The Art of Deciphering Chinese

Audra brought me a paper today that she had copied Chinese characters onto and asked me if I could tell her what it said. I am a big tease, of course, and have been blessed with the ability to fly by the seat of my pants in situations like these, and thus said, "But, of course I can read it. It says, 'Last Christmas I gave you my heart and all you did was tear it apart.'" Her eyes opened wide and a big grin settled on her face. I was waiting for the moment when she would realize that the radio on my computer was playing "Last Christmas" and know that I was foolin' her. (the song actually says "...and the very next day, you gave it away" instead of "...and all you did was tear it apart" but I was improvising and didn't want her to catch on too quick!) I asked her, "Where did you find the Chinese writing to copy?" to which she replied, "On a box under my bed." "A Sunkist box for oranges?" I asked. "Yup." "Oh... that makes perfect sense then. You see, a lot of people give a case of oranges to their friends for Christmas. So, the company must be saying, 'Here's your oranges for Christmas.' And what do people do with oranges? They..." and Audra pipes up, "...TEAR THEM APART!" "That's right!" I said and told her to go tell her dad what it said and then to copy me some more. I overheard her telling Kevin what it said, and of course, he starts singing "Last Christmas" and I was sure he was going to blow it for me. But, no... she was just too thrilled that it said something about Christmas and came back through my room on her way to write some more. As she crossed the foot of my bed, she stopped suddenly. "What?!" she exclaimed! Hearing the girl on the radio still singing "Last Christmas" she looked in amazement at my computer. Oh no, I thought...she's figured it out. "Mom! That lady just said 'Last Christmas I gave you my heart.' I bet she's the one who wrote that Chinese on the box!" Her grin had grown by tenfold over her new discovery, and of course, my covert methods were kept intact. Her secret to copying down Chinese characters is quite tricky. You see, she lays on her bed and hangs her head upside down with the paper on the ground, thus creating upside down Chinese, but for my intents and purposes... it was all good. She rushed back into my room with her next set of characters. I racked my brain for a good follow up to "Last Christmas" and totally drew a blank. Once again, I tuned my ears onto the radio playing an instrumental version of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and started to read it for her..."God rest ye merry gentlemen...eat this orange and rest... merry gentlemen." Oh my gosh... the look on her face was of absolute amazement that I could read the Chinese. She didn't even care if it made any sense. It was simply fabulous! That girl... she's a crack up! Happy Thanksgiving Eve to you all!

Audra-isms

I forgot to mention something funny that Audra said yesterday. I challenged Audra and Marin to see who would brush their teeth first, and of course, Audra ran out of the room like a cockroach when the lights flip on. She was back within a minute or so, indicating that she really didn't brush... it's the old toothpaste on the finger technique, if you ask me. At any rate, after sending her back again to actually brush, she came back in and asked what her surprise was. I thought for a minute and said, "You can have another sweet and salty granola bar," which of course was a stupid surprise, since she had just brushed her teeth... duh. She looked at me and said, "I expect toys." Kev and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. She was dead serious and sounded like the Queen of England addressing her subjects. That girl is a hoot.

I have kept Audra home from school most of the week, due to a cough that I didn't want evolving into a flu, and with half the school out sick with the H1N1 or whatever the latest bug fad is right now, I wanted to play it safe. She was so much happier being home, it was incredible. Even with her playmate, Marin, gone all day, she kept herself busy and did her homework. Her attitude was much improved and the way she interacted with her siblings was noticeably better. Homeschool may be calling her name... at least for a little while. After all, how will I ever put together that fantastic book I'll be writing without little Audra-isms contributing to its success? Marin wrote her a letter the other day telling her how much she hoped Audra would feel better. Audra dictated to me this letter... word for word:

Dear Marin,

Thank you for the letter. I DO hope I get better and get to go to school. I'm going to have something for you when you get home. Go in the front room and your surprise will be in there!

Your Best Buddy...

Audra

I loved the grown up way she dictated this letter to me. She uses very complete sentences and has an impressive ardor with her delivery of the dictation. My favorite is, "Your Best Buddy..." Such a dolly cakes!

More Photos of da Phamily

Audra ready for school...

The Funny Farmer, Herself!

Gerrit and his group date to Homecoming

My Awesome In-laws, Ray & Karen

Sweet Marin :0)

A Plethora of Ponderments, Poetry and Plain Old Purity

This is just a small tribute post to my beautiful daughter, Marin, and a bit of a happy dance post for actually being able to dream a dream this evening... to envision possibilities in a future that has been looking somewhat prison-esque to me, of late. I hope you enjoy the photos of Marin, and of Vanessa and Dayton, as well, from the fall dance at school.

Kevin, Audra and I went to the bookstore today and I spotted a calendar for sale that takes vintage photos of women in the majestic throes of housewifery - circa 1950's - with smart, sarcastic phrases super-imposed. My favorite was of a smiling, cherubic, 50's icon of a housewife whose companion statement read, "If what you mean by happy is a prison sentence with no chance of escape... then, yes! I am happy!" It struck me as funny and Kev and I had a good chuckle. The contrast between the smiling faces and the acerbic verbiage was quite lovely. I also found a hilarious book called "What to Expect When You Are Expected" playing off of the series of a similar title, except written to the unborn fetus. Pretty dang funny. All in all... a great visit to the bookstore. Wouldn't you know it? The one book Audra picks from the shelf to lay down on the floor and flip through, is a book we already have at home, Jan Brett's Christmas Treasury. I said, "We have that book, Audra. I read it to you." She replied, "I'm just looking at it, Moomm..." like sheesh...

Anyway, here is my tiny little one stanza poem about Marin that just seemed to hit the spot at 2:00 a.m. yesterday morn:

daughter

ever watchful and reflective
eyes of innocence and blue
wise beyond this earthly kingdom
gentle as the morning dew

November 6, 2009
Donna Brooks van Uitert

I also had a fun visit to the D.I. this evening with Dayton. I wasn't quite sure why I was going, but it seemed like a good thing to do, so Dayton and I had a fun treasure hunting trip to the big "D" and found too many treasures to possibly take home. I did buy, however, a lazy-boy recliner in near-perfect condition and an upholstered chair that matches my front room couch reasonably well, in that eclectic way I prefer, of course. I did not resist the temptation to buy this monstrously awesome entertainment center armoire they had for sale for $75. It was just too gigantic and marvelous to resist. Of course, it may not fit in my home, and heaven knows I don't have a place for it, but it was so cool, I just had to indulge myself. We will either find a place for it here, or I will find a new home for it on ksl.com.

I really do love reselling used furniture and have been very blessed to have an eye for what sells online, but haven't been into the resell business for the last year or so. Rekindling this old flame is part of my "Dream a Little Dream" experience tonight. I simply adore the weirdly elaborate... sometimes grotesquely large in size... furniture that I find at the thrift shops. LOVE IT!!! I once had a dream (one that was on the brink of realization, I might add) of opening a used furniture store in Coalville and passing along quality, fashionable furnishings to the common folk in those parts who didn't want to drive into Salt Lake for a good deal. Heaven knows Park City doesn't have inexpensive used furniture for sale... I think it might be against the city code, to tell you the truth... hardy har har. Anywho... needless to say, I didn't open my shop. I did, however, buy furniture for it. That truly is how close I thought I was to realizing this dream. I sold most of it over a few month's time and helped pay the bills while we were struggling to make two house payments and keep the collection agencies at bay. It surely was a blessing to have that resource and certainly softened the blows of our financial crisis. We have no financial crisis, to speak of, these days. HALLELUJAH!!! Heavenly Father has blessed us beyond measure and we are so grateful to be out from under the black cloud of debt. However, I still love buying and reselling quirky furniture and am thinking of bringing back the old dream of setting up shop... with the twist of a warehouse to sell out of, instead of an open to the public kind of store.

We are considering this nifty little Victorian home for sale in Wellsville as a daytime depot for moi... running kids to school fifteen miles each way is getting old... twice and sometimes three times a day. If you know me at all, you know I like to drive, but only in those "I want to go for a drive" kind of moods... not "I have to take the kids to school" ball and chain schtick I've been engaging in for the last three months. My life has felt like anything but my own since I traded in the homeschooling "fly by the seat of our pants" lifestyle for the transient glory of taxi driver and STILL homeschool mom of four - just now encapsulated between the hours of four and ten p.m. I am what the Spanglish might call "el toasto burno" or "burnt toast" for all you heathens who don't speak Spanglish. And, yes... I am a complainer, as well, just for kicks. I don't really want to be a complainer... but then I must want to be one, since I'm performing the duties of Chief Complainer Whiny Pants with such zeal and zest that I put Lucille Ball and Roseanne Barr to shame, I'm afraid. Ah well... complaining's a nasty job, but somebody's gotta do it... *wink wink*

Speaking of complaining... I really need to mention what a fantastic example of non-complainability my dear Mother-in-law is (doesn't the word non-complainability just tickle your tongue as it rolls off? the fact that it isn't a word just makes it all the more fantastic!) My Mother-in-law just retired last week... wahoooo!!! Whilst reflecting upon her years of sacrifice and hard work in helping to support her family, it dawned on me that I don't think I've ever heard her complain about it. Kev and I have been married for twenty years... twenty years... and, honestly, I can't remember one complaint falling off her lips about her obligation to work. She is an absolutely awesome example of integrity, graceful endurance, and quite simply "putting the shoulder to the wheel." I'm sure she has had her complaints throughout the years concerning various things, but I find it extraordinary that I have never heard her complain about going to work. What a great woman, mother and wife. I can certainly take a few lessons from her about "doing my duty with a heart full of joy" and maybe learn a thing or two about the Art of Shut the #$%@ Up and Quit Yer Complainin'! Thank you, Karen, for the years of service on behalf of your family and for the example of not only your work ethic, but your enduring to the end character and positive attitude. Your charity and love for your family has not gone unnoticed and lucky for me, I get to reap the benefits of your righteous womanhood on a daily basis just by the blessing of having married your fabulous son. When he smiles, I see you and love him all the more for it.

Now, back to this Victorian cottage in Wellsville. We are thinking of either replacing our rental house in Layton with it, or quite simply adding it to our investment portfolio as a pet project for me to lovingly restore, use as a hair salon/massage parlor (don't get excited...it's not that kind of massage parlor...), furniture reselling headquarters, storage facility for our motor home and outside trailers, school house for Audra (we are considering bringing her back home for a year or two of positive character and identity reinforcement... that girl... I'll tell ya...grumparoo to Timbuktu!), and just an all around pit-stop for me and the kids so we can save some time and money from running back and forth to Beaver Dam several times a day. Out of breath just from reading that? I think that sentence deserves an award. But seriously, those are the thoughts and dreams from the previously vacant persona I have acquired over the last two years... the artist formerly known as "who? huh? oh... that absent spirited and fitfully mindless creature inhabiting Donna's body? right on..." I actually felt alive tonight thinking of the possibilities, and seeing as that I haven't been able to envision many future goals (or shall I say any future goals) for a long period of time now, it is quite refreshing to take joy in the thoughts of plans and projects and all that jazz... even if they don't work out. Decisions like these require much prayer and pondering and when they are right, they just seem to fall into place. Should that happen with this decision, I would assume that I will be thrilled. If it's not meant to be, then it's not meant to be and another dream may find its way to my doorstep, preferably sooner than later. *grins*

Goodnight, Ya'll... This is what happens when I don't write for awhile. My dad asked me for an email when I was chatting with him on the phone this evening and I reminded him that I respond quite regularly to his emails, to which he replied that he hasn't received an email from "the Farm" for a long time. Well, here ya go, Pops... this one's for you!

For the Love of a Dog

I look across the room, past the bed I am sitting on, to an image that evokes nostalgia in many of us. How comforting it is to see man's best friend curled up in front of a window soaking up the rays of sunshine pouring in. No worries or cares wrinkle his forehead, for he enjoys the moment; the softness of indoor carpeting, the warmth of the sun, and the love of his master, which he mirrors back to the inhabitants of his domain. To look into his eyes is to look into the eyes of a wise and aged grandfather who knows much from his experiences in life and understands exactly, with compassion and love, what another is experiencing. The old adage from William Shakespeare stating, "The eyes are the windows to the soul," could not be more true than when looking into the eyes of a dog, and particularly looking into the eyes of Bruno. There I see a thoughtful soul: a widow's grief; a child's curiousity; a prophet's knowing; a mother's embrace; a watchman's loyalty; a father's protection; and most importantly, the light of Christ.

Bruno. Bruno is my dog... my canine aficionado. I have had many "best friends" throughout my life, of the canine variety, but I'm not sure that any of them will hold a place in my heart as stringently as Bruno, the one I welcomed into our home when we really didn't need or want another dog (we had three already), but who grasped my heart the moment I met him. He sprinted the hundred feet into my open car door upon being asked, "Do you want to go home with me?" leaving me, mouth agape, across the vast yard at my friend's home. I guess the answer to that question was not just "yes" but "#$%& YES!"

I remember seeing an adoption ad posted for him on the front door of the Eden General Store one Saturday morning, when Kevin and I went for some breakfast at one of the town's few restaurants. The ad read, "Vizsla/German Shorthair Mix Needs Good Home" and then stated that the dog listed was an excellent dog, but needed a fenced yard, because he liked to run away. Weeks later, a friend of mine joked to me about the ad posted on the window, that he, too, had seen and commented, "Oh yeah... they're sure to find a home for him... a dog that likes to run away. Doesn't everyone want a dog like that?" A look of surprise settled on his face when I told him that I must have wanted a dog like that, for I had adopted him myself.

You see, I didn't realize at the time that I saw the ad, that Bruno was one of my best friend's dogs. The picture posted portrayed a russet brown bird dog, as nondescript as any chocolate lab I had ever seen. It wasn't until days later, in talking to a mutual friend, that I found out that the dog in the ad was indeed owned by my friend, and that she was worried sick about finding a good home for him, noting that it would be difficult because of his age and his bad habit of running. She didn't want to place Bruno in another home, for she loved him deeply, but her husband felt otherwise. He was angered easily by the slightest deviation from his rules, and neglected to remember that "a dog is a dog." You leave the ham bone out on the edge of the counter and it is quite likely that even the best behaved canine will give into temptation and snatch it up. They don't understand all the reasonings and consequences of man. They only see the reasoning in the moment... ham bone... yum. Bruno's mistake was to take that ham bone and enjoy it on the living room carpet. The rage and tempest that proceeded from her husband was of such great magnitude that no love was left in his heart for this special dog - only hatred. He despised Bruno. The ham bone was simply the excuse he needed to get rid of someone that stole his wife's attention from himself. She loved Bruno with an unconditional love that he couldn't help be jealous of. She confided to me that he was always hard on Bruno, and that it angered him that he ran away, but I don't think she ever considered that the reason Bruno might be running was, in fact, because of her husband. So, while she was on vacation with her family, and our mutual friend was watching her animals for her, I offered to take him during the vacation as a trial period, to see if he fit in with our family. We called her and asked her permission to take him for the week, and even though she was skeptical that this was the solution to her problem, she conceded that it couldn't hurt to try. She knew we had five children and three dogs already, with a fenced yard that didn't always keep them in... the dogs, that is. She wasn't sure that Bruno would get the best home with us, and that he might only prove to be a burden on an already seemingly burdened household.

A burden he was not. In fact, quite the opposite proved to be true, and we wished our other dogs were as well behaved and obedient as he. To my friend's bewilderment and surprise, we had stumbled upon a startling observation with Bruno. You see, he didn't run off - not even once. We walked through the neighborhood together, without a leash, and he stayed right with us. We let him out to do his business, and he didn't try to escape. If let out front, he stayed within calling distance and returned upon being beckoned. What?! This hard to contain canine wasn't so hard to contain! Perhaps, the reason Bruno didn't run was because he didn't feel he had anything to run from. He had found unconditional love, at last, and the fear and trembling present when I first met him was stripped away, leaving a calm and secure spirit in its place.

Our family has had the pleasure of Bruno's company for the last four years, now. He is my best friend when I am lonely and will sleep beside me when my husband is away. He is the hearthstone I warm myself beside on cold winter nights. He is the embrace I need from my mother when I am sad or have had a hard day. He is the protection I take with me on a solitary road trip and my security system when no one is at home. He is the constant in a tumultuous life of comings and goings and the ultimate giver of unconditional love. He always loves to see me, even when I look or feel terrible. He likes me even when I'm grouchy and forgives me instantly when I lose my cool over a ransacked garbage can or empty bread bag. The old roamer who used to run miles away from home, who got shot at on several occasions for stealing animals out of farmer's fur traps, and who still bears the buck shot under his skin and the scars on his feet from being entrapped himself, is now the same sweet dog lying in the sun on my bedroom floor. No longer does he emulate the greyhound's gaunt profile, or shake like a leaf in the wind. No... he is at peace, without fear, enjoying his moment in the sun.

Poetry from the Funny Farmer

I stumbled upon a poem I wrote sometime this summer, and I actually can't quite remember writing it. I mean, I vaguely recognize the lines, but seriously cannot remember when I wrote it, other than I know it was within the last few months. I must have written it late at night, as I typically do, saved it in MS Word and went to bed. Upon finding it, I realized how grateful I am not to be feeling that way at the moment, but still could appreciate the beauty found within it.

A friend of mine just lost her step-brother at the hands of another and in our conversation about the funeral, I remarked to her that I find funerals to be quite beautiful. Although, some are terribly tragic, as with the case of her step-brother, and some are welcomed with relief for one who has suffered long enough, the emotion and the humanity present at the funeral of a loved one is a beautiful thing. Sometimes, pain and sadness, I think can be beautiful things, because they teach us greater love... greater appreciation, perhaps, for the things that are truly of worth in our lives. So, when I read this poem, I found it sad and lonely and somewhat forsaken (evidently QUITE forsaken, since I didn't even remember it was there)... but also beautiful. Gary Allen, the country singer, sings a song entitled, "Life Aint Always Beautiful" and I think we've all had our share of feeling that way. But we also have to remember the flip side of that record... "Life IS Beautiful," and sometimes the realization of that comes from experiencing what 'at the time' feels very much less than beautiful. Crying is beautiful because it is evidence that we have the ability to feel. Misery is beautiful because without it we wouldn't know what true joy is. I don't know... you get the picture!

The second poem is one I just now wrote. The idea came to me earlier today and, of course, the second I lay my head on the pillow, the words started flowing into my mind. This poem might seem melancholy, as well, but hey... at least I'm consistent! Ha ha... Maybe this writing thing is just the way I happen to get some of those somber thoughts shaken out of my heart and head. I still liked it, though, and I hope you all do, as well.

Untitled

Hands cover her mouth
To hold back the cries
With each passing day
A piece of her dies

The fire within
That lit up the room
Was known at one time
To dispel the gloom

But shrouded she is
With sadness and grief
That douses her fire
And gives no relief

The shroud of the night
Snuffs out the day
Another day spent
Along her life’s way

Her limbs are now weary
And drooping, her eyes
But sleep does not come
Only tears to despise

by Donna van Uitert
Summer 2009



Sell Me a Dream

Does anyone know where a dream can be bought?
Mine once was a gift, but I thought of it not.
I’m afraid that I left mine alone for too long.
It seems to have tired of me and is gone.

So neglectful was I with my very own dream,
I didn't take note of its absence, it seems,
For weeks, perhaps months, maybe even a year.
I now have lost something I once held so dear.

For years it was part of my spiritual whole
Ingrained in my heart and my mind and my soul.
My constant companion… my beacon of hope
The light at the end of the tunnel… the rope

That was offered to me in the years of my youth
As guidance - direction - for seeking of truth.
And now its importance, I’m deeply aware
Becomes even greater now that it’s not there.

So where do they go… those forgotten or left?
Those dreams that have fled leaving souls so bereft?
Recycled for others to more wisely use?
Or for yet but another’s neglect and abuse?

If I found my lost dream, would it come back to stay?
I’m not sure it is mine anymore to betray.
Perhaps, it has found itself happy to be
With one who will recognize worth and will see

The value in nurturing something so rare
As a dream that’s been gifted from Heavenly care.
Perhaps, although time with my previous friend
Has come and now gone, it may not be the end.

There may yet be another dream waiting for me
To hope for and work for and ultimately
Ignite what has long become dormant and still…
Encourage my hope and my heart and my will.

It’s certain I can’t justify the request
For another gift such as the one I suppressed.
But, buy it, I will, with whatever He takes,
This Maker of dreams, for the new dream He makes.

So, once more this question to all I would ask
And hope for your help to accomplish this task.
Does anyone know where a dream can be bought?
Mine once was a gift, but I thought of it not.

by Donna van Uitert
September 13, 2009

It is now after six o’clock and I am still helping kids with homework. Just as I answer a question for Marin, then it’s Dayton’s turn…then Marin…then Dayton… You get the picture. If Vanessa wasn’t babysitting, we could throw her in the mix. Instead, she’ll probably call as soon as she gets a chance to work on her homework, and if not, we’ll be up late tonight. Luckily, Kevin got back in town late last night and is thus here to help Audra with hers. Hers is actually pretty quick… thank heavens. We are working on prime factorization for math and maps for history. I don’t remember ever having to know all the different types of projection maps available. In fact, I might indeed ask “Why is it necessary to memorize them?” Unless my child plans to become a cartographer, I see no need. And yet, here we sit detailing the strengths and weaknesses of each of the four common map projections. If Marin wants to be a cartographer someday, I’m sure she could have speedily memorized and learned about these in her cartography class. Welcome to public school… the source of certain pertinent information, but also decidedly the source of oodles and oodles of unnecessary fact memorization. I guarantee you that none of these kids of mine will remember what kinds of projections there are in a few months. And the amazing thing is that they won’t NEED to remember them… EVER. Boy howdy, do I love to waste my time, or what?! And yes... you guessed it... I'm a little bit grouchy.

On a happier note, Marin, Dayton and Vanessa are all on Student Council. They made posters and gave campaign speeches. Marin is the Secretary, Vanessa the Treasurer, and Dayton is a Class Representative. Now, we'll just have to see if they have any TIME to be on Student Council after all of their well spent time regurgitating stimulating facts about the Winkel Triple Projection Map. Sorry... just couldn't help it.

Audra is busy sewing papers together for homemade books that she makes and plans to give to all of her friends and family. She's been making them for a couple of months now and likes to copy text from other books. You can open one and read about Simba and Timone, or open another and read about Dorothy on her way to Oz. She's a sweet girl... most of the time. We actually quite prefer her when she is NOT sticking her tongue out, hitting, kicking, or telling a story about how she "didn't do it!"

In other news: our lovely snake is loose in the house. Whither he goes, we know not. I hope to find him alive and preferably not hooked onto anyone's toes. I suspect that this is Kevin's hope, as well. (but, my, doesn't Kevin have delicious looking toes? I should say...)

And with that, I bid you adieu... a final farewell. Vanessa shall grace us with her presence in a short period of time, at which point I can restart the tutoring process once again. Anyone game for a jolly time with predicates, prepositional phrases, cardinal compasses, or prime factorizations? If so, applications are being accepted during normal business hours, which at present is between the hours of seven a.m. and ten p.m. Plenty of time to submit...no excuses...