Christmas concerts, Donny and Marie for a number of events and gigs.
The last story involved hassling Marie to get some phone time.
I played phone tag with Donny before we connected and I had the story information.
These Osmonds are busy, busy.
(They were always very nice, very professional. Marie was actually just coming on the line when her producer tried to call her away. "I just started talking to her!" she told him and finished the interview, bless her heart.)
I did the story, attended the concert — which was a fine, polished, fun show.
I was happy.
We went twice, in fact.

And later, when my father ran into Donny at some event, Donny didn't blink when my dad said, "My daughter is Sharon Haddock. She's talked to you."
Donny said, "Oh, I know Sharon Haddock!"
I figured that was my prize.

One solution...

I was trying to tell the very young-looking pharmacist my concerns.
I had in my hand a bottle of sleep medication that was just filled but the words printed on the label were incorrect.
Instead of saying I needed to take two tablets each night for insomnia and colitis, it said take one.
No big deal really except if I only take one I wake back up in about four hours and cannot get back to sleep.
That spells problems for the next day with my colitis which is in remission. (Too much information, huh? I'm sorry but for anybody who deals with colitis it's a big deal. I've fought long and hard for my stage of remission and am very careful not to upset my body.)
I explained to the girl behind the counter that it needed to say "Take two" because in the future some pharmacist would only give me half of what was required for a month's sleep. I wanted to avoid another battle to get where I am.
She was confused and looked at the computer screen.
"Yeah, it says take two each night," she confirmed.
I checked the bottle.
"I want it to say that on the label," I said, "just in case somebody gets the idea that it's wrong and decides to change the prescription back to just one a night."
She hesitated.
Then she asked for the bottle.
I handed it over, confident that she was then going to retype the label and give me a properly worded one.
She worked behind the counter for a minute.
"Here," she beamed at me. "Will this work?"
I looked at the same bottle of pills with a slightly revised label.
In green pen, she'd written: "Take two tablets!!!"
Okay, then.
I guess we're done here.

Million Dollar Quartet impresses bigtime...

The four guys playing the parts of Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins are not the only super impressive, extraordinarily talents actors on the stage at Hale Center Theater in Orem in the Million Dollar Quartet production.
The other two guys playing bass and drums and the recording company manager and Dyanne (played by Ashley Gardner Carlson on T/Th/S) are talented as well.
The whole show is thrilling and well done.
David Paul Smith absolutely rocks as Jerry Lee Lewis from his facial expression to his piano playing to his singing and his irrepressible sense of humor.
Michael D Potter makes a fine Elvis Presley and Colin Summers adds presence and depth in his role as Carl Perkins who never quite collected his due as performer although he wrote signature songs for Elvis and other greats.
Benjamin D. Hale is a marvelous Johnny Cash, sounding just like and looking like the famous man in black while maintaining a real man kind of character.
This is a production that gets a hold of an audience and flies away.
It's musically rich.
It's clever and funny and it tells the story of these iconic characters with heart and emotion.
Hale Center is fortunate to have gathered these performers together on one stage.
There's something magic about it.
(It plays through Aug. 3rd.)