The Best Thing

Sometimes when you're husband asks you what was the best thing to happen to you in the last month, you can say, ""Getting a tour at the E.B. Grandin Press in Palmyra, New York."

I'm Weird-Post #4

It took me a while to go back and find out what number this "I'm weird" post needed to be....it appears that it is #4.....my last "I'm weird post" (find it here) stated that I LIKED to run.  That is a perfect "lead-in" to this post.....

I'm weird because try as I might, I am just not all that concerned about how I look when I run and often other times.  Now lest you think I am a complete slob, let me state that I am not.  I am always clean, I like to look at fashion magazines and contemplate new hairstyles (and covet long, thick hair, which I do not have.)  I like to go shopping, and am excited when I find something that is cute and looks and fits "just right."  I have plenty of shoes, and I do wear make-up.  However, oftentimes (especially when I go running) my "look" is more of one of comfort and convenience than of style.  I have tried (really I have) to buy and wear "cute" running clothes.  I actually own an $80 under-armor cute fitted running jacket, and I wear it .....sometimes.  But my outer-wear of choice when running in cold weather is one of Kent's XL hoodies.  I can pull the over-sized sleeves up inside my fists and my hands stay MUCH warmer than if I am wearing the stylish fitted running jacket with gloves. And the hood of the hoodie pulled over my ears with the drawstrings tightly drawn is ever-so-much more warm than the cute running ear-band that I purchased several years back.  Furthermore, I prefer old shoes.  The running shoes I am currently wearing are "several pairs back"-meaning I've purchased several new pair since then.  However, I somehow just keep coming back to these old ones.  I have worried about the wear and tear on my feet and legs that might come from wearing worn-out shoes, but then I read this book about barefoot running, and just decided to stick with what I like and what is comfortable.  I do put on one of the newer pairs of running shoes if I'm going to be running a race, but for day-to-day use, I prefer my old stand-bys.  (Maybe I'd do better in the races I run, if I'd WEAR my old stand-bys, instead of being so vain and feeling like I need to "look good" for the race.)

Now I DO try to dress up to go to work each day, but I find myself having to "set goals" to wear jewelry, cause I just don't think about it (and besides, those long necklaces sometimes bump the first-graders in the head when I lean over to help them.)  And I can only stand to wear stylish, yet not-so-comfortable shoes about one day per week.  I remember my mom changing out her purse to match the season or the outfit she was wearing.  I tried that.... I even had a system: I put all the contents of my purse into ziploc baggies and hung several purses right inside my kitchen door so I could easily "change out" my purse according to my outfit.......I think I did it twice.  Lately, however, I've become super pathetic ( or "weird"), using a plastic grocery bag to carry items back and forth to school.  I just throw my phone and my wallet into a bag and anything else that I might need (including my lunch).  It's lovely, I can just throw the bag away when I'm done or donate it to a child who may have forgotten his/her backpack.  So now am I not only not changing out my handbags according to my outfit and/or the season, but I'm also using a plastic grocery bag as a purse. ......Lovely......(and "weird.")

Last time my daughter was home from college, she pulled on a middle school hoodie that someone had left lying around and headed out.  She lamented that she really needed to start "caring more." She said, "I'm going to set a goal to try to be more 'high-maintenance'.....you know maybe get hair extensions or color my hair, and wear more jewelry." I laughed and asked, "Why?"  She stated that she felt that this might be the best way to "get a man."  (Let me just say that this daughter has NO trouble attracting men.....but apparently she has not yet attracted a man to suit her liking.) Anyway, whatever the case, I guess that "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" when it comes to being a "high maintenance" woman.....which neither of us are.

So I'll probably keep wearing over-sized hoodies and worn out shoes and carrying a plastic grocery bag in place of a cute purse......and remember that MY apple didn't fall far from the tree either.  (My dad wore a white t-shirt and jeans most EVERY day of his life, and was never concerned if his clothing, vehicle, and/or home were stylish or beautiful, as long as they were functional.)

My current running shoes (circa pre 2012??? or earlier....the gold and blue ribbons were from the Salt Lake Marathon 2013.....it was the first marathon after the bombing at the Boston Marathon, so all runners got gold and blue ribbons for their shoes to honor the bombing victims.....I think these shoes were already pretty worn out back then.)  I also note that I have been wearing old frayed sweat pants with a couple of small holes in them this week to run in.....yep, I'm definitely "weird."

My current "handbag"

"low maintenance" Kaylee bathing in buckets on her mission

Mom and Dad- Dad's birthday-note his attire (white t-shirt-which is unusually clean and free of cement- and jeans)

Saint Patrick and the Snake

Saint Patrick and the Snake

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!  I had no intention of posting today and really have no time to do so.  But....both my mother and my daughter requested that I send them a copy of the poem by my great, great grandfather, John Joseph Hayes, which explains why there are no snakes in Ireland, and since I had to type it up anyway for them, and in honor of my Irish heritage, here it is:

Saint Patrick and the Snake

By John Joseph Hayes

Saint Patrick was no Irishman, as history does declare,

And yet he is the Irishman, all Irishmen revere.
Because tradition does relate, he traveled o’er the bogs,
And by the power which he possessed, destroyed the snakes and frogs.
He traveled east; he traveled west; he wandered north and south,
And told the ugly creeping things, “From Irish soil get out.”
They started off or busted up as I have heard folks say;
For sure there are no snakes or frogs in Ireland today.

But here was one great monster snake that said, “I will not go,

For I have lived here in the south, how long I do not know.
Killarney is my native home, the lake my native bed.
And by the rattles on my tail, Saint Patrick I don’t dread.”

Then Patrick went into the wood and cut a large oak tree.

He got a saw and cut some planks, such boards you ne’er did see.
And then he got some iron clamps, and made a box so strong
That Sampson could not break it ope, if he should come along.
He put on it a patent lock, with double header snap,
And then exclaimed, with saintly pride, “That wiley snake I’ll trap.”
The saint then took this heavy box, and packed it to the lake
Where sporting on the glistening sand, he spied the wiley snake. 
"Look here Acushla*,” Patrick said, “I’ve brought you a fine house
Where you can be snug and warm, and cozy as a mouse.”
“But I don’t want your house you see, ‘tis too small for a cat;
You think a genteel snake like me would live in such as that?”

“Look here you varmint, how could a snake be any judge of size?

You know that since the days of Eve snakes always will tell lies.” 
“Indeed, Good Saint, it is not fair that you should thus begin
You know that in your holy church, you preach original sin.
But I don’t care for all your talk; I want to let you know
That you can’t get me away from here, because I will not go.” 
Then Patrick took his Irish harp, and soon began to play,
And then the snake came creeping round as if he’d like to stay.
Then Patrick played the Irish jig, the snake could not refuse it. 
It made him feel so very gay, to hear his native music.
“Balance all,” St. Patrick cried, “Next swing your partner by your side.”
“Sashay to sashay,” the snake now said, “Allaman left and all promenade.” 
The excitement made the snake so drunk, he fell exhausted in the trunk.
Then quick as lightening Patrick slid, up to the box, and shut the lid.
The double header did not fail. Saint Patrick shouted, “Mind your tail.”

The snake now fast began to rave, and much palaver there he gave.

But the Good Saint did entirely fail to see the moral of his tale.
“Oh, blessed St. Patrick, pity take, and set me free for pity sake.”
The saint now slightly touched with sorrow said, “I will the day after tomorrow.”
The St. Patrick took the heavy box, and waded in the lake
Until the water reached his chin, and there he dumped the snake.
And now the fishermen declare, as they sail o’er the deep
A mournful sound they always hear, as though someone did weep.
It never ceases nights or days, and is always full of sorrow,
These hopeless words it seems to say, “When will it be tomorrow?”

*An Irish word meaning darling

Of Interest regarding St. Patrick and snakes in Ireland: Background info taken from aboutreligion and Christian Scientist websites:
St. Patrick and the Pagan Snakes of Ireland:
St. Patrick's Day is named after the 5th-century missionary who was famous for banishing all of the snakes from Ireland. With staff in hand, the Christian preacher cast the slithering critters into the sea, never to return – at least that's the story.
The Emerald Isle is indeed one of very few places in the world without snakes, not counting the few serpents kept in zoos or as pets.
St. Patrick is known as a symbol of Ireland, particularly around every March. One of the reasons he's so famous is because he supposedly drove the snakes out of Ireland, and was even credited with a miracle for this. Some people believe that the serpent was actually a metaphor for the early Pagan faiths of Ireland. He did not physically drive the Pagans from Ireland, but instead St. Patrick helped to spread Christianity around the Emerald Isle. He did such a good job of it that he began the conversion of the entire country to the new religious beliefs, thus paving the way for the elimination of the old systems. Keep in mind that this was a process which took hundreds of years to complete.

 And some more info on my great, great grandfather, the author of the poem :)

John Joseph Hayes was born in Ireland.  He began his education in the parish school in Clonakilty. The only textbook was the Holy Bible.  He kept himself in school year after year after year by winning the scholarship prizes given for memorizing the greatest number of chapters.  He was really a "walking Bible." He joined the Mormon church after a debate with the missionaries, which he handily won.  (In fact, he was carried off on the shoulders of the crowd as the victor.)  However, he later said, "When they asked me where I got my authority, I could not answer.  I could only shout and bluff.  Studying and searching to overthrow their doctrine has given me understanding, and I believe it is true."  He married Rachel Eleanor Wagstaff, and they emigrated to Utah.  They became the parents of my great grandfather Henry Nephi Hayes, who was the father of my grandmother, Elese Hayes Monson, who was the mother of my mother, Ann Monson Hardy.

For more info on St. Patrick's Day traditions in our family, see this post.


John Joseph and Rachel Eleanor Hayes and their children.  Henry Nephi (my great grandfather) is sitting in the front to the left of his father.