1914 KENSINGTON - 29 YEARS

After reading this Mike said no one cared about the decorating cycle. I almost took it out to shorten the story but didn't. I care...that is enough for now.

Years before it really happened Mike told someone, while driving through Davis County, that he wanted to live in the eastern hills of Farmington someday. It was prophetic. Mike took the job with Logicon after Stanford graduate school because they had an office in Clearfield. We hoped somehow that an opportunity to move back to Utah might present itself. After 2 ½ years in San Pedro, California the offer came. Mike would spend his entire career with this company—in Utah. Not very happily as they made his scientist into a businessman with what he called "the golden handcuffs." Soon he will be able to retire and hopefully enjoy many years of contentment.
We traveled to Utah on a house-hunting trip in early 1977. Randy Mortenson, Mikes brother-in-law, was building homes in the Farmington hills. One look at Somerset Farm and we were smitten. There was a gurgling stream, old cherry and apricot trees, towering cottonwoods and hills behind our chosen lot for future adventures.

We started looking at house plans in magazines. We sent for a book of contemporary plans and then decided to get a group of farmhouse plans also. We were beginning to collect antiques—maybe a farmhouse would be a good compliment. In the farmhouse plans there was a wonderful house with a wrap around porch, a large entry with an open staircase, an open kitchen and family room and a nice size living room dining room. The nook was a large bay that went two stories to a sitting room in the master bedroom. It was perfect.

We moved to Utah in May and lived in Mike’s parent’s home in Brigham City. I enjoyed that summer. We had most of our "stuff" in storage and it was nice living simply for awhile. We moved to an apartment in Layton in September so Beau could start kindergarten and we could be closer to the building process.

The hole for the basement was dug in September of 1977. A special backhoe had to be brought in due to all the huge rocks—thus the beginning of the Rock Wall, but that story has been told already. This one is about the house
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I have lots of regrets about the things Mike did in the house to save money—a little extra on our mortgage wouldn’t have stressed our finances that much and it would have saved Mike many days and nights of toil. When your cheap your cheap, what can I say. The painting alone was an elephant of a job. Mike worked far into the night many days painting—then he tiled two bathroom showers, bathroom sink tops, and the kitchen counters. He did a nice job for someone with an instruction book in one hand and a tile in the other.

Mike was driving through Clearfield one day and saw a house being torn down that had an oval door—a must for our farmhouse. He got the name of the owners and talked them out of the door.

While still in California we purchased two antique stained glass tulip windows for the little alcoves in the entry. The alcoves were intended to be closets but they turned out to be just right for the windows. We found an old fireplace mantel in an antique shop in Lehi that had been painted black. We bought it for $350 but not before scraping a little paint to determine that it was oak as the black shiny paint made it look plastic. Mike stripped it and finished it. It turned out to be a gorgeous piece with delicate carvings of wreaths, garlands and an oval mirror. We never intended to leave this mantel if we ever sold the house. It now graces the greatroom of our new house. We actually purchased another antique mantel to replace it but in the end decided we wanted it for the new basement fireplace. We had a simple mantel made to fit the space in the Kensington house when we left.

In the beginning every room had a different color carpet—gold in the living room, rusty variegated in the family room, brown in Beau’s room, plain rust in our room, lime green in Maren’s and I honestly can’t remember what Ian’s room had. The tile on the kitchen counters was a deep rusty red and the linoleum was an orange brick color. It didn’t show dirt, and that’ about all I can say for it which is a lot with little boys running in and out all day.

We moved in on July 1, 1978 without permission from the building inspector. Our apartment notice had been given and the house wasn’t finished but we decided to get forgiveness instead of permission. We were still on temporary power so the air conditioner was not usable. Needless to say it was a miserable summer.

We soon discovered the hills behind the house and Mike and I would walk and run in them for the next 29 years. The boys enjoyed many adventures in the hills also. They built "huts", caught lizards, played in the Creek and generally explored it all. We had birthday parties and Easter egg hunts in a little clearing by the creek on many occasions. In the last 10 years the developers began building on our trails and we were forever trying to find new places to walk. Our new home gives us access to many of the same trails if our aging bodies we will allow us to continue to walk uphill.

Wallpaper was in when we moved in and I proceeded to wallpaper every bedroom above the chair rail and the main floor family room. I made curtains and roman shades. The many windows in this house were a delight. The first thing I would do when coming down stairs in the morning was open the blinds. The view of Evans orchards from my stove was wonderful. I thought I owned everything around me and in the evening the sunset was a panorama in the windows. I eventually lost it all as houses began to fill up the lots across the street and next door to the north. The last view was the hills from the kitchen window and it was being built on the last year we lived in Somerset. The road going by our lot to this property finally was closed off for this subdivision and we had a year of grass on the road area before we left.

We planted a garden every year when the yard was finished in the garden plot we created on the North side of the house. Fresh tomatoes were always a favorite. We will miss them the most.

Mike rocked the fireplace in the basement and built a bookcase after we had lived there about five years. We discovered that a full-size couch would not fit down the turn in the basement stairs so we bought a sectional. The only TV in the house was in the basement family room so it was used a lot.

The next decorating round would bring in white tile counter tops in the kitchen, peach walls in the living room, pastel peach and blue flower basket wallpaper in the family room and main floor bathroom, and off white balloon curtains with blue dotted roman shades (that I actually had someone make) and linoleum with blue squares. This was my blue phase. I even painted the entry walls blue. The living room had lace curtains. About this time Mike put up oak crown mold, wide oak baseboards and had the arch for the living room made of oak. There were plint blocks and bulls-eye pieces on the door corners. Mike worked very hard on this project and it was eye-popping spectacular when finished. We had collected many antique pieces by now so everything fit to make the house look like a real Victorian farmhouse. We even had gingerbread made for the front porch.

The last 10 years we changed things once more. We updated all the bathrooms with new tile. We had tile put in all the main floor areas that had linoleum previously. (We never liked this tile. I wasn’t very good at choosing from a small sample). A decorator in the neighborhood was using a lot of vinyl textured wallpaper so I decided to do it too. I chose a variety of off white textures and wallpapered everything. In our bedroom, basement and main floor family I wallpapered over existing wallpaper. I loved it. The walls were all neutral and indestructible. But the 30-year-old that bought our house didn’t like it and had to pay someone a lot of money to get it off and paint. It ripped the sheet rock in a lot of places. The big tragedy is that she painted the oak molding in the living room. It made me kinda sick for a week or so. I did try to talk her out of doing it. What could I say, it’s her house now.

About the last 10 years we got a porch swing. I can’t imagine why it took me so long to get the swing because we loved it. It was the one thing that the new owner requested that we leave. One year we put an arbor over the rock wall and the first couple of years I had a lace plant growing over it with a profusion of white lacy flowers. When the roses started to grow the lace plant died out. This rose bush had an amazing profusion of deep red blooms.

Before we left we put in granite counter tops and hardwood floors in the main floor family room. Maren was working for a granite company and we got a good deal on the granite or we probably wouldn’t have done it but we loved it. We put in the wood floors ourselves from some cabin grade oak flooring that Mike found somewhere for $1 a foot—here we go, doing things ourselves again the cheap way.

I always liked 1914 Kensington but it had its bugs. The master bedroom didn’t have a good closet—the other bedrooms had better ones. I needed more kitchen cupboards. Not being able to get a couch down the basement was irritating. The basement was dark. The hot water caused a pop in the kitchen that we never figured out. That’s not too many things to dislike about a house is it? So, why did we move?

People shouldn’t stay in houses that long—not if you are a pack rat. I did things for the new owner I never did for myself. I sanded and finished all the kitchen and bathroom cabinet drawers. I painted the shelves in the food storage room. We painted the garage floor. We finished the deck. I cleaned and sorted things that hadn’t been done from the beginning. Moving motivates one to clean and sort. Maybe instead of redecorating we should have moved earlier. The fact is there were a hundred more things that needed done and we were tired. We love our new house but 1914 Kensington will forever have a sweet place in my heart. It was the homestead.

1914 Kensington Slide Show

CHICKEN OPPULANCE

I am not a big fan of cooking with cream soups but this is a nice recipe and very easy. Maybe the sour cream and swiss cheese help disguise the distinctive soup taste. The meat doesn't need to be browned before. I like to use chicken tenders instead of the breasts-- enough to fill the bottom of a 9x13 pan. . I added the thyme leaves because I do things like that or a little bunch of chopped fresh herbs in the summer. This can be cooked while you are at church if you can set your oven to come on so it will cook for only 2 1/2 hours otherwise lower the temp to 250 degrees. The meat gets too dry if cooking for the 3 plus hours you are at church at the higher temp. This recipe came from my sister-in-law Alicia. 

4  large chicken breasts cut in 3-4 pieces each
½ lb. Swiss cheese grated
2 cans of cream of chicken soup
¼ C. water
½ C. sour cream
½ tsp thyme leaves (optional) 
(If I have some fresh herbs it helps to hide the chicken soup taste)

Put the chicken breasts in a 9x13 baking dish, sprinkle with the Swiss cheese. Mix the remaining ingredients and pour over the chicken. Crush 1 ½ pkgs. Of Ritz crackers and mix with ¼ C. of butter. Sprinkle over the chicken and bake 275 for 2 ½ hours.  Serve with rice but mashed potatoes is good also. 

WELL PAIRED TEAM by Orson Scott Card

This poem appeared in the Deseret News Today (April 24, 2008) in an article titled "Making Ourselves a Perfect Fit in Marriage" It is worth reading it all:

http://deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,695273083,00.html

You don't arrive at marriage, lonely hearts.
The wedding's where the lifelong journey starts,
Forced to travel with a clumsy fool
Or trot along behind a receding dream
(You had to stop and help me when I tripped,
While you would never stick to my passionate script),
Using one another like an ill-made tool,
Like ox and antelope yoked in a single team.
And yet ... somehow, together, we managed to pull
An empty cart straight uphill;
And look -- the creaking, rickety thing is full
Of crockery, old rags, a child or two.

At the start, knowing nothing, we said "I will,"
And now look at all the things I made with you,
All our baggage, all our breakage, art
By unskilled artisans, yet beautiful,
Yours and mine, no matter how peculiar;
New and strange, no matter how familiar.
Some passages were merely dutiful.
Who could know, on our ignorant starting day
That, pulling such a long and weary way,
The man, the woman, strangers side by side,
Would end the trek inside each other's heart,
Trading forgiveness and repentances,
Finishing each other's sentences,
Only to be stranded,
The team -- for now at least -- disbanded.
Now we see how all the road maps lied:
Our destination was the yoke we shared,
Badly at first, but by the end well paired.
And only when you died did I leave my home
And pointlessly, empty-carted, roam.
You don't arrive at marriage, lonely hearts.
The wedding's where the lifelong journey starts.

CAROLE MCRAE

Carole McRae has been a part of my relationship with Mike from the beginning but I met her for the first time last December. When Mike and I were dating and over the years I have heard lots of stories about Carole because she was an important part of Mike's mission to Eastern Canada. Mike baptized Carole's husband. I have heard so many stories about how people were always drawn to Carole; how she fellowshipped in the mission; how she helped the missionaries with kindness and refferals; how hard she worked in the church organization. Over the years Mike and Carole have touched bases on occasion through letters and phone conversations and lately via e-mail. A few years ago Mike and I actually took a trip back to Montreal to visit the mission haunts but Carole and her new husband were on a couple mission to the Ivory Coast at the time and so we did not connect. Last December Carole and her husband made a trip to Utah and we were able to have them to dinner and spend an evening in the mission journals and scrapbooks trading stories. Carole has become my friend also and I wanted to introduce her in this picture that we took when she visited our home with her husband Gary. They are both an inspiration and a testimony of how God magnifies good people.

DAN IN REAL LIFE - MOVIE REVIEW

Mike and I watched "Dan In Real Life" tonight. It was delightful! There are some real feel good chuckles. The characters are likable. The family reunion was so fun it made you want to be a part of their family. The music was happy and folksy. The morals were good. I give it ****4 stars.

RASPBERRY LEMON BARS

This is an interesting version of those lemon bars we all like. They are so pretty with the raspberries.
Crust:
1 1/2 cup butter (No substitue)
1 C + 2 T. powdered sugar
3 C. flour
Mix together until crumbly and well mixed. Press into a large cookie sheet. Bake 350 for 20 min.


Filling:
6 eggs
3 C. sugar
1/2 C. fresh Lemon Juice
2 tsp. grated lemon peel
6 T. flour
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
Beat together until well blended.


Take 1 large package of frozen whole raspberries. Do not thaw. Sprinkle evenly over the crust. Pour the filling carefully over the raspberries. Bake at 350 for 35-37 min. These are better to overbake than underbake because the raspberries add some liquid. make sure they are well done. Sprinkle lightly with powdered sugar if desired.

BATTLESTAR GALACTICA CYLON CAKE

This is not a cub scout cake. The reciepient is thirty something. This is a very sophisticated cake that Maren and I made for her friend Damian's birthday last week. Upon request of the birthday boy the cake has a pie in the middle...yes, a full size, from scratch, chocolate cream pie. It doesn't show but the Cylon eye has a real light. Before it was finished it had 4 more fighter planes. It got rave reviews at the party for tast and style.

TWO RUBIES

Red is my color—always has been. Are we born loving a color? Is it our innate personality that draws us to a color that speaks to us? Red coded personalities are supposed to be the "power wielders." Is that me? Probably. My grandson Michael loves red too. If you see his schoolwork or coloring books everything is done in red. Michael only needs one crayon in his box...me too. Because I love red I was drawn to my grandmothers ruby wedding ring. She didn’t wear it by the time I was exploring her jewelry box –trying on her precious little trinkets. Its red sparkling vibrancy danced on my finger on many occasions.


"Someday when I get married I want a ruby too." I said it often enough and finally to the right person. Mike and I had been dating for 2 years when he gave me the ruby—just the ruby—in a little box with a poem. He was home for spring break from Stanford graduate school. I was teaching school in Grantsville. He had scoured the bay area for just the right ruby and it was heart stopping beautiful to me. As I got to know Mike as my partner I understood that looking for the ruby was an analyst’s dream--kind of like looking for a wife. He just wasn’t sure if she was the right shade of red...but then that is another story. His analyst did finally pick a wife and a ruby for her. She would pick a setting for the gem.


The poem is filled with memories. Some only he and I understand. We were astronomers together then. Mars the red star and Scorpio my sign became a metaphor for us:


Of Gold and Crimson
By Mike Anderson


It was before they fell-
The yellow, rust, and reddened sands
Of nature’s hourglass.
The golden lamp of day had fled,
Altair was still our friend,


High upon the night
Above the scan of watchful eyes.
The wonder of the sky was Mars
With Antares of Scorpio;
Both lit by crimson flame


That perhaps kindled a spark within us.
But Orion became impatient
And stretched upon the horizon.
As he did the pale leaves blushed
And longed to touch the Earth.


Then San Francisco colors—
Cable car doors
And neon signs
And reddened eyes—upon our parting.

But soon the brightness of Sirius
Overcame the blue of winter.
And with it were Santa Clause suits,
Crimson Christmas tree lights,
And honey popcorn balls with bright red ribbons.


Striped ski sweaters,
Pink Noses,
And burgundy clad, little choir boys
With golden hair
No tears upon the season.


Then waiting;
The yellow sandstone of Stanford Quad
With thatched roofs of red,
The golden, snow-covered wheat of Grantsville plains,
Are not faded by winter nor years.


So take those colored images implanted in the past,
Merge them in the mind;
Enfold the Ruby planet,
Imbed it in the golden ring of Saturn,
And place it on your hand.


For the next 25 years I never took the ring off my hand except for a few times I didn’t really plan. The brushed gold setting I chose was unique as the wedding band encircled the stone just like the golden ring of Saturn. The ruby was enthroned up high with four prongs that turned out to be my nemesis. In 25 years I lost the stone 3 times and once I lost the ring. Nothing other than divine providence helped me find the stone and ring on these dreadful occasions. Here are the stories:


1. We were living in Utah and skiing again after 10 years of living in places and in situations that made it difficult. Mike and I had gone to a ski sale and bought me a new pair of boots. When I arrived home and tried them on again I realized that the two boots were different sizes. The next day I loaded Ian, who was about a year, into the car seat of our VW van and drove to the ski shop on Wasatch Blvd. I lifted Ian out of the seat and went into the shop and traded the boot. While I was in there I noticed that the ruby was missing from the setting. I was sick and stressed almost beyond emotional control. I started to pray silently. "Where could I have lost it? Please God don’t let me lose this symbol of our love." When I arrived back at the car I was calm. Something told me to look under the car. I put Ian in the car seat and got on my knees to search. I could see the stone, a small glimmer in the dirt about a foot in. I most likely scraped the stone on the door jam getting Ian out and it bounced under the car. I sobbed in gratitude.


2. I popped the stone off the setting when getting into the back seat of a car once. The miracle was that this time I noticed when it happened and was able to find it with some intense searching. The Lord was with me again.


3. The third time I lost the stone in my bedroom. I can’t remember how it happened but I knew it was somewhere in the deep rust shag carpet. A red stone in rust carpet is the preverbal "needle in a haystack". I combed the carpet on my hands and knees with my fingers for hours crying and praying. Then I got the idea to put a nylon sock over the end of the hose of the vacuum cleaner and run it around the places I thought it might be. Miracle of miracles it got sucked into my trap. This time I was afraid my luck had run out so I took the ring to a jeweler and asked him if we could reset it so that the prongs would hold it more securely. He made the 4 prongs into 6 and lowered its stance. It wasn’t nearly as pretty but I was sure I was pushing God at this point.


4. I volunteered to go to the cannery and do green beans. The cannery does not allow you to wear jewelry while you are working so I put my ring and my watch in the back pocket of my jeans. After awhile of sorting beans the movement of the conveyer belt was making me a little dizzy so I took a break and reached into my back pocket to remove my watch and check the time. As the beans move along all the bad looking ones get tossed on the floor so a mess builds up around your feet. I didn’t think about the things in my back pocket until we were in the car on the way home. My ring was missing. I most likely dumped it out when I removed my watch. I was sick and sure that there was no possible way that it would ever be found in the mass of bruised beans on the floor but I prayed anyway. I wasn’t about to limit God’s ability to perform another miracle. I called the cannery when I arrived home. Yes, someone had turned in a ring that fit my description. Come to find out my best friend, Dawn Johnson, had found it on the floor peaking out of the beans as her shift relieved ours. The miracle was that it hadn’t already been swept into the trash. I know God is aware of me and He understands the importance of this ring as a symbol of our love.


When my Grandmother died she gave her ruby to my mother who had it reset with two small diamonds and it graced her finger for several years. When my mother died I got the ruby. I wore it on occasion because it bonded me to the two most important women in my life. I decided to have this ruby appraised as I wondered how my grandfather afforded a one-carat stone for my grandmother when they got married. It turned out to be a zirconium type ruby not a natural one. The jeweler said it was a good stone. It has held up over the years with little wear and abrasion.


After altering the setting I wore my ring with no traumatic events for over 10 years. Then last year I was forced to remove it because the fingers on my hands are swollen with Rheumatoid Arthritis to the point that the rings no longer fit. My dilemma is, should I take them to be sized to fit the swollen fingers? I guess I keep hoping that someday my fingers will be normal again. But maybe it is that the ring is waiting in the jewelry box for a little girl to try it on and dream dreams of red sparkly things.

WALLACE GODDARD

I have been reading meridianmagazine.com for a few years and have never missed anything that Wallace Goddard writes. He has been my spiritual mentor. His marriage advice is profound and unique. I saved all of his marriage articles in a computer file but then bought some of his marriage books to give away as gifts. If you are not aquainted with him I implore you to check out his new blog. He is listed on my blogger friends. Here is a recent quote on self esteem: "Self esteem is satan's attempt to clean up pride and make it acceptable." You must read the two articles he has on self esteem. He understands what the family needs in a gospel perspective.