Sophie's Story

It turns out that I did do a little shopping on Friday. C and I went to the Homestead Pickin' Parlor in Richfield Minnesota, one of the suburbs outside of Minneapolis. C wanted to bring his banjo in for some possible repairs. I figured as long as we were going there I might as well see if they have hammers for my dulcimer and maybe some songbooks. The Pickin' Parlor is a small music store three maybe four rooms in a strip mall. The first room is recorded music CDs, cassette tapes and I think I even saw a few boxes with records in it. They also sell the small accessories that musicians might need. I took a quick glance over the selection which is mostly country and folk music. The next room is smaller and filled with all kinds of acoustic instruments. Guitars, banjos, mandolins, mountain dulcimers and dobros hang from the walls. There were a few shelves with autoharps and another section with a few hammer dulcimers. I remembered this room. I bought C a banjo for a wedding

Today is the day after Thanksgiving and also my day off this week. I'm spending it doing laundry, picking up the house a bit, writing a letter and hopefully getting a little practice time in on the dulcimer. I'm not going shopping. I have a strict rule about Christmas shopping. No shopping until December first. I have two exceptions to this rule. I collect the Hallmark Barbie Christmas tree ornaments. I have to buy it in July when it comes out because if I wait they may sell out of them. The other exception is if there is something that I might not be able to buy or has such a good price that I need to buy it before December first. I understand that retailers need people to buy as much as possible so they can make money, but I'm tired of this holiday season (I'm not anti-Christmas, there are many holidays celebrated during this time.) being hijacked by desperate retailers. I am appalled by stories of people being trampled outside of stores waiting to get in to get

A women's soccer tournament game between BYU (Brigham Young University) and UNM (University of New Mexico) two weeks ago is getting a lot of press. This is due to the conduct of one of the UNM players,Elizabeth Lambert. She was caught on film hitting, kicking and pulling the hair of players on the other team. This was posted on You Tube where it has been viewed a lot. The opinion posts are full of people who want Ms Lambert kicked out of school, kicked off all teams permanently, and jailed for assault. I can't begin to remember all the names she was called polite and impolite. I finally found the voice of reason in a column written by Darnell Dickson, sports editor for the Provo Daily Herald. Provo, by the way, is the home of BYU. He made three good points that I want to share with you. The coach of the New Mexico team is Kit Vela, who has nine years of coaching experience. He wondered why Coach Vela, faced with a player who was obviously losing control of herself, did

Hi This is Scamp. My brother and I are giving Sophie a day off and will be writing today's column. Sophie, C and Carrie live with Colby and me. Colby is my younger brother, you'll hear from him later. Today we are going to write about a few things for which we are thankful. I'm older so I will go first. I am thankful that I am good looking. I am. Ask anyone who knows me. Everyone tells me how handsome I am and wants to pet me. I have medium length black silky fur with cream and gold stripe markings. My eyes are a piercing green colour. I am a big, muscular cat not one of these little sit on your lap fuzzballs. My paws are large and have tufts of fur between my toes in case I ever have to walk on snow. (Who'd want to though, much too cold.) If you go to Wikipedia and look up Maine Coon Cat, you'll see a picture of me. (Just kidding, it's not really me but it does look a lot like me.) I also have a long feathery tail and tufts of hair on my very attractive bac

My husband is a musician. I'm talking about a person who at some point in their lives made a living by playing an instrument or singing. (as opposed to someone who dabbles in it.) There are advantages and disadvantages to marrying a musician. Unless you are a big star, it is not the best paying of jobs and the hours are lousy. The good part is the music. (assuming you like the kind your spouse plays.) I was courted with an Alvarez 12 string guitar which I think is one of the sweetest sounding instruments I've ever heard. My husband also writes so sometimes I am the first to hear a new song he has written, and I've helped with lyrics a time or two. Some times a musician will have to take a mundane job for awhile. Even if they aren't playing you know they would still rather play or sing than whatever they are doing now. They also need three basic things, food, water, and good instruments not necessarily in that order. That brings me to what happened this weekend.

One of the most uncomfortable places for me to be in is any situation where I want to and need to say something, but I don't know what to say. It's not being speechless exactly, it's more of a loss for something appropriate. What do you say? My cousin, Cindy, died earlier this week. She is one of the older cousins from my Dad's side of the family a side of the family I don't know well. She was older than me by eleven years. The only time I'd see her was at the few family functions we attended weddings, funerals and such. The last time I saw her her was at my wedding a bit over five years ago. It was the largest gathering of the cousins since my grandparents died twenty years earlier. Only two cousins could not make it and a picture was taken of all of us. She was in remission from ovarian cancer at that time, I think. I can't remember how long she had been fighting it. I do know that she fought with everything she had. She had countless surgeries, chemo t

The church my husband attends encourages young men who are members to spend two years doing mission work for the church after high school graduation. They are not paid for this work, in fact they expected to pay their own expenses during this time. The young men and their families start putting money side for this purpose as soon as possible. These men in their late teens and early 20s are sent all over the United States and to many foreign countries. They live with another missionary and serve in several places during the two years. They spend their time teaching, looking for people interested in the church and helping when needed in the area to which they are assigned. The missionaries (Elders to give them proper church title) have been coming to our house once a week or so to visit and to teach my husband. These meetings tend to be instructional for all involved. During one visit we got on to the topic of what the Elders are learning out on a mission. One of them is learning