The Case of the Missing Sheets and Blanket

In May 2000, about one year after Angie and I were married, we moved to Freeport, Texas (just south of Houston) for our first internship. The company was providing a fully furnished apartment, complete with weekly cleaning and linen service. We arrived Saturday afternoon. The since the company arranging the housing details was closed on the weekend, they simply left a key for us. We obtained the key and went to the apartment they had previously communicated was ours. We were surprised when the key provided wouldn't open our apartment, so we went to the apartment complex office to straigten things out. They simply asked us which apartment we were in and quickly provided us with a new key. When we entered our apartment, it was missing a lot of things--cooking utensils, tupperware, and linens, among others. Again, we couldn't contact anyone at the housing office until Moday when it opened. No problem, we thought. We can adapt and deal with the situation given to us. After unpacking our car, we made a run to Wal-Mart and purchased the basic items we needed to survive the weekend, including a set of sheets for the bed--white sheets with purple flowers. On Monday we called the housing provider and found out they gave us to the wrong apartment information. The apartment we were supposed to be in was ready and this one was not supposed to be ready for another week when its new occupants would be moving in. Now we understood why our original key didn't work. Imagine if someone had already been living there when we arrived! Since we had already moved in, we asked to stay. It being our first exposure to Texas heat and humidity, we were not anxious to move out and in again to a second story apartment in that terrible weather. The company was nice enough to oblige and soon finished preparing the apartment. We kept the sheets since we had already used them. Over the following years the sheets invoked memories of this experience whenever we saw them and quickly became our favorite set of sheets. Now, fast-forward a few years to 2004, about a month after Benjamin was born. At this point we had moved seven more times and were living in Houston, Texas. We had the pleasure of receiving a visit from my parents, my younger brother, and one of my older brothers, along with his wife and two kids. They drove all the way from Utah, which must have been a very long 3-day drive for the two kids ("Brian and Angie live 3 days away from us!"). We pulled out all the linens we could find to host our guests, including our favorite white sheets with purple flowers. We had a great visit and were sad when the end of the week came and our guests packed up and left for home. We washed all the linens and stored them away until next time we would need them. A little while later, Angie and I were washing the sheets on our bed. We decided we wanted to put our favorite sheets on the bed, so we went to the linen closet to pull them out. They weren't there. "How strange," we thought. We couldn't imagine where we had put them. We pulled out a different set and finished the task at hand. Over the following weeks we searched the house, but couldn't find the sheets with the purple flowers. Since they were not in our house, we decided they must have found their way into my families suitcases. We called them with no avail--they had not seen our sheets, but promised to double-check. Over the following weeks and months we searched anywhere we could think they might end up and asked my family again, but never had any success. Fast-forward again to late 2009. For Thanksgiving this year we enjoyed the company of most of Angie's immediate family with their spouses and kids. Only one sibling's family was not able to make it since they had just moved to Australia. Once again we pulled out all the sheets and blankets we could find so our guests would have suitable bedding. One of these items was a warm furry "wolf" blanket. We had a great week, enjoyed a great Thanksgiving feast together, and missed them once they left. Some weeks after this I was having a hard time finding a nice warm blanket in our house to use while in the basement. Part of the problem is the fact that the blankets never stay in the same place. During the day the blankets move all over the house as the kids build forts, tunnels, walls, and anything else a blanket can be used to construct. I always had to search the house to find where the blankets were last discarded. Then, when I do find a blanket, it might be one of the kids blankets which are a bit small for me. I am left with the decision to keep searching or try to curl up into as small a ball as possible and positioning the blanket in a diagonal fashion to provide the longest coverage from my feet on up. It seemed, however, that our large blankets were sparser than before. Then it hit me one day that I had not seen our "Wolf" blanket for a quite some time. No wonder it has been hard to stay warm--our warmest blanket was missing. Now, this blanket has been a favorite of mine for a while--my mom purchased it for me when I moved to college. It was my bed cover at college and through my two-year mission in Florida. It travelled with Angie and I through our eleven moves in the past ten years. It has been especially useful during the winters in Virginia to keep me warm while watching TV in our cold basement. Over the following weeks I searched all around the house to find the missing blanket. I asked Angie and the kids several times if they had seen it. I could not imagine where the missing blanket had gone. I sort of started wondering if someone in Angie's family had packed it up and taken it with them. "No," I thought, "they wouldn't have done that--the blanket is just too big for them to have gathered it up without noticing." I really missed the blanket. Yes, part of it was due to the sentimental value and the memories. Thinking about it also reminded me of the missing sheets and how we were never able to find them. However, I think I missed it most because none of our other blankets could keep me as warm as that one. We have had some very cold days lately and I have had to pile on multiple blankets to achieve the same warmth and coverage it provides. One day this week I came home to find a large gift bag sitting on our bed with my name on it. Angie went out of character and fancied it up with color-coordinated tissue paper and had attached a large card to it. My birthday had already come and gone, so it couldn't be a birthday present. When I asked Angie what it was, and she just smiled and said, "A present for you." I pulled out the tissue paper to discover the long-lost wolf blanket folded up nicely inside. Angie had found the missing blanket in Jacob's room. It had fallen behind the Futon and landed on a bar that runs across the back about a foot above the floor. We had previously looked under the Futon, but not behind it.

We are very pleased to have solved the mystery of the disappearing wolf blanket. However, the mystery of the missing sheets still remains unresolved. In the back of our minds, we still wonder if my little brother has been hiding them since his visit to our house in 2004 because he has an affinity for purple flowers. So, if you happen to visit him, go check out his bed for me and let me know if you find a set of white sheets with purple flowers.

The Soup that Bites Back...and other Sunday Adventures

Angie invited guests over for Sunday dinner this week. She invited two families over. Since there would be a fair number of people, we decided to serve a Minestrone soup and Sloppy Joes because we could easily make a lot of both and people would have a choice of what they wanted to eat. Angie prepared the soup in the Crock Pot in the morning so it would simmer while we were at Church. Since I had attended the Spanish services in the morning, and our church falls right during Jacob's nap, I took Jacob home to his crib after our sacrament service so he could get his much needed Z's. Just before Jacob and I returned to the church to pick up the rest of the family I decided to stir the soup and I tried a small bite to see how the flavor was turning out. I was surprised when the soup bit me back--it was spicier than I had expected. I had to hurry out so I didn't try it again. On the way back to the church I decided I must not have stirred very well and perhaps some extra spices were floating on top of the soup where I pulled my sample. When I saw Angie I told her I thought the soup was a bit hot and asked her what spices she had added to the soup. She stated that she had combined a couple of recipes--one asked for 1 teaspoon of chili powder and the other asked for 1 Tablespoon, so she added 1 Tablespoon. She did not add any other spices that would give heat to the soup. At this point our conversation was interrupted by car problems. Over the past several months we have had problems starting our car. When we turn the key the starter would click, but the engine would not turn over. After repeated attempts the car eventually starts. Sometimes it would only take two attempts, sometimes it would take three minutes. Over these months, I made several attempts to isolate the problem with no success. I even took the car to the auto parts store for an electrical systems test--the car passed with flying colors. This day, however, the car did just the opposite--it wouldn't turn off. I stopped as normal, keeping my foot on the brake pedal until I had removed the key and released the clutch. When I released the clutch, the car jerked forward, despite having my foot on the brake pedal and having engaged the emergency brake. I quickly pressed in the clutch and the motor started up again. Our car was possessed! It was running with the key out. I took the car out of gear and opened up the hood. Sure enough, the engine was still turning over, even though I had the keys in my hand. I put the keys back in and turned to the On position--the engine fired up. I turned the keys off and the engine slowed down a bit but kept turning. The starter just would not quit trying to start the car. To reduce the load on the starter I put the key back to On while I looked for a wrench. I finally disconnected the battery and the car continued running. After about 15 seconds the engine finally died. I touched the cable back to the battery and the car immediately started again. I disconnected both cables from the battery, closed the hood, and went inside. It was Sunday, after all, so I thought it best to leave working on the car for another day. Oh yeah, did I mention I had guests coming over shortly? We still had to get everything ready for them. After we came in the house, Angie went straight to the soup and stirred it really well. Then she tried a small bite--the soup bit her back as well. This was not the delicious soup we have made several times before. We couldn't figure out why the soup was so hot--chili powder just doesn't have that much kick. At some point Angie realized she had been foiled by her effort to de-clutter our spice cabinet. She has been working to identify which spices are essentially the same and eliminate unneeded bottles. For example, she has successfully eliminated Italian Spice because it is mostly Oregano, which we now substitute in its place. When making the soup, she pulled the Red Pepper out of the cabinet as a substitue for the Chili Powder. She remembered after tasting the soup that Red Pepper is the same as Cayenne Pepper, which is definitely not a substitute for Chili Powder. Our fire soup was proof that the Red Pepper and Chili Powder are two completely different spices. At this point we only had about an hour left before our guests were supposed to arrive. While Angie prepared the Sloppy Joes, I turned to my trusty sidekick to find a solution for the soup--Google. I searched for "how to remove spicy from food" (this was how Google's automatic phrase completion worded it). The first suggestion I encountered was advice to drink a cup of fire sauce each morning just after waking up--perhaps this won't help the spicy wouldn't go away, but you will build up your tolerance so it is bearable. I didn't think our guests had been following this advice, so I continued searching. I soon encountered information that sugar can be used to reduce the heat--in fact, a pepper's spicyness is measured by the amount of sugar required to neutralize the spice. After a few articles confirmed the same advice, I went to work. I drained out the liquid using a strainer and then replaced it with fresh tomato sauce and water. I considered washing the vegetables, but decided I didn't want to wash away all of the flavor. The soup was still a little hot, so I added as much sugar as I dared without turning the soup into a tomato-vegetable punch. The soup ended up much better than it was, but it was still a little spicier than we would like it. The guests arrived and he rest of dinner seemed to go well. Monday morning I decided to tackle the car. After reconnecting the battery and starting the car a couple of times it became possessed again and wouldn't shut off. I disconnected the battery and the cable on the starter coming from the key switch. When I reconnected the battery the engine immediately started turning over. Success! The starter was the problem. I triumphantly carried the starter to the auto parts store, exchanged it for a new one (of course, they required a bit of money for the privilege of doing business with them), installed the new one in the car, rebuked the demons possessing my car, and then connected the battery. Nothing happened. I put the key in and started it--it started like a charm. I turned the key off and the engine fell silent. I tried it a few more times and everything worked as it should. Sunday was a busy day, but everything seemed to resolve to a fine conclusion. 21 Jan 2010 Update: Tuesday we had the leftover soup for dinner. Wednesday morning Angie told me she had heartburn all night long. She blames the soup for giving her the worst heartburn she has ever felt.

Lessons Learned

One of the things we love most about our house is the huge soccer sized front yard we have. It is so much fun to let the kids run wild and free. Right now things are even better with the leaves off the tree. Their "leash" is a bit longer so to speak. I can see far into the woods and keep a good eye on them from the house now. Today I put Jacob in his crib to nap and popped his bedroom window open so I could hear him. Then I sat on the lawn in one of those folding chairs that collapse down into a bag. While the two big kids (Maddie in full pink princess dress up) played in the leaf covered field with rakes, climbed the dirt hill in the forest with shovels building important kid creations and exhausting themselves looking for the fox den.

My favorite part of the day was watching his thirty six pounds and about the same of his buddy Anthony try to break apart a tree the wind took out a few weeks ago in a huge wind storm. It is laying at the far side of the field still. They climbed on the trunk on the root side and balanced all the way to the top, falling over and over, but always climbing back on never deterred from their objective. Finally they reached the top of the tree where the branches began to splinter off in random directions. The two five year old boys grabbed hold of a branch that protruded up above their heads and jumped to swing forward and SNAP! The entire branch broke and they tumbled to the ground in a heap. Anthony's mother and I called out to them to see if everyone was okay. They were laughing on the ground. Even from all the way across the huge field we could tell in an instant that all was well. The two boys were so proud of themselves for breaking that huge branch off of the tree. Then they carried it away to the left then the right all over the field together. It was delightful to watch their joy.

As we finish cleaning up all the outdoor play paraphernalia and are heading back into the house the Gutter Helmet truck shows up. Ben goes nuts. "Can I watch them? Please?" No problem. I put the folding chair halfway to the neighbor's fence so there is ample space between him and any danger of falling parts falling from the roof. Maddie went out to watch them install a new gutter. I watched the kids with open windows sitting at the kitchen table while they watched the house and the workers. Soon they got antsy and I heard the workers ask Ben what Maddie's name was so they could ask her to stay away. I gave her a warning to stay away or come inside. She was inside within two minutes. Ben followed. The workers were done five minutes later and I told the kids they could go back outside again.

Neither of them wanted to go out again, so I told Ben he needed to bring in his chair, put away the orange cones and his bike. He said no. I pushed telling him that someone would steal them if he didn't take care of our things. He continued to resist and before I could win the argument I was distracted helping someone with something. Next thing I know it was an hour later and the bike and cones were there but the chair was gone. I hollered to Ben asking if he had cleaned up the chair. Nope. I told him it was gone. We searched all around the neighborhood with no luck.

Now he was motivated. He took the bike and cones to the side fence while I did one more walk to the pool and back to look. Upon my return I heard him wailing in the side yard. I yelled to ask what was wrong. He was totally distraught. He wanted someone to open the gate, which must be done from the inside. He is fully capable, so I made him to do it. As we went in the front door together he told me through his angry glare and sobbing tears that now someone might steal the bike. Now I understood his emotions. He got it taken care of. When he came back in I asked him what we were going to do now and mentioned that the chair cost $10 and that I was sad he made the choice not to obey so we lost our chair.

I knew he felt awful. I could see it all over his face and I wasn't really sure what to do when Maddie called me into the kitchen and he quickly disappeared. Ten minutes later I searched the entire house, looking under beds and in quiet corners so I could reassure him that it was going to be okay. We would figure out a way to buy another one and I would talk to Dad to see how he could help us do that. After a thorough search of the basement and main floor I headed to the basement where I found him at the computer desk. I hugged him and told him it was alright. No surprise, he was reserved and didn't want to say much. His paper was turned over and he told me he needed to be alone for a while so he could make me something. I gave him a hug and went up to the kitchen again.

It wasn't too long before he emerged with a picture of me and the blue chair. He had written below the picture he had written "I AM SRE MOM BEN WIN I HAF 10 B" in sound spelling. (I am sorry Mom. Ben. When I have 10 Dollars...) Then he explained that he ran out of room to write the rest of the "dollars" and that he made a B instead of a D but told me that he'd give me the money. He had even calculated how long it would take him to pay back the debt. He said "I get $2 every Saturday and $1 if for fun money so it will take me ten Saturdays, okay?" My heart melted. Sweet, sweet boy. He is so pure in heart.

Now I have a dilemma. One of the things I believe in most strongly is the concept of Choice and Accountability. You have to be held accountable for the things you do or you will never become a functional, contributing, quality member of society. Technically he does have the ability to pay for the chair. It will take sacrifice on his part, which I view as a good thing. I just think that $10 and two and a half months is a bit of a high price to pay for a sweet little five year old boy. I wish desperately I hadn't told him it was $10. I wish I had told him it would cost him $5 or not quantified it at all. That's what I usually do. Be noncommittal up front then figure out a reasonable contribution that he can make to reconcile the situation. I think that is why he was so willing to give his money to fix it. He has obviously developed that sense of accountability at some level.

Maybe $5. Yeah. I know he has $3 and that would only mean two weeks of sacrifice. That is enough. I do believe in mercy too, I just don't know where that magic line is. Where will he learn consequence and mercy? $8? $3? Mercy is important too. That is what the Saviour has given us. What better way to teach that concept. Alas, I must think and consider and do the right thing or my child could end up being a leach on society because of this one little blue chair, right? Okay, maybe it isn't that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, but it is today and it is a big deal to him. What a great kid. He's going to turn out just fine.

The Tatoo On My Forehead

I think it must say "Screw With Me, It Makes My Day". Someone stole my trash can. Seriously. It got dumped from the curb and left like all the others. Before I made it outside to pick it up, it was gone. All the neighbors still had theirs left on the curb, but not mine. The dumb things cost $25. I'm ticked off. I walked the general area of the neighborhood and can't see it. Maybe it will still show up, but probably not. Seriously, who steals trash cans??? Ugh. Running total of things stolen while living in Virginia: adult bike from inside gated backyard wallet from church lobby trash can from front yard I'm sure there are more I can't think of right now, people are just so rotten here!