The Way I Am

If you have met me, and aren't in my family, you have probably at some point thought to yourself, "What is wrong with this girl?!"  (Or something along those lines.)  Allow me to explain.  Last month I was blessed to spend some time with family and I had an epiphany.  This is why I am the way I am. :)

Typical mathematical questions, asked by older family members to younger family members:
Q: If a chicken and a half can lay and egg and a half in a day and a half, how long does it take one chicken to lay one egg?


Q: If a cow and a calf eat a bale and a half (of hay) in a a day and a half, how many bales do you need to buy to feed them for a week?


Q: A race car driver takes part in a two mile race (twice around a one mile track.)  He goes 30mph during his first lap.  How fast will he have to go during the second lap to have an average speed of 60mph for the total race?


Q: There are 12 volumes of an encyclopedia standing in a row on a shelf.  They are all the same thickness: each cover is .25 inch wide, and the pages are 1 inch wide (making each book 1.5 inches thick).  What is the distance, in inches, from the first page of the first book to the last page of the last book.


Then there are more riddle like problems:
Q: A farmer has a herd of horses, some are black and some are white.  He realizes that the white ones weigh more than the black ones.  Why is this?  (Think about it before looking at the answer.)
A: There are more white horses than black horses.


Q: I have two coins that add up to 30 cents.  One of them is not a nickel.  What are they?
A: As I'm sure you all know, one is a quarter and the other is a nickel.

Yeah, if you were asked questions like these while growing up, you would learn to think before answering, too.

There are also some fun little games that some of the older generation will play with (on?) the younger generation. They usually begin with strict instructions to do exactly as they are told.

"Put your fingers up!" the older person will exclaim, demonstrating by putting their thumbs up.
The younger person, confused by conflicting example and directions will often also put his thumbs up.
"Put your thumbs up!" the older person will exclaim, this time proudly waving their eight fingers in the air.
The younger person, figuring he must switch also, will put his fingers in the air.
At this point the older person will point out that the eight phalanges waving about are not, in fact, his thumbs.
Feeling slightly flustered and perhaps a little embarrassed, the child will progress on to some other activity, vowing to be more careful next time.

Once said young person becomes adjusted to following directions rather than aping the elder's actions a twist will be added.

"Put your hand up!" the elder will say, suiting his actions to his words.
The child puts his hand up.
"Wave it about!" the elder says, again, waving his own.
Child again follows correctly.
"Make it into a fist!"  Again, the elder follows his own directions.
The child begins to think that there may not be a trick this time, and also forms a fist.
"Put it on your chin!" the elder says, firmly placing his own fist on his forehead.
Too late, the child will realize that the trap has just been sprung.


Another less tricky game consists of the elder pointing to some body part, say his eye, and saying, "This is my knee!"  The child has to then find his knee, point to it, and say, "This is my eye!"  Repeat with new body parts.

The game of Nim also often puts in an appearance, though usually once they've grown too old to be tricked by the previous games.  (If you want to play, a sample game is here.)

Then there are the jokes and stories.

For example, my granddad was apparently fond of coming in after a long day of work and saying,
"I'm just like a bicycle.  Two tired!"


And you thought I had bad puns. :)

Or:
It was a cold, cold night in Siberia and three men were sitting around a fire.  They were telling each other stories, and this is the story the first man told: "It was a cold, cold night in Siberia...."


(For me, sometimes this one took the form of, "Once there was a little girl who wanted her father to tell her a story.  This is the story he told: 'Once there was a little girl....'")

Or the ever-popular North Dakotan Jokes.  Like this one.
Two North Dakotans were working, digging a ditch in the hot summer sun, while the foreman sat in the shade and drank lemonade.  They began talking this situation over and found that they weren't all that happy with it.  They decided that they need to talk to the foreman about this unequal division of labor, so one of the North Dakotans went to talk to him.
"Why do we have to work in the dirt and sun while you get to sit up in the shade with cool drinks?" asked the North Dakotan.
"Well, it's just because I"m so much smarter than both of you,"  responded the foreman.
The North Dakotan was outraged.  "Smarter than us?  That's not possible.  Prove it."
"Alright," agrees the foreman.  He puts his hand in front of a fence post with several strands of barbed wire wrapped around it.  "Hit my hand," he commands.
The North Dakotan, determined to prove himself, reared back and hurtled his fist as hard as he can at the foreman's hand.  The foreman, of course, pulled his hand out of the way, leaving the North Dakotan to slam his  fist into the wire covered post.
The foreman smiled and said, "THAT is how I'm smarter."
Sore and bleeding a little, the North Dakotan went back to his friend.  "What happened?  What did he say?" the friend inquired.
"Well, it was like this," said the first North Dakotan, placing his hand in front of his face.  "Hit my hand."

Or there's the story about the rancher in eastern Montana.
The fact was, the border between North Dakota and Montana was disputed and the rancher wasn't quite sure what side of the border he was on.  Eventually, surveyors came and offered their final judgement on where the border lay.  After making their decision, the rancher is informed:  his ranch is in Montana!  On hearing that, the rancher smiled and sighed, "Well, that's a relief!  No more of those North Dakotan winters!"

So there you have it.  I taste of my 'torture' while growing up.  And if I have anything to say about it, my younger cousins will have a similar experience - after all, I need a few people in this world as strange as me. :)

Easter Thoughts

As I pondered the resurrection story this year, I was struck by the relentless pursuit of a God who refuses to give us up, to let sin win. Surely a man pursuing a woman would soon move on if she gave him as little encouragement as we give God. And yet his passionate pursuit of humanity brought him to the cross…and his ultimate victory was gained when he rose from the dead.

Others have said it better than I can, so I will partially quote a couple poems here.

Holy Sonnet #14

John Donne

Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you

As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;

That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend

Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,

Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.

Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,

But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.

Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,

But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;

Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,

Take me to you, imprison me, for I,

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. 

The Hound of Heaven (lines 1-51, 151-182)

Francis Thompson

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;

  I fled Him, down the arches of the years;

I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways

    Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears

I hid from Him, and under running laughter.     

      Up vistaed hopes I sped;

      And shot, precipitated,

Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,

  From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.

      But with unhurrying chase,       

      And unperturbèd pace,

Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,

      They beat—and a Voice beat

      More instant than the Feet—

‘All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.’   

          I pleaded, outlaw-wise,

By many a hearted casement, curtained red,

  Trellised with intertwining charities;

(For, though I knew His love Who followèd,

        Yet was I sore adread   

Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside).

But, if one little casement parted wide,

  The gust of His approach would clash it to.

  Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.

Across the margent of the world I fled,

  And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,

  Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars;

        Fretted to dulcet jars

And silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon.

I said to Dawn: Be sudden—to Eve: Be soon;      

  With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over

        From this tremendous Lover—

Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!

  I tempted all His servitors, but to find

My own betrayal in their constancy,

In faith to Him their fickleness to me,

  Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.

To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;

  Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.

      But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,     

    The long savannahs of the blue;

        Or whether, Thunder-driven,

    They clanged his chariot ’thwart a heaven,

Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o’ their feet:—

  Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.       

      Still with unhurrying chase,

      And unperturbèd pace,

    Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,

      Came on the following Feet,

      And a Voice above their beat—       

    ‘Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me.’

His name I know, and what his trumpet saith.

Whether man’s heart or life it be which yields

  Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields

  Be dunged with rotten death?

      Now of that long pursuit

    Comes on at hand the bruit;

  That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:

    ‘And is thy earth so marred,

    Shattered in shard on shard?

  Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!

  Strange, piteous, futile thing!

Wherefore should any set thee love apart?

Seeing none but I makes much of naught’ (He said),

‘And human love needs human meriting:

  How hast thou merited—

Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot?

  Alack, thou knowest not

How little worthy of any love thou art!

Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,

  Save Me, save only Me?

All which I took from thee I did but take,

  Not for thy harms,

But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.

  All which thy child’s mistake

Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:

  Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’

  Halts by me that footfall:

  Is my gloom, after all,

Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?

  ‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,

  I am He Whom thou seekest!

Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.’

A Weather Story

Today I met some friends for coffee around 3:30.  

(And yes, shockingly, I actually did drink coffee.)

It was a nice enough day - overcast, it had rained, but warm enough so one of my friends wore Capri type pants and the coffee shop propped its door open.  (Probably in the 50's, maybe low 60's, but no wind) 

I left there and went to Walmart.   When I entered Walmart around 5pm, it was still a pleasant day, though some of the clouds looked rather ominous.  I exited Walmart at 6pm, accompanied by driving sleet/hail and a cacophony of rolling thunder and flashing lightening.  (Pretty sure that's the first thunder of the year.)   

This picture doesn't do justice to the sheets of sleet you could see coming down.

At that point there was already an inch or two of white stuff covering everything and the roads were a bit treacherous.  

I thought to my self, "This can't last!  It will blow itself out soon."    

Clearly, I am not a prophet.  

The sleet didn't last, it's true, but it turned to snow.  I was running errands, so I would make a mad dash into the stores, slush soaking my pants up to my knees, white snow flakes obscuring the green of my coat.  After completing whatever purchases I had to make (rarely more than a few minutes at each stop) I would dash back out to my car where I would have to start the defroster and sweep snow off my car so I could attempt to see out the windows.  


Once I finally made it home, my car looked like this: 

 And outside the garage you could see where the wind had piled snow against the garage door.

 It even tried to block up my door.

It's now nearly 11pm and the snow storm is still going strong with several inches of snow accrued already.  

It's the traditional Easter Blizzard, just a few days early. 

This was the snow storm on Easter when I was probably about one and a half...just as evidence of how common this sort of occurrence is.  

 Bonus Picture (just because it was on the same page in the scrapbook):  I apparently really loved to sing with my dad. :)

Spring

There is something decidedly bipolar about Montana's weather, especially in the spring.  Her mood swings follow no discernible pattern. One moment the weather will be fine, smelling of spring (which is delightful when the smells of thawing manure and deer carcasses don't dominate), and the next moment the only thing visible outside my window will be swirling snowflakes.

She is like a woman, awakening after a long sleep.  She slips from between her white sheets and goes to her closet, only to find that the frothy green garb of spring has not yet been readied for her. Unwilling to wear autumn's gown, she slips back under her white covers to doze a little longer.

In Montana, the sleep of winter is indeed long, with many tantalizing false stirrings, before spring finally arrives.  Still, signs of the approaching spring continue to appear.  

One day there will be a hint of green in the fields or lawns...

Calves and lambs begin to be seen in increasing regularity.  

And the time between sun,

storm (like this one rolling in),

sun,

and being able to see the ground again (in the valley, if not quite in the mountains) 

Gets shorter with each repeated cycle.  

Yes, someday spring will arrive...though by that time, it may be autumn again.