February Perfection

I saw an article last week describing how February is a Perfect Month. I was intrigued because I do not consider it as such. The article explained that a perfect month is one whose number of days is divisible by the number of weeks and whose first day falls on the first day of the week. February has 28 days this year, 4x7=28, and February first was on a Sunday, so it fits perfectly in a rectangle and is therefore a perfect month. February does this about once every nine years. It's the only month that achieves this perfection. I never realized this. Even so, I don't consider it perfect in any other way.

Perfect?

February does have its good moments. I was born in February and I guess that's a good thing, otherwise you wouldn't be reading this delightful blog. My daughter Rachel was born in February, her birthday was yesterday, and that's definitely a good thing. There are other birthdays and anniversaries in the month. And some years something comes along to make the month stand out. One of the best Februarys in recent memory was in 2019 when we went to Italy. 

Thinking back on that trip now, it hardly seems real. It feels like a dream I had or a movie I once watched. When I see pictures of great art that pop up on some of the sites I visit, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, the David, the Pieta, the Baptistry Doors on the Duomo in Florence, I say to myself, you've been there, you've seen that with your own eyes. And then I have to go to my photo files to reinforce the proof of it. Yes, I did. Every year in February we gather to celebrate the anniversary of that trip with our Italy Weekend where we eat Italian food and reminisce about that trip and discuss our dreams to go there again. We will do that this coming weekend.

At the Rome Italy Temple, February 2019.

Speaking of anniversaries, this year is the United States Semiquincentennial, (an interesting word – semi, meaning half, and quincentennial, meaning 500th anniversary, so half of 500 or 250) and we are looking forward to all the celebrations ahead. I remember well celebrating the bicentennial back in 1976. That was a big year for me. On January 22nd that year, I graduated from Naperville Central High School a semester early. I had just been accepted at BYU, Provo, for the fall semester. That same week, I got my first job working as a courier for a bank data processing company back in those early days of computer processing. Early in the mornings I drove a route and delivered suitcases of data reports to banks across the suburban Chicago area and in the afternoons I drove the route again and picked up the day's data to take back to be processed over night by a huge, often not reliable, computer that filled an entire room.

My senior picture, age 18.

I turned eighteen on February 11th that year. My world was changing and it was exciting and scary and I wasn't sure most of the time how I felt about it all. I had my family and a group of very good friends. I lived in a place I loved where I felt secure. But I knew that everything was about to change. Some of my friends were moving away, some to college, some on missions, some just away. My older sister was going to be married in April. In the fall I would be leaving for college, my first time being away from home.

Last week, I read through my journal entries for the first months of 1976. They are full of detailed descriptions of that teenage world of anxiety and indecision. At eighteen, with high school done and college looming, everyone seemed to be constantly asking me what I wanted to become. I didn't have an answer for them. It's a question I still can't answer. I have to ask myself sometimes, what did I become? Did I become anything?

If you had told me in 1976 that fifty years later I'd be married, the father of eight children, with nine grandchildren, retired from a non-career doing this and that, living in this house, tending an orchard, a big garden, a flock of chickens, raising the occasional pig, and acting as the president of a tiny branch of the church – I would not have believed it. I probably wouldn't have been surprised about the garden, chickens, and pig part. Or about being married. Eight children and nine grandchildren might have surprised me a little. I knew all of that would happen, but not the quantities involved. I had dreams, even back then, of coming to live in this house, but saw no way that it would ever happen. And I never knew what I wanted to become when I grew up.

My interests throughout my life have been so varied that I could never settle on one thing to devote myself to – to become. I toyed with different ideas. When I was very small I told my parents (right after my mother had given birth to one of my younger siblings, I think) that I wanted to be a doctor that takes babies out of mothers' tummies. My parents never forgot that childish statement and reminded me about it from time to time, but I knew early on that obstetrics was not my vocation. My father would have been pleased if I had chosen to become a chiropractor, carrying that tradition into a third generation, but I rejected that idea. I thought about becoming a teacher, even pursued a degree in history so that I could do it, but that all fell apart. So I ended up working at this and that, office work mostly, at different places. At last I came to be a teacher of sorts, a substitute teacher for twenty years serving different grades and different subjects, finally retiring from that two years ago. So I don't think I ever became anything in that sense. Maybe because I never really grew up.

I left home in August 1976 and finished a semester of college. Then I went home and got ready to serve a mission, which I did in 1978-79. Last Monday I celebrated the 48th anniversary of my arrival at the Missionary Training Center (MTC), back then it was the Language Training Mission (LTM). When I left home for my mission, I didn't know that I would not return to Naperville. My family moved while I was in Japan and I have never been back. I hope to return there sometime this year when my friends plan to gather for a reunion. It will be interesting to see us all as old people. The last time I saw some of them, we were teenagers.

The full moon setting on Monday morning.

Monday, in addition to being my 48th Mission Anniversary, was Groundhog Day. I've been through Punxsutawney many times, it's on the route we take as we travel to and from the Thayn's house, but I've never been there on Groundhog Day. I never will be. I'm not a fan of that sort of gathering – too many people, too cold to be outdoors. It was sunny and cold here that morning (-9° at dawn) and I knew before the official declaration from Punxsutawney Phil that we were destined for six more weeks of winter. That's how it always is here no matter what the groundhog says. February 2nd is actually only the calendrical midpoint of winter. Six weeks from that date puts us at March 16th, which isn't even the official first day of spring on March 21st. And here in cold Gold, the first day of spring is meaningless. Yes, it is the equinox and the days are growing longer, but weather-wise, winter will persist, usually into April and sometimes May. So sorry Phil, you are irrelevant here in Gold. We did keep our tradition of watching Groundhog Day (1993) that evening.

The official announcement, 02/02/26.

By afternoon chore time on Monday, the temperature had risen to a pleasant 28°. When I got back from the barn, I went out to the greenhouse to sit for a few minutes. I hadn't been out there in a long time and had to trudge through snow over two feet deep to get there. It was nice inside, 70°. It felt good to feel the sun on my face without the cold air.

Looking out at the buried garden from inside the greenhouse.

In an effort to keep my glum February mood under control, I embarked on a daily musical adventure last week. I divided the letters of the alphabet between the five weekdays and chose a pop/rock band or artist for each letter and listened to their greatest hits. Some of them I was familiar with, some not at all. Monday was A,B,C,D,E, and the queue turned out to be Adele, The Beatles, The Cranberries, The Doobie Brothers, and The Eagles. Tuesday was F,G,H,I,J: Fleetwood Mac, Genesis, The Hollies, Imagine Dragons, and Journey. Wednesday was K,L,M,N,O: The Killers, The Lumineers, The Moody Blues, NSYNC, and The Osmonds. Thursday was P,Q,R,S,T: The Police, Queen, The Righteous Brothers, Simon and Garfunkle, and Tears for Fears. Friday was U,V,W,X,Y,Z: U2, The Ventures, Wings, X Ambassadors, Yes, and The Zombies. I will confess that I didn't like some of them and skipped through their songs pretty quickly, but I did give them each a chance. A few of them surprised me, especially some of the more recent performers who weren't as bad as I anticipated. This week I will go alphabetical with Standard/Pop singers. I'll probably like more of those than these.

The cold weather persisted all week. I'm at the point now where if we hit 20°, I think of it as a warm day. I'm beginning to doubt we'll get a February thaw. That means I'll be late pruning the orchard. The snow is so deep in places out there, drifts three feet high, that I can't (won't really, because it is actually possible) work. The cold will keep the trees dormant, so that helps, but once it warms up, they will start to wake up quickly. It looks like it's going to be one of those years.

On Wednesday we finally finished making valentines. The workroom upstairs had been the scene of creative frenzy for weeks and it was done at last. The cards were mailed. The aftermath reminded me of those photos of the New York Stock Exchange back in the days before it all went electronic. 

Valentines ready to go out in the mail.

Friday was one of those days that make the month a little more bearable. I spent several hours placing some of my seed orders. First I got out my seed boxes and checked my inventory one more time, made some final adjustments to the list, and then went online. I don't usually like to shop – in stores or online – but seed orders are different. It's very therapeutic. It means the growing season is getting closer. I feel the power in it, the potential building. And now I get to anticipate those orders arriving in the mail over the next weeks.

My seed boxes open for inventory.

Yesterday was the most miserably cold day of a very cold week. Over Friday night the temperature fell to -8° with a wind chill of -30°. The wind was terrific. It roared out of the northwest all night and woke me up several times as it made the house pop and groan. During the day, the high temperature rose to -6°, but the wind increased and dropped the wind chill to -35°. I guess that's perfectly normal February weather, but that's not the kind of perfection I want.

I considered canceling church again because of the extreme cold, but couldn't bring myself to do it until Stacey and I went out on errands Saturday morning. It was just too cold. The wind was blowing snow into drifts across the road. When we got back home, I spoke to my Elders Quorum president (Kurt), my Relief Society president (Stacey), and my counselor to see what they thought. They all agreed that it would be best to cancel. Our branch is mostly senior citizens and it's best not to risk having them go out when the weather is like this. So I canceled church. I sent an email out at noon and started the telephone chain. I feel bad about missing another week, but it couldn't be helped.

Faced with an extremely cold day, no desire to venture out, and an unscheduled afternoon, Stacey and I decided to tackle a problem that has steadily gotten worse in the house. The bathtub in the upstairs bathroom leaks. Every time someone showers, water drips through the ceiling downstairs. Years ago it started coming down through the dining room ceiling, but then the drip shifted and now it comes through the downstairs bathroom ceiling. We are not handy with undertaking repairs like that, so we tolerated it for a long time. But it has gotten so bad that we finally had to do something. So on Saturday afternoon I tore out part of the downstairs bathroom ceiling so we could see what was going on under the upstairs tub. It was a mess. Soggy wallboard, old plaster, and rotten lath crumbled as I worked. The space between the upstairs floor and downstairs ceiling was sodden and slimy. We found the problem – a section of U-shaped drain pipe that is probably blocked and not sealed all the way. The water can't drain very fast and backs up and then leaks. Fixing the pipe is beyond our skill set. We called our neighbor who is an excellent plumber. He's coming on Tuesday morning to see what he can do. Meanwhile, the downstairs bathroom ceiling has a dank and gaping hole in it. I think the whole ceiling and most of the wall on that side of the bathroom will have to be replaced. I don't know when or how that will happen at this point. Living in a house this old is certainly an adventure. Sometimes not the sort of adventure I prefer, however.

Pulling down part of the bathroom ceiling.

It was so cold when I went down to do the afternoon chores that the waterers in the chicken coop were frozen shut. The water was liquid inside down at the bottom where the heat source was, but the lid at the top was too far from the source. I had to pour hot water over the lid to thaw it before I could open it and fill the reservoir. I also found a dozen starlings in the coop. I've been trying to figure out how they are still getting in. I've closed every door and blocked the gaps around the edges. Somehow they find a way. They are so dirty and destructive. I'm determined to find a way to keep them out.

A pretty, but cold (-6°) Sabbath sunrise, as seen through the bathroom window.

Today is Super Bowl Sunday. I can assure you I didn't cancel church because of that. I have never cared about the Super Bowl. I'm pleased to say that I've stayed on course with my goal to go my entire life without watching a single Super Bowl. I try not to even know who is playing. I used to enjoy watching the commercials on YouTube later, but the last few years I haven't been impressed. I think I'm out of touch with the commercial world. The ads seem so bizarre to me that I'm at a loss sometimes to understand what they are actually selling or why they thought that ad would influence me to purchase their product. I do, however, like the treats we make and eat even though we don't watch the game. We make a special Super Bowl cookie that has a graham cracker and peanut crust with layers of coconut, sweetened cream cheese, and chocolate. Sarah even came up with a keto version for me that is just as good as the sugary one. 

My keto Super Bowl cookies, perfectly delicious.

This coming weekend is our Italy Weekend and we are traveling down to the Thayn's to celebrate. Sarah and Tosh are not going down and will take care of my flock while I'm away. It will be a fun weekend. Something bright and happy to look forward to. I'll tell you all about it next Sunday. Good Sabbath.