Don't forget the lyrics

Have you ever sang along to a song on the radio and misheard the lyrics?

It's always funny when someone does this. Jon and I still have jokes about some lyrics we've gotten wrong. Of course we never let each other forget.

Like when I realized that Coldplay's Viva La Vida song is saying "Roman Cavalry choirs are singing" not "Roman Catholic choirs are singing." Or when Jon sang "In the dunes of the cave" instead of "In the dunes of the cape" to the Rupert Holmes' song Escape aka "The Pina Colada song."
"Duh, caves don't have dunes" is what I think I said to him.

I got to thinking about other songs easily misunderstood.

One time I was walking passed a tent of girls at camp and they were rocking out to Van Halen's "Panama" and I heard them say instead, "cannon ball, cannon ba-hall, cannon ball, cannon ba ha ha ha ha ha, cannon ball." Of course I was thinking they were dorks for messing that up...

I laughed so hard when my friend sang Bon Jovi's, Livin on a Prayer- one line says "Gina dreams of runnin away, when she cries in the night Tommy whispers, Baby it's okay, someday." She sang it as "Tommy whispers, baby it's Christmas, someday." I told her that wasn't going to make Gina feel any better with their money problems and all. We laughed for a long time over that. She got me back though, several times over.

Some others -
The Beatles/I saw her standing there, where it says "I'll never dance with another" could be "I'll never dance with your mother."

U2/Pride, "Shot rings out in the Memphis Sky" I once thought was "Shudderings of a Memphis Sky" - doesn't even make sense I know.

How about Jimi Hendrix's famous, Purple Haze? "Excuse me while I kiss the sky" misunderstood as "Excuse me while I kiss this guy."

Of course the song Blinded by the Light sung by Manfred Mann which says "Revved up like a deuce another runner in the night," always misquoted as "Wrapped up like a douche." I knew it couldn't possibly be that and luckily, I listened closely.

Or the Rolling Stones' "I'll never be your beast of burden" as "I'll never leave a pizza burnin." Another song often misquoted in the food theme, Billy Joel's You may be right- "But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for" as "But it just may be a tuna fish you're looking for."

And Gwen Stefani's (No Doubt) line from I'm Just a Girl - "I'm just a girl all pretty and petite" I took as, "I'm just a girl all ready to eat."

Apparently there was a scientific study done on why we do this and misheard lyrics are even referred to as Mondegreens. I guess if we aren't seeing the singers lips, the brain is only processing one piece of information and making it's best guess.
Whatever the reason, I just think it's funny and I'm sure I'm not the only one whose brain is guessing wrong...right??

Bring on the Commercialization

The only picture of myself I could find at Christmas time taken prior to the Bells Palsy Incident of 2006. I am sticking my arm into my sister's children's tree
to retrieve a ball...who said never to play ball in the house??

It is true, as soon as Fall hits, the Christmas displays in stores are going out, even before Halloween.
Every year it seems that this happens earlier and earlier. Even the Black Friday sales are starting early and they promise to bring deep discounts.

And while some have grumbled about this, present company included and to which I understand, remember that retail does want your money. They want to capitalize on every minute before Christmas day hits and they start earlier every year so as not to miss a single moment or dollar. After all that is their goal, especially when forecasts point to a gloomy selling season.

I only wish they would've given these kinds of discounts long ago but that's beside the point.

I heard Christmas music in the store yesterday and I liked it. I know it's not even Thanksgiving yet, but is it ever too early to remember the birth of the Savior of the World?

I don't think so - not when He is so desperately needed.

So setting aside the commercialism that the Christmas season brings, I like to remember that the true Spirit of Christmas lies with the Lord and within my heart.
And the rest - the lights, music, Christmas movies, people ringing bells outside the store, gift wrap, a neighbor who goes totally nuts with decorations and makes your house look like the Grinch house, presents, trees, parties, turkeys, glorious mounds of buttery mashed potatoes, cookies, cakes, more cookies, pumpkin pie, apple pie, did I mention cookies?? are all just little extras that can enhance the season we are so lucky to freely celebrate and I love it all.

When I was overseas, there were no decorations around town. This was a Buddhist nation and Christmas was just a regular work day. As night fell we were biking to a friend's home for dinner. I passed a store that had a little Christmas tree in its window decorated with twinkling lights. It was sweet and all alone like The Charlie Brown tree.

My Japanese friend loved that tree and remarked that I was lucky to be an American where such displays are common place. She thought it was probably really pretty in America and wished she had that in her country. Homesickness twinged my heart. It was pretty back home and also right there, staring at that little store front.

So to retailers I say, commercialize Christmas all you want, knock yourselves out - Thank you for allowing me another opportunity to publicly remember that sweet, little Babe born so many years ago.

You wanted another "Why-me-eccentric-people-story" you got it!

**Read quickly because this story will self-destruct shortly...

I never told anyone this until I was working for a Human Resources company in Utah. There were 5 of us on their management team and we all became great friends. One of them, Jeff, was telling me some funny church mission stories and he remarked how female missionaries (sisters) have boring stories.

"Oh yeah?" I said.

I felt challenged and had to represent. It's a whopper of a story but he didn't believe it would out do any of his.

"Bring it," he said.

So the story went a little something like this...
One evening my district, made up of 4 guys and 3 girls, was visiting people on the church roster whom we had never met.
We went to this house out in the country which wasn't your typical Japanese home. It was huge. It was a dark and windy evening. The kind of dark where a storm seems to be looming. And if it were a movie, branches would be falling from the trees, a wolf would be howling and scary music would be playing. We knocked and the thick, tall door opened. I noticed the ornate handles while watching the door open slowly. The back light coming from within was very dim. I was to the right of the door and more up front. My companion (fellow female missionary) was next to me and the Elders (male missionaries - the ones you see on their bikes in suits) were behind us. I was the first to be seen by the guy who opened the door so I spoke first. I was cheerful and introduced myself and the others. We all talked, handed him our cards, and invited him to church. He was very shy so we wondered if we would ever see him.

To our surprise, he came to church the very next week and we were happy about that. He continued to come and attended all of our activities. At first he was shy and introverted but soon became quite comfortable and chatty. He was an artist and a bit eccentric but harmless. He would always show up to our district meetings, where just we missionaries would practice our Japanese, role-play different situations and plan activities and baptisms - that sort of stuff. He always had a painting or two to show us so we let him have some time and then he'd go on his way. We all thought he was a really good artist. He did some strange things too. He would quietly walk up behind me and I'd feel his hand stroke my hair. The Elder's began to run interference for me. We were protective of each other and I'd make it a point to go the other direction from him.

I was near the end of my 18 month service so I headed back home to America. About a month after I was home and resumed my everyday, working, paying the bills, kind of life, I received a letter from my good friend and former companion.
She told me that shortly after I left Japan, the artist came to the church one night while my zone was having a meeting. The Zone meeting consisted of 8 Elders and 2 Sisters. Our friend came in and wanted to show off his new artwork. So, being kind and knowing that we always let him have his art show, they thought nothing of it. He went out in the hall and got the painting. One of the guys said, "Man, that's a big painting. You've never brought anything in like that before." So everyone thought this would be pretty good and gave him their undivided attention.

It had a large drape over it to conceal this masterpiece, his fine work of art. He was building up its unveiling, all 16x20 of it. He dramatically takes the drape and swishes it off the canvas and there she was, a larger than life, fully nude painting of...me.

Silence. Then screaming. My screaming.
I think they could hear my screams all the way to Japan.

As I read her letter I sunk into the couch and grabbed my head, "Oh man, why me?? Why do all these weird things happen to me?" {Shudder!} I can never show my face again."

So I read on...

Everybody jumped up in a panic. Books and papers went flying, Elders were running into each other, The sisters were trying to push him out the door. One of my favorite little Elders was standing in the middle of this saying, "Not Dobu-chan shimai!!" Another said, "We've got to destroy it!" So they grabbed it and stomped me to death.

I looked at the clock and did a quick time reference. It was 11:30 pm in Japan. She'd only been asleep for an hour and probably not asleep yet so I grabbed the phone and called my old apartment.

She answered and I said "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!??!"

And I heard this uncontrollable laughter.

"It's not funny, okay, yeah it kind of is, but it's not!"

More laughter.

"Are you going to say anything?"

She said, "Okay, okay, it's not funny."

Then more laughter.

She went on to tell me everything again and I was dying. Dy-ing! Just to hear her voice confirm it made me never want to see anyone from that part of the world again.

She said he took some creative license though. There were parts of me about 4 sizes too big. But the creepy thing was, he did get the birthmark on my leg right which could never be seen because my skirts were long. So we wondered aloud how he found that out and it gave us the heebie geebies.

My friend Jeff was in hysterics as I told this and said, "Okay that is the best story I have ever heard."

"Now remember, you are sworn to secrecy" I told him.

A few hours later, the other 2 guys from my team were standing in the doorway of my office and walked in to high five me.

"What is that for?" I asked.

"For the best mission story we have ever heard!"

I jumped up from my chair to go ring Jeff's neck and they follow to watch me kill him. Jeff saw me coming and hid under his desk as I started throwing things at him.

"I couldn't help it, it was too good not to share," he said laughing.

Thankfully, the evidence was destroyed, I reminded them.

As I turned to leave, all three said, "Don't be so sure about that.."
Rolling my eyes, I left.

I got to my office, flipped through the Rolodex and called my old companion.
She answered.

"Did they really destroy the painting??" I asked.

All I heard was uncontrollable laughter.

"It's not funny. Okay, yeah, it kind of is, but it's not."

More laughter.

"Are you going to say anything??"

"Okay, okay, it's not funny...but it kind of is.." she said.

"So-n-so was known for her spirituality, that person was known for his killer language skills, that person had the most baptisms, this person knew 3000 kanji and oh yeah, I was known for a nude painting, great."

She said, "You gotta admit, it was funny."

"Okay, yeah, it was but you never answered my question. Was it destroyed?"

More laughter. Silence. "Uh, I think so..."

Small house goodness

Some of my family members gathered in the kitchen of my brother's house

Over the past year the talk of the economy and its effect on American households has been the topic of many news articles, stories and talks from the pulpit.
People are downsizing their homes and finally feel that it's okay to live within their means. That is the part that baffles me. When wasn't it okay to live within your means and when wasn't it okay to live in a small house?

Yesterday there was a family on t.v. who found themselves unemployed with a large mortgage payment looming. After 6 months, they sold their house and possessions, bought an RV, got wireless Internet, started homeschooling 2 kids and hit the road. They are traveling all over the country . When the teen-age son was asked if he ever wanted to go back to their big house, he said "No way."

He said in his old house they were all in their own rooms, running off with their friends, at school events and never at home together. Now, they are in tight quarters but are having the time of their life and he wouldn't change a thing. The father finally found a job that he could do from home, or RV, so they have an income now but aren't ready to go back to their old life. I was envious. Traveling with my family is one of my dreams.

It just goes to show, we're not defined by what we have. Or, we shouldn't let that define us. Not all kids need a million things. More than anything they want your time. My oldest daughter and I ran off to Target the other day, and as we got in the car she said to me, "Mom, I miss this...when it's just me and you." It seems in the daily grind, I've gotten lazy with our dates with the kids alone.

It's okay to surround yourself with the things that you love; I know I have some possessions that give me great joy - knowing it was my grandmother's china or a tablecloth made by my mom. But I guess it's more important that you surround yourself with things that love you back.

Sometimes I wish for a bigger house when there are 5 kids, 1 bathroom and no real laundry room. But even if we had a big house, I still think they would all gather in one room to play and follow me from room to room. It's not the house they want to be with, it's me, us, each other and I like hearing their laughter. Not so much the fighting, but that's part of the deal I guess.

And besides, like Erma Bombeck said, "Things taste better in small houses." Which is great - anything to enhance my culinary efforts would be appreciated.

Proud to be a Papermaker

The Mascot!

My parents with my sister at her graduation from CHS
ca 1981

The Mill

Views

LaCamas Lake - the drive toward my home

Camas downtown

I was once a Leopard and a Spartan.

A few years later I was a Penguin and went on to become a Viking which has now morphed into a Cougar.

But the one that always gives people a pause is the Papermaker.

I am from a little town in WA state that is not as little anymore. It is situated on the Columbia River and in its heyday, was a full on Mill town.

The pulp and paper mill is still there although it has scaled back it's workforce. Growing up almost everyone in town worked for the mill. When they went on strike, the line for free meals at our school was 3 times longer than the cold lunch line. We were on strike for a long time. Every one had mortgages through the local bank in town. My parent's bank froze their mortgage until the mill was off the strike and they were able to resume payments, which lasted about 6 months the first time. I don't see banks doing that anymore.

We were proud of our town and knew it was a little gem, quietly tucked away in the East part of the county. Portland was just 25 minutes across the bridge so we had all the advantages of a progressive big city and the safe confines of a town where everyone seemed connected.

We were a small high school with 764 students, just a few kids over an AA standing, playing against larger schools. We endured being called "Toilet paper makers" and were constantly blamed for the sulphur smell that was heavy - only at certain times... They thought we were all just hicks from farm country. We were teased about our name, the Camas Papermakers and especially about our school mascot, the mean machine. It was supposed to be a big, gnarly, paper machine with thrashing teeth. One of the actual paper machines, No. 9, was named after my dad - Dobby. You don't see many schools that had a mean machine as a mascot. The closest were The Tillamook Cheesemakers in Oregon. Yes, that's for real. But we, along with Tillamook, weren't ordinary. Any school USA could be a lion, panther or bear, but a mean machine? No, that could only be us. It would be a safe bet to say that we were the only ones who checked the toilet paper in bathroom stalls to see if they were supporting the mill by using Crown Zellerbach paper goods. Even Jay Leno gave a shout out to Camas for being a strange mascot school.

I graduated high school with almost everyone that I played with in Kindergarten. Many of our dads worked together, volunteered at the Fire Department, our moms helped out in the schools; our coaches also coached our older siblings and cousins.

I always felt lucky that I could grow up there. Every time Jon and I move, we always look for a town reminiscent of that hometown in Washington.

Going back home a few times over the years, I have seen it change.

Once where my dad would hay the fields has given way to development. The place where our old barn stood and my horses grazed on the grass is now a double lane road. Our little school on the hill is now an elementary school and the new high school holds 1600 students and is a state of the art building. It's one whose football team now rolls over the larger schools.

And all those kids that teased us are now parents who want their kids to be Papermakers.

Its looks may have changed, but the gem I always saw is still quietly tucked away under the evergreens. It has fabulous views of Mt. Hood and vistas as far as the eye can see. I don't know if we'll ever go home again. I'm afraid we'd be disappointed at the changes but it's good to know that family, friends and our Camas pride is still there.

So, we are the Papermakers.

What was your mascot? Any takers for the Banana Slug? Boll Weevil?

Do tell.

I hope he feels the same

I'm in love with another boy.

But don't tell my husband.

His eyes, his hair, that smile...{sigh}

I'm glad I saw him first because if you did, I would be jealous.

Give-a-way Winners!

My first ever give-a-way for a subscription to Better Homes and Gardens Magazine was won by Mary ftom A Day With Me and Linda (Matt-n-Linda99.) They were chosen at random by sticking my hand into a hat (Trae's Halloween hat to be exact) and pulling out two pieces of paper with their names on them. Not hugely scientific like random.org but it works for me and apparently for you two as well!

Now I just need you both to e-mail me at lmontysc@yahoo.com with your address! Congratulations!

Continue making your homes a haven for your family and friends and maybe my next give-a-way will find a place in your house.

*photos courtesy of BHG.com