A two-handed writer

Sure is terrific having two fully functional hands. I knew it would be better, but I didn’t dream that my once-fractured wrist would feel this good after corrective surgery. I can key on the computer and play the piano with no pain whatsoever. This is marvelous!

On the downside of things, I did so well last year that my taxes went through the roof. I won’t say more except that by cutting down to bare bones I was able to pay all but a couple thousand of the tax load. In a month or two I should be back to normal.

Celebrated my 67th birthday a week early with my birthday mate, Andrew Hendrickson, who turns 15 next Sunday. Lots of family, lots of fun. We roasted veggie hot dogs over the open fire pit, watched the baby goats in the neighbor’s yard, admired the future orchard at the Hendrickson farm and generally had a high old family time.

It was also my 45th anniversary of college graduation at Walla Walla University, and I spent Friday evening and most of Sabbath there. Slept at my “motel” room in Don & Orletta’s lovely home. They are always putting me up, it seems. I’ll be back in four weeks for Alan’s 12th grade graduation from home school.

But all of that fun and joy doesn’t add up to the satisfaction of having two hands that work!

April 15

I take it all back. I am the procrastinator people joke about every April. I am the one who waits until the last minute, even though I do scope out the path the 1040 will take in January.

I remember the days when I held a full-time job and paychecks arrived with donations already made to the IRS. All I had to do was round up my deductions and a few other details, and I’d have my tax return ready in less than an hour.

Now I run a business. Besides the 1040, I do Schedule C and the SE form. I know I did well last year, but I was horrified when I kept coming up with such a huge chunk due for my taxes. I tried and tried. Sunday I worked on the numbers until 1 a.m. the next morning. Yesterday I worked on them all day long. Finally concluded that, short of outright cheating, there was no way to cut the pain.

From now on it’s got to happen every month. No more procrastinating. No more paying down my mortgage at a rapid clip. Taxes first, then life.

IRS Day is a Day to Judge Others

I am so weary every year of the jokes and finger-pointing at people who “procrastinate” until the last minute to file their taxes. These folks say something like this in a shrill voice dripping with sarcasm: “They know April 15 is coming for a year, and yet the night before the deadline they’re trying to put a year’s worth of records together.”

Let me tell you something.

Unless you lent the IRS money you expect to get back as a “refund” at zero interest, there is no reason to file your income tax return early. I’ll go a step further. You’re crazy to run in circles and get your no-refund tax return out early and even crazier to manage your taxes so you always get a refund. Where do you think the government got the money to send you?

Work on your tax forms starting in January. Get them ready to go. But don’t drop them in the mail until they’re due: April 15.

Please don’t assume that everyone who pays their taxes on time is a procrastinator and poke fun at people who wait until April 15 to drop that envelope into the mailbox. Maybe they’re being prudent.

There oughta be a law

I thought it was against the law to snow in April in the Boise Valley. Up in the mountains, OK, but not down here at 2,332 feet above sea level and approaching the middle of April. But I saw it, patches of snow on my way to Boise yesterday, and more flakes of snow coming down. A few blooms on my main apricot tree have survived so far, and most of them on the volunteer tree between my garage and the property line fence on the east side of my house. So maybe I’ll have a few, but it could freeze hard within the next 7 days..

Class of ‘59

The only ones from our class that I saw were Monty Leinberger, Buster States, Reuben Dutt, and Norm Spencer. Visited with all of them. Next year is our 50th! The Class of ‘58 had a wonderful turnout, with about 20 present. My aunt Ruby won the “prize” as the oldest one there, a member of the Class of ‘38, a very long 70 years ago.

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I had a nice visit with Rosemary yesterday and hope to exchange email with her and maybe visit with her this summer. She says she’ll probably retire in one more year from her work as a psychiatrist at a mental hospital in Montana.

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I decided to renew my membership in the Committee of 100, a group that takes on special projects such as a new oven for the kitchen, air-conditioning in the classrooms and things like that. I can only contribute $500, the minimum donation for membership, but it’s fun feeling like a philanthropist!

Homecoming

This is Homecoming week end at Gem State Academy. I arrived a bit early but there was plenty of noise, and I was warmly greeted by the Class of ‘58, which is the honored 50-year class this year. After you’ve had a 50-year reunion, you become a “pioneer.”

We watched a b&w presentation of 90 years of working at Gem State Academy. Cousin John, just arrived from Fresno, brought Aunt Ruby to the meeting. She looked good and walked in on John’s arm but no other support. Caught a glimpse of Grandma Wilson in one of the photos presiding over the meal preparation work at the academy.

The weather is cold and cloudy, chance of rain later.

Ask me for the recipe

I was buzzing along late this afternoon when I decided it was time for a solid snack. I put a couple of nice-looking eggs in the no-stick skillet and then began adding things. A little milk, some garlic powder, some Parmesan cheese, and stirred it all together.

Then I noticed a plastic bag in my refrigerator with a yellow powder in it. Thinking it was a soup mix, I poured a generous portion into my mixture, stirred it in, and let the concoction cook.

When my gourmet meal was nicely browned, I loaded it onto a plate and seated myself on a cushioned chair within site of the TV and began eating. At first I was just disappointed that the dish I’d prepared didn’t taste good. I kept swallowing, and the more I swallowed the worse it tasted. Finally I was down to the last two bites, and that’s when I thought I’d swallowed a bottle of poison.

I was sick from my eyebrows to my toenails, nauseated, stomach-wrenching sick. I ran to the kitchen sink and stared at it as my stomach emptied itself of some but not all of the insult.

I have no idea why this combination was so hard to swallow, but I do know that three hours later my stomach still feels a bit tender. Maybe I should have a dose of that every time I’m tempted to try out a pizza or a bowl of macaroni or something.

If you’d like the recipe…