Question: What personality trait do you admire most and why?
I would have to say I put a lot of credence in honesty. I can handle most anything other than people not telling the truth. If someone lies to you once, then it is hard to believe anything they tell you after that and anything they told you before comes into question. Everyone embellishes stories, which I can overlook. But to out and out lie is hard to ignore.
I do love someone that is open, someone that doesn't seem to take time to phrase their sentences right. Maybe because I am like that. I am an open book. I don't usually hedge around things, unless I feel saying it outright will do damage is someway. I always try to tell it as it is. Sometimes I come off rude and abusive, I suppose. But I do like people that you know where you stand with them.
I also love someone who is funny. I love to laugh. If someone can tell a great story, I love being around them. I guess that is why all my family members are big jokers. They know they can get around Mom by just being funny or telling a silly joke. It usually works, too. That is not a bad thing, because it can really lighten the load when things get tense.
Showing posts with label Journal Entries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Journal Entries. Show all posts
Friday, October 19, 2012
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
What was your first allowance?
Since I am taking at random slips of paper from a "journaling jar" that my mother made for me years ago, I do not know what is coming up next. This particular slip is interesting.
I honestly do not remember ever getting an allowance. Sorry, Mom, if you remember differently.
I do remember starting fairly young going out and earning money doing anything I could do. I would help moms around our little community with whatever they needed done and I was capable doing. I never asked for money, but they would usually give me a nickle or sometimes even a dime. That does not seem much now, but in the 1950s that was a treasure for someone under 10.
Five cents would buy two candy bars. I must admit we were not allowed to have candy much then, plus I was not hooked on chocolate as much as now. I did love soda, especially Nehi Grape or Orange sodas. Yummy. Our local market had one of those coolers that you put in your money and then slide the soda off a runner over to where it would come out the cooler. They looked like chest freezers of today, only they were just refrigerators that held sodas. I must admit that I loved going and getting one of those.
I was lucky to live in a small community that had no rules for kids. We could get on our bikes and ride almost anywhere and have a great time. We only had to be home in time for dinner. The market, which was just a tiny little country store, was about 2 miles from my house. So by the time I did the work, got paid, rode my bike to the store, sat and drank the bottle of soda, played on the "monkey bars" at school across the street, and rode back home, no calories were gained. I was always skinny back then.
Since I often watched the neighbors' kids while the moms did their work, the moms became very sure I knew what I was doing and could be trusted to baby sit. This is where I really earned my money. During the summer and on weekends, I would babysit for anyone who called me. I got called often. I started doing this the year I turned 11 or 12. Wow! I was so grown up.
Now remember late 1950s early 1960s this took place. I never stated how much I would work for. Most people were more than generous. I did have one family pay only a penny a hour, which I felt I worked way harder than that. I always had to play with the kids outside, bring them in, bathe them and put them to bed. Then do the dinner dishes and fold the laundry. The rest of the evening was mine to read or watch TV. I guess they felt that was enough or they were too poor to pay more. I accepted it, but I also would wish they would not call on me.
Most others would pay me either 5 cents or 10 cents an hour. One family actually paid 25 cents an hour. That was great because if I worked for 4 hours, I would earn a whole dollar! If we paid a teen or even a pre-teen that amount for four hours work, we would never get them to do anything or get accused of child abuse.
Now let's put into perspective what a dollar would buy then. I started sewing when I was very young and when I was 11 I started sewing my own clothes. Simple blouses and skirts and short pants, but it gave me a bigger wardrobe than I was used to. So patterns cost 10 cents each. Once I bought a pattern, I could make a whole bunch of clothes off the same pattern. Technically that made it a one time purchase for that style. Often I could borrow patterns from neighbors, which dropped my costs down considerably. Fabric, cotton fabric that today costs over $10 a yard, you could buy three yards for a $1, making it 33 cents per yard. Three yards for a small girl was enough to make more than one item.
So I did not get an allowance? So what? I learned how to sell myself as a moms helper. I learned how to babysit. I learned how to work in a kitchen as an assistant. I learned to have a great work ethic, though most of that learning came from my mom and dad.
I am thankful for the training and the freedom I had as I grew up. I am thankful for all those other moms that looked out for me while my mom worked full time. I am thankful for the blessed childhood I had. I wish all kids everywhere could have such a carefree time in their lives.
I honestly do not remember ever getting an allowance. Sorry, Mom, if you remember differently.
I do remember starting fairly young going out and earning money doing anything I could do. I would help moms around our little community with whatever they needed done and I was capable doing. I never asked for money, but they would usually give me a nickle or sometimes even a dime. That does not seem much now, but in the 1950s that was a treasure for someone under 10.
Five cents would buy two candy bars. I must admit we were not allowed to have candy much then, plus I was not hooked on chocolate as much as now. I did love soda, especially Nehi Grape or Orange sodas. Yummy. Our local market had one of those coolers that you put in your money and then slide the soda off a runner over to where it would come out the cooler. They looked like chest freezers of today, only they were just refrigerators that held sodas. I must admit that I loved going and getting one of those.
I was lucky to live in a small community that had no rules for kids. We could get on our bikes and ride almost anywhere and have a great time. We only had to be home in time for dinner. The market, which was just a tiny little country store, was about 2 miles from my house. So by the time I did the work, got paid, rode my bike to the store, sat and drank the bottle of soda, played on the "monkey bars" at school across the street, and rode back home, no calories were gained. I was always skinny back then.
Since I often watched the neighbors' kids while the moms did their work, the moms became very sure I knew what I was doing and could be trusted to baby sit. This is where I really earned my money. During the summer and on weekends, I would babysit for anyone who called me. I got called often. I started doing this the year I turned 11 or 12. Wow! I was so grown up.
Now remember late 1950s early 1960s this took place. I never stated how much I would work for. Most people were more than generous. I did have one family pay only a penny a hour, which I felt I worked way harder than that. I always had to play with the kids outside, bring them in, bathe them and put them to bed. Then do the dinner dishes and fold the laundry. The rest of the evening was mine to read or watch TV. I guess they felt that was enough or they were too poor to pay more. I accepted it, but I also would wish they would not call on me.
Most others would pay me either 5 cents or 10 cents an hour. One family actually paid 25 cents an hour. That was great because if I worked for 4 hours, I would earn a whole dollar! If we paid a teen or even a pre-teen that amount for four hours work, we would never get them to do anything or get accused of child abuse.
Now let's put into perspective what a dollar would buy then. I started sewing when I was very young and when I was 11 I started sewing my own clothes. Simple blouses and skirts and short pants, but it gave me a bigger wardrobe than I was used to. So patterns cost 10 cents each. Once I bought a pattern, I could make a whole bunch of clothes off the same pattern. Technically that made it a one time purchase for that style. Often I could borrow patterns from neighbors, which dropped my costs down considerably. Fabric, cotton fabric that today costs over $10 a yard, you could buy three yards for a $1, making it 33 cents per yard. Three yards for a small girl was enough to make more than one item.
So I did not get an allowance? So what? I learned how to sell myself as a moms helper. I learned how to babysit. I learned how to work in a kitchen as an assistant. I learned to have a great work ethic, though most of that learning came from my mom and dad.
I am thankful for the training and the freedom I had as I grew up. I am thankful for all those other moms that looked out for me while my mom worked full time. I am thankful for the blessed childhood I had. I wish all kids everywhere could have such a carefree time in their lives.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Tell About the Birth of Your First Child.
My first child was a boy, though the doctor swore up and down before he was born that it would be a girl. He, in fact, wrote GIRL across my belly in magic marker before I ever went in for delivery. The nurse later told me he was unhappy because he had never been wrong before. Oh well.
Two weeks after my due date, I decided I better catch up on my laundry, since I did not know when that child would ever come. On a Monday I washed everything that was dirty. Since I did not have a washer or a dryer, I toted all the laundry to the Laundromat and washed it all. I then took it all back home and hung it out on the line outside to dry. Gil was working, so I did this alone. Later that day, I brought it all back in and folded and put it all away. That night Gil and I went to our friends’, Maryann and Alex Johansen, to have dinner. Afterwards we started playing a board game. I was tired and my back hurt but was having fun, so I did not say anything about going home. Alex finally turned to me and told me I was in labor. I told him no I had just done a lot of carrying heavy things and was just sore. He said he had been watching me wiggle in my seat since dinner and that I was down to 10 minutes apart from each wiggle. They had a baby about three months before, so he knew what he was talking about. I sure did not know what to expect, so I took his word for it. Gil and I headed home.
We had to travel past our hospital on the way home. Gil asked if I wanted to stop and be checked out. I still did not believe I was in labor, so I said no. When we got home, we both went to bed and I slept soundly until around 7 a.m. At that time I work up with a sharp pain. A few minutes later, I had another one. Okay. This might be it. Well I had a weekly checkup appointment at 9 a.m., so I waited and went to see there first. By then the pains were very regular and getting more painful. My appointment was at Kaiser Clinic in Santa Clara, which was right next door to the hospital. After getting into the exam room at the doctor’s office, the nurse asked how I was doing. I told her about my contractions. She went to get the doctor. He told her to send me immediately to the hospital and he would check in with me in a little bit there.
I had not brought anything, as I still did not believe it was my time—even though I was two weeks past my expected delivery date. I wanted to go home first, but Gil stated he would go and get my things if really was the time. So to the hospital we walked.
It took a little while to get checked in and settled. Finally a nurse came in and checked to see what was going on. Sure enough I was in labor and had started dilating. She said I was not too far along yet, but they would keep me since we lived quite a ways from the hospital.
So they prepped me for delivery. I was pretty nervous and asked if I could delay this, so I would have time to get emotionally ready for it. I was told that was what the previous nine months were for.
Not too long after being admitted, I heard a woman screaming and crying. The nurse taking care of me came in. I asked if something was wrong out there. She said no, that a woman was just being a baby about it all. Then I was REALLY scared. My eyes started to tear up. The nurse said do not worry. It is not that bad. She is just taking it to extremes. At that point I turned to Gil and told him to make sure if I started to scream like that to cover my mouth with something.
The day was long. Remember I was at the doctor’s office at 9 a.m. I did not go into hard labor until late afternoon. See I could have gone home and psyched myself up for what was coming. Since I did not bring my bag, I had nothing to keep myself busy. Gil went into the waiting room and brought in a couple of magazines. One of them was a Sports Illustrated. There was an article about Roy Campaneras and an injury he received while batting. After reading that article, Gil and I had a long conversation about baseball. We were great baseball fans.
Finally things started happening, which I do not remember too much about. Around 6:30 p.m. on July 1st 1970, our Jason was born. When we first met him, Gil and I decided he was not really a Jason. All evening we discussed what we would name, as Jason was the only name we even considered. The next morning we decided it would be Donald. We have always been thankful we did not name him Jason, as that was the most favored name for that year and several years to come.
He was beautiful. In fact I had nurses come in to my room to meet me, as they had seen him and thought he was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. We thought so, too. I will write more later about Don and the joy he gave to us.
My first child was a boy, though the doctor swore up and down before he was born that it would be a girl. He, in fact, wrote GIRL across my belly in magic marker before I ever went in for delivery. The nurse later told me he was unhappy because he had never been wrong before. Oh well.
Two weeks after my due date, I decided I better catch up on my laundry, since I did not know when that child would ever come. On a Monday I washed everything that was dirty. Since I did not have a washer or a dryer, I toted all the laundry to the Laundromat and washed it all. I then took it all back home and hung it out on the line outside to dry. Gil was working, so I did this alone. Later that day, I brought it all back in and folded and put it all away. That night Gil and I went to our friends’, Maryann and Alex Johansen, to have dinner. Afterwards we started playing a board game. I was tired and my back hurt but was having fun, so I did not say anything about going home. Alex finally turned to me and told me I was in labor. I told him no I had just done a lot of carrying heavy things and was just sore. He said he had been watching me wiggle in my seat since dinner and that I was down to 10 minutes apart from each wiggle. They had a baby about three months before, so he knew what he was talking about. I sure did not know what to expect, so I took his word for it. Gil and I headed home.
We had to travel past our hospital on the way home. Gil asked if I wanted to stop and be checked out. I still did not believe I was in labor, so I said no. When we got home, we both went to bed and I slept soundly until around 7 a.m. At that time I work up with a sharp pain. A few minutes later, I had another one. Okay. This might be it. Well I had a weekly checkup appointment at 9 a.m., so I waited and went to see there first. By then the pains were very regular and getting more painful. My appointment was at Kaiser Clinic in Santa Clara, which was right next door to the hospital. After getting into the exam room at the doctor’s office, the nurse asked how I was doing. I told her about my contractions. She went to get the doctor. He told her to send me immediately to the hospital and he would check in with me in a little bit there.
I had not brought anything, as I still did not believe it was my time—even though I was two weeks past my expected delivery date. I wanted to go home first, but Gil stated he would go and get my things if really was the time. So to the hospital we walked.
It took a little while to get checked in and settled. Finally a nurse came in and checked to see what was going on. Sure enough I was in labor and had started dilating. She said I was not too far along yet, but they would keep me since we lived quite a ways from the hospital.
So they prepped me for delivery. I was pretty nervous and asked if I could delay this, so I would have time to get emotionally ready for it. I was told that was what the previous nine months were for.
Not too long after being admitted, I heard a woman screaming and crying. The nurse taking care of me came in. I asked if something was wrong out there. She said no, that a woman was just being a baby about it all. Then I was REALLY scared. My eyes started to tear up. The nurse said do not worry. It is not that bad. She is just taking it to extremes. At that point I turned to Gil and told him to make sure if I started to scream like that to cover my mouth with something.
The day was long. Remember I was at the doctor’s office at 9 a.m. I did not go into hard labor until late afternoon. See I could have gone home and psyched myself up for what was coming. Since I did not bring my bag, I had nothing to keep myself busy. Gil went into the waiting room and brought in a couple of magazines. One of them was a Sports Illustrated. There was an article about Roy Campaneras and an injury he received while batting. After reading that article, Gil and I had a long conversation about baseball. We were great baseball fans.
Finally things started happening, which I do not remember too much about. Around 6:30 p.m. on July 1st 1970, our Jason was born. When we first met him, Gil and I decided he was not really a Jason. All evening we discussed what we would name, as Jason was the only name we even considered. The next morning we decided it would be Donald. We have always been thankful we did not name him Jason, as that was the most favored name for that year and several years to come.
He was beautiful. In fact I had nurses come in to my room to meet me, as they had seen him and thought he was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. We thought so, too. I will write more later about Don and the joy he gave to us.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
1st Journal Entry
Question: What do you think about television?
I LOVE it! And I HATE it.
Hate first: it takes too much of my time. I hate commercials, especially anything that makes me blush or cringe depending upon who is sitting next to me. I hate remotes, especially in the hands of a man. Men tend to change stations whenever a commercial comes on and then forgets to put it back to the original show until five minutes later—thus missing part of the show. I also hate that when I love a program I will watch the same episode over and over again until I can start saying what the characters are saying until it starts to drive others crazy. I hate that the news shows have turned from giving us the news whether it is bad or good. Instead they have become more like a gossip/entertainment show or, worse yet, a let’s see what the host(s) are going to do today—like bungee jump, hide in the world, dance at the Olympics, etc. I could go on.
Love next: I love to watch history shows, especially about the Civil War. I love nature shows. I love shows like Burn’s National Parks series or any of his other series—especially his baseball version. I like Law & Order (the original version) and other cops and law shows, except any of the CI shows. Too graphic. I love NPR. I love the TMC old movies—especially because they do not have commercials. Gil and I watched Ben Hur the week before Christmas. It was the one done in the late 1920s and was in black and white and had sub-titles. It was great. I love that I can get the LDS conferences on it now. I love that I can put a movie in the DVR, put a fire in the fireplace and sit down to do hand sewing/quilting/crocheting and have a great afternoon or evening all by myself or with someone special. I love the company it gives me when I am alone, even if I am not watching it. I love putting in a musical when I am cleaning the house. I get done faster and love to sing along with the musical. My neighbors might not like it, but I do.
Like everything else in life, TV comes with good things and with bad. We just have to regulate ourselves so we do not become obsessed with it. I need to work on my obsession.
I LOVE it! And I HATE it.
Hate first: it takes too much of my time. I hate commercials, especially anything that makes me blush or cringe depending upon who is sitting next to me. I hate remotes, especially in the hands of a man. Men tend to change stations whenever a commercial comes on and then forgets to put it back to the original show until five minutes later—thus missing part of the show. I also hate that when I love a program I will watch the same episode over and over again until I can start saying what the characters are saying until it starts to drive others crazy. I hate that the news shows have turned from giving us the news whether it is bad or good. Instead they have become more like a gossip/entertainment show or, worse yet, a let’s see what the host(s) are going to do today—like bungee jump, hide in the world, dance at the Olympics, etc. I could go on.
Love next: I love to watch history shows, especially about the Civil War. I love nature shows. I love shows like Burn’s National Parks series or any of his other series—especially his baseball version. I like Law & Order (the original version) and other cops and law shows, except any of the CI shows. Too graphic. I love NPR. I love the TMC old movies—especially because they do not have commercials. Gil and I watched Ben Hur the week before Christmas. It was the one done in the late 1920s and was in black and white and had sub-titles. It was great. I love that I can get the LDS conferences on it now. I love that I can put a movie in the DVR, put a fire in the fireplace and sit down to do hand sewing/quilting/crocheting and have a great afternoon or evening all by myself or with someone special. I love the company it gives me when I am alone, even if I am not watching it. I love putting in a musical when I am cleaning the house. I get done faster and love to sing along with the musical. My neighbors might not like it, but I do.
Like everything else in life, TV comes with good things and with bad. We just have to regulate ourselves so we do not become obsessed with it. I need to work on my obsession.
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