Sophie's Story

When I was in high school I read the 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' by Douglas Adams. In the book they talk about a computer named Deep Thought that was built to answer the "Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe and Everything". The answer Deep Thought gave was 42. The reason why the answer didn't make any sense is because the the beings that asked for the answer didn't really know what the question was. I can tell you one question where 42 is the right answer. The question is, How old am I today? According to C,the correct answer is 42. (He's right, I did the math. All this time I thought I was already 42.) If you haven't guessed, today is my birthday. It's cloudy out, but that doesn't matter. It's going to be a good day. Let me tell you what I have planned. I always take someone out to lunch. This tradition was in jeopardy this year as most of my friends are either working or moving. My friend Carole doesn't have to w

I've been sitting in front of the computer for the last 30 minutes and can't think of a thing to write about. Actually that's not true, I have several things that I could write about. I just don't think I could make a good column out of any of them. Carrie is moving to London, England for the study abroad part of her college program. I'm very excited for her since it looks like she may be able to do a bit of travelling in Europe while she is there. I'm not worried that she can't manage or she won't like it. I know that she will. I'm more worried that she will never want to come back to the United States after that experience. After she's lived in London,seen Paris and maybe had a chance to visit Rome or just about any place in Italy why would she want to come back to Minnesota? It's nice, but not exciting. I travelled in Germany and Italy for a few weeks many years ago. I spent two days in Florence and if there had been a way for me to

I have to renew my driver's license this year. It expires on my birthday. The DMV sent me a reminder postcard about a month a go. I wanted to get it done as soon as I got the card, but the state was shut down. Then I got busy. The next thing I knew my birthday was less than ten days away and I still had not done it. Renewing a driver's license should not be a big deal, but it is for me. Like many people I have a few irrational fears and one of them is something I call DMV induced ommatophobia. It's not quite the correct term. Ommatophobia is a fear of eyes. I'm not afraid of eyes. I'm afraid of the eye test that they give you at the DMV. I'm afraid that I'll fail it and be unable to get a license. It's silly, of course. I get my eyes checked every year and my prescription is always up to date on my contacts and glasses. There is nothing to be afraid of. Yesterday C got off work early and picked me up. There was a discussion about what to do. I wan

The man looked at my hand as I handed him his package. "Did you get married?" he asked. "Yes," I said with a smile, "Seven years ago." He mumbled something and quickly walked away. It was an easy mistake to make. He is a regular customer and has probably seen my wedding ring many times. As many of you know, my wedding ring doesn't look like a standard wedding ring. My wedding ring has an oval shaped dark blue sapphire with white gold petals around the outside. I remember one of the first times my mother saw it. "How are people going to know that you are married?" she remarked in a tart voice. "I know I'm married and C knows I'm married, that's really all that matters," I replied. She shut up. I like my ring and have received several compliments on it. To me it reflects the type of relationship C and I have. A lovely one, but quite nontraditional. One thing that C told me he wanted to do when we were firs

Did I ever tell you how C and I met? C likes to tell it to nearly everyone. In fact, had you been at our wedding you would have heard the song that C wrote about how we met. It was his wedding present to me along with a promise that he will never sing it at anyone else's wedding. (Singing it at the reception is fine though.) I met C at a coffee shop on a warm January day. (No I'm not kidding, it was unusually warm that day.) I'd been bumming around at one of the river towns on the St. Croix and wanted to stop for a drink. There was a coffee shop nearby and I went inside. C was working that day and we chatted a bit about the weather. He made my drink and I payed for it. I found a table to sit at and enjoyed a book while I drank. A week later my mother and I went to the Como Conservatory to look at the indoor gardens. On the way home I told her about the coffee shop and we stopped in. We got our drinks and sat down. C was there setting up as he played music on the week

Last Thursday at the after Toastmaster meeting coffee, my friend Carol noticed a small scar on my chin and asked me about it. I had to think for a few minutes. No one has ever noticed it and I had to remember how I got it. When I was young my parents bought a lot and built,with help from family, a house on it. (My Dad lives in that house to this day.) At that time I liked to skip and would skip around instead of walking or running. I think what happened is that I was skipping around the house as they were putting the walls up and I tripped over something cutting my chin open. It required a couple of stitches. Carol said that she could easily see me as a young girl skipping everywhere. I said that once in a while I still get the urge to skip, but that I quickly squelch it. At age 40 something it's really not appropriate. We moved on to other topics, but this one stuck in my head. I am a firm believer in age appropriate dress and behaviour. (I almost said dress and deportment, how st

Several months ago someone from church suggested that I play the dulcimer at one of the Sunday meetings. I was a little surprised. While I think the dulcimer has a lovely sound, I didn't think anyone else knew what one sounded like. C and I picked out a few hymns to learn. I played a little over a week ago. C and I decided that I should play the before and after meeting music on the dulcimer and the lap harp. That worked for me, I wasn't quite ready to take a solo position and there are many professional quality musicians in the ward who would do a much better job. I'd like to say that I did a great job, but my performance left a bit to be desired. A few kind souls did compliment me and I accepted those compliments graciously. They were being kind and I knew they were being kind. Those compliments were undeserved. I was disappointed. What went wrong? It wasn't lack of practice. I practiced as much as I could, but then there is no such thing as too much practice. I had a