Of Surprises and Other Pleasantries by Konnie Enos

Last Friday night my daughter came to me and told me she’d been discussing favorite candies with her siblings and wondered what mine was. Now discussing my husband’s favorite candy is easy because it’s one he always asks for. For me it isn’t quite that simple. I mentioned a considerably short list of candies I enjoy, starting with a candy bar that isn’t sold locally, though it is sold in Idaho so Bonnie can find it in her local grocery stores. We discussed a handful of other candies that I enjoy, and she was satisfied.

After she left I thought about all the candies I have enjoyed in my lifetime and simply cannot find anymore. One I know is discontinued. I can still find it for sale, but it is very expensive. But I thought my favorite candy bar had long since gone the way of many of the candies I remember from my youth because they are not sold in any local grocery stores. I even tried to find it on Amazon. Though I was more successful with a Google search. They are still made, just not widely distributed.

I didn’t give the conversation any further thought since Saturday was our day to serve in the temple, so I was busy.

Then Sunday, I found out she’d been lying to me.

I was sitting down to my breakfast Sunday morning and my oldest son walked in the front door, bearing candy. He not only has moved out of our home, but he is currently working in the Reno area, which means he is rarely in town and when he is, he doesn’t always come see us.

But he had a doctor’s appointment on Monday and knew Sunday was Mother’s Day, so he surprised me with a visit. And yes, he brought me one of my favorite candies. Which is when I found out the truth of why my daughter brought up the topic with me.

He’d asked her to find out because he was going to surprise me, but he and his brother were positive that I figured out what was up because she had talked to me.

That’s when my daughter explained that it hadn’t been a group conversation with all siblings, but a private one in which he specifically asked her to not tell me he was coming home on Mother’s Day. My boys thought she’d given me a clue that something was up just by asking me about my favorite candies.

But my dear daughter is wiser than that. She formed it as “just a discussion with my siblings” and that they were talking about the favorite candies of the whole family. So, until he mentioned that he thought his sister had spoiled his surprise, I’d had no clue he’d told anyone he was coming. My daughter is really good at keeping secrets. (No, that tidbit wasn’t a surprise. I already knew she was good at keeping secrets. She’s and excellent Santa’s helper.)

But that wasn’t the end of my surprises.

Later, after church, I was again sitting at the kitchen table and because I thought my daughters would call me, I actually had my phone with me rather than in my bedroom. I was right in the middle of doing something, requiring both hands when my phone started ringing.

I asked my daughter to answer it and said it was probably one of her sisters or my sister. I knew it was family from the ring tone. She looked at my phone and agreed it was family, but did not say which one. She did, however, say it wasn’t any of the people I’d mentioned.

Folks, it was my middle brother. I still see him as the little kid I changed diapers on, but he is nearly 50 years old. And yes, he called to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day.

It was later in the evening when I was able to talk to my oldest child and my grandbabies. Which again brought me the pleasant surprise of my youngest grandbaby actually talking to me, which isn’t something she does every often. She takes time to warm up to people and she has only seen me in person once in her short lifetime. The rest of the time it’s just been video chats.

Her sister is much more gregarious and started making efforts to talk to me before she could even form words, even if it was just video chats. In other words, like all kids, my grandbabies are completely different.

Then Monday, several days before I expected it to arrive, the sequel to a book I’ve loved since I was a teenager arrived. Yes, I have already read the entire thing.

So, I had several pleasant surprises this week, most of those on/for Mother’s Day.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Who's Who? by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

The other day I heard some interesting facts, one of the facts mentioned was that identical twins have most likely been mixed up and the parents didn’t realize it.

My response?

Tell me about it.

I know we have mentioned this before, but well, I was born Konnie.

We know this now, but that took decades to figure out, and both of us were already married and mothers before we were definite.

That isn’t to say the clues weren't there all along; it’s just that we didn’t put two and two together until after the summer of ’97. Why I am so specific about that date? That’s because I had given birth to twins that July.

You see, on our mother’s side of the family, the third born daughter had the twins. Our grandmother was third born, our mother was her third born, Konnie was third born. You get the picture.

Of course, in our case, we have a paternal aunt who spent years insisting we’d been mixed up. She insisted that Konnie had a slightly rounder face, was slightly bigger, and not as shy as Bonnie.

Guess what, I’m the one with a slightly rounder face and am just a bit taller than, well, Konnie today.

We also have medical records that show that Konnie is the one who got stitches on the bridge of her nose when we were about two years old. I have the scar; for decades we all assumed our mother told the emergency personnel the wrong name because it was Konnie (the one we know as Konnie today) who was bawling her head off, not me.

No, in reality, Konnie got the stitches; I have been going by Bonnie since I started school.

We know this now because a year or two before our mother died, she told me that when she enrolled us in school for the first time, she asked us which was which. She informed me that I told her I was Bonnie and Konnie (the today Konnie) agreed.

Though that does explain my clear memory from our early school years were I accidently said I was Konnie, for which Konnie was upset with me and reminded me she was Konnie.

In other words, we switched places when we entered school and went with our new positions for so long that when we realized we had been mixed up, neither of us wanted to go through the rigmarole of switching back. Of course, by that point we were both married with children.

We would have switched places in the fall of 1968. Meaning by the time we figured it out, we’d spent twenty-nine years using the wrong name, i.e. most of our lives. Just the idea of changing all those legal documents to the correct name was daunting because it wasn’t just our marriage licenses but the birth certificates of our children, and diplomas, and frankly our school records!

Let alone we’d have to go back and tell people they knew us by the wrong name.

And there was also the fact that we felt the name we were using (are using) is who we are. It just felt weird to have to learn to go by the other name after all those years.

Now that switch occurred well over fifty years ago; making it even harder to switch back.

And it's not the red tape that is the daunting part – it is absolutely having to change the name we each answer to. Way to hard at this stage of the game.

But do all identical twins get mixed up without the parents noticing? I have no idea. Maybe I’ll ask my cousins who are identical what their experience on the subject is.

Though, I know this is something I really should put into a story I write. That might be fun.

On another simi-related note, I keep running across memes about how the one Phelps twin who played George Weasley was living the scene were Fred died while Rupert Grint and the guy who played Percy were just acting in the picture shown.

Each time I see Phelps’s expression in that scene, I think, “Yeah, that’s how I’m going to feel.” And Konnie and I haven’t been together 24/7 for decades, the same can’t be said for the Phelps twins at the time of the scene. I mean, at least back then, they lived and worked together, they were always together.

I actually feel sorry for him going through something that traumatic in his life.

Konnie does have a set of identical twins as main characters in her epic science fiction series, but I don’t have any main character twins. I do have a few stories with twins in them, but they are not main characters.

Anyway, happy writing everyone.

Of Fish, Smells and Preferences by Konnie Enos

Okay, this happened.

I’m not the sort of person who can get up and immediately get something to eat. I generally wait a few hours so I’m usually eating brunch rather than breakfast or lunch. So, this particular day (last week actually) I’m in the middle of heating up my food and I got my recipe book out to double check the amount of one ingredient that I would need for the potato salad I was making for dinner. I left it open on the counter because I was going to make it after I ate.

It’s still setting open on the counter while I’m in in the middle of eating, when my daughter sees it.

“You’re cooking something?”

I told her I was prepping for dinner. Specifically, because the very last instruction for the potato salad recipe was to “chill at least one hour”. I was preparing it early enough so that it would chill for several hours.

There was also a point to giving it several hours to chill, instead of just one. It was so that I’d have enough rest after making it to have the energy necessary to be able to cook the Salmon patties to go with it.

I explained this to her.

She completely understood.

We both went on with what we were doing. Our only other discussion was on how much mayonnaise (dairy-free) we had (which wasn’t enough for the salad, so she couldn’t eat it, which is okay with her because she doesn’t eat it very often anyway), and the fact that between the two of us, we’d used enough dishes that morning to have to run the dish washer again.

After I’d eaten, the potato salad was chilling, and the dish washer was running, I return to my room and I was just relaxing on my tech, not really paying any attention to the passage of time, though I did know it was afternoon because it was basically when I returned to my room.

Then my stomach started growling. I was trying to decide if I should wait for dinner or if I needed a light snack right now, as I reached for my phone to see how much longer until dinnertime. My alarm saying it’s time to fix dinner went off as I picked up my phone.

Okay, so go cook dinner.

I’m gathering what I need for the Salmon patties when my husband pulled out the salad. “What’s this and can I have some?”

“Dinner, and I’m cooking dinner right now. You can wait.”

I then had to find him something to tide him over while I take the next half hour or so to prep and cook the patties.

Then, as I’m about half done cooking it my son comes out of his room.

“Who’s cooking what? It smells delicious and I’m hungry.”

Not only did my daughter and I tell him what I was cooking but made some comment about him not liking Salmon patties. My daughter’s comment was, “I thought you didn’t like it.”

His response? “Smells great. Tastes awful.” He grumbled about it while he found something else to eat. (Yes, sometimes we make meals that one or even two members of our household do not like. There is always leftovers for the others when we do.)

He continues grumbling about “that other food that looks and smells the same but tastes different.”

I finally figure out that he is talking about the Tuna patties I used to occasionally make but haven’t since I found the Salmon recipe and a decent source of canned Salmon. (Thank you, Costco.)  Which clues me on the fact that he prefers the Tuna patties so maybe I should plan on making some of them the next time I make Salmon patties. (I actually prefer the Salmon patties.)

Then he storms out of the kitchen when I open the potato salad, which I already knew he also wouldn’t eat, right next to him. Apparently, it’s more than just the flavor of that he doesn’t like.

So, maybe the next time I want Salmon patties and potato salad, I’ll also make some tuna patties. Though, since he also doesn’t like the potato salad maybe I should plan something else to go with it. My choices are the potato patties used to make with the Tuna patties, or perhaps some French fries.

On second thought, I’m not making two complete dinners just to appease one person, or even half my family.

I am not completely heartless.

I’ll make him some Tuna patties and potato patties next time. Or maybe talk his sister into making some French fries while I make the tuna patties, since he prefers fries.

Also, said son with be 24 tomorrow.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

 

Of Handiness and Accommodations by Konnie Enos

When I got this new computer, I was irritated to discover that it’s smaller size meant that there was not a ten-key integrated into the keyboard. For various reasons, I use the ten-key frequently. The easiest, and rather inexpensive solution was to purchase an external ten-key.

When I got it, I plugged it in and placed it on the right side of my laptop.

I did this for two reasons.

The ports are all on the right side of my laptop and an integrated ten-key would normally be on the right side of the keyboard. I used it like this for months.

But one night, not to long ago (actually since my last post), I became rather irritated with it’s location on my lap desk.

I don’t even remember what irritated me. It could have been where all the cords were since at the time I was charging my laptop and listening to something, and all the plugin ports are on the right side. Or it could have been that my ten-key just seemed to be in a weird position or wouldn’t stay put where it was. (It kept sliding around.)

And this sliding around wasn’t even new. It did it so regularly that I had gotten in the habit of putting the thing in my lap, or at least on the bed on that side of my table. But for whatever reason this began to frustrate me, so I decided to move it the left side.

Obviously, I can still only plug it in on the right side, but it did come with a rather long cord. However, since I had kept it by where it was plugged in, I had not removed the twist tie it came with. To move it, I had to undo the twist tie, though I only let out enough cord to let it reach the other side.

So, I assumed that I would only have it on the left for that evening, while it was irritating me.

No.

I have just automatically placed the thing on the left ever since.

I didn’t even know why.

Sure, it isn’t sliding around as much, and the jumble of cords when I’m charging it and listening to something just doesn’t get irritating either. There is also the added benefit of being able to see the ten-key easier when the only light in the room is coming from my reading light, which is positioned on my side of the bed. My left side.

Anyway, since I moved the thing, I’ve found that I prefer it on my left side which I would not be able to do if it was integrated in the keyboard.

Now, a day or so after I started putting it on my left my son, and resident tech, noticed I’d moved it and asked why.

This started a conversation about why I’d moved it and, of course, the fact that I could move it precisely because it wasn’t integrated. But it also got me to realize exactly why I prefer it where it is now.

It’s not that it’s no longer sliding around. Or that there is no issue with the jumble of cords on that side. Or even that my reading light can now illuminate it.

It’s far more basic than that.

After this conversation I realized that with it on my right I would often remove both my hands from my keyboard and cross my left hand over to the ten-key to use it. With the ten-key on my left, I just slide that hand over an inch or so and use it without moving my right hand from the keyboard.

And believe it or not, it took some thought for me to figure out why that is though it should be no surprise to our loyal readers.

As we have pointed out multiple times we are mirror twins.

Not the completely mirror images, everything switched to the other side, even internal organs, sort because neither one of us has organs where they aren’t expected to be. We are just the sort of mirror twins who predominantly use the opposite hands.

And folks I’m the lefty!

No, that is not a newsflash. We’ve known that for a long time. But this realization just brought home to me exactly how much of our world is not accommodating to lefties.

And it’s not just keyboards. Manual can openers, scissors, and even potato peelers are not exactly designed for left-handed people. (I will admit that there is one type of peeler and scissors that are for lefties, but they are not the ones most readily available.)

In other words, throughout my life I have had to adjust to a world that was not built for me, and this is just another example of how I’ve adjusted.

Smile. Make the day a better day.