The 1000th Note: Completely Not Interesting

I was hoping that the 1000th note I clipped in Evernote would be something interesting I could share, and… yeah. It isn’t. Our washer has decided hot means cold and cold means hot (seems like there’s a Katy Perry joke around here somewhere). Maintenance came by on Tuesday to check it out, and yes, the switch the controls which pipe it takes water from needs replaced. They left a note tucked inside our door to let us know they’d been here, and rather than keep track of the piece of paper, I dropped it in the ScanSnap, stashed it in Evernote for safekeeping, and yep… that was number 1,000.

But I don’t want to leave you with nothing interesting to read. How about the current Manvotional over at Art of Manliness: “Habit” by Charles Carroll Everett, written in 1861.

Worth Every Penny

Earlier this year, I committed myself to donating $100 to a cancer-related charity. As of yesterday, I still hadn’t gotten around to it. (I mean, there’s still almost three months left to do it…)

We stopped at Safeway on our way home last night to grab a few items. The predominant color in our store right now is pink. Pink ribbons. Pink balloons. Pink signs. Pink shirts on the checkers. They’re in the middle of one of their periodic fundraising partnerships, this time with Susan G. Komen for the Cure. We quickly collected our $20.78 in groceries and checked out. Our checker, Tammy, asked us if we’d “like to donate a dollar for breast cancer research”. She sounded very enthused. I have no idea how many times she had asked that question over the last two weeks, or how many people had said, “Sure.”

I said, “Actually, I’d like to donate a hundred dollars.” I looked at the little keypad that was asking me the same question. It had buttons for $1, $3, and $5. I tapped “Other…”. I punched in a one followed by four carefully-counted zeros and pressed enter. A few seconds later, Tammy snapped back to reality. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “You were serious! I thought you were joking…” Her voice trailed off for a second as she punched a few buttons on her console.

She picked up the phone and activated the PA system. I had forgotten this part. I ducked my head, slightly embarrassed, as she announced to the store, “Thank you for the $100 donation to breast cancer research on checkstand three.”  The girl on five looked up from her work and shouted over to her, “What? Are you serious?” Tammy barely had time to get a quick “Totally!” over her shoulder before her phone started ringing. “That would be the store manager.” The side of the conversation that we heard was, “Yeah… uh-huh… in your face!” I’d love to know what the other end of the conversation was.

I don’t expect there to be any problem with taking the charitable deduction for it. It was at Safeway, sure, but it was for Susan G. Komen for the Cure. I’ve got the receipt, and it’s clearly marked. But even if I can’t, I made a couple people’s night. It was worth it. After all, I saved $3.31 by using my Safeway Club Card.

Chivalry in the MTC

I went through the Missionary Training Center (MTC) in Preston, England. There were 48 missionaries in our entire class – 42 Elders and 6 Sisters. Most would be serving their missions in England, but a couple were European missionaries who were serving in Europe and needed no foreign-language training.

At the MTC, I served as the district leader of the Aaron District. (The other three districts were Ammon, Omni, and Himner.) The president of the MTC told us that as district leaders, we could give rules and regulations to our districts in addition to the MTC’s rules. I don’t know what the other district leaders did, but I only asked one thing more of the Elders in my district: I didn’t want any of the Sisters to have to wait in line at the cafeteria because of us.

There were a couple questions about what this meant, but they quickly agreed to this. For example, we couldn’t require any of the other districts to let the Sisters go ahead of them (we lined up for lunch and dinner by district), but we could let our Sisters line up at the front of our district. We could offer to let the Sisters from other districts go ahead of us. Maybe they’d take us up on the offer, maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe Elders in the other districts would follow our example, maybe they wouldn’t. All we could do was set the example.

During the second week, they made me proud. There were eight of us in line, idly chatting while we were waiting for our food. The Elder at the front of the line interrupted his conversation to say, “Elders, Sisters”. Without further prodding or complaint, eight Elders picked up their trays and took two steps back. The two Sisters who had just walked into the cafeteria smiled and thanked us (they were finally starting to accept our deference) and went past. This happened as the first counselor in the MTC presidency was walking by. He stopped short and did a double-take. Convinced he really had seen what he thought, he said, “Elders, I am impressed. I’m very impressed!” I’ll always remember that.

When you know what’s right, stand for it. Someone else may just agree and stand with you.

Trust In Others

A couple weeks ago, I was invited at the last minute to attend a Warriors game. I’d be taking off right after work and carpooling up to Oakland with a couple coworkers. I got dropped off back at work just after 11pm so I could grab my stuff and go home.

When I got inside, I saw the red voicemail light was lit on my office phone. Curiosity got the better of me – my work line is rarely used at all, let alone somebody leaving me a message. It was a message from one of the cafeteria staff letting me know that I’d left my debit card there and they had it; I could stop by and pick it up before they closed at 7, or I could pick it up on Monday.

Walking out to the car, I wondered what poor soul they had meant to leave the message for. I hadn’t been to the cafeteria that day, and when I do go, I never pay with a debit card. Besides, my debit card is right here in my–

Oh.

No, it’s not.

…

Hrmm. Well.

Apparently, when I stopped at the ATM (which is right next to the cafeteria) to get cash before heading up to the game, I managed to walk away from the loudly-beeping ATM and leave my ATM/debit card in it. Someone must have found it and turned it over to the cafeteria staff to hold until I could pick it up.

Oops.

Walking across the parking lot, I considered just calling the bank and reporting the card as lost. They’d send me a new one, and I wouldn’t have to go face the cafeteria staff and admit that I had ignored the loud beeping noise. (How did McCoy put it? “If I jumped every time a machine beeped at me…”) It would limit the downside to the damage that could be caused by whoever had my card in their possession. It’s what you’re supposed to do when you leave your card someplace. It’s right there in the cardholder agreement…

That weekend was General Conference, so I managed to forget about the missing card until I got back to work on Monday. I claimed my card, checked the account online just to make sure no one had used the card over the weekend, and all was well in the world. I just didn’t realize how well until later.

When we got home that night, there was a letter on the door. In our excited anticipation of Conference, we had apparently forgotten to pay the rent. We now had three days to pay them with a cashier’s check (not a personal check) or they’d start the eviction process.

Big oops.

The main problem this presented was how to get the amount of rent from our primary checking account to the local checking account. Our primary bank doesn’t have a local branch, and the accounts at our local bank didn’t have enough for rent. (I’ve since remedied the latter problem.) I made a large cash withdrawal from the primary checking account (they have a generous daily ATM limit), deposited it at our local bank, and had them issue a cashier’s check. (The nearest branch is open until 7pm – handy.) I walked into the rental office first thing Tuesday morning and fulfilled my obligations to them. (They don’t put a black mark on your file until you’re a week late with the rent, they just don’t accept a personal check once you’re three days late.) All was well in the world.

Driving in to work, I realized how blessed I was. First we had the money readily available to cover rent – that was never the problem. We had simply neglected the physical task of writing out the check and dropping it off on the first of the month. My heart goes out to those who struggle to make ends meet each month. But second, and more important, the only reason we were able to drop off the cashier’s check in time was because I hadn’t reported the ATM card as being lost. The replacement wouldn’t have arrived in time. Had I been cynical about the safety of my lost card, I would have put myself in quite a bind. But because I listened when a still, small voice said everything would be okay, the Lord was able to bless us – and everything was okay.

The 500th Note: The Little Red Hen

I’ve started using Evernote as a digital notebook to collect scraps of paper, quotes, comics, etc. Anything that I would have cut out or printed off and put in a binder to save for later. I’ve got recipes, quotes, business cards, take-out menus, letters, owners manuals, and notes from lessons I’ve taught. I’ve just been using the free version so far. They’re serious about making your notes available to you wherever you are – they have clients for Mac, Windows, iPhone, iPad, Android, Blackberry, and probably more.

Anyway, I just added my 500th note: The Little Red Hen, as told by Ronald Reagan on his radio program in 1976. There’s another rendition of The Little Red Hen as told by Sterling W. Sill over on my Spoken Writ blog, if you’re interested, but here’s Ronaldus Magnus:

Once upon a time there was a little red hen who scratched about the barnyard until she uncovered some grains of wheat. She called her neighbors and said ”If we plant this wheat, we shall have bread to eat. Who will help me plant it?”

“Not I,” said the cow.

“Not I,” said the duck.

“Not I,” said the pig.

“Not I,” said the goose.

“Then I will,” said the little red hen. And she did.

The wheat grew tall and ripened into golden grain. “Who will help me reap my wheat?” asked the little red hen.

“Not I,” said the duck.

“Out of my classification,” said the pig.

“I’d lose my seniority,” said the cow.

“I’d lose my unemployment compensation,” said the goose.

“Then I will,” said the little red hen, and she did.

At last the time came to bake the bread. “Who will help me bake bread?” asked the little red hen.

“That would be overtime for me,” said the cow.

“I’d lose my welfare benefits,” said the duck.

“I’m a dropout and never learned how,” said the pig.

“If I’m to be the only helper, that’s discrimination,” said the goose.

“Then I will,” said the little red hen.

She baked five loaves and held them up for the neighbors to see.

They all wanted some and, in fact, demanded a share. But the little red hen said, “No, I can eat the five loaves myself.”

“Excess profits,” cried the cow.

“Capitalist leech,” screamed the duck.

“I demand equal rights,” yelled the goose.

And the pig just grunted.

And they painted “unfair” picket signs and marched round and around the little red hen shouting obscenities.

When the government agent came, he said to the little red hen, “You must not be greedy.”

“But I earned the bread,” said the little red hen.

“Exactly,” said the agent. “That’s the wonderful free enterprise system. Anyone in the barnyard can earn as much as he wants. But under our modern government regulations productive workers must divide their products with the idle.”

And they lived happily ever after, including the little red hen, who smiled and clucked, “I am grateful, I am grateful.” But her neighbors wondered why she never again baked any more bread.

Aesop? Never heard of him.

I was teaching Gospel Essentials once, and the lesson was on provident living – preparing now for what is to come. I thought I’d introduce the lesson with The Ant and the Grasshopper. Nobody’d heard of it. I was surprised. I figured everybody knew it, though I couldn’t tell you if I know it because we read it in school or because I saw the 1934 animated short from Disney. (I always did like the happier renditions, where the ants have plenty laid up in store and can help the repentant grasshopper, who is now willing to somehow work for his food.)

So I started telling a quick version of it. “There’s an ant and a grasshopper. The ant is very industrious and hard-working, and all summer long, he works to store food for the winter. But the grasshopper is carefree and lazy, and he spends the summer just hopping around and playing his fiddle.”

The light comes on over one of the women in the class. “Oh! Like in A Bug’s Life!”

I have to admit, I hadn’t thought of that before. Ants… grasshoppers… food… yep, like A Bug’s Life.

Well, not exactly. But close enough to work.

72-hour Kits

Insurance, seat belts, and 72-hour kits. You hope you never need it, but when you need it, you’re glad you have it.

Don’t worry – nothing happened. Nicole just audited her 72-hour kit tonight, which she’s been meaning to do for a while. I was proud of her for not only having one, but for proactively making sure it’s up-to-date. I wondered how long it’s been since I checked mine. Well, it’s been long enough that I wouldn’t even claim to have one. I think I do. Someplace. When I was 14. I think it’s in my parents’ basement. But they’ve moved since then, never mind the fact that I’ve moved a thousand miles away. I think I’ll just start from scratch.

A 72-hour kit shouldn’t be that daunting of an endeavor. It’s not that different from packing for a weekend getaway. First, prepare like you’re staying at the Marriott. Then make it a weekend camping.

We’re going to try to set it up so that perishables – food and toiletries – are rotated through as easily as possible. A four-year-old deodorant stick isn’t in very good shape, though it would probably fulfill the measure of it’s creation if it needed to. Clothing needs checked to make sure it still fits, and – ideally – rotated seasonally. Food will probably be the interesting component here. My parents have (or had) MREs in their 72-hour kit that are (or were) older than I am. I tried one a couple years ago. Other than being kind of salty, it was pretty good. Chicken a la King in a bag. (When was the last time you ate food older than you are?) We picked up some backpacking meals at REI last year; some weekend here, we need to try them out and see how they are. Whatever we end up deciding to go with, we’ll throw something in there while we’re making up our mind.

Equipment will be fun to go shopping for. My camp shovel claimed to have an axe on the side. It doesn’t. I tried. It didn’t work. I’d love to use this as an opportunity to get a Leatherman, but do I really need a torx screwdriver? I mean, when I’m camping? A Buck knife would probably work just fine. Possibly better. Maybe I need both.

We do have a nice little first-aid kit now. We had some extra funds in our flex-spending account at the end of last year. You lose any unspent FSA funds at the end of the year, and first aid kits are a qualified medical expense, so we picked up what we hope is a nice little first-aid kit from REI. Again, it’s something we hope we never need to use, but we’ve got it.