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.

If…

Wonderfully motivational, and I first heard it on The Simpsons. I think.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
’Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

–Rudyard Kipling, Rewards and Fairies, 1910

Strangely Motivational Photos

I've come across these in the last couple weeks. On some level, I find them strangely motivational and inspirational.

Weekend in Monterey

We delayed celebrating our wedding anniversary a little and took a three-day weekend vacation in Monterey. We headed there on Friday evening. The drive was smooth and uneventful. We checked in to the hotel at about 7 o’clock and then went for a walk on Fisherman’s Wharf. We were amazed at the large number of jellyfish floating near the surface of the water—large, red jellyfish. On the way back to the hotel, we bought some pastries to snack on before bedtime.

The next morning, we woke up early so Colter could go skydiving. After such an exhilarating beginning, we lunched at a little place called Wild Thyme Café. Their soup and sandwiches were delicious.

The skydiving process took much of the day; so it was late afternoon before we headed down to the rocky coast of Monterey toward Carmel. We clamored about the rocks for a while, then drove along the 17-mile drive to get to Carmel. We arrived there after the shops had closed; so we did a little window shopping, and searched about for a place to find dinner. Since we had eaten a late lunch, we didn’t feel hungry enough for anything the restaurants had to offer. However, we did run into our friends, the Chiens, who had also escaped to the coast for the weekend.

On our way back to Monterey, we arrived at the coast just in time to see the sun set.

In Monterey, we decided to wander the downtown area. In all my years of visiting Monterey and Carmel, this is one area I had not explored. We found it to be a delightful little downtown. For dinner, we stepped into a café and enjoyed some gyros and Greek salad. Colter said it was one of the best gyros he has had in the United States. We topped everything off with dessert from a crêperie.

On Sunday, we slept in late, with the intension of going to church at the local young single adult ward, which met at noon. However, when we arrived, there was no ward to be found. We had forgotten that on that particular Sunday, all the Bay Area wards were meeting in Oakland for a special conference. There was another ward meeting at 2. So we went over and wandered along the beach for a while, then went to the Barnyard shops until it was time to go back to church. The ward was very friendly and we stayed the full three hours. Afterward we went back to Carmel and had dinner at a lovely French café at the Carmel Plaza. There I got to try my first escargot. They were quite tasty, very buttery and garlicky. Our meals were delicious. And for dessert, we wandered down to a sweet shop and each got a giant dark chocolate peanut butter cup.

Monday, we headed back to Carmel for breakfast. There was a certain restaurant I had wanted to go to because I remembered they had delicious buckwheat pancakes. I thought the name was Kathy’s Place. When I looked online, I had found a restaurant named Katy’s Place. It was in a different spot from the restaurant I had remembered, but I thought perhaps it had just changed locations. Well, we found Katy’s Place and had breakfast there. They had buckwheat pancakes that were delicious. But they were the biggest pancakes I’d ever seen. Each one was the size of a dinner plate. Colter got an Eggs Benedict that was the most scrumptious either of us had tasted. He asked the waitress for hot sauce and she brought out a sauce that was so yummy, we bought a bottle of it as we left.

But Katy’s Place was not the restaurant I had remembered. So we hiked through Carmel looking for the restaurant. We finally found it—still in business—on the other side of the town. The name is Katy’s Cottage. Perhaps next time we’ll have to go there, although now that we know where to find such a good Eggs Benedict breakfast, it may be hard to go anywhere else. My curiosity (and sanity) now satisfied, we went back to some of the shops that had been closed on Saturday. Colter bought a smart golfers cap at one hat shop. It was a fun place, run by a husband and wife team. We also enjoyed wandering through Thinker Toys, a local toy shop with a focus on toys that help children’s minds develop.

Before starting the long drive home, we went to the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory and picked up some fudge to take to my dad as a special birthday treat. When we got home and were putting everything away, Colter said, “You know, I don’t feel like I need a vacation to recover from the vacation.” I felt the same way. It had been an escape from the pressures of everyday life. But it had been low-key enough that we felt fully renewed upon our return.