Arizona

Capital:  Phoenix (yes, we all learned to spell it)

State Bird:  Cactus Wren

State Flower:  Saguaro

State Motto:  The Grand Canyon State

Native Americans and the US Government own 70 percent of the state.  That means only 30 percent is privately owned.  Doesn’t seem like much.  Arizona’s largest lizard, the Gila monster, is the only poisonous lizard in the US.  London Bridge is in Lake Havasu City.  There are 21 Indian reservations in Arizona, the largest belongs to the Navajos.  There is also a huge graveyard of governmental aircraft out in the desert. 

The economic infrastructure of Arizona is rather fragile.  For years Arizona depended upon five C’s.

Copper, cattle, cotton, citrus, and climate.

Arizona still produces more copper than all other states combined, but its importance has declined.  The three agricultural C’s are still farmed, but Arizona is out of water.  Lack of water is the largest threat to all of Arizona.  Efforts to bring Colorado River water to Phoenix and Tucson puts Arizona at odds with California and Nevada.

Our family has traveled to Arizona two times to visit relatives in Tucson and a third time for James to officiate over his grandmother’s memorial service.  James’ folks bestowed on us such gracious hospitality whenever we were in Arizona.  Twice we have driven straight up the state through several climate zones to the Grand Canyon.  It is an outstanding drive to take if you are ever there, except for the lanes that go off into nowhere in case you lose your car brakes.  We pulled our RV up there a few years ago and I was glad when we finally arrived at the Canyon, although it was a freezing 17 degrees.  We’ve been through Sedona and also the Painted Desert.  The Sonoran Desert is so beautiful.  And we’ve been to one of the observatories that keeps an eye on the skies.  Arizona is definitely a unique place.  Yet to us, our fondest memory is that Granny lived in Tucson – it is there where she lived such a godly life for her Saviour, and she is buried there.  She lived over 100 years on this earth if you count the days she lived in utero.

Years ago James’ mom made prickly pear cactus jelly for us and it was pretty good.  I looked in many grocery specialty stores in about a 25 mile radius and found none.  I wanted to have some with our Arizona meal. 

And, speaking of food, one of my favorite memories of Arizona is when my father-in-law took us up to the top of Mount Lemmon in the Santa Catalina Mountains.  Mount Lemmon is 9,000 feet high with incredible views for those who like heights.  (Not me.  Why are scenic drives equal to feeling like you are going to lose your lunch with that whoozy feeling.)  I noticed that in Arizona they called these views vistas.  At the top of the mountain we took a rest stop.  Grandpa was holding Baby Emily (whom he called Butterball) and when I was in the restroom he took it upon himself to feed Em a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.  I was reserved with sugar-chocolate-treats with all of my babies, but I thoroughly enjoyed and approved of Grandpa spoiling her.  Her little face with chocolate smeared on it is still clear in my memory as Grandpa cuddled her.  Reese’s is part of Hershey’s Chocolate so I gave double approval.  If it had been Nestles I might have felt differently.

Somehow Grandpa also had peanut butter cups in the frig every time we were in Arizona so when on occasion we have some, we chill or freeze them ahead of time.  There’s no other way to eat them.

Once again, James found his way to the kitchen.  He made chicken quesadillas, which was new to us but delicious.  James has not cooked much in the last three or four years and we have been overly delighted that he has been pushing us out of the kitchen for the United States dinners.  He has often told me that he would have loved to have been a chef.   His mother is also a terrific cook.

Blue corn chips with a bean dip that had all kinds of veggies in it and tomatillos.

Ready to eat.

Kimberly is so proud of her toothless grin because she can push her tongue straight through the hole.  There is no sign of a new tooth so she may have this privilege for quite a while.  The tooth fairy cried when the tooth came out.  Last top tooth on a child for the fairy mother to witness.  Kimmy is growing up too fast.  The other top tooth is loose and the tooth fairy has told her not to wiggle it at all!   

The quesadillas with zippy beans and rice.

Lemon bars.  Why lemon bars?  Because Catholic missionaries took lemons that were in China and introduced them to the US by planting them in Arizona.  Before then there were no lemons in the US.

Well, I can honestly say that this geography curriculum has been mighty tasty (spare the chicken fried steak).

I can not close this post without telling my Grand Canyon story.  Our first trip to the Grand Canyon was when Karen was 8 and Kathy was 6.  We arrived at night, James settled us in the lodge and then he (the naturalist) went out walking.  I assumed the canyon was fenced and lighted.  Wrong.  Wouldn’t you think that a big ol’ hole like that would have railings along the hotels thta are very close to the edge?  It was night and he came within inches of falling into it, down quite a steep cliff. 

The next morning we left for what was supposed to be the best site for capturing the first rays of sun, a photographer’s dream.  So off we went and a small group of people were there with the same goal in mind.  I stayed a small distance from the canyon’s edge, holding firmly to my daughters’ hands so they would not run over the edge.  As the first rays of sun peeked through the darkness my eyes searched for James and he was hanging out, and I mean hanging, on a small ledge that was a sliver of a tabletop over the chasm.  A lady, about 60 years old, came up to me and said, “Honey, is that your husband out there?  Well, my husband is out there on another ledge too.  Your blood pressure looks like it is off the charts.  Honey, let me give you some advice.  Thirty years ago my husband hung over Hoover Dam for a picture.  I gave him to God that very day.  Give your husband to God.  If they are going to hang like this, it’s only God that’s gonna keep them.”

That lady must have been a prophet.

The best news story on the Grand Canyon can be found here, complements of my Abigail, who was 10 feet away from the edge with no railing for the video shoot.  http://www.visionforum.com/hottopics/multimedia/enn/2006/12/1972.aspx

I’d also like to make note at this time, out of immense motherly embarassment pride, that Emily “spit a mile” straight down into the Canyon, which she could not wait to do.  And she did it more than once.  I’d also like to mention that this was a deal between her father and her and I had nothing to do with it.

We have one southwestern state left to eat our way through.  I have received several comments from some natives about our Texas and Oklahoma meals.  These comments have been rather enjoyable so keep them coming, along with all the cooking advice.  I will say this, though.  Pennsylvania is coming.  Not in the near future, but in the future.  That’s when we will finally have some real food around this place. 

Oklahoma … spelling of the vowels o-a-o-a which is the opposite of avocado.

Motto:  The Sooner State (they wanted to get there sooner)

Capital City:  Oklahoma City

Population:  3. 5 million people

State Bird:  Scissor-tailed Flycather

State Flower:  Mistletoe (now I’d like to know more about that)

Tulsa is known as the Oil Capital of the Word.  Oklahoma has more artificial lakes than any other state.  Thirty nine Native American Indian tribes have their headquarters in the state.  Also known as Tornado Alley, Oklahoma has 75% of all the tornadoes in the country.  People from Oklahoma are called Okies so I want to know if they say “Okey Dokey” a lot.

The world’s largest McDonald’s, on I44, is built over the highway with entrances on both sides.  We’ve been there.  And the state looks like a pan with a long handle.  It was called Indian Territory before becoming a state.

The official state meal of Oklahoma includes fried okra, squash, cornbread, barbecue pork, sausage and gravy, grits, corn, strawberries, chicken-fried steak, and black-eyed peas.  This says to me that someone either could not make up their mind, or that everyone’s nomination counted.  In deciding our menu I eliminated the lowly fried okra (crispy slime), and the black eyed peas.  (Who wants something staring up at you from your plate?  And no, I don’t like fish heads on a plate either.)  Grits were crossed off the list to be reserved for a future southern state and no one here likes squash spare me.

The day arrived.  Some In-juns showed up for the occasion.

Chicken fried steak, never prepared before in our home.

Chicken Fried Steak, Mashed Potatoes, Gravy, and Corn.  Strawberries for desert.

Later that evening, James and I agreed that it was the second worst meal we ever ate in our marriage in our home (27 years).  Only a meal that was prepared 24 years ago trumps it.  No more C F steak in the Spangler household.  As to the In-juns, they can stay.

Over several years I have been told by quite a few people that I just MUST go to IKEA.   After receiving several catalogs in the mail, I decided I must NOT go to IKEA because it wasn’t my style.  And I had a bit of philosophy that ran contrary to IKEA.

Then my friend recommended I go take a look as she has some things in her home that looked like good deals from the place.  Well, OK, maybe someday I’ll check it out.

Then my eldest daughter asked to go on her birthday so the pressure was on.  I figured it would be a sad day anyway since I miss when she was a little baby so many years ago.

On July 1st, off we went with a van load of people to the massive blue and yellow store.   On the way we picked up our tour guide, Mr. Joshua Blanchard.  Here he is waiting for us to reorganize ourselves for the tour.

He was a great tour guide, particularly with all of his giggles when twirled in a circle.

So, what did I think of IKEA?  It’s a mixed bag.  Within a few minutes I wondered if anything in the store would make it to the status of antique.  It seemed like it would all be disposable within a few short years.  Shortly thereafter I wondered if there was craftsmanship in anything – either by hand or even one piece of turned wood.  Everything was straight.  Everything right angles.   Everything fit into a grid.  Not too long after that I wondered if there was anything that exhibited multiple colors on a single item and then I found this … !!!!!!   I am sure that James will want one of these for his birthday.

Amid this socialistic furniture bonanza, however, I found oodles of organizational ideas and better ways to do things.   The trip ended up being a smashing success for space-saving, stream-lining, and brainstorming.  And the 250 square foot apartment, complete with living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bath convinced me that I can convert anything into compact living space.   Actually, I figured out some new ideas for dog kennels based upon these compact ideas.  I’ll just have to convince the dogs that running in a small circle is just as satisfying as running across a field. 

I was so impressed with the quantity of ideas (not the furniture so much) that two days later I took my husband there to take a walk.  He said some interesting things.  In the kitchens he said, “Hmmm.”   In the living rooms he said, “Hmmm.”   In the children’s section he said, “Hmmm.”   In the bookshelves-carts-cabinets section he said, “Hmmm.” 

Finally I said, “Why hmmm?”

“Because I can’t believe that you would like anything in this store.  Where are the aesthetics?”

Well, there weren’t any aesthetics but we found great ideas to aid the functioning of our home.  It reminded me of music.  It used to be that composers really wrote music.  They breathed it.  They lived it.  They had all of the turns and trills and intricacies.  There was such pathos.  But nowdays, so much of music is stream-lined, computer-driven, and aesthetic-deficient.  Neat little grids to fill our ears.

But, I’ll be back to IKEA when we need those grids for organization.  

As to the rest of the day, we kidnapped our adorable, and I mean adorable, tour guide for the day.  He never fell asleep all day.  He was absolutely precious.  And he helped soothe a mama’s heart who misses having her babies.  They are growing up too fast.

For years my husband has barred me from that wonderful liquid stuff that changes things.  That wonderful liquid stuff that is colorful and has its own unique aroma.  That wonderful liquid stuff that can be bought just about anywhere.  

This wonderful liquid stuff is called paint.  Or sometimes it is called stain.  Because I tend to wear more of it than actually apply it anywhere, my husband has determined that the best route for me is to stay far away from it. 

Today I received permission to open a can of stain and get the last of Annie’s dollhouse shingles stained.  I delegated it to Emily who did a great job, but reserved the clean up process for myself.  Having watched James close many cans of paint and stain, I took a small hammer and pounded away.  What I did not know is that there was so much stain in the lip of the can, that each strike produced a large spray of dark walnut stain all over the kitchen, all over Kimberly, and all over me.  It took me six blows before I realized what was happening and then I took a seventh strike just to make sure that my brain was registering the situation correctly.

Karen was delighted with the whole thing.  She thinks I look like an Appaloosa.

All I can say is that I am so glad that James was not home. 

For everyone’s learning I would just like to make a note that paint remover removes not just stain, but it removes makeup and the first layer of skin.  It also has a sting to it like nothing I have encountered before.   After the stain was removed, I wished I had remained an Appaloosa.

This morning Karen opened the freezer and pulled out a mysterious item.  My back was toward her and all of a sudden I heard giggles.  Then laughter.  Before I knew it, a small frozen tube of toothpaste was being passed around the kitchen with hilarity. 

On the tube was this green message: 

Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

Frozen toothpaste!

I almost fell out of my chair laughing.  It is one of my favorites!  I will think of you every single time I eat a bowl for the rest of my life.  I can’t wait to serve my grandchildren a bowl and tell them about my beloved friend Mrs. Spangler.

This comes on the heels of an email that I wrote to this person who snook (past tense of sneak) this into my freezer.  I had explained why I don’t like that flavor of frozen ice cream toothpaste.

What we will never forget about my friend is that sometime yesterday in the middle of snooking toothpaste into my freezer and making pickles and bringing pickled okra leather for me to taste, she did a dual demonstration of how a nurse does an IV and how a paramedic does one. 

Now that I almost fell out of my chair laughing.

Thank you, Mrs. Klause.

I suppose everyone who has ever owned a home has had the privilege of learning the lesson “Been There.   Done that.  Won’t do it again.” 

That is exactly my sentiment about wallpaper.  When we built our home 17 years ago, wallpaper was the thing.  The wallpaper department in Home Depot was larger than the paint department and larger than the lighting department.  Nowadays it has shrunk into a cubicle and all for the better I say.  So 17 years ago we did the wallpaper thing and papered both brand new bathrooms.  It took about one year for me to figure out that this made no sense even though every model home I had been in had wallpaper in the bath and kitchen areas.  My research revealed that wallpaper is not a good choice for warm and moist areas.  And just a few months after our paper went up on the walls, I discovered stenciling.  The techniques and possibilities appeal to me because they can be personalized and designed so originally instead of the prepackage design of wallpaper.   So the rest of the house has been stencilled by my mathematically meticulate measuring husband who also has a flair for art forms.  This includes the seven stencilled mice in the girls’ wings who are poking their heads out of the walls, my son’s great outdoors with moose and fish, Emily’s lattice and flower motif, Karen’s horses galloping across the wall, Kathy’s chickadees, and the living areas in their roses with a bit of Victorian flair.

Kathy was the first one to help us rid ourselves of wallpaper.  Once she started figuring out mysteries and detective activities, she peeled wallpaper in one bath in order to hide her secret clue to who-knows-what underneath the tear.  It was not too long before I had an excuse to remove, although our little detective lost her treasured spots for clue hiding.  That bath has been repainted and I have yet to stencil it but have an idea in my head for it. 

Because the master bath in our house has much wall area due to turns and extra half-walls, it seemed a monstrous job to take down the paper, one that we have turned aside from attempting for several years.  It finally became inevitable so over a month ago we began stripping the paper which has proved to be quite a hassle.  The first layer five of our girls scraped off with my help, but the underlying layer and the glue were so stubborn that we kept Lowe’s in business trying to find something that would take it off the walls.  Yes, we tried the hillbilly home remedies first, but to no avail.  We finally found a stripping gel that worked although the effort was still something I had not bargained for.  Again, several of our girls tackled this and finally this week we were down to the last layer of paper and glue.  At that point, James brought in his electric sander and we decided to sand all the walls to get everything off.

Coming to the end of my rope, I decided that this was the weekend to end all wallpaper.  So, without thinking, I set up the older girls and me to electrically sand the walls without covering anything in the adjacent room which happens to be my bedroom.  Many hours later, my room was covered …. and I mean covered … with a layer of dust.  I was just sick at myself for not having put drop cloths over everything.  My heart really sank when Abigail jumped up on my bed and a cloud of dust poofed out of my bedspread. 

Needless to say, all of James’ books were covered.  The bookcases covered top to bottom and the sides.  It was one of those “how could I have been so stupid” moments.  Then I noticed that there was writing on the bookshelves.  The culprits did not need to be tried in court as I could figure out who wrote them by what they said.  I was relieved as a home school mother that they had spelled their funnies correctly.

At the feet of John Gill’s commentary.

You will have to ask our children to reveal who egg woman is.

I cringed at the task ahead to begin the dusting.

I wished I wasn’t there looking at the mess.

Hmmm…. this is an old pirate term that means “I’m surprised.”  I think this is because my pirate knows that I keep my ship clean and this was a very messy ship.  This is also a famous phrase in literature.   I finally was able to laugh a little.  After all, we had created a very dusty looking library, somewhat reminiscent of those I had seen in Oxford, England many years ago. 

So I went to the find the pirate and there he was taking off the last pieces that no one else had been able to remove.   These types of things are no longer easy for him since the medication he was on this past summer has affected his shoulders and his stamina.   He has a long road ahead of him in this bathroom in putting in electrical boxes, wall repair, painting the ceiling and walls, installing towel holders, and replacing a small vinyl part on the floor.   He makes a good captain of the ship.  His home repair list at present has 38 items on it, 4 of which are large jobs.    We figure he needs to take a whole month off of work to get it all done.  He went from the wallpaper to installing a new faucet in the utility sink to putting a flourescent light in the garage that we removed from the kitchen. 

The end of the dustbowl goes like this.  Karen and Kathy, through a labor of love, took ALL of today and cleaned my bedroom top to bottom even though they did not feel physically well due to an illness going through our house.  They washed all the curtains, all the bedding, and the doilies.  They wiped and vacuumed everything.  They moved furniture.  They cleaned windows.  And now my room is more clean than the day before the dust explosion.  I have a treat in mind for them as a thank you for their tireless efforts and the many days they worked on wallpaper removal.  I am so glad to have my wits about me at this stage of life.  (WITS = women in training) 

As to the bathroom, the walls are close to priming and then I am contemplating putting sand on them.  Yes, sand.  After all, a garden theme with a little sand sounds perfect to me.  Not a sandy color, but a sandy finish.  We’ll see how that goes in a few weeks.

Several times in my life I have had reoccuring nightmares.  When I was expecting my first child, I continually dreamed that I had given birth and was leaving the hospital with a black cat in my arms in a receiving blanket.  James would turn to me and say, “You threw up nine months for THIS?”  That dream was so plentiful in my sleeping world, that a good friend from Canada sent me a flea collar after my daughter’s birth.  It remains in her baby book.

Then there is this dream I have had over and over and over and over and over again that someone is on my roof or up the chimney and they are falling off.    Today I was in the middle of my driveway… very sleepily in the middle of the driveway …  making some kind of order of the garage contents that we had dumped out there to organize, when out of the corner of my eyes I caught this image.

I rubbed my eyes but I dreamed it again.  A little bird told me that this dream is going to occur again at dawn tomorrow morning.  I think I’ll just stay awake all night to avoid it. 

If you have caught up with the housework, and particularly if you have just vacuumed and mopped all of the floors and your house looks as close to a magazine as it possibly can with so many people underfoot …… never-ever-EVER pop three bags of popcorn and give them to your children under 12 and then leave them unsupervised.

For my entire adult life I have tried numerous makeup techniques to disguise a lack of symmetry on my face – my right eye is more almond shaped and my left eye is more round.   That is, until early this morning when I ran across this photograph of Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

I have adored Queen Elizabeth for many years.   Now I love her even more.  I’m throwing the makeup techniques out the window.

Yet the best part of my early morning discovery was that six year old Abigail came over to the computer, saw this picture, and said, “Ooooooo.  She’s lovely.  Who is she Mama?”

“She’s the queen.”

“Ooooooo.  I like her necklace.  And she is so pretty.  Look at her crown, Mama.  On top of her pretty hair.  I would like to see her castle.”

“Yes, Abigail.  (long sigh)  She is ever so lovely.   She has always been lovely.  And I walked through her castle when I was in England.  And I saw her crown too, at least one of her crowns.”

All of a sudden astonishment ….   “Why, she’s just like you, Mama!”

“How so?”  (Thinking of the asymmetrical eyes.)

“She has curly hair and she is getting old and she is beautiful, just like you, Mama.”

I’ll be laughing the rest of today.