Did I just read that?

I don't even know what to make of this one. This is the caption that appears under a picture of a window in an abandoned building.

"This is the Giuseppe Antonini, which was a facility on the outskirts of Milan. The facility once housed Napolean Bonaparte and Benito Mussolini’s illegitimate son."

https://mentertained.com/abandoned-buildings/46/?v=2


I can't even...how did Napoleon and Mussolini have a son? There are so so many problems with that. I mean, they're both men...and Napoleon died 62 years before Mussolini was born....and would you really want those gene pools mixed?....and they spelled Napoleon wrong.

Did I just read that?

"Investigators later determined that two toddler-aged children were inside the suspect during the shooting but were not injured. Police said neither Martinez nor Pacheco were the parent or guardian of the children. "

Uh....not sure how that works.

https://www.9news.com/article/news/crime/dpd-2-kids-were-inside-car-when-federal-agent-shot-man-woman/73-7bdd7b28-7cc4-42dd-8579-4d279f6830a5

Yet another post on feminism

I know I write about feminism kind of a lot. Off an on. 

The reason I write about it so often is I feel immense pressure to be a feminist (ALL acceptable women are feminists, apparently), but at the same time, I feel an immensely strong gut reaction telling me feminism is not healthy for women. But the logic and spoken aims of feminism are very compelling, and some of the problems they are addressing are very real and need to be addressed.

So I feel conflicted, and I write to try to address that conflict, to resolve it and help myself understand why I can't be a feminist of any stripe despite the social pressure and the work that needs to be done.

Before I say anything else, I do know that I'm oversimplifying by using the word "feminism" and that there are many kinds of feminism (and I actually am not opposed to all of them.) I also know that there are many problems that women face that need to be fixed. And I also am saying right up front that I know many excellent feminists that this absolutely does not apply to.

Here's my latest bullet list of reasons feminism is making me uncomfortable, based on my own observations. (I add that because feminists are incredibly aggressive--to the point of cruelty--at defending their positions, and whenever I post stuff like this, they come out to tell me that my observations are wrong and mean and destroying women because feminism is the only path to success for women. So I'm saying up front: These are my own personal observations from my own personal life. They in no way are blanket claims of always truths, but they also are the things I've seen over and over and am making judgments based on--and that's probably unfair but it's my reality. And the fact that I have to put this in here should tell you something about why I can't embrace being a feminist.) So, my list:

• Despite protests to the contrary, feminism publicly is still often anti-man, anxious to belittle and condemn men and deny the masculine nature in order to elevate women. I don't think this helps anyone.
• Feminists still use men as their "measuring stick" of what is success and where we are aiming to be. I don't see any way to succeed if we make men the measuring stick because we are not men and never will be, so we will never quite measure up. It puts women in an inherently inferior position, and it forces women to deny their nature in order to succeed. This harms women rather than helping them.
• Feminism often belittles women for intelligently making the best choice they can for their own lives, claiming that if they don't decide to conform to some money-based evaluation of "success," they were manipulated by society and couldn't possibly be making these choices of their own free will. That actually makes it harder for women to be what they want to be, not easier. (You can see this in the pressure women have put on them to not choose a caring profession, to choose a science or math major even if they really love history, etc.)
• Feminism makes faith and having a relationship with our Father in Heaven noticeably more difficult for women. For some reason, Feminists often seem to have an automatic distrust of the motives of every man, and not of women. Consequently, they find it hard to trust and act on instruction from God. I have a hard time embracing anything that makes faith harder and more complicated, and that interferes with women's ability to form trusting relationships with God and Jesus.
• Feminists are often obsessed with power and who has it, to the detriment of understanding and interacting with their world. This is a very narrow way of looking at the world--very reductionist--that does not tend to show a whole and fair picture. It is, absolutely, one piece of a big puzzle. But it's a mistake to say you understand the whole puzzle completely based on observing one piece, or even a cluster of pieces.
• Feminism distorts thinking, and in a way that leads to greater unhappiness in life and a limited ability to interact with society in a way that will actually make changes to things that hurt women. Feminism is not a paradigm through which to view the world if you want high life satisfaction. It pushes finding offense and power imbalance in every single thing you see--but only if you are on the lower side of the imbalance (never if you have more power, and especially never if you are misusing it). There are other distortions to the thinking as well.
• Feminism elevates women to a more perfect status that they actually have right to claim (with claims like, "If women were the bishops, nobody would ever be offended in church" that are patently untrue and also ridiculous), elevating themselves to ridiculous and foolish heights, while simultaneously laying claim on and denying the existence of feminine traits.  (This is really part of the distorted thinking, isn't it?) On the one hand, they say there are no inherently feminine traits but it's all social constructs, and on the other, they restructure school to take advantage of the way women think and work to the detriment of boys. All while saying we need to act more like men to succeed. (The danger of saying there are no inherently gendered traits is that in doing so, they are accepting male-ness as the default and denying female-ness exists at all.)
• Feminism not only ignores but denies that sometimes women have a role in their "problems." (For example, sometimes women bear the burden of the "thinking work" in a household because they are so sure only women can do it right that they actually refuse to let men carry that burden at all out of certainty that the men will do it wrong. And then they complain that the men aren't carrying the burden. Or, in a less negative light, sometimes women make less money than men in the same jobs because they women put higher priority on family time and refused to make the family sacrifices that put them in the top positions at work, eligible for the top raises. So they make less money, but it's a direct result of the good choices they made.)
• The sociocultural demands that feminists have put on women in the name of "freedom" have made it harder for women to embrace and enjoy motherhood (especially of raising many children) and do it well. The only valid contribution to society is measured in dollars and cents and positions at work. That's just a shame, and its wrong, too. Anyone can make money. Only women can mother. (Men can contribute, but they father--which is also vital. Just different.)
• Feminists don't understand what women actually are and what will make them eternally happy in the greatest senses. (Really, only God can know that for anyone, so it's not their fault.) But, despite this lack of knowledge, they work very hard to not only define but enforce a single right "path" to life satisfaction that they not only offer but demand that all women walk. They deny they do this, but actions and social pressure speaks louder than words.
• Feminism is essentially inward-looking. But God has asked us to spend our lives looking outward, not inward: serving others, loving others, using our talents to build His kingdom, having charity, etc. Humility is impossible if our entire paradigm is inward. The nature of feminism is in opposition to the nature of "Forget yourself and get to work." Feminism is often selfish and rooted in pride, and that is not a path to anything good.
• So much of feminism is whining and complaining, indulging in anger and celebrating being bitchy and obnoxious. I'm not interested in those things. That's not who I want to be, and that's not what I want to spend my time or energy on.
• Feminist approach to problem solving is counterproductive. It practically forces people to dig in their heels and defend their position rather than productively leading everyone to greater understanding and change. This is weird because the much-maligned "Feminine Nature" is actually supposed to be good at gently leading people along to change and understanding, but feminists are particularly bad at this, coming across as rude, selfish, obnoxious, and aggressive instead of as a safe way to learn and change and fix problems. (For example, complaining, having mean letter-writing campaigns, and protesting against the Brethren is far, far less likely to cause change than simply asking the questions. "Why don't women do _____?" is way way more effective than "Women Must be allowed to do _____!")
• Feminism leads to a particularly narrow view of the world. It thrives in and loves the echo chamber. For example, any time there is a change they hoped for, they think, "We did this! It's because of our voices!" without even a thought for, say, the global nature of the Church, the fact that there are other voices that were speaking out in more effective ways, that God had something in mind, etc. 
• In acknowledging that there is pain and unfairness in the world, feminism seems to reinforce and rejoice in it. It comes across as the ultimate "girls crying in the bathroom" clique that ever existed, and seems to love the victimhood more than the possibility of healing. And in trying to hear and love the victim, they often are cruel to those who were not hurt.

And now that this is written, I'm always afraid to post these because of the inevitable backlash. No-one is more capable of being cruel and needling to the heart of a woman than an angry feminist. No-one has more "need" somehow to lash out and address every slight and every insult than an angry feminist.  And feminism teaches women to see hurt and be angry all the time. Feminism, in practice, is often the glorification of the bitch. And I have been treated cruelly so many times by feminists that I'm afraid to even post this, anticipating backlash (and for some reason they feel compelled to attack, not just brush it off and think, "She's wrong. I'll just go on with my life and ignore it."). But I want myself and my kids to understand why I can't join in, so here it is. Again. (I write about this stuff SOOO much!)

Ultimately this is my bottom line: Throughout my life, I've had times where I looked at a group of women (returned sister missionaries and mothers of many children come to mind right off the bat) and saw characteristics I wanted to have. I found myself saying, "I want to be like them," and I knew I had to embrace the same experiences and ideals they had in order to gain the benefits they had that I wanted. There is no other way to get the deep, calm, wise patience of being a mother of many children than by mothering many children (whether they are your own birthed children or others you mother). There is no other way to get that particular kind of confidence and class that returned sister missionaries have than by going on a mission. When I look at feminism and the women it produces, I don't think, "Gosh, I want to be just like that!" In fact, I often think, "Oh my! I hope I'm not like that!" That gives me very little incentive to embrace feminism.

Did I just read that?

Following this stunning non-sequitur: "However, 400 years later, scientists now believe that they could bring the dodo back to life through cloning of some of its closest living relatives. Scientists recently published a paper which identified the overall genomic structure of dinosaurs."

...we get this quote (I hope mis-quote) from scientists identifying passenger pigeons as dinosaurs, and being excited that birds and non-avian dinosaurs have a lot of chromosomes (because someone thought they didn't?!):

'University of Kent scientists Darren Griffin and Rebecca O’Connor wrote in an article for The Conversation: “We discovered that birds and most non-avian dinosaurs had a lot of chromosomes (packages of DNA). Having so many allows animals to generate variation, the driver of natural selection. Nevertheless, and it is a long shot, it may be possible in future to use Jurassic Park technology to help undo some of the harm that humans have caused. Mankind has seen the extinction of well-known avian dinosaurs such as the dodo and the passenger pigeon."'

https://www.express.co.uk/news/science/971538/cloning-news-dodo-dinosaur-extinct-clone-latest-university-of-kent

Did I just read that?

There is so much wrong with this article that we laughed all the way through.

https://www.foxnews.com/science/a-gurgling-mud-pool-is-creeping-across-southern-california-like-a-geologic-poltergeist

Start with the simile in the headline (uh--what kind of comparison is that?! Did this person know what a poltergeist is?), and go downhill from there.

Commas Matter.

A couple of things I found while pondering punctuation in the scriptures.

1. "...people, who are of the House of Israel," means something different from "...people who are of the House of Israel." I believe based on the context that the first is used but the latter was intended. (This is just one example where the phrase appears: "...the work of the Father shall commence in preparing the way for the fulfilling of his covenants which he hath made to his people who are of the house of Israel." The comma would indicate He has no other people but the house of Israel, which flies in the face of the doctrine that all of mankind are God's children. Leaving the comma out indicates we are talking about a specific group of God's children with whom he made specific covenants, but leaves open the possibility that He has other children with whom He has also made specific covenants that are not addressed in this verse. We have wars (literally) over this idea--that God only has one people and which is it--and it's all cleared up by properly punctuating.)

and 2. "touch upon them as much as it were possible for Christ’s sake" means something different than "touch upon them as much as it were possible, for Christ’s sake." When I realized it was the latter that was actually used in the scripture, I laughed. The comma turned a perfectly acceptable phrase into a swear, and we've been reading it that way for a hundred years. Oops!

My Latest Project

One of my most boring and ultimately most valuable classes in college was the senior seminar I took with Royal Skousen doing an analysis of the Book of Mormon text, comparing what's in the printed edition with the handwritten versions.

Some things I learned:

* There were two handwritten editions of the Book of Mormon: the original and a copy of the original they made to take to the printer, not wanting to lose the only copy. The original copy went into the cornerstone of the Nauvoo House, which leaked water and damaged parts and destroyed parts. The Church now owns most of the parts, but a few are in private hands. The printer's copy we have, but it does have a few copying errors.

* The Book of Mormon, as organized by Mormon, had chapter breaks and a few chapter/section headings built in, but they do NOT match the most recent edition's chapter breaks. At some point, someone (I want to say Orson Pratt, but I'm not sure) who had authority broke the Book of Mormon into chapters and verses to match the Bible more closely and make it easier to refer to specific parts, make notes, and study. He also added chapter headings. Later, footnotes were added. The most recent (2013) edition of the Book of Mormon made an attempt to clarify which chapter headings were original and which were added.

*The original 1830 edition of the Book of Mormon has the original chapter breaks and no verse numbers. It is MUCH easier to read without all the "noise" added to make the Book easier to study. But the 1830 edition has errors in it, many of which Joseph Smith himself went through and fixed for the second edition. The errors in the 1830 edition were of two sorts: copying errors and formatting errors. Most of the copying errors came from the difficulty in reading a handwritten text with nonstandard spelling (so we get things like "wickedness" being replaced with "woundedness" in one verse and "Lamb" replaced with "Lord" in another; and thanks to the spelling issues, on the last line of the Book of Mormon we still have no idea if it originally--when Moroni wrote it--said, "wholly without spot" or "holy, without spot."  Fortunately, they mean the same in context so it doesn't matter.)

* The formatting errors in the Book of Mormon came from a peculiarity of the production process. The handwritten manuscript transcribed while Joseph translated did not include punctuation or paragraphing. The chapters breaks were marked with the word "Chapter" but no chapter numbers. New and difficult words (especially names) Joseph spelled out letter by letter (we know this because a phonetic spelling was crossed out and followed by a corrected spelling in the manuscript), but other words were not spelled out by Joseph and are spelled phonetically and nonstandardly on a regular basis, reflecting their dialect (so you get things like "genealogy" spelled in a way that reveals Joseph pronounced it like most people in southern Utah still do).  Sometimes, the person taking the dictation forgot the correct spelling and went back to the phonetic spelling. Usually that was caught and corrected, but the name Pahoran is still spelled incorrectly, even in the 2013 edition (the original manuscript on the first appearance of that name spelled it out as Parhoran.) Anyway, paragraphing and punctuation were not revealed but instead were inserted later, primarily by the printer, EB Grandin. And he did a terrible job, breaking single sentences into different paragraphs and making the whole document a commastorm.



So it's that last part that has bothered me for years.

I find the official study edition very, very difficult to read because of the formatting. Single sentences are broken into different verses. Paragraphing is nonexistent. People read it like they do poetry, with little pauses at the ends of lines instead of where the meaning breaks. For years now, when I wanted to just read the Book and not cross-reference and footnote and mark it, I've turned to my trusty 1830 replica edition. I can't just read the study edition that is the official edition. It's just about impossible for me to get through because of the formatting, chapter breaks, etc. I mean, the original chapter breaks were put in by the original authors, and if you read them you find that they are thematically organized. The new chapter breaks actually obscure this layer of meaning that was put in by the original ancient authors (which breaks this author's heart!).

For years I've longed for an 1830-style format with the 2013 corrections of the errors introduced by Grandin (and by the printer's manuscript), and with updated formatting and punctuation because Grandin did just a dismally awful job with those.

When President Nelson made his request in conference that the sisters read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year, I knew I couldn't succeed unless I had my 1830 replica edition so I could read fast and easily. And it was packed. So I prayed for help finding it, and then I stood up and surveyed the room. One box stood out to me, and I opened it up and there on top was my 1830 replica! So out it came, and I started reading with a pencil in hand to start marking, as President Nelson requested, the parts that mentioned the Savior.

But reading with pencil in hand totally put me in editor mode, and I found myself horrified and distracted by the awful punctuation of the 1830 edition. Commas everywhere, without rhyme or reason. It was unreadable with a pencil in hand because my copyeditor instincts took over and I found myself marking the thing up--copyediting.  I checked the 1981 edition I use for studying and found that the Church has corrected a lot of Grandin's punctuation storm, but it looks like they still relied mostly on what he did to punctuate. A lot of it is still not correct according to the rules of punctuation.

So....I looked up the copyright permissions on the website, and it says you can use the church materials for personal use. So I downloaded a copy of the Book of Mormon--just the text of the 2013 edition, so it's the most updated and corrected text, and I prayed and asked Heavenly Father if I could make myself a copy of the Book of Mormon in the format I want to read, with the non-revealed parts fixed, and the text left untouched. I got a resounding YES! answer to my prayer, so I set to work.

I've basically said to myself, "If I were in Grandin's spot, how would I have done this?" My rule is that I can't change anything that was revealed to Joseph Smith (no word changes, no shuffling paragraphs, etc.), but anything anyone else added to the text is fair game (line breaks, paragraph breaks, punctuation, chapter headings, false chapter breaks, etc).

First thing to go was the new chapters and verses. I went back to the original chapter breaks, and I'm putting in normal paragraphing. And finally, I'm doing a complete re-punctuation of the entire text. Everything else I'm faithfully, religiously sticking with what the original authors wrote. Just redoing the formatting to make it easier to read. So far I've finished all of First Nephi. I wish I'd found a way to keep the footnotes, but my computer would not process the formatting of footnotes. (I'm using Google Chrome Docs instead of Libre Office, so my formatting options are sorely limited.)

And, lo and behold, it's SO Much easier to read without all the bad punctuation. The Book of Mormon text says it's plain and simple to read, and I've never found it completely simple. But it turns out a lot of that is the punctuation being in all the wrong places, so your brain pauses where it shouldn't, obscuring the meaning.

In doing this, I've engaged in the meaning of the Book of Mormon in ways I never have before.  I've learned things and internalized and understood things that I missed before. And I've discovered some linguistic "forms" that are used throughout the text that are kind of fun. And I've really finally felt the clarity and simpleness and plainness that Nephi said he gloried in, and that we buried in a flood of commas and semicolons that mostly marked the end of lines instead of segments of meaning. It's quite delightful.  I can't wait to get to the rest of the Book!

I think when I'm all done, I'll find a way to print a copy for myself so that finally I will have an edition of the Book of Mormon that is easy to read to myself and easy to read aloud to my children. That would make me very, very happy indeed.

Sometimes we run to aid, sometimes we stand as a beacon

I had an experience recently that has ended up being very important to me, and I wanted to share it. The easiest way is to just cut-and-paste from my journal. So here you have it, from my entry on September 26, 2018:

On Tuesday, we drove an hour to Great Sand Dunes National Park. I had prepared myself for something like the sand dunes we went to when I was a kid. I was not prepared for what it really was: a two-mile-high, 30-square-mile mountain of sand, accessible only by hiking across nearly three-quarter mile of relatively level but overly soft sand that in the spring is covered with shallow water but was dry this time of year.

We checked out the visitor’s center and then sunscreened up to go play in the sand, in the pounding sun. The edges of the flat section had small, scruffy trees, but the dunes themselves were Sahara-bare. So Tim and the kids set off toward the dunes, and Emmy and I trailed along behind, the sand hot and sneeping into our sandals. It was really hard walking, like on a beach, and we got about a third of the way to the dunes before we were both done. Emmy said she didn’t want to jump on the sand anyway, and I didn’t, so we turned around. Immediately, I spotted a shady spot beside a fire pit, away from where most of the people were coming into the area, but on a hillside in the shade. So we turned back and went there.

I had deliberately worn a bright neon pink shirt so the kids could spot me in a crowd, and it ended up being a good thing. Tim realized we didn’t make it, and he jogged back across the dunes and found us just fine because of my shirt. We told him we were going to stay right there in the shade and play. He went back to the other kids, and they played a while and then Nathanael trotted back to us, spotting my bright pink shirt and making a very straight line right to me. Then Tim brought Elijah and Jack back. We dug down to the wet sand not far under the surface and made sand castles. Soon all the kids and Tim were back again.

So we went off to find a place to fill all our 10 gallons of empty water jugs and have a picnic, and finally settled on an empty group camp site. I filled the jugs first, while Tim set up a picnic, and it was a good thing I did because not long after I had them all stowed away, a volunteer camp ranger came and kicked us out of that site because it was for camping, not picnicking (never mind that nobody was there and nobody was going to be there). We had done what we needed that part of the park for, so we picked up and asked where we were allowed to picnic, and then we left.

By then, the wind had picked up and dark clouds had blown in. There was a tiny trinkling of rain, but not much, and the kids wanted to play in the sand again. Caleb and Anda and Tim were done. But Nathanael, Elijah, Benji, Dan, and Jack wanted to hike back to the dunes and try a sled we’d found abandoned by the garbage cans.

It didn’t work.

But it wasn’t hot anymore, so I followed the boys across the flat to the dunes because I figured Jack would get tired and want to come back right away, and I could walk him back. Emmeline had on a bright pink jacket and she and Tim were playing in our same spot from earlier in the day. I could just see her, a bright pink speck in the distance, but I knew I could find them from that bright pink speck. It was surprising, standing up on the dunes with the boys, that the spot we were playing in was far to the right of where most people were going, and it didn’t look “right”. But I knew it was right because I could see Emmy’s bright pink jacket bobbing along. She was doing was I had done earlier with my bright pink shirt--acting as a beacon to show me the right way to go. She was so very tiny that she was easy to miss--it was easy to look the wrong direction, and I had to really choose to search for the little pinprick of pink. But once I found her, I could focus on her little bobbing dot and move toward it. She was a “beacon”--but she was just a point of pink. Hard to see. But not impossible. So that’s where my family was, and the van, and rest and shelter.

Pretty soon, a vicious wind picked up. It was so strong that a crow trying to fly into the wind was blown the other way and finally had to turn around and fly where the wind willed. The boys had abandoned the sled, so I was holding its rope and I’d filled it with cast-off shoes. Once the sun was obscured by the storm clouds, the sand was no longer burning hot, and so the shoes came off. Even filled with the shoes, the wind picked the sled up and tried to whip it from my hands. The sand blasted Nathanael’s bare legs (he was in shorts, and I in jeans). It was so hard he would turn his back on the wind and curl up inside his coat until the gust passed. Jack would crouch in his coat, too, and Daniel (such a saint), would immediately drop down behind Jack and lay on his side, making an effective wall against the wind to protect Jack. Nathanael quickly got weary of sandblasting, and he and I decided to head back. Jack wanted to stay, so I let him. Dan promised not to lose him, so Nat and I headed back toward the big kids and Tim, following Emmy’s bobbing pink dot to know where to go.

We had to wait for the wind to soften a bit, or Nathanael couldn’t walk for all the sandblasting his shins were getting. But we made it, sled and shoes in tow. I looked back at our track when we arrived at Tim and the big kids and Emmy (ready to fall face first onto the sand and rest). It was very wobbly. We did not make a very straight line because the pull toward where everyone else was going was so strong. We kept drifting that way and then spotting Emmy’s pink jacket and correcting our path. She was a lighthouse for us.

The boys played on the dunes a while longer, and Tim made pictures with rocks in the sand while Anda used rocks to play a game of sand bocce and Caleb took pictures and audio recordings (he collects visual textures and random foley-like sounds). I sat beside Emmy and her sand castle and Nathanael sat on her other side and she and he kept building. And I talked to the big kids and Tim and kept my eyes on the dunes where I could not see the kids, but knew they were playing. I could just see little speck figures moving around, but not our kids. Eventually, the wind picked up again (it was cold!), and I saw the boys appear, one at a time. Elijah I recognized because he had his coat off and he was swinging it. Then he put it on and started trudging toward us. Behind him I saw Benji, who I could recognize by the flash of bright orange--his shirt--inside his coat. So I knew the figure beside him was Daniel. But no Jack?

I knew right away that Dan had to be carrying Jack. I had no doubt about it--I knew he wouldn’t have left Jack. But that trek was difficult with just walking myself across the three-quarters of a mile of sand. And Dan was carrying a heavy 5 year old, and battling the wind. I turned to Tim and said, “I’m going to take the sled back out there and drag Jack back. Dan’s carrying him.” I pointed out the kids and Tim said he should go--he could piggy back Jack back and it would be faster and easier. So he set off on a jog toward the kids.

Meanwhile, Elijah was battling the wind, head down, and he had veered off course. He wasn’t looking for me, and so he was heading too far to the left, to where most of the rest of the people were going. And then I could see he was to the left of that, even. He didn’t even realize he was heading astray. “Turn, Elijah, turn back….” I kept saying to him, but I didn’t even bother to shout. It was over half a mile away, and the wind carried my voice the wrong direction.

Anda, Caleb, Nathanael, and Emmeline headed for the van to get out of the wind. And I knew Tim was going to have to rescue three kids at once: Dan from the weight of Jack, Jack from being too little to go any further, and Elijah from getting lost. I started to fret--I was standing here doing nothing, while Tim was running across the sand and my boys were struggling. I saw Benji double back to try to help Dan, but it was too much. I started to pace, needing to help, but I was too far.

Then the thought popped into my head: Just stand still so they know where to go. That is helping. They need to see you. 

I threw my jacket wide so my bright pink shirt was visible from so far away, and I stood as still and tall as I could, being a beacon to them--the same lighthouse that Emmy had been for me.

Tim then caught sight of Elijah going the wrong way, and he diverted his course to catch the one who was going astray. He got Elijah back on track, and then he doubled back to Dan and Benji and relieved them of their burden of caring for the weakest of us. And I stood there, watching them all and knowing that I was helping by showing them where they were supposed to come to.

So I stood there, my pink shirt pointing the right away and helping them find the most direct route back through the blowing, shifting sands, and the Spirit whispered to me, “This is why we stand in holy places.” Tears flowed down my cheeks while I still stood, being the anchor and the beacon so that my little brood could get out of the painful sandblasting storms in the quickest, easiest way possible. My tears flowed and I pondered. I wanted to help, but this was a job for the priesthood. So I sent my priesthood holder out to fetch the one who was too weak to make it back, to strengthen the ones who were struggling to help, and to catch the one who was going astray before he was too lost to turn back. But then all of them--priesthood included--needed me to stand and show them where to go, and that someone was waiting to receive and comfort them and acknowledge their struggles and thank them for their sacrifices and love them and give them a refuge and a rest and food when they got back. We stand in holy places, I understood, to show others where they need to aim for, and because being the beacon helps them get there. We stand in holy places so the ones going astray can find the way back, and so the ones on their way but struggling have somewhere to look for comfort and hope and encouragement, and so they don’t get lost, too. I understood that sometimes we run out to rescue, and sometimes we stand still so everyone can find their way back. Especially when the pull of the wrong way is so strong.

When Elijah got within earshot, he said, “I was going the wrong way, but Dad told me and once I saw you, I knew where to come.” His track was very straight. I remembered earlier in the day when Nathanael had been the very first to trudge back through the heat to the sandy, shady shelter we’d found. I had marveled at what a straight line he made in coming to me. I asked him how he had found me, and he said, “Dad told me which direction to head, so I did and once I saw you there, it was easy.” I realize now that it was important for them to see me, but before they could see me they had to trust Tim and follow his instructions. This is so much what faith is, and what we are supposed to do. Nathanael couldn’t seem me at first, even though I could see him. The lay of the dunes obscured me. But he followed his father’s instructions perfectly and made a straight line until he could see, and then he could come right to me. Elijah spotted me from afar and came toward me, but the storms were too strong and the pull of the way most people were going was distracting, and once he couldn’t see me, he ended up going astray by accident. But his father saw that and redirected him, and he followed those instructions until he, too, could see, and he came to me.

It was all so amazingly laid out before me--the understanding that I was working even by holding still, and that sometimes you can barely see the indicators of the right way to go and you really have to cling to them because it’s just a prick of light instead of a bright beacon--to stay focused and tune out the distractions or you lose sight of the way, and of why we stand in holy places, and that sometimes we seek and sometimes we stand, and the idea that we follow the instructions first even when we can’t see and that eventually leads us to see so we can move forward more quickly and surely. And all of this is faith and the gospel.

We loaded up in the van and headed back, watching a gorgeous sunset as we drove.

*******

This has been important to me as I listened to General Conference. The prophet asked the women to step away from social media, which I was attempting to use to help people see issues that we need to act on. At first, I thought, "I can't leave people who need help! What about the immigrant children, and people who need more information on a topic, and people who need encouragement, and....and...and...." and the thought came to mind, "Sometimes we seek; sometimes we stand."

Mister Doomsy

3 yo just informed us that Black Widow (Marvel character) has a brother named Mister Doomsy, who is 9 years old and wears a pink shirt, blue pants, and green shoes because that's the only clothes he has.

His attacks, apparently, are "punching gloves," which he has for his hands and his feet.

Sneaking out at night.

Me, to my teenagers: "You guys don't sneak out at night, do you?"

14 yo: "Uh...does the back porch count?"

16 yo: "If I'm sneaking out, I'm so sneaky that even I don't know I sneaked out!"

12 yo: "My friends all go to bed early, so there's nothing to sneak out for."

14 yo: "If you provide the Victorian clothes, I'll sneak out with you, Mom." (Man, I would do that!)

9 yo: "I sometimes sneak out to the freezer to get a pizza."

14 yo: "Sometimes I sit on the front porch and whittle at 3 am...."

I guess every time they've snuck out at night, I've proposed it. I'm good with that.

And now they're teasing me because I'm awake all night anyway....I mean, I asked them all this at 3:45 am, when nobody was willing to get in bed.

Kids are so funny!

Me, explaining to 3 yo that her grandparents are on vacation, so we can't call them easily: "Grandma is in a cottage in England right now."

3yo, in a very serious, solemn voice: "She probably got captured!"

Apparently 3 yo thinks her grandparents are either super spies or superheroes.

Me: "Emmy, who captured Grandma and Grandpa?"

3yo: "Grandpa didn't get captured. Only Grandma! By Hydra!!"

Then she called the police on her TV remote to report it so they will go rescue her. She says Grandpa didn't get captured because he stayed at home.

Did I just read that?

From the Times Call today:

"Longmont was among the most-battered areas of Boulder County by powerful gusts that reached as high as 80 mph Tuesday afternoon, downing power lines and trees that caused thousands to lose electricity, multiple roadblocks and damage to at least one home."

Those are some trees--they cause thousands to lose electricity, to lose roadblocks, and to lose damage to their homes?  http://www.timescall.com/ci_31812201

Easter Post, a day late

My favorite chapter of scripture, for Easter. With a few notes (in italics is my words) thrown in so you can understand how I read this, and hopefully why I love it so much.
Isaiah 53/Mosiah 14
Who hath believed our report, and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed? (Indeed, to whom? to me? This is answering that question--who gets to see the arm of the Lord in their lives?)

For he (Jesus) shall grow up before him (God) as a tender plant, and as a root out of dry ground (not an easy, silver spoon kind of upbringing, so we have something in common there); he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him there is no beauty that we should desire him. (Jesus was not beautiful. I suspect Satan is. Why not Jesus? Perhaps so we follow Him for the right reasons? But also to emphasize that the glory and wonderfulness of Jesus was not his beauty.)

He is despised and rejected of men (so He gets it when we are, too); a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief (I saw a modern translation that rendered this "familiar with pain."  But no no no! Grief is pain plus something else. for him to be acquainted with grief means He didn't just become familiar with the concept, but He met the experience of Grief personally--He understands); and we hid as it were our faces from him (are we ashamed of Jesus because He is not appealing to the world, either in body or in doctrine?); he was despised, and we esteemed him not (esteemed him not is such a great phrase--not just we didn't pay attention to Him, but we gave him no esteem--we didn't think He was worth honoring or listening to, but nevertheless....).

Surely he has borne our griefs (Surely has two meanings: indeed, and reliably, unfailingly, without hesitation, trustworthy--like a sure-footed donkey that can safely and surely carry you down a steep mountain road or bear its load without faltering or complaining; I prefer the second definition in this verse), and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. (Isn't that beautiful? And also painful to read? Jesus was hurt for us, and his pain heals us.)

All we, like sheep, have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord (God) hath laid on him (Jesus) the iniquities of us all. (Nobody is exempt from needing this healing. We all need it.)

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb so he opened not his mouth.

He was taken from prison and from judgment; and who shall declare his generation? For he was cut off out of the land of the living; for the transgressions of my people was he stricken. (He was cut off young--his life was tragically ended, and He didn't even try to protest or defend himself or talk his way out of it. Why? For our transgressions.)

And he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he had done no evil, neither was any deceit in his mouth. (Such ultimate unfairness. This is so profoundly unfair. So He gets it when life is unfair to us--our unfairness doesn't even rise to the level of the unfairness He faced.)

Yet it pleased the Lord (God) to bruise him (Jesus) (Why would it please God to hurt Jesus?!  Because it was a fulfillment of His plan, and imagine how pleased God was that Jesus did it--because if Jesus had agency, and He must have, then He had the choice Not to go through with it, and He didn't want to at one point. So this makes me think of God as a super-pleased parent, that His son did this amazing and impossible and glorious thing and saved Everyone); he (God) hath put him (Jesus) to grief; when thou (me!) shalt make his soul (Jesus) an offering for sin he (Jesus) shall see his (Jesus) seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the Lord (God) shall prosper in his hand.  (We become Jesus sons and daughters by making his soul an offering for our sins--in other words for accepting His offering paying for our sins, in accepting the healing). 

He shall see the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied; by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities. (this is the summation of the Atonement, and it's wonderful!)

Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he hath poured out his soul unto death; and he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bore the sins of many, and made intercession for the transgressors. (I just love the phrase poured out his soul unto death--such a sacrifice, and He did it for me.)

So the answer to the question? To whom is the arm of the Lord revealed? Remember, the Lord throughout this chapter is Heavenly Father, not Jesus. And to whom is His arm revealed? To us. Through Jesus and His atonement.

We so often see this chapter as Isaiah prophesying about Jesus' death so that when it happened, it would be recognized because it was foretold. But in getting caught up with the prophecy-come-true aspect of it, we miss the promise-of-salvation-to-us aspect. This is a beautiful promise of salvation, a wonderfully poetic description of the atonement and its purpose, being to save us. With his stripes we are healed! When we accept His gift, we become His seed--and what is your seed if not heirs to your kingdom, and also beloved? Tied up in this chapter is an explanation of the unfairness of Jesus's lot in life, but also the beauty that comes of it.  I just love this chapter. Reading it brings a reverence, calm, and centered-ness to my soul that it needs. It helps me feel connected to Jesus.

So then I discovered today that it connects very nicely with Isaiah 54, so I'm putting that here, too, so you can read it in the context of Jesus and the atonement. It's like chapter 53 was Jesus and the atonement with a focus on Jesus's experiences, and 54 turns that around and is about the results of the atonement from our experiences--the promises and blessings and what life can look like for us because of Jesus: what does it mean to become His seed, and what does it mean to have the arm of the Lord revealed?

Isaiah 54

Sing, O barren, thou that didst not bear; break forth into singing, and cry aloud, thou that didst not travail with child: for more are the children of the desolate than the children of the married wife, saith the Lord.

Enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the curtains of thine habitations: spare not, lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes;

For thou shalt break forth on the right hand and on the left; and thy seed shall inherit the Gentiles, and make the desolate cities to be inhabited.

Fear not; for thou shalt not be ashamed: neither be thou confounded; for thou shalt not be put to shame: for thou shalt forget the shame of thy youth, and shalt not remember the reproach of thy widowhood any more.

For thy Maker is thine husband; the Lord of hosts is his name; and thy Redeemer the Holy One of Israel; The God of the whole earth shall he be called.

For the Lord hath called thee as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, and a wife of youth, when thou wast refused, saith thy God.

For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee.

In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer.

For this is as the waters of Noah unto me: for as I have sworn that the waters of Noah should no more go over the earth; so have I sworn that I would not be wroth with thee, nor rebuke thee.

For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee.

O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires.

And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones.

And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children.

In righteousness shalt thou be established: thou shalt be far from oppression; for thou shalt not fear: and from terror; for it shall not come near thee.

Behold, they shall surely gather together, but not by me: whosoever shall gather together against thee shall fall for thy sake.

Behold, I have created the smith that bloweth the coals in the fire, and that bringeth forth an instrument for his work; and I have created the waster to destroy.

No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord.

I won't paste more here, but I encourage you to read on. Chapter 55 is an invitation to come and join and become Jesus's seed.

lavender oil for fibromyalgia?

Learning about lavender oil, and reading a summary of the research here: 
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3612440/



Turns out it treats nerve and muscle pain, brain fog, anxiety, and sleep problems.

Sounds like fibro, doesn't it?

and remember this blog post? http://beccajones.blogspot.com/2017/03/is-fibro-caused-by-breakdown-in.html    The one where I was pondering on acetylcholine and coenzyme-A?

Well, it turns out that lavender oil is involved in the acetylcholine system, just like coenzyme-A is.

They've found if you use anti-opioid medication, anti-nicotine medication, or muscarinic receptor blockers, it blocks lavender oil from working. That means it works through the same neurological systems in the body as opioids (blocking pain) and nicotine. Those receptors (the nicotinic and muscarinic receptors) are part of the acetylcholine system, too. But there is no sign of "central adverse effects."  It's not bad for you like nicotine or opioids. Those systems in the body help control nerve impulses, which seem to be out of whack for people with fibro. In many, many studies, lavender reduces pain and speeds healing from all kinds of pain and all kinds of injury, including reducing pain and duration of migraines, menstrual cramps, and menopause, and reducing pain and increasing mobility in back pain patients.

It also apparently causes wounds and injuries to heal faster and minimizes inflammation in the body. All of those things seem like they would help people with fibro.

Memory problems caused by dysfunction of the cholinergic systems in the body (acetylcholine again!) can be healed by lavender oil, including reducing symptoms of mental decline like in Alzheimer's (at least in rodents). It can cure brain fog, apparently.

It helps you fall asleep faster and sleep longer and better. And it can apparently help prevent and cure neuronal damage. Also helpful for fibro.

"Cholinergic system is suggested to play a role in lavender analgesic, antianxiety, antidepression, and anticonvulsant effects of lavender."  There's that acetylcholine again!  I need to learn more about this system.

It also interacts with the dopamine systems (D3 receptors) and the GABA-a receptors, and "enhances inihibitory tore of the nervous system" (which is great if you have an overactive nervous system!).

Overall, it appears that lavender oil helps regulate the nervous system. And since recent research is indicating fibromyalgia "pain is primarily maintained by a dysregulated central nervous system," regulating the nervous system might be a good first step to helping fibro. (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3272134/)

Lavender reduces activity in the the pre/post-central gyrus and frontal eye field of the brain. The pre- and post-central gyrus are the parts of the brain that control sensory information. Fibro is widely considered a disorder of sensory input, so it makes sense that something that interacts with the sensory part of the brain might interact with fibro as well. The sensory information is integrated in the temporal gyrus. Interestingly, in a study released this month, researchers report that they found that "FM patients had reduced connectivity within default mode network, between middle/inferior temporal gyrus and visual cortex." These are areas in the brain the lavender directly affects. (https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-017-18999-z)  Lavender apparently affects the brain waves in a way the makes them match the brain waves of people who say they are "comfortable."  What is fibro but constant discomfort? 

Apparently people with fibro have disruption in their alpha and theta brain waves. And lavender increases both alpha and theta brain wave activity. In addition, the connections in the posterior cingulate gyrus in people with fibro are wrong somehow (hard to read neurology research!), and lavender increases activity in the posterior cingulate gyrus. (http://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0178516 for more on brain stuff in fibro).

The nice thing is, lavender oil works in people like us who can't take fish oil.

So what does this all mean?

I have no idea. I just didn't want to lose my notes before I figure it out. Meanwhile, it might be a good idea to test lavender oil (silexan) on fibro.

Did I just read that?

Last sentence of a news article: "She has brown hair and eyes with tattoos on both shoulders and feet."

http://www.9news.com/article/news/local/police-ask-bar-goers-who-may-have-seen-missing-longmont-mom-to-contact-them/73-532284605

I just can't figure out why she has eyes with tattoos on her shoulders and on her feet.

Or does this mean she has feet?

This sentence needs some help.

Turning down the dream

A couple of months ago, I had a dream that I was approached by a top-secret spy agency who were recruiting. They thought I might be amazing as a spy, and they gave me some very cursory training and then I took an aptitude test. By doing what was right, being honest, answering with my gut instead of second-guessing myself, I aced their test and was immediately offered a job. Promptly the office was attacked by bad guys and the boss was killed, and I escaped with some of the staff. They were so impressed with my skills that they offered me an undercover position in England for a two-week mission. High pay. Only two weeks. Tim was facing immense stress at the time in his life, and if I left I would be abandoning him to face that stress alone, not to mention raising all 8 kids alone and working more than full time. I looked at the pay and the excitement and the fact that they loved me and thought I was amazing for talents that I valued (and that my kids do not), and I abandoned my family and took the job. Just for two weeks, and then I'd be home, I told myself, and it would make a lot of money for my family and take the pressure off Tim. So I set off and the training included doing things that I am morally opposed to, but it was part of the job....

I woke up with the distinct feeling that I had chosen WRONG. That my family is my mission right now, and leaving them for glory, excitement, praise, and to use neglected talents that I value would be a terribly bad mistake that could cost me my soul.

So a few days later, my dream job came up (a real-life kind of dream job--nobody would ever really hire me to work in a spy agency, even though intelligence analysis really is one of my dream jobs) in a museum working with artifacts and writing up info about them for displays and newsletters. The job was down in Denver area, doing local history work at a history museum. It's the job I've wanted since I was in high school. Writing. Physical history. Artifact preservation. Teaching. It's like all my talents rolled into one lovely position that someone would actually pay me real money to do--a good wage, too.

But I remembered the dream and its warning, and I didn't apply.

And then I forgot about that dream.

But I remembered today, after a week of being invited to head up or join the leadership teams for various committees, online groups, real-life groups--all fighting for causes I believe in and care about. All asking to use talents that I value and that often go unrecognized and unused. All accompanied by praise for things I want very much to be praised for (especially since most of the things mothers get praised for I'm a completely failure at!). It all sounds very exciting--a chance to use my brain to do cool things that sound important, to get praise from people for being smart, to analyze information and use my writing to lead people to better things and better ideas.

All this came because of opportunities I had last fall to help in a political campaign. And I suppose it would be the start of a path that could lead far and wide, to interesting ways to use my brain to do interesting things.

But my mission right now is not to save the world from political chaos or help run a myriad of interesting organizations fighting for important things, as much as I want to do those things. My mission is to restore order to my home, to put together foam puzzles that are going to last three days, and bake birthday cakes, blow bubbles, and help kids sculpt things using graham crackers and frosting. My job is to read stupid stories over and over and over. And to kiss imagined owies that don't really exist. To teach math and try in vain to keep house. And to love and love and love and love. And saying it out loud sounds like I'm choosing the stupid over the intelligent, the mundane over the exciting, the mediocre over the excellent. And by many measuring sticks, I am.

But every job has mundane and boring and stupid parts. I suspect that every job is actually mostly dumb stuff, but we do it to accomplish the goal or vision or mission the job includes. It's possible to see where these mundane steps are leading, so they're possible to tolerate. The trouble with mothering is we often forget the mission in the tidal wave of tedium, but that doesn't mean there isn't a mission or that we aren't actually doing it. A former army sniper told me once that he would sit in a tree for five days to get in one good shot at his target. Sounds exciting, except for the 4.999 days stuck in a tree just waiting and waiting and not even allowed to get down to sleep or go to the bathroom.

Really, someone else actually can do the intelligence analysis--and better than I, since politics and policy don't light a fire in my belly, although thinking and research do.

But the day before I die, I will not regret having turned all the fancy chances down, even if someone else becomes president some day because they took them instead of me. But I will regret doing the things that nobody else can do--mothering my children, being a wife to Tim, writing my novels, being a sister and daughter to my siblings and parents, making my quilts, writing curricula in the way that only I can, teaching and playing and building my home into a sanctuary from the world. I will never get famous doing those things. I will not change the world. Nobody will likely remember me who doesn't carry my blood in their veins.

This week, I choose the mundane. I choose to hold a puking toddler and a bucket and hope they connect. I choose playdough and candy houses and verbal horseplay with teenagers and failing at bedtimes (despite my best efforts) and messy floors and full bellies and music and laughter and forgetting to take the garbage out.

It's not fancy and nobody will notice me. I won't change everyone's world. Someone else is going to fight for truth and justice. Someone else is going to shut down tribalism and push for compromise. Someone else is going to work their way through the channels to an eventual political appointment or office. Someone else is going to get paid to think and write.

Not me this time. Who knows if I will get another flood of opportunities like this.

 But it feels like the right choice.

Making a paracord whip, the "recipe"

So now I want to make another paracord whip but sorting through the last "as I go" post is a pain. I accidentally used the heavier weight paracord last time, so the measurements are for that weight of cord. I don't know if that matters or not.

So here's the "recipe"

Core:
85" paracord, gutted (or whip length plus 13-16 inches)
Thin piece of metal for the handle, around 5-6" long
metal BBs
electrical tape

Short form instructions as a reminder: Gut the paracord, melt both ends, but melt one end wide like a funnel. Insert handle in narrow end and melt it in. Fill the rest with BBs down to about 12 1/2 inches from the end. Wrap in electrical tape tight and smooth to just past the BBs, making it tight enough below them that they can't move or fall out. When you weave the belly, weave to 2-4 inches past the BBs and then stop because you want the overlay to end with about 8" of paracord from the core hanging out to tie the fall knot with.

Belly:
8' cord (or 1 times the length of the core plus 2 feet)
12' cord (2 times the length of the core)
two 17-18' cords (3 times the length of the core), alternately, one 18' and one 19'
Electrical tape
gut string from cord for lashing
Core

Gut and seal cords. Weave a loop. Insert core. Weave around the core, dropping either at 1/3 or 1/2, then 2/3, then weave to end and past a little bit. Cut ends to stagger and wrap the end with electrical tape to keep it from unweaving. Or tie. Either way, leave the core strand at least 6" longer than the others for the fall tie (preferably 8-12 inches so you can weave the overlay down it some). Roll the belly against something hard (like concrete) with a book or board. Lash the transition tightly and then tape the handle three times in alternating directions (2" past the handle, 4" past the handle, and 6" past the handle) to strengthen the transition.

Overlay:
7' or 9' cord (gradual or steeper taper) (1.5 times core)
10' cord (1x core plus 4')
14' cord (2x core plus 2')
18' cord (3x core)
two 22'-24' cords (4x core or 3x core plus 4')
2' cord NOT gutted.
6' gut from a cord (for the cracker)

Weave around core. Drop strands every 1/5 of the whip. Weave past end but leave 6" of both core and the last four overlay strands (5 strands together, each at least 6" long). Attach fall and tie it all off with a fall tie. Make and attach cracker. Trim and melt all ends. Crack the whip.

Must we inadvertently belittle women in trying to "fix" princesses?

2 yo was watching movies with Daddy this evening, and they watched a great movie where the princess rejected everyone's advice to stay home and sew and she reframed the problem using a more female approach to life and solved it without resorting to having to do things the vast majority women really can't do (physical fighting with greater strength than men, for example).

But then three details killed the story for me: 1. the dragon ended up being a baby who just needed a hug (because women can't face -real- danger and come out on top using women's innate skills and approaches to things?!).

2. The princess actually says, "Girls are as good as boys!" Just no. That reinforces the idea that boys are inherently superior and girls have to run to keep up. It's establishing more firmly the measuring stick being men. That drives me nuts! One of the biggest flaws of most media-reported feminism is that they've bought into the lie that for women to be successful, they have to out-men men. That's just wrong. We don't need to teach women to lean in or to raise their hands and speak up--we need to teach society to listen to them as they are.

and 3. All the men were idiots. if the only way for women to be wonderful is if men are all idiots, then we lose. We lose as women because men are not all idiots, so this is just reinforcing the idea that women are inferior to all but stupid men. We lose as society because we teach that men are all idiots. This is not real life and it's not a healthy way to look at humans.

We need more stories where competent women and competent men work together, and more stories where women face real danger and save the world using methods and approaches that are realistic for women and highlight valuable things about them (instead of just trying to make them stronger and braver and more violent than men).

Making a paracord bullwhip

Referring to the instructions on three different instructables, I'm making a paracord bullwhip.

http://www.instructables.com/id/Paracord-Whip-1/

http://www.instructables.com/id/Bullwhip-from-Upcycled-Belts/

http://www.instructables.com/id/Paracord-Bullwhip/



Since there are multiple conflicting instructions, I'm taking notes here of what I actually did so if it works, I can remember, and if it doesn't, I know what not to do next time.

Making the core:
First, I cut a 75" length of paracord. I pulled out the guts and wrapped them up to use later. Two of the three instructables mentioned that 6 feet is a good length for a whip, and one mentioned that a filled paracord shrinks, so I cut a few inches extra.

Two of the three instructables suggested using something hard and metal for a handle, so I found something metal to shove into the paracord for a handle. I straightened a thin metal rod I found on the floor (the kids told me later it was a stray tent stake) so I had a thin 8 inch rod that fit into the paracord for a handle. I slid it in and melted the end around the top of the rod to seal the end and keep it in.

Then I stuck the other end around a pencil and melted it into a sort of "funnel" shape. This fit around the end of a baby bottle device intended to eliminate bubbles that looks like a funnel. So I taped it on and used that and another tent stake (like a ram rod) to shove copper-coated steel BBs into the paracord. The tent stake's bent top was also very useful for pulling the BBs down the length of cord. This took kind of a long time, but I filled the paracord with BBs to about 2 1/2 inches from the end and tied a knot. Two of the three instructables said to fill the paracord all the way, so that's what I went with.

Then I wrapped the entire whip core in a tight wrapping of black electrical tape. Two of the three suggested wrapping it with tape, so I did.

I like the look of a whip with a loop at the end, so we're going with that. Two of the three instructables used an 8-strand first belly weave, so we're going with that--especially since that's how you get the loop.

I also made the cracker, following the instructions on the "upcycled belts" link above.

That's how far I've gotten so far. Now I have to figure out how long to cut the strands for the first belly....

Later...

So, I measured the core and it's 60 inches on the spot now. I lost a lot of length stuffing the core. I knew it was going to shrink, but didn't realize I needed to cut it that much longer. My extra three inches was wholly inadequate. It needed a foot more. If I add a fall and cracker, it might end up 6 feet total still, though.

But looking at the calculations on the "upcycled belts" link above, this is just right for the core length, so I guess we're good?

Now to figure how long of cords I need to cut.  One site lists 2 cords at 16 ft, 1 at 14 and 1 at 10. The upcycled belts calculations gives me 1 at 15 ft, 1 at 10, 1 at 5 feet, but says this is a minimum starting point, and longer is better for controlling the taper later. The third link does a four-strand instead of an 8-strand belly weave, and I want the loop at the end, which requires an 8-strand weave, so the instructions for 4 are not helpful (although they might be more useful if the 8s prove to be too big for my tight core).  That link cuts two ten foot sections, folded in half to weave the belly. That instructable also doesn't have the first belly reach the length of the core, to aid in tapering with the second belly. Curious about the strength of that, ultimately.

Given how much length I lost in filling the paracord, I'd rather err on the side of too long rather than too short.

Later.....

I cut two 16', one 14', and one 10' lengths of paracord, which I will fold in half to do an 8-strand weave.

But I'm not sure I have enough paracord to finish the overlay. I bought 150', but I maybe needed more than that.  Trying to figure the overlay lengths....

2 cords at 18 feet, 1 at 16'10", 1 at 15.5', 1 at 14.5', 1 at 13'3". Fold those in half and I have the 12-strand overlay. I have approximately 80 feet left. That's just about 80 feet. We'll see if what I have (in two colors) splits right.

Now to pause to get kids to bed and to find a YouTube tutorial on a four-strand round braiding.
....

Later.....

I used this video to learn how to do a four-strand round braid.  It was a good choice because it was short, to the point, and actually taught me the basics of the whip-making braid. 

Then I went to the "upcycling belts" instructable to learn how to start the whip with the loop. Once I got to the end of the pictures (where it says, "Follow these pictures carefully," I switched to the "paracord bullwhip" tutorial to learn how to braid the thing.

It was hard to get the handle to stay in the loop at first, but once I got about half-way down, it was fine. I'm not used to weaving lately, so my hands are stiff! I've found from other weaving projects that it's nice to keep binder clips (this is the brand I had on hand: https://www.amazon.com/ACCO-Binder-Clips-Medium-A7072050/dp/B00TQ8FDB8/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1514296167&sr=8-5&keywords=paper++clamps) around to clip the strands in place when I need to take a break. It keeps things from getting tangled. Some fingerweavers use clothes pins--I only use them for holding individual strands from getting tangled instead of holding the strands in order. The binder clips are nice because you have a half- to a full inch of flat space to clamp strands in place.  Very useful if you have kids and have to pick up and put down your project a thousand times.

I have read that it's helpful to clamp the end of the whip to a table to hold the tension. I'll probably use a c-clamp for that once I get enough length on this.

Once you get the hang of it, the weave is not difficult.

Later, after sleeping...

Weaving, weaving, weaving.... Using the loop on the top, I hung the whip from a nail so I could more easily control the tension and the project.

Now to figure out how and when to drop strands.  A quick google search got me to this, which is incredibly helpful. https://whips.wordpress.com/2009/07/21/faq-balance-or-‘active-weight’-of-a-whip/

Later...

I dropped the first two strands at half way, and the second two half way down the remainder, following the instructions on "Paracord Bullwhip."  I'm going to follow the instructions on "upcycled belts" next to keep braiding until just past the end of the core and then stagger the cut-offs.

In dropping the strands, I found that I had to cut off 2 feet (one foot from each end) of the shortest strand, and 2 feet (one foot from each end) of the second-shortest strand. So I should have cut them 8' and 12' (instead of 10 and 14). That would probably have saved me from possibly having to buy more cord for the overlay.

I'm also planning to roll the belly as two of the links suggest.

Later...

Eh, I'm too lazy to sew anything right now. And since one other instructable suggested taping the whole thing and the other said tape the end, I tapered the cuts offs the way the "upcycling" instructions suggested, and taped them all together as tightly as I could. I cut off the melted ends first to make the whole thing tighter, but that meant I had to tape over the ends, so I did.

While I wished I had cut the shorter strands shorter, I wish I had cut the longer ones a foot longer on each end--so 2 feet longer each--to give me some wiggle room to weave beyond the end of the core. I reached just to the end of the core, but didn't really get to go beyond it but with tape.

Of course, we had to go outside and flick the thing to test it. Very satisfactory, if a little stiff. The link where the handle transitions to the thong is very weak, as the instructions all said it would be, so I am going to reinforce that next. Tape or lashing? Both? Probably tape because I'm lazy and I have tape on hand, but the filler strings from the paracord would lash nicely, too. 

Later...

So I ended up taking a single string from the core of the 10-foot paracord and using it to make a tight lashing, about 2 inches long, around the transition from handle to thong, as in one of the instructables, and then I used electrical tape to tape the handle and transition three times, as in another of the instructables. With the handle and the transition reinforced, I'm ready to cut the overlay.

Oh, and I had decided not to roll it until the end, but I ended up rolling it with my hands against a wall, and it did, indeed, make a difference. Smoothed out the whole thing as promised. If I did a proper job, it would probably be even better.

I also was working in the bathroom while Emmy bathed for part of the evening and discovered that a towel hook is a fabulous place to work. It holds the whip for me. And having a second towel hook just a foot from the first was perfect for hanging the scissors and tape on. So I made a few sketches of my ideal weaving wall, with places to measure, hooks for whip making and shelves for my hanging wall loom, and a measuring board. Some day, I'll have a craft/sewing room with a weaving wall in it, a sewing machine wall, and a quilting wall. I would be in seventh heaven. That would be an art studio for me, since fabric arts are my thing.

Anyway, I digress. Next step: cutting the cords for the overlay (and finding out if I need to buy more paracord....)

As a side note, when I straightened the tent stake, I didn't make it perfectly straight, and the warp in it has been emphasized rather than hidden by the weaving and taping process. So perhaps next time I'll cut the bend off the tent stake, or use a very long nail, or just be super careful about straightening the thing properly.

Later...

Doing some math about cutting. I made a chart of the recommendations from all three instructables.  For the belly I needed longer than the long recommendation but half way between the other two (if I had chosen the short ones, though, the taper would have been better, so there is that.) I like the approach of the "upcycled belts" author more, but he's doing a 16-strand weave, and I want to do 12. So I looked at how much paracord I should have left, and I should have about 63-64 feet of black and 40 feet of red. Since I don't want to buy more, I'm aiming to cut the overlay layers 22' (one red and one black), 17' (red), 15' (black), 14' (black), and 11' (black). That should leave me 2 feet for a fall, which is about a foot short, but will have to do. I suspect what will happen in real life is I will cut the 22' lengths, and then will use whatever is left of the red (probably will be 18 feet) for the second length. Then I will cut a 3' fall from black, and cut whatever is left of the black into about 15, about 13-14, and about 10-12' sections and use the whole thing up that way of the 150' I bought (100' black, 50' red).

Tomorrow, that is.

The next night...

So, I thought I bought 150 feet of paracord, 50 red and 100 black. So I did all the calculations for how much I needed based on that, and either I calculate badly, or I measure really badly, or I forgot something I used paracord for, or the measurements were wrong on the package, or something else went awry. Because when I went to cut it, I had 16 feet less black paracord than I should have. Seems like I'd remember cutting off and using 16 feet extra for something, and also that I couldn't be that off in my measurements, so I'm not sure what went wrong. 

When I got to WalMart to buy more tonight, I found there are two weights of paracord, and I might have accidentally bought heavyweight black and lightweight red, 50 yards of each. Except that would leave me far more than 16 feet short! So....no clue what went wrong, but I bought 50 feet more of black paracord so I could cut the last 13.5 foot strand for the overlay and the 2.5 foot fall I need. 

So now the lengths are all cut and ready to start weaving the overlay. I have two 22' strands (1 red, 1 black), one 18' (red), one 15' (black), one 13.5' (black) and one 12' (black). That should allow me to weave a 12-strand weave with a more gradual taper than I did on the core. I have no idea if the core tapering different from the overlay will be a bad thing. I hope not. We shall see. I have to drop a lot more strands this time. I better go figure out how that is done, and also which instructables I want to use for starting, for weaving, and for dropping strands in this layer.

The next day...

I started the overlay weaving last night following the "paracord bullwhip" link instructions, and then put it away to sleep some after essentially one pass.

Weaving 12 strands is basically the same as 4 and 8, but it took my fingers a little while to get the hang of holding them all (years of experience braiding hair has been super helpful for finger muscle training, and also getting a grasp on plaiting in general). It's also a little trickier to tighten the weave properly, but once I figured it out, it was okay.

So it turned out that I did buy two different weights of paracord. It's not terrible weaving two weights, but a little odd for sure.

I was ready to start the taper long before the cords ended. The shortest cord was 36 inches too long.  It should have been a 9' cord for the steep-taper, loud-cracker whip mentioned in the tapering link. But probably a 7' cord (or even 6') for a more gradual taper.

My right hand falls asleep if I weave too long. That's lousy. So now that it's awake (from typing instead), back to weaving.

Later...

Now that I wove to the spot where I wanted to drop the second-shorted cord, I had to trim off 40 inches. So it should have been 10' even instead of 13.5'.  I really was trying to follow the advice to weave loose and then tighten, but I found if you weave quite loose and then shove it up and tighten, it makes a nicer, tighter weave. Also, weaving 10 strands looks nicest with an under 2, over 3 weave (I tried several options mentioned in the instructables, and that looks best).

Now to figure out what happens next. Do I weave past the bottom, or not? Next steps, next steps.

Oh, and the next shortest cord I only had to cut a foot off, so it could have been 14'.

Later....

The three longest cords were just the right length. When I got to the near end of the core, I dropped the next two shortest strands (one from each side) and made them the new core. I did a 4-stranded weave until I had 6 inches left of all the strands, and then I trimmed the core, but I should have left it long because you need it long for the fall knot. Oops!

I followed the instructions for the "paracord bullwhip" for finishing because I was finishing with paracord and not leather.

I skipped the decorative knots parts because I didn't want to do them. I attached the fall and the cracker, and now it's time to go crack the thing. And maybe get pictures. It looks like a whip, at any rate. I hope it works like a whip.