Happiness Is . . .

Happiness is . . . being anal.

Well, I'm not REALLY anal, as anyone who REALLY knows me can attest. I'm too scattered for that.

But about one thing I *am* anal, and it finally paid off, in a way.

I have done my banking online for years, ever since such a novelty was possible. I follow each of my accounts (checking, savings, credit cards) religiously. Usually I check balances and postings at least every other day, if not daily. Some of my friends, for whatever reason, still maintain their accounts the old-fashioned way, waiting for monthly statements, writing paper checks, and either mailing payments or--horror of horrors!--delivering them in person. Some of them even prefer to deal in that ancient commodity, cash.

Not for me.

Everything I can pay online, I do. Paper checks are few and far between. Bank statements are filed unopened, "just in case" because by the time it reaches me, I'm already far beyond what it shows me. I don't carry cash because . . . well, I spend it as soon as I get it.


Not only do I monitor my accounts online in order to make sure my account is never, ever overdrawn, but I also do it so that I can be sure none of my accounts is compromised.

My American Express account even emails me whenever a change occurs in my account, and when I receive that notice, I take a look at the account. Last Friday it paid off. There, in black and white and blue was a transaction I didn't recognize.

11-30-09   LDS Mingle Provo   $14.99

Not a huge amount, to be sure, but it wasn't mine. I hadn't gone ANYWHERE on Monday, November 30. Hadn't made a single online purhase, either. Yet there it was . . . $14.99 posted to Amex that someone expected me to pay.

I immediately sent an inquiry/dispute to Amex.

In researching LDS Mingle Provo, I discovered it was a dating service. For Mormons. Based in Provo, Utah. First off, I'm not a Mormon. Although I have lots of friends in Utah, thanks to my previous participation in the Adopt-a-Native Elder program, I would never have signed up for a dating service. And probably not one aimed at Mormons. Not my charge. Definitely not my charge.

Amex was right on it, credited my account within a half hour for the $14.99.

I'm convinced that somehow or another I hit a button I shouldn't have, which resulted in the incorrect charge. At least no other errant postings have appeared on any of my accounts since then, and I've checked each of them daily.

 Happiness is

. . . online banking
. . . immediate access to information
. . . immediate reversal of erroneous charges
. . . being anal.

Eight Years Ago Today

December 8, 2001.

That was the day Farida Hussain married Jason Hunter Wilks.

It was at once one of the happiest and yet one of the saddest days of my life.

I was happy for Farida and have always liked Jason. Even before the wedding I felt that he was family. Since then I've often told him he's my favorite son-in-law. He responds that he knows that's true--because he's my ONLY son-in-law. I do love him dearly, though. He's a blessing in our lives. And Jason's family has embraced us, as well. I can't say enough about how welcomed into their world they all made us feel.

I was sad because shortly after their wedding, Farida and Jason would return to Orange County to load up their possessions and head for Tulsa, OK, where Jason would enter flight school to become a pilot. It was a great opportunity for him but hard for li'l ol' selfish me because I'd never been further than a five-hour drive from either one of my daughters. Since I'd moved to Bass Lake, I didn't see either Farida or Nasreen as often as I'd like, but it was comforting to know that I COULD if either they or I were willing to make the journey.

The wedding, held at ECCO, was incredibly beautiful, and we were surrounded by friends and family. Farida, Jason and Jason's family arrived the Thursday prior, so they'd have time to organize the wedding. It gave us all time to get to know each other, as well.

Farida had worked incredibly hard on this wedding. She'd not only created her own dress, she'd also sewed those of her bridesmaids and flower girl. She and Jason did everything possible themselves.

We'd originally wanted to do an outdoor ceremony but opted instead for a ceremony inside Sumner Walters Chapel because there was a possibility of inclement weather. Instead, Saturday, December 8, was amazingly warm. I think the temperatures ranged in the high 70's.

The wedding itself was an amalgam of Farida and Jason's tastes and beliefs. They did a handfasting, a Native American blessing offered by Mono tribal chairman Ron Goode and a ceremony they created themselves, officiated by Stella Pizelo.

Friends and family came up to me later and remarked about how beautiful and unusual it was.

During the reception we had the opportunity to visit with friends from near and far, including people I hadn't seen in years. Special among the guests were Farida and Nasreen's Auntie Safia and Uncle Nayyir, who were able to arrange their United States visit to accommodate the wedding. Longtime friends Stan and Stephanie Stanislaus attended, as did Farida and Nasreen's childhood friend Carisa, with her husband and son, Devin, and her mother. my good friend, Pat. Nasreen's friend, Cindy Diaz, brought her daughter Sierra to be flower girl.

In addition to the gorgeous wedding cake created by Laura Zabicki of Sweet Dreams Cakery, Jason's grammy brought along her famous lemon cake. I'd wager the lemon cake was the better of the two!

I stayed at ECCO with Nasreen that night. The next morning we awoke to snow falling. It was not a major storm, just enough to coat the trees and leave perhaps an inch on the ground.

It's hard to imagine how the wedding could have been more perfect.

Fun

According to Hunter, he had fun on Saturday.

If you'd been there, you wouldn't have believed it.

For the second time in less than a month, my favorite grandson developed an earache. This is just another in the string of colds and runny noses that have plagued him over the months since school started back up. He hasn't yet learned to blow his nose, so when it gets stuffed up, the problem seems to travel rapidly to the sides of his head.

Poor baby. As Farida and I watched on Saturday morning, we saw the situation progress rapidly. First he started pulling on his left ear. Then when he realized that action had caught the attention of his mom and might culminate in the insertion of eardrops, he tried to hide it. But he couldn't. The more he tried to hide it, the more we noticed. Farida finally did get the eardrops installed, and they made no difference.

That's when we started talking about the dreaded "D" word.

I'm not sure why, but Hunter is terrified by doctors. When Farida, Jason and Hunter first moved up here, I got to accompany Farida to Hunter's first visit to a local physician. The scene wasn't pretty. For some reason it was roughly equivalent to a visit to Santa. Much hysteria.

The last time Farida had to take Hunter to Urgent Care for his ear, the doctor told her that ear infections never go away on their own, so as soon as it was apparent that Big H was on his way to another episode, she knew she had to take him in. He begged. He pleaded. He cajoled. He wheadled.

"No, Mama. No doctor. I don't want to go to the doctor."

As if she were taking him to the executioner.

It made me want to say, "Farida, can't we just wait this out?" But I knew we couldn't. Farida suffered from her share of earaches growing up, and I remembered how painful they were for all of us and how quickly they cleared up once she got treated for them.

Of course once we got to Urgent Care, we sat. And waited. And waited. As we waited, Hunter began to pull on his other ear. In the space of an hour the earache had progressed from one to both earls.

Then the nurse came to take Hunter's vitals. We think he has blood pressure, but we'll never know for sure. She hardly got his temperature. She managed to hear his heart, barely.

Then she took us to the treatment room. Where we waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. After over an hour in the treatment room, Farida decided to see if we'd been forgotten.

"You're next," the nurse told her.

So we waited. And waited.

Hunter kept telling us he wanted "to get out of here. Let's go to our house." 

While we agreed, we told him we had to wait. And wait. But then you probably have already gotten the picture. He and Farida walked the halls to pass the time. We talked about birthdays. We counted the spots on the wall.

FINALLY the doctor came in, and Farida and Hunter went through the struggles all over again. Hunter was determined that NO ONE was going to look into HIS ears. Luckily the doctor prevailed, and it took just a few seconds for him to pronounce the verdict:  Hunter has an ear infection. Big surprise. The doctor told Farida he would write a prescription, so again we had to wait.

Back in the aptly-named WAITING room, we waited. And waited. And Hunter fell asleep on his mama's lap before the nurse brought out the prescription and the instructions.

As Hunter dozed, we made plans. I would take the prescription to the pharmacy and pick up the few items she needed from the grocery store while Farida would stay with Hunter in their car. But the moment she got up from the chair, he awoke and muttered something.

"Did you hear what he said?" Farida asked me.

"No," I replied.

"He said the doctor was fun."

What I'm Thankful For Today

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Today is the first day of winter for the Sierra Nevada foothills--according to Creator, if not according to the calendar, and I'm happy that I don't have to get out and drive in the promised rain and snow.

Up to this point, here in the wilds of Yosemite Lakes Park, it looks like we've had just a touch of rain. Nothing to write home about. But the weatherpeople promise that the best (worst?) is yet to come. There's been talk of snow down to 1,000 ft, which would mean us. But that seems to have changed now, and the snow level has risen to 2,500 ft at some time within the next 24 hours.

We can only wait and watch.

In the meantime, I can look forward to spending the day at home catching up on blog entries. I confess that over the past couple of years I've become a Winter Wimp, and the thought of driving in snow just doesn't appeal to me--although I'll never lose the love of having actual SEASONS. And I treasure the sight of snow-covered pines against the bright blue sky sure to follow a storm.

Hooray!!

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AFTER

Well, shucks. There really is no "after."

The "before," you know if you read this morning's entry, is Hunter's photo with Santa from last year (or maybe the year prior).

This morning we were supposed to see if Hunter really had grasped, as he claimed, that Santa is a Good Guy and not someone to be feared. Unfortunately there was a snafu along the line, and Santa will not arrive in Oakhurst until tomorrow morning. Even more distressing, Hunter will probably miss this appearance because he once again seems to be suffering from a stuffy nose, which affects his ears. Because of the change in elevation from Cascadel Woods to Oakhurst--close to 2,000 ft difference--the poor kid's ears give him fits.

Lucky for me I was still able to enjoy a delightful breakfast albeit sans Santa with Hunter, Jason and Farida, at one of our favorite Oakhurst eateries, Pete's. Once he got inside the restaurant, he seemed to be doing fine, with all signs of the ear trauma gone.

Since I'd brought my camera to capture Santa and Hunter for posterity, I couldn't resist whipping it out to snap a shot of the boy. One can NEVER have too many pictures of one's only grandson.

He's a cutie, isn't he?

BEFORE

Here it is! Proof positive that I would never, ever want to be Santa Claus. Can you see the fear? The abject terror? The glassy-eyed stare?

Not on Hunter . . . on Santa!

Probably it isn't quite as bad as it seems, because I honestly don't remember other kids freaking out the way Hunter did--but it could be that the others paled in comparison to Hunter's reaction.

Today will tell the tale.

Is Santa still the bogey-man?

Will Santa need recuperation time at the funny farm?

Will Hunter need cough drops and a soothing gargle after it's all over?

Time will tell.

This reporter will update all very, very soon.

Stay tuned!

Breakfast with Santa

This morning I'm giving thanks for a phone call.

Farida rang me up yesterday to invite me to breakfast with Santa on Friday morning. There are certainly those who are convinced I'm slipping back into childhood more each day, but this post isn't a function of that.

Those of us who've been associated with Hunter Jackson Wilks over the nearly four years of his life know that Santa has been the bane of Hunter's existence. Farida and Jason have faithfully taken their son to meet Santa each year (except his first, I think, when he was less than a month old). It's always been an ordeal. Our boy's Christmas portaits feature him bawling his head off--and Santa looking around wondering how he can apply for combat pay.

That's why the call was somewhat of a surprise.

"Um, Farida, does this invitation include Hunter?"

"Yes."

"Does Hunter KNOW he's going to see Santa?"

"Yes."

"Is Hunter okay with that?"

Instead of answering, she turned away from the phone and addressed the young man in question.

"Hunter, do you know who Santa is?"

"Yes."  I could hear his voice in the distance.

"Do you want to see Santa?" she asked him.

"Yes."

Hmmmmm, what a difference a year--and preschool--make.

You can be sure I'll be there with bells on--and with a camera around my neck--to record the event for posterity.

Wish Santa luck.