He's Aliiiive!!!

Last night I found Thing 2 happily wandering around the living room. The cats looked at me like, "What IS that thing? And why can't we eat it?"

I scooped him up and put him back in his jar. I still couldn't tell if Thing 1 was alive or not. Playing possum or dead? I should have a better verdict tomorrow.

This morning Thing 2 was definitely still alive and kicking. Crawling. I refreshed their leaves and put them in the shade.

Hopefully I have more good news to report tomorrow.

Experiment

I asked my sister, a professional bugologist, to give me her expert opinion on what kind of caterpillars we were finding so ubiquitously in our back yard. (Specifically what it will turn into, not what it already is. I already know what it is: a black, fuzzy caterpillar.) She did what all good teachers (and sisters!) do: challenged me to experiment and see what it turns into.

So I "caught" one yesterday and placed it in a specially-made jar. In this case, a Welch's grape juice bottle cleaned out and with the narrow neck cut off so my hand can fit in to supplement his food supply, etc.

Then I went and got a second caterpillar just in case something happened to the first one. Truth be told, neither one were terribly lively so I wasn't entirely sure I was starting off with valid test cases. Also I have two very curious cats who like to investigate things in the house.

Here's the start of the experiment:

When I got home last night the jar was knocked off the piano and some leaves were strewn across the floor. One of the fuzzy little guys was on the floor and the other was MIA. I scooped him up and put him and the leaves back in, but didn't know if he had survived or not. There was plenty of bug poop in the jar so I know they had done well up until the point the kitty hurricane disrupted their lives.

A little while later I found Thing 2 crawling across the floor, despite my fears he had turned into a cat toy. He was very lively this time around so I put him in the jar and put the whole kit and caboodle in my room out of cats-harm's way.

This morning there was only one left in the jar. I hope it didn't crawl out and get squashed by me in the middle of the night.

Since my room stays fairly dark during the day I put it out on my front step this morning. Now I'm worried:
*That a bird will be delighted by the free breakfast;
*That he will roast in his plastic home and I will have a bug BBQ on my hands;
*That he will escape. Can't really blame him for trying after the trauma I've put him through e past 24 hours.

Hopefully I figure out how to raise a healthy caterpillar soon so we can see what kind of a (probably) moth he is.

Potential

There are dozens of these caterpillars in my back alley. I presume they have fallen or been blown out of the largish tree. We find them crawling around in the concrete road, with no food source within miles (for them, at least). We try to rescue as many as we can (which reminds me of the story about the baby turtles washed up on shore and one lone person is walking along the beach picking them up one at a time throwing them back into the sea. Someone says, "There's no way you can save all of them; why bother?" To which the rescuer replies, "It makes a difference to this one.")

We did some serious investigative research (Internet search engine) and think they're going to turn into a giant leopard moth. Which makes me laugh. For now they're all cute and fuzzy and I feel quite charitable trying to rescue as many as I can.

But come July I'll be beating them off me as I try to race them into the house.

Niceties

A friend of mine said something on Facebook a week or so ago that was delightfully profound. I commented and told her so, and she said I should be on Twitter. I had a chance to talk to her about it on Wednesday and she said again that I should get on Twitter because she loves my own profound one-liners. (Her words, not mine. I may think I'm profound but would never say so out loud. That would take all the humility out of it!)

She said that her own goal on Twitter was to just find one positive thing each day and tweet that. I thought that was a fantastic idea.

I started thinking about what I could tweet. I have a lot of thoughts in a day -- it was just a matter of weeding through them to choose the most worthy ones.

And I realized that not only do I not have a lot of thoughts I need to share with the interwebs, I really don't have a lot of positive thoughts. But I don't think anyone else does either. Or maybe that's just my Facebook friends. There are plenty of status updates, but not really a lot of positive things. Kind of like the evening news. I wonder if it's a societal thing to think that it doesn't matter or it's not news-worthy unless it's negative. Well, maybe not negative, but not positive.

That's what I've been thinking about this week. Every time something happened this week I'd think, "Oh, I'll tweet that!" (knowing full well that people don't really care about my every thought. Or maybe that's because I don't care about other peoples' every thoughts so I think the same thing applies in reverse). But when I held that thought up to the "keep it positive" criteria, I realized that very little that happened, or more specifically -- very little of the commentary that I thought about what happened was positive.

So that's my goal -- to be more positive. It's not easy, at least for me. And I don't really think of myself as a negative person. Realistic, yes. Cynical, no. Sarcastic, definitely. Room for improvement? Absolutely.

I believe that as continue to (internally, at least) narrate the events of my life and strive to become more positive in that commentary, it will influence the rest of my life as well.

Tranquility

This is a picture I took on the temple grounds yesterday. The title of this post can have multiple meanings.

December?

When I was on my mission in Chile, Christmas was a difficult season for me. Not only was I thousands of miles from home, family, friends and anything familiar, but being south of the equator meant a very warm Christmas. It didn't FEEL like Christmas, so how could it BE Christmas?

I never really did get used to the topsy-turvy seasons there. Rain in June and July leading to a cold August -- it was just weird.

It's easy to rely on familiar things to help us celebrate important events. Tradition matters.

Or does it?

Since those two Christmases spent abroad, I have had passed a couple of other Christmases that definitely were not traditional. This past Christmas was one of them. For one thing, we've been having unseasonably warm weather. Then on Saturday night, Christmas Eve, we took C to the emergency room for some kidney stone pain management. We were home by 2:00 a.m. Christmas morning, only to have to turn around at about 7:30 to take her back. Linda took her while I waited at home for her mom who was already en route to our house to celebrate the day with us.

Linda and I went to church and participated in the program there with the choir in our respective callings. We came home, ate some dinner, then gathered all our stockings and Santa Claus goodies and went to the hospital to open those with C who had been admitted.

So it wasn't a very traditional day. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that Christmas happened. Not necessarily in 2011, but two thousand eleven years ago when a baby half God/half man was born into humble circumstances. That little boy brought light into the world.

I've been thinking about that light, and Christmas. We all know (and for those who don't know, it's becoming more and more widely accepted) that Jesus wasn't born in December, but in the spring. April 6, to be exact. We celebrate Christmas in December for the same reason all good holidays are celebrated when they are -- to make it easier for all those heathen/pagans to accept Christianity.

It's no accident that Christmas falls so close to the winter solstice. The seasonal significance of the winter solstice is in the reversal of the gradual lengthening of nights and shortening of days. Solstice was an important time of year for good pagans anciently. It meant that winter would be over soon. The shortest day had happened and the days would lengthen as the earth tilted closer to the sun.

The return of the light is the most prominent feature of most midwinter festivals. In Sweden on St. Lucy’s Day, young girls don white dresses and a wreath of candles and awaken their families with cakes and song. Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, is celebrated by lighting candles over a span of eight days. The Christian custom of the Advent wreath, with its four candles, one lit each of the Sundays before Christmas, is another way of re-kindling the light.

The Christmas candle, a large candle of red or some other bright color decorated with holly or other evergreens, was at one time a popular custom throughout Great Britain, Ireland and Scandinavia.

The Jews celebrate Hanukkah, also known as the Festival of Lights. It's an eight-day holiday commemorating the rededication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem at the time of the Maccabean Revolt of the 2nd century BCE. Hanukkah is observed for eight nights, starting on the 25th day of Kislev according to the Hebrew calendar, which may occur at any time from late November to late December in the Gregorian calendar.

Mid-winter is all about light. Or the promise of light returning to the earth. Just as ancient people passed winter by waiting for the warmth of spring, so they waited for the promise of the Savior.

So it really doesn't matter when or how you celebrate Christmas. It doesn't matter that I didn't get to open my gifts until December 28. What does matter is that that little baby boy grew to be the Savior of the world. My Savior.

Even though I'm writing a post about Christmas on the last day of 2011, my thoughts still turn towards that light. What can I do to bring a little more light, joy and kindness into the world? That's where my thoughts are as I start to usher in 2012.

Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. I wish you joy, peace, happiness and light. Lots and lots of light.

Of Traditions, Family and Quilts

When I was born, my great-aunt gave me a quilt. A pink baby quilt for
the latest pink baby girl. She felt a special affinity towards me
since we shared the same birthday. Plus, what's not to love about an
awesome grand-niece?

My mom had her own set of quilting frames that my dad had custom-made
for her that fit perfectly in our very small living room. There was
almost always a quilt in some state of progress in our little house.
As a kid with an active imagination, a quilt on frames was a robbers'
hide-out, an Indian tipi, a cavalry fort, a whatever I wanted it to
be.

It was also a lesson in service and tradition. While hiding out in my
fort or tipi, my mother would have me help her push the
heavily-ladened needles through the other side and push them back up
for her. Very few of those quilts were ever for our immediate family.
They were given as wedding gifts, as baby gifts, or to someone not
fortunate enough to have warm blankets. Any one of my siblings getting
married received a quilt as a house-warming/wedding gift. As each new
grandchild was welcomed into the family, he or she received a quilt
from grandma and grandpa.

Special occasions or milestones warranted a new quilt also. I got a
quilt when I turned eight, again for my twelfth birthday, and an extra
warm one as I left for my first year of college in the frozen tundra
of south-east valley of Idaho.

Though my mom has since passed on, the tradition continues. I received
from my sisters what is perhaps one of the very coolest gifts I have
ever received. There was a lot of thought, love, time and effort put
into a quilt that my sisters all collaborated on. They found out from
my friends that I love Mary Poppins and the silhouette of the London
skyline as she floats into the Banks' children lives.

They took those ideas and ran with it, turning them into a quilt that
is, in my opinion, worthy to be entered into any contest. And take
first place.

I love it. I love the quilt, I love the design, the colors, the
thought and planning that has gone into it, the details, and above
all- the love that went into it.

I'll post a better picture when get I to it. Meanwhile, this one was
taken as I was opening the box late last night. Not a great quality
photo, but not even that can dim the beauty of this gift.