Hoping For Fresh Snowballs For Memorial Day...

 Decades ago my mom planted a snowball bush near my childhood home. She planted it next to a rain gutter outlet where, not only did it get water from the sprinklers, but received a healthy dose of water every time it rained.

When we built a house across the street, we did the same thing, planted a snowball bush where the rain water flowed. It flourished. When we moved a few years ago, we had to put in a yard. One thing we wanted was to do the same thing my mom did, the same thing we did.

So, that's what we ended up doing.

Last year we found a tiny plant and dug a hole at the base of a rain gutter outlet. This spring, we're seeing some tiny snowballs.

Each spring the snowballs at the old house were so beautiful, huge, white, incredible. We always hoped they would last until the end of May so we could cut off some of the snowballs and put them on my parent's gravestone. Almost every year, the didn't make it. If you know anything about the snowball bushes, the snowballs are very fragile. A light breeze could destroy them. We even tried when they bloomed late in the spring to take some to the cemetery. We ended up with a car full of white pedals.

We live at a little higher latitude now. Things progress a little slower up here. I'm hoping that these little snowballs will last until the end of May so we can take them with us. It might happen, it might now. At least we can say we tried.

Here's hoping.

With Used Cars...Timing Is Everything

 Something arrived in the mail today...something most people look forward to getting, something they love to receive.

The title to my car.

It's all ours.

And, it's all broken.

Usually, our car is driven sparingly. We use it when I need to go somewhere and my wife needs the van, and perhaps most importantly, it's great in the snow. I drive the car mostly in the fall to go back and forth to my side gig. I was driving back from working down south last month then a noise--a very unpleasant and sad noise--came from the back end of the car. It was so loud we parked the car and made an appointment to have it checked out.

We drove the car to the shop, they gave it the once-over, and concluded the bad sound came from bad things. The transmission was dying. 

Funny how timing is everything.

The week in which we find the car is inoperable is the week in which we made our final payment.

I knew when I bought it three years ago that we were taking a chance. We also knew we wouldn't be driving the car much. Plus, it's a Subaru--a brand noted for its dependability. I've never had a car drop a transmission before so I didn't see/hear/feel the signs. Maybe it's been going out for some time--I wouldn't know.

My wife and I test drove a few cars to replace Donk, the Subaru. We found that many--costing over $10k--were in worse shape than mine, well...except for the transmission, of course. We're going to try and save it, give it not a new heart, but new muscles.

I'll keep you posted on the progress. But, there's one good thing, we at least own the car.

Timing...Is Everything

There are several strange (though I use the word "different"...) customs in the culture in which I live. One of these is for men, fathers and sons 12 and older, to go for ice cream twice a year on a Saturday night, just after 8pm.

 I should say that it may not be ice cream. The men and boys are free to make other choices, but usually the higher the sugar content the better.

Why do they do it, you ask? That's a fair question. You see, many of us who live in this area attend a religious meeting that's held on the first Saturday evening in April and in October. Tonight was that meeting. During my entire life the meetings were broadcast from downtown Salt Lake City to the church buildings all around the world. We would go for the two-hour meeting and then as soon as the word "Amen" was spoken over the pulpit it was a mad dash to the local dispensary of treats.

But all that changed last year. The church decided to broadcast the meetings on TV, not just to the church buildings. I didn't realize how things would change. Because the men were in the meeting, local business catered to the women in the area with sales and "Women's Night Out" sales, and the women took advantage.

Now that things have changed, I wonder if sales at the eateries and bookstores and and other gathering spots have suffered financially since the change was made. As for us and our family, we bought our Harmons gelato earlier in the day. "You are the smartest people on the planet!" the employee said to us. Because we all knew if it were 8:05pm, we'd be waiting about 30 minutes to buy the same thing. I've said it before...timing is everything!