Fall Family Fun

My friend, Becca Groves, has a great blog.  It's one of my favorites because (and I know this sounds shallow) it's usually long on pictures and short on words.  Don't get me wrong; sometimes she tells long stories and they are awesome, but usually, it's just filled with fun pictures.  I love watching her little family grow and she is seriously funny, too.  So, I decided that tonight it's time for a little "Becca Groves style" blog.

A little over a week ago we had both grandchildren around so we took a fun morning adventure to the Afton Apple Orchard.  I hope it will become a yearly tradition because there is so much to do there that it's fun for kids of all ages.

We started off with a tractor ride into the orchard.  This is Amelia's fun face.  What?  Can't you tell?  As for Charlie, well, he's o.k. since he has a stick in his hands and he's on his momma's lap, but wow, that tractor is LOUD!

 Time to pick some apples.  Charlie is concentrating very hard at getting one off the tree.

 He pulled so hard that somehow the tree branch got loose and hit momma in the face!  Oops!

 Walking through the apple orchard with his momma.  He still has his stick.  It's his favorite toy.

 And then, there's Miss Independent.  She is navigating her way through the fallen apples. 

 Amelia finds some apples she wants to pick; two at a time.  Let's fill that bag up!  I'm not showing you the part where she heaves them at her dad immediately after picking them. 

 After the picking is done there was a fun petting zoo area to visit. 

 Too close, too close!

Rocking her sunglasses and riding the dinosaur.  How much more fun could a toddler have?

 The cutest, sweetest picks at the orchard!

Not only did we have a fun family outing, but the apple crisp that showed up later that night was AMAZING! 

One Win - One Loss

I recently went to Panama on a mission trip.  One thing I learned is that automatic doors work a bit differently in Panama than they do in the United States.  That’s my story, at least.

Admittedly, my first automatic door experience was more operator error than a difference in culture.  I was with a team of mostly women; we had just picked up our luggage and were loading the bus.  Two girls were missing so our team leader went to search for them.  Of course, about 30 seconds after she left the bus, the two girls arrived.  But now, our team leader was missing.  I thought to myself, I’ll run back into the airport, look quickly and if I don’t see her I’ll head right back to the bus because as we all know; if one person keeps looking for the other the cycle can go on for hours. 

I went through the doors into the airport, took a quick glance in each direction, didn’t see our team leader and turned around to walk back through the doors I’d come in.  They started to close on me and, thinking they were akin to elevator doors, I put my hand out to stop the door from closing.  It was instinct, I suppose.  What wasn’t instinct was to actually get in a fight with said doors.  They continued to close and I immediately decided I’d have nothing to do with that.  I took both hands, and with one on each door, I forced them open.  There was another guy trying to go out the doors also (which turned out to be “enter only” doors.)  At first he just looked at me like I was crazy but eventually he decided to join in the effort.  We won. 

A couple days later I was standing in the elevator of our hotel.  A hotel employee was on the elevator with me and had gotten out to go tend to something on whatever floor we were on.  Just as the doors were starting to close I saw a couple of my team members, so I quickly stuck my hand out to hold the elevator doors for them.  I hold elevators for people this way all the time. Only this elevator door would have nothing to do with that kind of nonsense.  They CLOSED on my arm and refused to open.  My arm was stuck and stuck well. I couldn’t move it in or out, up or down.  I had a pretzel in my hand but I was NOT going to let go of it until I determined there were no other options.  I mean seriously, it had peanut butter on the inside!  I wish there was a picture because I’m sure that my arm sticking out of an elevator door desperately clinging to a pretzel looked pretty funny. 

Being as my brute strength had worked in opening doors before, I asked my team members to please try to see if they could pull the doors apart.  The doors didn’t budge. At this point I was afraid I might actually have to drop my pretzel.  I really don’t know why I thought that would help.  It’s not as though letting go of my pretzel would make me stronger than my teammates. I guess I just thought it looked kind of crazy to hang on so tightly to a pretzel when one’s life was in peril.  I was seconds away from opening my hand and releasing my pretzel when the hotel employee who’d come up the elevator with me showed up exclaiming, “Oh my goodness!  Push the button!” 

The button?  Which button?  There were six floor buttons, an emergency button (which I was seriously considering), and a button that said “AP.”  Though I didn’t know that AP stood for “abra puerta” (translating to “Open Door” in English) I pushed it anyway because that seemed the most logical – way more logical, it seems, that letting go of my precious pretzel. 

I heard later in the week that one of the male team members had both hands full when he decided to “hold” the door for someone approaching the closing elevator doors.  He used his head to stop them.  That would most definitely have been an even better picture than me standing there gripping my pretzel as though it was my last meal.  

Un Poco

Un Poco – that’s the Spanish word for “a little,” which is exactly the amount of Spanish that I understand and speak.  But, I leave on Monday for a mission trip to Panama, so that, combined with my general desire to possess at least some understanding of a second language have me studying Spanish.   

A few years ago, before leaving on a mission trip to Russia, I was given Pimsleur’s Conversational Language CD’s and was able to learn some rudimentary Russian.  Not enough, really, to converse but enough to get by for the eight days I was there.  So, now that it’s time to learn a little Spanish, I decided that Pimsleur would be my choice for getting started. Besides, the beginning (quick and simple) guide was only $8.50.  What did I have to lose?   

I did take a year of Spanish in both high school and college so I figured that would give me an edge.  It has, but it’s a slim, slim edge and I’m fairly certain there is a direct correlation between giving birth three times and the death of my language learning brain cells.  (Not that I wouldn’t do it all again.)  

What I noticed about both the Russian and Spanish version of Pimsleur’s language CD’s is that the first phrase you learn is “Do you understand English?”  I guess they figure that if you can coerce someone into speaking YOUR language, you can immediately drop any pretense of knowing theirs.  Personally, I think this is a brilliant scheme. 

So far, I know how to say, “I don’t speak Spanish”, “I don’t understand Spanish”, “Where is the Columbus Hotel?” (which would be really handy were that the name of the hotel where we’re staying), “I’m from Chicago” (which I’m not), and “I have lots of pesos” (which doesn’t really seem like the kind of thing you’d want to brag about.)

When my husband and I were in Cozumel a few years ago there were lots of merchants trying to get us to come into their stores and spend our money.  Someone taught my husband how to say “I don’t have any money” in Spanish - “No tengo dinero.”  The next time a guy tried to get us to come into his store my husband said, “No tengo dinero,” and in response the man said, “We take credit cards,” in perfect English.  It still cracks us up.  Then, when it came time to learn “I have” and “I don’t have” on my Spanish CD’s they connected it to money – pesos and dólares.  Consequently, I have it in my brain that the word “tengo” only ever has to do with having money.  I’m guessing this is not the case. 

I’m only on lesson six of the first ten beginner CD’s.  The price for subsequent lessons goes up substantially, so we’ll see if I make it through the first ten before ordering more.  I’m hoping by lesson ten I will have learned to say “Please talk more slowly,” because that is going to be key to me actually understanding anyone. 

Other than a million more words that I’ll need to learn in order to be fluent in Spanish there is one other thing I’ll need to master – rolling my “r’s.”  How do they do that? 

What's a Shuttle Elevator?

The other day I had the opportunity to meet a couple of friends in downtown Minneapolis during their lunch break.  I got detailed instructions on how to find the building my friends work in, how to park in the building’s private lot, and how to find one of their desks.  It all seemed very simple; “turn right into the driveway marked ‘private’, come up the shuttle elevator to level 2, turn right and walk straight ahead to find me.” Easy peasey.  But wait, what exactly is a shuttle elevator?  In hindsight, I probably should have clarified this point.

All went as planned.  I pulled into the driveway marked “Private”, rang the buzzer, and told the security guy who I was visiting.  He responded with “is this Nancy?”  I was impressed and felt ever so slightly important.  It’s the little things. 

I had been told to drive to the first unreserved spot which ended up being a few levels down.  So far, so good; now to find the “shuttle elevator.”  I glanced around the parking lot and saw nothing that even slightly resembled an elevator; shuttle or otherwise.   I did see a sign for stairs and elevators are always close to stairs, right?  I noticed a set of metal doors next to the stairwell and thought perhaps I should check to see where that led.  Sure enough, behind those doors was a dark closet, about three feet deep and six feet wide, and in the darkness I could make out what looked to be an elevator.  It all seemed a little scary to me, but not seeing any other options I bravely stepped inside the doors and pushed the elevator button.  As it turned out the “closet” did have a light which was activated by a motion sensor and gave off about 20 watts of light – at least until it warmed up a bit – which it had plenty of time to do while I waited for the very slow elevator to arrive. 

I remember thinking it odd that the men and women who came to work here every day had to step into such a dark spot but hey, if you have your own private parking lot, I suppose you can put up with a few inconveniences.  Once the elevator doors finally opened I noted that every wall was covered in what appeared to be bullet proof/fire proof metal.  It wasn’t terribly attractive but it did seem to me that this is what a “shuttle elevator” should look like.  

I emerged on the second floor a few seconds later and began the hunt for my friend’s desk. It certainly wasn’t just to the right.  Turning to the right, it seemed, would take me past the dry cleaning business and out of the building.  Why, I wondered, didn’t I get my friend’s phone number before leaving home?   Eventually, after a bit of perplexed wandering, I found my friend at her desk - to the left.  When I told her which elevator I’d used and she laughed, “That’s the freight elevator!”  Well, that explains the industrial strength walls!  Can you imagine what people walking through the skyway thought when I emerged from the freight elevator? 

When it came time to go home my friend walked me to the “shuttle elevator” and used her pass key to open it. I figured out that “shuttle elevator” refers to the one that takes people to and from the parking lot but is not for use by the general public.  But now, I had to decide which level to go to.  Couldn’t I just go back down the freight elevator?  It’s right across from my car!   It took a few minutes of searching, and a couple of “beeps” from my car’s locking system but soon enough I located my car and before I knew it I was heading home; with a brief stop to bid good-bye to George – the security guy. 

With Gratefulness

Who invented the cotton gin? – Eli Whitney

Electricity? – Benjamin Franklin

The Model-T? – Henry Ford 

The light bulb? – Thomas Edison  

Right?  Well, sort of.  These are the inventors I remember hearing about in school when I was growing up.  Turns out, according to my extensive 15 minute internet research, some of these “inventors,” while brilliant men, were often improving ideas that had already been formed, thus not the actual “inventor.”  But, that’s a complicated concept for a third-grader, I suppose.  

There is one man whom, I determined today, is NOT getting enough credit in the history books; the guy who invented air-conditioning.  It’s 90+ degrees today with plenty of humidity to go along with it, and this afternoon I, for one, found myself wondering who in the world this genius was. 

So, tonight I decided to do a little research into the subject, which is what sent me into my “extensive research” mode.  Turns out, Willis Haviland Carrier is considered the inventor of modern air-conditioning.  Hey, you don’t suppose that’s where Carrier Air-Conditioning Systems got their name, do you?  Hmmm . . . . . 

There’s actually a lot to learn about the invention of air-conditioning but hey, this is a blog, not an encyclopedia site.  I’m just content going to bed tonight with gratefulness in my heart for the fact that God put Willis Haviland Carrier on the earth before me.  

I’m also grateful for the fact that we have said air-conditioning installed in our home.  It sure beats the days of sitting in front of a fan with our feet in cold water.

Back in the Day

When I was in High School, back in the day as they say, girls and boys had separate gym classes.  Call me old-fashioned, but I thought that was a good idea and still do.  As if it’s not bad enough that every girl in school knows of your pathetic athletic skills does every boy really need to know, too?

As I was exercising the other day something passed through my mind that brought back those less than cherished memories of high school gym class.  There was an exercise that we did routinely in gym class that would, we were told, increase the size of our chests.  To do said exercise we’d stand with our arms basically reaching across the front of our bodies, hands facing downwards with one forearm over the other.  Then, we’d stretch our elbows back with our arms still bent, bring them forward again, followed by another backwards stretch in which we’d unbend our elbows and extend the entire arm back as far as possible.   As we did said exercises there was a little chant we said to go along with it; "We must, We must, We must increase our bust."  I’m not saying they don’t do this particular exercise in gym classes today, I’m just guessing that the accompanying chant has gone by the wayside.  Kind of sad.

Speaking as one who hates to exercise, I have to admit, this was a pretty sneaky tactic those gym teachers were using.  I mean seriously, 99.9% of the freshman girls would probably have swallowed goldfish had they thought it would give them a little more up front.  But alas, I’m not convinced that it actually did any good as we all seemed to end up to be the size that God had created us to be.

It did, however, give me something to look back at and chuckle.  I wonder what else they lied to us about?

Where'd He Go?

One of the things I like most about the Bible is that it’s always fresh.  By that I mean that I can read the same chapter, or verse, that I’ve read a hundred times before and have something new pop out at me.  It never ceases to amaze me. 


A few weeks ago I was reading in the book of John, Chapter 8. Towards the end of the chapter Jesus is talking with some of the Jewish leaders and basically telling them that they will only be truly free when they start to follow Him.  This irks them a bit and in verse 48 they say to Jesus, “You Samaritan devil! Didn’t we say all along that you were possessed by a demon?”  Call me crazy but saying to anyone, “Hey, I think you’re demon-possessed” is not really the smartest thing to bring up during a “discussion”; particularly when said discussion is with the Son of God! 

Well, as this little chat of theirs continues the Jews, with whom Jesus is conversing, get more and more riled up and they are ready to go to battle.  They are so angry that they start picking up some stones with which to stone Jesus.  Now here’s the part I love. John 8:59 says “At that point they picked up stones to throw at him.  But Jesus was hidden from them and left the Temple.”  So wait, let me get this straight.  He was right in front of their eyes and then “bam!” they couldn’t see him?  How cool is that?  Did he just “slip out” when they were all bending down to pick up a stone?  Did he vaporize right in front of their eyes?  Were they blinded?  The verse doesn’t really clarify how it happened, just that it happened.
 Can’t you just see the Jews looking at each other with befuddled looks on their faces?  “Hey, he was just here a second ago, where’d he go?”  I love it!

Personally, I think this says something about the amazing power of God.  To me, Jesus’ ability to be “hidden” is nothing short of miraculous; but more than that it says that everything happens at the right time.  We already know that Jesus is going to die at the hands of the Jews but that was not the day for it to happen.  God had already chosen the time when Jesus was to die. In the meantime, He made sure nothing happened that wasn’t supposed to.

We can always trust God’s timing.  Some days it may seem as though He is moving particularly slow, and we may think He’s forgotten us . . . . but He hasn’t.  He’s just waiting for the right time – His time.