The kind of movie for me

After watching a bunch of esoteric short films at the LDS Film Festival with high-minded messages and some with really deep and confusing messages, I was so happy to see this simple, sweet, little movie about Clara.
Clara is a beautiful little girl with a problem, sort of a Cinderella girl in that she sweeps and wears tattered clothing.
Clara wants her stepmother to like her but she doesn't know how to make that happen.
She asks the magic owl on the roof to help, a magic owl who is a simply adorable baby.
The magic owl on the roof comes through for her as does the kindly doctor and all ends well.
A charming tale shot entirely with children, it's cute and unique.
Whereas sometimes parents or grandparents overestimate the cuteness factor of their own offspring, these kids are really very watchable.
The energy put into the sweeping is appealing.
The baby on the roof has a smile that's both goofy and great.
Apparently this is the first of what mom Eliza and dad Jan Dawson hope will turn into a web series of fairytale stories.
I'm on board.
See the film at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAqZI7NUQjk&feature=youtu.be
How about you?

Sew nice

Steven's invention

It was a dilemma.
I wanted a new sewing machine that hummed along, one that didn't fight me on every stitch.

The yawning hole

But I also wanted to hang onto the gift my mother gave me years ago.
I knew then and understand better now that she had very little money to spend on a graduation gift for me.
The sewing machine was a beautiful piece of furniture as well as a nice machine.
It came with all kinds of cams that made it possible to make buttonholes and fancy stitches.
I loved it and over the years I've sewn everything from baby bibs to clown outfits.
I made Halloween costumes for my children that my grandkids play in today.
I made bedspreads and lawn quilts.
I made bags and covers and Barbie nightgowns.
A lot of fabric and thread has passed through the feed dogs.
But as the years went by, the machine became problematical. It would buck and stall.
Even after I took it to the local sewing machine guy, it refused to give me an even stitch.
I had to sew very carefully and live with some odd-looking seams.
It was so frustrating that I told Marc that this year I was ready for a new machine for Christmas.
We went and lookcd.
We found a number of good options.

The board in place

But every one I liked had the same problem. It wouldn't come in the old cabinet.
I would have to give it up or give it away.
I tried to find a machine I could put in the old case but it seems the modern machines don't do well hanging upside down.
Machines that come in cases are way more expensive than I was planning on.
My son solved my dilemma.

Ready to sew

He made this little wooden panel that rests across the opening where the old machine rests.
It's light. It doesn't slide away. It supports the new machine and it looks good.
I told him he should make them to sell.
My research tells me there are more ladies out there looking for this kind of solution than me.

The new Girl Scout salesman

The little Girl Scout standing on my step has been taught well.
She got right to it after I answered the door.
"Do you want any cookies?" she asked rather drearily.
It was freezing outside so I invited her in.
She shook her small blond head.

"We aren't allowed inside people's homes," she recited, looking at me like I was dangerous.
"Oh, well, then. I better decide fast so you don't get too cold," I said cheerily.
She didn't smile at my remark.
I took the order form and started looking for Samoas.
"I used to sell Girl Scout cookies," I told her as I balanced the form on my hand.
She didn't say anything.
"Do I give you the money today?" I asked, marking the box that said I wanted three boxes of the yummy things. I noticed she'd already sold boxes to most of my neighbors. She was actually making quite the haul despite her tactiturn approach.
"We aren't allowed to take any money today," she said. Again the attitude that I was offering something illegal or wrong.
"Oh, then. I'll wait," I said, handing back her pen and paper.
"We bring you your order and you pay us then," she said. She didn't say when that might be.
"OK. That'll be great!" I said heartily. I personally think getting the money upfront beats having to come around to collect but I didn't want to push dollars on her.
She didn't smile but instead stepped back a bit and I swear she saluted.
"Goodbye," she said.
See ya.

Handy puppets

I'm making it my mission to attend all of the SCERA's puppet shows as they introduce a half-dozen local veteran puppeteers to Utah Valley.
The second in the series was the introduction of Coralie Leue on Saturday.
So far, this puppeteer is my favorite.
It's more engaging for children, especially the very young ones.
Leau has her own funny voices and appealing puppets from a sea serpent to a pirate to a beautiful, pink-haired mermaid.
And she adds a number of interactive bits that bring children on stage to work the little bird puppets, stomp and dance for the puppets with hands for hands and hands for feet, and get swallowed up by the giant snake puppets.
"What's a snake's favorite food? Kids."
This added to the emcee Marvin the monster puppet and his friendly pet "Stinky-Poo" make for an entertaining 45-minute show.
Coming up next are the "Amazing Animal Adventures" put on by Steven and Teresa Gashler and their puppet animal friends Feb. 11. The shows are cheap and make for a simple Saturday morning break.

My dad's state of mind

It's been confirmed.
I'm not looney. My dad is.
I was beginning to think I was just losing it because I tell him things that he denies having been told. I make plans based on plans that he says I never made.
He tells me things I've heard umpteen times before.
He's rewriting history AND he's pretty sure he's been much more present in my life than he has been.
So when the letter came to tell him his Aid and Attendance Pension had finally come through, I wasn't really as much surprised as grateful to the U.S. Government for recognizing what I suspected.
Basically the VA officials are saying if my dad is not capable of taking care of his basic needs himself then he isn't capable of taking care of the thousands of reimbursement dollars they plan to send him.
He's either competent or not and they're saying not.
That means my brothers and I will now have to take formal charge of this money (and the rest of it if we can convince him) so he doesn't fritter away his reimbursement.
(I think the Veterans Administration has learned just who and what they're dealing with. They're not about to hand over our tax dollars to aged veterans who are living in a fantasy world.)
It will be our job to see that his bills get paid and his money goes toward a good cause like staying safely off the street — quite literally.
I suspected he was making big plans for the money he expected. He kept pointing out the ragtop convertible Cadillac in the parking lot that somebody in the retirement home owns and keeps there under a tarp. He's made it clear that he's envious.
Plus, if I had any lingering doubts, they were vanquished when he looked my brother and I in the eye and said, "I know I have to get my affairs in order. I have to fix my credit rating if I want to buy another car."
This from a man who failed his driving test miserably just months ago. But then, according to him, the guy conducting the test had it in for him.

Sew straight

When I heard Santa was bringing my 8-year-old granddaughter Alyson a sewing machine, I offered to teach her some basic sewing skills.
I grew up teaching myself and it was sometimes painful.
I once put together a dress without a zipper that was really hard to wriggle into and even harder to get out of.
I would make mistakes and try to talk myself out of them. (It doesn't look that bad. No one will notice the plaid is running the wrong direction. It'll be fine wrong side out.)
My mother gave me a Kenmore sewing machine for high school graduation that I've now had for 40 years and over the years, I've sewn Halloween costumes, bedcovers, Barbie clothes and the occasional outfit.
I really have enjoyed it despite lots of picking out and redos. (I've sometimes told my son his work in construction is much like my sewing, the art is in disguising the mistakes to look like they weren't mistakes at all!)
I thought Alyson could benefit from my years of experience and I love her and want her to succeed.
I worked out a little plan in my head. I would start by teaching her sewing terms like seam allowance and tension. We would buy scissors and pins and a seam ripper.
We would work up to cutting out pattern pieces and notching.
I made a plan to come to her house about once a week and work with her.
So far, it's been interesting. She's young but enthusiastic. She wants to make stuff with her new toy.
We threaded the needle. We wound a bobbin. We put a couple of pieces of fabric together and made a sewing machine cover.
It was going fine until last week when the machine started doing loop-de-loops and tangling every couple of inches, breaking the thread and bunching the material. It seemed to me the machine was suddenly a demon device, bent on destruction.
Alyson got a lot of practice rethreading her needle while I tried to assess the problem, wondering what we were suddenly doing wrong.
It wasn't until I was on my way home that it hit me. When I arrived that day she showed me the knot of dark blue thread made when her friend had played with her machine, a knot I cut off and discarded.
That's when it became clear in my mind.
"When my friend played with my machine" is a definite clue.

Trickster Scrabble

Marc and I have a new game to play and it's a problem.
My son and his wife sent it to us for Christmas and so far, we've played it twice and we've had a friendly marital spat twice.

It's called Scrabble Trickster, the UK version.
Every other little square is a Trick square which means you get these little cards that allow you to do funny things like spell a word backwards, put it anywhere on the board or turn any letter over to become a blank.
Otherwise it's generally your run-of-the-mill Scrabble game, something we love to play.
I have it on my phone as a game to play when I'm standing in a long line or waiting to pick up a grandchild, etc.
We have a well-worn Scrabble travel game we play in the airport and on the airplane when we travel.
We have a Scrabble game on a lazy Susan kind of board that we play with my dad.
We're fairly serious about our games. We've both memorized the 2-letter words that get you out of a bind with "u"s and multiple "i"s.
We know words spelled with "Q" that don't require a "u."
We periodically scan the dictionary for new "Z" and "X" words. It's not unusual to score into the 300s.
And we both get kinda ticked when the other one takes advantage of a triple word opening. We tend to get majorly depressed facing a whole row of no vowels or 1-point letters.
So with this new game we have new reasons to get mad.
Especially with the card that lets you steal your opponent's last score.
I've used it on Marc twice now and it really makes him angry.
It's a triple whammy. It takes the bloom off the rose for coming up with an impressive word and score and it not only takes away but it gives to the other person. So it becomes like a 50 or 60-point turnaround.
It's a lethal blow, one I liked and he — not so much. After the last game where I had 400 points to his 165, he didn't speak for quite a while. When he did, he told me I would leave him if he ever played that card on me.
We've almost decided that one card may have to get tossed.