Friday, July 31, 2009


I was writing at the kitchen table tonight and my pen kept skipping so I went to the "pen drawer" and got a new one. The original pen fell on the floor. Someone-who-shall-not-be-named picked it up and saw the other one and said, "You always do this. You get a pen out and then another and another and you have then all over the house."

I smiled and said, "It's nothing to be annoyed about. It's quirky."

Someone-who-shall-not-be-named wants me to be pen-responsible, not quirky.

We are all quirky. I think we should laugh at other's quirkiness. Let's say, "You know how they are," and go on with life. I want someone-who-shall-not-be-named to do that for me. I want that person to laugh and say, "She's done it again," because, let's face it; I'm going to leave pens all over the house.

And that comes back to something I think, and occasionally say out loud: "We can forgive people of almost anything, but not of boring us." That really doesn't fit this blog post perfectly but if I were not quirky I might bore someone-who-shall-not-be-named right to death and that would be tragic.

So I'll quit before, well you know, I bore you more than I already have.

Because, let's face it. You're quirky, like that.


I don't know if it was The Scottish Dreamer's experience--asking the naked man to breakfast--or if it is my galloping insecurities or what, but last night I dreamed I was naked. In someone else's house. Agreeing to babysit their dog--a Rottweiler, yet. While looking at their 1949 Packard Convertible limousine and wondering why they weren't more upset--or even upset at all--by my nakedness.

And then I realized that no one in a naked condition should agree to babysit a Rottweiler. Or be in someone else's house. Or even look down. Especially the looking down part. In fact, they should just wrap up on one of Omar's tents and go home. I don't know why I didn't do that, in my dream last night, instead of hanging around, at an embarrassing level to a Rottweiler's cold nose with a Packard convertible limousine, with leather seats. Have you ever sat on a leather seat? Naked? With a Rottweiler right there, all attentive and slobbery?

Some nights it doesn't pay to go to bed.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

I'M HOKEY--and then if that's not bad enough--I'M ALSO POKEY.

I got a forwarded email a few days ago. You were supposed to number a paper to eleven and then put some numbers down, names of people, and songs. Then you scrolled down to read what your answers meant.

This person in space number three is the one you love: I had written Phil.

The song you put in number eight matches the person in number three: Come Share My Life

Number eleven tells you how you feel about life: I couldn't think of any more songs, my mind went totally blank--you can see I'm defending myself before telling you what I put--The Hokey Pokey.

So, there you have it. My personal creed. Charming.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009


The Scottish Dreamer (story here) and her family were on a little vacation in Idaho. It was Sunday morning. She and one of her boys went out their French door that led to the swimming pool and the spot for breakfast. She thought it would just be juice and a muffin but it was more. She was halfway through her French toast and thought she'd go tell her hubby and other son to hurry up so they could eat before they went to church.

When she got to their door it was locked. She'd just gone out that door. How'd it get locked? She pounded on the door, calling to her husband to hurry and come and have some delicious breakfast.

Nothing, Not even a whisper of a sound from inside.

More pounding on the door. "Hurry Clark Kent," (not his real name but it fits), "hurry and come to breakfast."


Then she noticed the drapes weren't closed all the way. She cupped her face with her hands and peered into the room. She saw a naked man with a tattoo of a cross on his back. He started tiptoeing to the very door she stood on the other side of.

The Scottish Dreamer was probably an Olympic athlete in her early years as she made it back to the table in one point four seconds--wearing four inch heels, yet. She picked up her fork, looked at the ceiling--as if it were fascinating--and pretended she never left the table. In fact, if she could, she would have grown roots.

I don't know if her husband and son ever made it to breakfast. I don't know if naked-tiptoeing-tattooed man did either.

I could hardly draw a breath for laughter when the Scottish Dreamer looked at me and--with the face of an angel, an innocent angel--said, "This kind of thing happens to me all the time. I don't know why."

I don't know why, either. Maybe it's Karma. Maybe she and Mrs. Bird really are long lost sisters. I'm just grateful for the laughter that saves me from insanity.

Monday, July 27, 2009


The fruit flies. Driving me nuts. I peel the cucumber, they come. I chop the tomato, they come. I stem the strawberry, they come and come and come.
At 8:15 I put out the trap:

2 Tbs. water
2 Tbs. apple cider vinegar
A few drops liquid dish detergent

Aha! At 10:00 I had victims.
Revenge is mine.

Sunday, July 26, 2009


Today I sang alto, which amazed me because I don't know how. I've been a soprano all my life. But, today, for the first time in my life, I could sing alto.

My sister Patricia sang alto. Beautifully. I think she attended church with me today. It must have been her because I could find the alto notes and then, for the last song, they were gone. Naughty sister, didn't even stay around for the closing prayer.

When I get to Heaven I will ask to sing with her. I'll sing the soprano part and I'll bet I will be able to hit the high "E" again, effortlessly. I think we'll sound good together.

I miss her. I hope I can sing alto again.

Saturday, July 25, 2009


Did you know that the movie "You've Got Mail," had at least two previous editions and maybe three? I think we've seen them all. My favorite, I think, is with Van Johnson and Judy Garland, called "In the Good old Summertime." Ironically, this was filmed mostly in the winter. I told Phil I wouldn't watch it as that song sets my nerves on edge but, last night, as I was dying, I did watch and liked it.
The other one is the "Shop Around the Corner."
I need movie recommendations. Funny, clean ones. My daughter-in-law recommended "New in Town." It's now on my Netflex queue. What else should I add?

Friday, July 24, 2009


About two hours ago I got a terrible pain in my lower back--the kidneys, I think. Then it hit my stomach. I started to perspire--a river of sweat. Honestly it was. A river. I felt like I was going to throw up. The pain intensified. I had never felt anything like it. I was frightened.

I asked Phil what kidney stones were like.

"Well, I got a terrible pain, felt like I was going to throw up and I perspired. It felt like my back was breaking."

I paced the floor and worried. I took my pants off, even the waistband was too much pressure on my back. Then I got cold and huddled under a blanket in the recliner and when Minkey came to sit on my lap I didn't shoo him away. I was nearly incoherent with the pain and the cold and the fear and a cat didn't even register on my annoyance monitor.

I wish I could have time to tell my children I love them and tell them why I think they are wonderful, I thought. I wish I could tell their spouses how much I love them, too. I wish I could see the grandchildren grow up but I wasn't going to be able to do that. I was dying.

I was in too much pain to even pray. I should have asked Phil for a blessing. But I'd have had to put pants on; it seems irreverent to have a blessing with no pants on.

So I sat and feared and shivered and thought of all the things I had eaten that might be poison and might be killing me. The only thing I could think of--that Phil hadn't eaten too--was a seafood egg roll. Maybe it had some of that poison Puffer fish guts in it. It seemed silly to die from a seafood egg roll with Puffer fish guts in it but we all have to die from something and at least it would be amusing to tell at my funeral. That is if the autopsy could pin down the cause of my death but since Utah Valley Regional Medical Center doesn't have a Dr. House... or a Ducky... I figured my death might remain a mystery.

And then I wondered why I didn't clean house today. People would be in and out, giving Phil condolences and bringing him something to eat, maybe a pie or a casserole and the thought of a pie or a casserole sent me to the bathroom to hang over the toilet, hoping to throw-up and not die there instead. Who wants, "died with her head in the toilet," on her obituary? But then again, obituaries are usually so boring, someone might read mine and call to the other room, "Say Kim, it says here that Lynne died with her head in the toilet. Those Mormon's are a strange bunch."

And then I felt bad that I didn't get any of the books finished that I started. Not the reading ones, the writing ones. I'm the only one who knows how they end. And not that anyone even cares but I have one grandchild who would. She is a story-hound and I remembered I had never finished the epic story I have been telling her in instalments. I promised her another chapter the next time we were sitting on the lawn swings. There wasn't going to be another chapter because I was dying.

And then I looked at my fingernails and my polish is ragged and needs re-doing and I hated to die with ragged fingernails but I simply couldn't give my self a pedicure while I was dying.

And then...the pain started to go away. And in about a half hour it was gone, leaving behind only tenderness and damp clothing and pantless legs. And then I remembered that the Augmentum I have been taking causes nausea and that I threw up the first time I took it, a week ago. And I realized it was poisoning, not only the bacteria in my body--the good bacteria and the bad--but was poisoning my very body.

I resolved that I would call Dr. Jessica, who is a mom and a hair stylist and does a mean job of making teen age girls look like road kill for Halloween with her great talent for imitation scars and wounds. Dr Jessica is systematically educating herself on how to cure illness with natural remedies instead of drugs. She has even decided that some things are not to be eaten, like sugar and white flour. Imagine that? Maybe egg rolls are on the list. Certainly Puffer fish guts are. Yes, the next time I had an ailment I would call Dr. Jessica because this dying stuff is for the birds.

So, tonight I am thankful that I'm not dead. Yet. And I hope you are thankful that I'm not dead, too. Because if I were, I might be visiting, and then you would be freaked out in a major way so perhaps you might pray for my good health for a l-o-n-g time.

And call Dr. Jessica, yourself, if someday you think you are dying.


  1. They know that the pot stickers and the sesame chicken and the
    noodles are the best food at the Asian Buffet. They know that even without tasting everything.

  2. They correct you when you tell them the Jell-O is orange and red. They say, "it's orange and dark red," and then you remember that they are the son of your son who would have said the same exact thing at age five.

  3. Their fortunes already come true. "Express yourself. Don't hold
    back!" They talk and talk and talk.
  4. 4. They know that Grandma wants to sit by them so they save her a seat.

    5. They know what they like.

6. They know "it's just a movie," and they don't want to sit on Grandma's
lap when she's scared and they aren't.

    7. They feel safe at home.
    8. They know they belong to someone and those someone's can be
    trusted. Brothers and sisters can be trusted.

9. When asked what they are going to be when they are grown up they say, "Six." And then they say "seven," and then they say, "eight" and then they say, "nine" and when they get to "twenty three," they say, "I can count to one hundred. And a thousand." And you are glad they just said they know how, and didn't demonstrate.

10. When you say, "So, when you get to be twenty-four and you are grown up what do you want to do? And then they say, "work like my Dad," because they trust their dad and like him.

11. When you say, "What does your dad do?" they haven't a clue but they know that's what they want to do anyway. Be careful, you dad's out there 'cause your son's want to be just like you. Whatever you are. Whatever you do.

12. When you say, "Do you know who you are going to marry? Do you have some cute girl picked out?" They say, "My mom. And she'll have two babies and they will be twins." And then they grin because they know Mom is spoken for and already had eight babies, which might be a lot, even for a Mormon.

Here is Mom, selling handmade soap at the Farmer's Market today.

13. They know who they trust.

14. They know they are loved by Grandma and Grandpa.

15. They know they are smart and have a great future.

This is our grandchild. He is five. He has freckles. He has one dimple and he can put his finger right on it, even without a mirror. He is smart and funny and a good boy. We love him. We had a great time with him today.

Happy Birthday, five year old!

Wednesday, July 22, 2009


Last night my computer was being particularly stubborn. It wouldn't let me do much and I was ready to throw it out the window--just like my daughter-in-law, Tricia who was ready to throw her blog out the window. We could have had a race to see who could launch the furthest.

So, this morning, when I opened my message from Tut--you really should subscribe--it's nice to get a positive email every morning--it was soothing. Do you need some soothing this morning? Listen to Tut.

Relax. Breathe in deep. Hold it. Let it out. Loosen your shoulders. Smile. Close your eyes. And Lynne, you'll be surprised at how many voices you'll hear, whispering sweet encouragement into your ear.

Kissey, kissey, you can do it - The Universe

Monday, July 20, 2009


Today's message from Tut:

The time will come when you'll see that pretty much everything was better than you thought. That life was more beautiful, people were kinder, greens were greener, and the water was cleaner. But most of all, Lynne, you'll see... that you were simply stunning, every day of your life.

Happily, I've always known the truth - The Universe

This fits. You see, I have been remembering things from my past. People who treated me a bit unkindly and I have been giving them the benefit of the doubt and even realizing that they were occupying a place of hurt--maybe--and so the hurt might have been passed on, maybe even unintentionally.

In fact, those people, who I have had a bit of a hurt from, well, I'm seeing them differently. Kinder. Nicer. Even prettier. Now isn't that nice? Maybe someone will do that for me someday, for all the stupid things I do/did, the unkindness, the uglies.

Here's to selective memory.

Saturday, July 18, 2009


Oquirrh Mountain Utah Temple We went to the open house for this temple today. The temple will be dedicated in August. We will not be able to attend the temple dedication in person but it will be broadcast to select church houses in Utah and we will be able to attend there.
(c)2009 Michael Provard
Gilmore Girl and her family took us. And then after the tour they took us to dinner at Olive Garden, which was delicious. The tour and dinner--both delicious. Thank you Gilmore Girl and family. It was wonderful to be with you in a place so sacred. Temples are all about family and it was good to be with your family today.

Provo Utah Temple This is the temple that is just five minutes drive from our house and the temple we attend most often.
Oakland California Temple This is the temple Phil and I were married in forty-three years ago. Where did the time go?
Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple This is the temple we went to yesterday to see those two youngsters married for time and all eternity. Phil and I were able to attend the dedication of this temple in person. When the prophet came into the room the atmosphere in the room changed. I could feel the change. It brought tears to my eyes. It felt right, sacred, as if angels had suddenly come into the room with the prophet. I shall never forget the feeling of that moment.
Today was a great day--a special day for us, one I will always treasure--being in such a sacred place with family that I love.

Friday, July 17, 2009


Today was a good day for weeping. We saw a young couple sealed in the Mount Timpanogos Temple and then learned that Gilmore Girl's husband's grandpa and his second wife were sealed in the same temple at almost the same time. It was a tender time for me. The bride said something comforting to me after the ceremony. It brought tears to my eyes. And I already had tears for the young couple who have made such an important step in their lives.

His Mom is so happy. I adore her, she is in one of my critique groups and I am happy to have her in my life on more than one level.

I am somber tonight. Weepy for what is and what isn't. I guess I'll have prayer and go to bed and hope tomorrow the sun will be shining.

And it will. Temperature is supposed to be 104. Yikes.

Thursday, July 16, 2009


The Peterson Family from the great state of Hawaii. The prize is a bag of caramels, made with my own hands and wrapped, lovingly, while watching "House" or some other fool show.

Since they make it to the mainland occasionally I will keep their caramels in the freezer until arrival. Unless they don't come for six months and then I will have to mail them. Or maybe I will eat them myself. No, I wouldn't do that. heeheehee

Didn't know it was a contest? I know. I forgot that little piece of info. I'm squirrelly like that. Stay tuned for other unannounced contests at other times in other places. Maybe they will be on someone else's blog.

The name of the movie was indeed Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I know, hardly a movie and does have charm, in a perverted sort of way.

You may now log off of this blog and go to other, more interesting ones because I am going to give dialogue examples of this movie--if you could call it that--and if you continue reading it may rot yer brain.

King Arthur: [after Arthur's cut off both of the Black Knight's arms] Look, you stupid B-word. You've got no arms left.

Black Knight: Yes I have.

King Arthur: *Look*!

Black Knight: It's just a flesh wound.

And then, later, when the Black Knight continues to threaten Arthur despite getting both his arms and one (or maybe it was both) of his legs cut off Black Knight: Right, I'll do you for that!

King Arthur: You'll what?

Black Knight: Come here!

King Arthur: What are you gonna do, bleed on me?

King Arthur: It is I, Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot. King of the Britons, defeater of the Saxons, Sovereign of all England!

King Arthur: I am, and this is my trusty servant Patsy. We have ridden the length and breadth of the land in search of knights who will join me in my court at Camelot. I must speak with your lord and master.

King Arthur: What?

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: You've got two empty halves of coconut and you're bangin' 'em together.

King Arthur: So? We have ridden since the snows of winter covered this land, through the kingdom of Mercia, through...

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: Where'd you get the coconuts?

King Arthur: We found them.

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: Found them? In Mercia? The coconut's tropical!

King Arthur: What do you mean?

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: Well, this is a temperate zone

King Arthur: The swallow may fly south with the sun or the house martin or the plover may seek warmer climes in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land?

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?

King Arthur: Not at all. They could be carried.

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: What? A swallow carrying a coconut?

King Arthur: It could grip it by the husk!

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: It's not a question of where he grips it! It's a simple question of weight ratios! A five ounce bird could not carry a one pound coconut.

King Arthur: Well, it doesn't matter. Will you go and tell your master that Arthur from the Court of Camelot is here?

1st soldier with a keen interest in birds: Listen. In order to maintain air-speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings forty-three times every second, right?

King Arthur: Please!

Sir Bedevere: What makes you think she's a witch?

Peasant 3: Well, she turned me into a newt!

Sir Bedevere: A newt?

Peasant 3: [meekly after a long pause] ... I got better.

And here is the dialogue with the winning line:

The Dead Collector: Bring out yer dead. [a man puts a body on the cart]

The Dead Collector: That'll be ninepence.

Large Man with Dead Body: Nothing. There's your ninepence.

The Dead Collector: 'Ere, he says he's not dead.

The Dead Collector: He isn't.

Large Man with Dead Body: Well, he will be soon, he's very ill.

Large Man with Dead Body: No you're not, you'll be stone dead in a moment.

The Dead Collector: Well, I can't take him like that. It's against regulations.

The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I don't want to go on the cart.

Large Man with Dead Body: Oh, don't be such a baby.

The Dead Collector: I can't take him.

Large Man with Dead Body: Oh, do me a favor.

Large Man with Dead Body: Well, can you hang around for a couple of minutes? He won't be long.

The Dead Collector: I promised I'd be at the Robinsons'. They've lost nine today.

Large Man with Dead Body: Well, when's your next round?

The Dead Collector: Thursday.

The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I think I'll go for a walk.

Large Man with Dead Body: You're not fooling anyone, you know. Isn't there anything you could do?

The Dead Body That Claims It Isn't: I feel happy. I feel happy.

[the Dead Collector glances up and down the street furtively, then silences the Body with his a whack of his club]

Large Man with Dead Body: Ah, thank you very much.

The Dead Collector: Not at all. See you on Thursday.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009


Last week we had a serious windstorm here. The only birdhouse we haven't moved, blew apart and look what was inside. A gigantic wasps nest.I dropped a couple of mothballs inside months ago and they vacated.
But look who they left behind. (Maybe it's too hard to see.) Dead wasps. Lots of them. Could you live in a house with your dead family hanging around?

And that is why the animal kingdom is hard to understand.

*Name that movie.


"Behind every successful man is an untold pain in his heart." Bill Jacobs

Is this true, do you think?

Monday, July 13, 2009


We trust it, but one day we end up on the ground. We trust people too. Will they disappoint? Yes. Will they break our hearts? Yes.

Will we disappoint and leave other's stranded or lonely or dissatisfied? We will. It's almost a certainty. We won't mean to, it will just happen. We may even break their hearts.

That's why forgiveness works. And it must work for everyone to work for anyone. If not, it's the unforgiving one who hurts and hurts.

Sunday, July 12, 2009


Years and years and years ago, when Mrs. Bird's children were little they went to Lake Powell with six or seven other couples. All the kiddies stayed home. They were at Lake Powell for five days. Five full days of water skiing and good food and sun and sand with just the adults. It was Heaven.

They spent every day in swimming suits and only got in clothes to sleep and then it was usually just underwear. A wind storm came up one night and all the men exited the tents, battening down coolers and tent flaps. Mrs. Bird said it looked like a bunch of headless ghosts, running around in their underwear, but that's a post for another day.

Anyway, after Mrs. Bird and all the others wound up their week of fun they had to come back to earth and "do" real life. One of the first things Mrs. Bird had to do was go to the bank on Monday morning. Jim (not his real name)--I'm going to call him Mr. Swimming Trunks--was the bank manager.

She saw Mr. Swimming Trunks across room and called out to him. "Jim! I didn't recognise you with your clothes on!"

There was a great silence. Not even the counting of a coin could be heard. All the tellers, loan officers, bank president and vice president and customers took a collective breath and held it. Every head turned to the man who was unrecognizable in clothes.

Mrs. Bird, unaware of the stir she had caused smiled and waited for a response.

For a long, l-o-n-g time.

Saturday, July 11, 2009


Yesterday Gilmore Girl and I went to Costco. Well, we started for Costco. We saw a garage sale sign and thought a little detour wouldn't hurt. And then we saw another sign, this time advertising furniture. That won't hurt either, we thought. An hour and a half later (or maybe it was two hours) we left the second one.

I didn't take one stinkin' photo. What is the matter with me? (Don't answer, I don't want to know.)

The people who run the garage sale buy things at other garage sales and refurbish them. They paint most things black, white, red or teal. Really, darling stuff. They hold a garage sale three times a year. The next one will be in October. Watch for it at 56 something something Canyon Road in Provo, Utah. It's almost to the end of Canyon Road, before the Peay Ranch.

I saw a chair I wanted. I sat in it after I tired of waiting for Gilmore Girl. It was comfy. I left it there because I didn't want a divorce
have enough chairs in the garage already.

I did make one purchase. Two purchases. Ten cents each.

I am the last of the big time spenders.

We never did make it to Costco. And Gilmore Girl had to do some creative things with a bungee cord to get her sticking-out-of-the-trunk purchases home. Really cute things. Except there was no darlingest-ever chair.


What direction do beans twine? Counter clockwise in the northern hemisphere.

You're welcome.

Thursday, July 9, 2009


Tonight, on the lawn swings, Phil and I were reading. He was reading a church book and I was reading the latest First magazine. That's about how it goes around here--he gets spiritual, I learn how to avoid swimmers ear. You never know when someone might have swimmers ear. I like to be prepared.

First I learned how to unblock my chi--or energy flow: I placed my palms together with fingertips pointing at the ground and rubbed my hands together briskly for one minute. I visualized the negativity leaving my body through my fingertips. Then I swung my arms, letting the "bad energy" go with a flip at the end. I was very energetic.

Second I learned how to say goodbye to the double chin. (Ha! The woman who demo'ed the Japanese secret was 22 years old and didn't have a double chin. But, just in case, I did it anyway.) It involves lymph massage under the chin. So, I ran my thumbs under my chin and all the way to my ear, then massaged the hollow behind my ear and pressed down, sliding my hand down my neck. I did this many times, just in case I could vaguely look like the model they hired to show us how to avoid a double chin. The model that doesn't have a double chin, to begin with.

Then I did my exercises for the neck that I got off the Internet. Holding my face to the sky and chewing. It looks odd but the Internet article said it helps. Then doing the same thing, kissing the air. Phil stopped being spiritual long enough to look at me--one eyebrow raised--but he didn't stop being spiritual long enough to say I was making a fool of myself--for which I am grateful.

Just for good measure I grimaced, while holding my neck tight. I did this for a good long time. I'm a good grimacer.

No one joined us on the lawn swings. Not one neighbor! Isn't that strange? Usually we are awash in neighbors. We sometimes have all four lawnswings filled. But tonight? Not even one.

They must have been busy. All of them. Busy.


Today, at my critique group, I read that my protagonist--I still don't have a name for her-give me some suggestions--was unsure of herself, felt that she was always doing the wrong things, or perhaps not doing the right things. Two of my fellow writers said, "I feel just like that, that I never know what to do."

I didn't tell them that when I got to Carol's house--where the critique group was held--that I realized my shirt was on BACKWARDS and that I had to stand in the living room and take my arms out of my shirt and turn it around, before going into the kitchen, where everybody was.

Yes, my protagonist and I are one and the same. Maybe I should just call us Klutz and be done with it.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009


This water in this little gutter stream came up from a drain and filled the gutter and than ran down to another drain and disappeared. I guess it just came up for a look around.

Sometimes I'm like that too. I hibernate in the house and only come out for a breath of fresh air and then go back into hibernation. I can see how people can become housebound. It takes work to be sane, doesn't it?

Monday, July 6, 2009


This is one of my dearest friends.* We both moved into the subdivision umpteen years ago within a couple of months. Even though she moved later we have always stayed close.
Her daughter--Ms. Business Woman** and Gilmore Girl were two or three years apart in school and were friends.

Tonight Gilmore Girl said, "Do you remember the Christmas I called you to see if you got a Pound Puppy and YOU WERE STILL IN BED?" They go way back and have lots of good memories.

We laughed and took pictures of each other.
We laughed so much there was wiping of eyes.I thought we should have at least taken pictures of the food so here it is. Too late. We ate at Thai Drift in north Orem. The food is very good. There is nothing so pleasurable as good food and good friends. Tonight was some of the best.

* This woman and I have been through some tough times together. She is always laughing. When she calls and I don't tell Phil who is on the phone he always knows. How does he know? Because I laugh almost the whole time I am on the phone.

**She manages a "Massage Envy" in California--with about 45 massage therapists--and only gets home to Utah about once a year. It's been years since we've seen her. Her mom keeps us posted on her comings and goings and always there are fond memories of the two of them growing up together.

Sunday, July 5, 2009


Mrs. Bird is a Mormon--a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Some of the things we don't do is drink, smoke, or drink coffee. We don't do drugs. This story is about the "don't do drugs" part.

This incident happened when her husband was our Bishop. The Bishop watches over the whole ward. They council the members, they "run" the ward, and they take a very active role in the lives of the youth. He had been called to one of the members homes--they had a rebellious teenager and the Bishop took something to get it out of the house. That sets up the story.

Mrs. Bird got in the car to run some errands. On the passenger seat of the car was a paper bag with the top folded down several times. Mrs. Bird didn't think anything about it until someone ran a red light. She hit the brakes and the paper bag went flying onto the floor. After she gathered her wits and got in the parking lot of the grocery she picked up the bag and opened it. Inside was a recipe book. "How to make Hashish brownies," she read. Hum, she thought. I wonder if that's a health food? And I wonder whose recipe book this is? Maybe my husband wants me to start baking and he bought me this book as a surprise. She put the recipe book back when she noticed something glittery in the bottom of the bag.

She pulled out a necklace with a little pipe-looking thing on it. Hum, she thought again, this is kind of cute. So, like a true blond she put it around her neck and went into the grocery store. She went back to the meat counter to order something and the butcher looked at her like she had a wart on her face.

"What on earth do you have around your neck," he asked.

"Oh, isn't that cute. It's a little necklace of some kind." She picked it off her chest and played with it.

"Do you KNOW what it's for?"

"What do you mean, 'what it's for?'."she asked. " It's just a cute little necklace. I found it in a bag in my husband's car. There was a recipe book in there too, one of the recipes was for Hashish Brownies. I wonder if they sell Hashish here."

The butcher shook his head. He knew Mrs. Bird and he knew her husband was a bishop and he had already put two and two together and got four.

"You're wearing a 'pot pipe,' and no, Albertson's doesn't sell hashish," he said, laughing behind his hand. "Oh...ha ha ha. No Albertson's doesn't sell...ha ha ha...oh, dear," he said. "You're wearing...ha ha ha...a pot pipe."

"A pot pipe? What's a pot pipe?"

Now this happened in the early 80's. You'd think Mrs. Bird would recognize the words, "pot" or "hashish." But, no, not Mrs. Bird.

So, the very amused butcher explained to Mrs. Bird all about pot--and hashish--and making brownies and he probably explained other things to her as well. When he was finished she was mad. Mad as a wet hen. She got into the car and drove to her husband's office.

"Hi, honey," he said when he saw her.

"Don't you 'hi honey' me," she said. "What are you doing with a pot pipe," she picked it up and waggled it in his face, "and a cookbook telling how to make brownies with...with..." by now she was so upset she could hardly talk. "And I wore this into Albertson's, thinking it was cute, and the butcher had to tell me it was a...a....pot pipe!'

He started to laugh. With Mrs. Bird for a wife he spends a great deal of time laughing. He laughed so hard he could hardly breathe. He bent forward, putting his hands on his knees. "You wore it into Albertson's?" he wheezed. He wiped his eyes. The harder he laughed the madder she got.

"Honey," he said, when he could finally breather. "It doesn't belong to me. It belongs to a teenage boy in our ward. He's having some problems. I can't tell you who it is but I've had a good talk with him and with his parents and, well...." He took the necklace with the pot pipe off of her neck. "Let's just throw this away, shall we?"

Then he kissed her on the cheek and walked her to the car. He said he had some work to do.

Then she said things like, "Oh how silly of me, I should have known you wouldn't have a pot pipe. I have errands to run so I'll see you at home, later. There won't be any warm brownies waiting for you, though." She smiled and handed him the bag with the recipe book and he threw it in the garbage can at the side of the office.

She started the car and he leaned in the window and gave her a kiss. She put the car into gear and as she drove away she looked in the rear window and saw her husband, laughing his head off.

They say laughter is the best medicine. Mrs. Bird does what she can to keep her husband healthy. He should live to be a hundred.

Saturday, July 4, 2009


The beginning of a balloon. Flat as roadkill. Then the fan is turned on and when the balloon is half full they turn on the burners. In about fifteen minutes it can be airborne.
This is in honor of my Canadian friends. The maple leaf is the wrong color, but still.
Sailing off into the sunrise. There were about nineteen balloons in the competition. They took off to the south, climbed in altitude and then the air currents took them north. They then went lower and the air currents brought them back over the field, They dropped a weighted marker to see who could come closest to the target.

This was my favorite part. Maybe because it was chilly this morning and if you stood close to the balloon you were warmed. The power of the burn and then the lift off were exciting.
This competition has been a Provo event for 25 years and this is the first time we have gone. Shame on us. It was well worth getting up at 5:30 for.

Next year I want the grandchildren to go.

And all my friends.

And the neighbors.

And you.

Happy 4th of July to the country I love.