MY SHIRT STINKS

I was going to wear the same white shirt I wore yesterday. Can't. It stinks of garlic or maybe pizza. I can't decide who to blame: Long-Underwear woman's garlicky-potato-breakfast or Heaps. Bummer.

PS I have a son who hates "bummers." He'd hate my shirt for sure.

DID I SMELL LIKE GARLIC OR WAS IT HEAPS

Today, at Beam Ray I sat next to Miss Long Underwear. She is usually there all day so she brings stuff to eat. She opened a Tupperware container today and the smell of garlic filled the room. I raised one eyebrow. "Wow," I said, "What is the sauce on that dish?"

"I don't do sauce," She said.

All rightey then, I thought in my snarkiest inner voice as I tried to do the shallow breathing, but the garlic! Oh my.

I thought of that Peter Sellers PINK PANTHER movie where he has on the hunchback costume when the phone starts to ring. He puts his hands over his ears and lurches all over the room, saying, "The bells! The bells!" I wanted to put my hands over my nose and say, "The smells! The smells!" I wanted to lurch all over the room, too. I wanted to lurch out the door.

Her "breakfast" was potatoes, garlic--equal portions, I'm convinced--carrots and something else, maybe green onions. She finally put it away. In twenty minutes she got it out again. It really did smell good, but oh my. I didn't want to smell it, not at Beam Ray, anyway.

Phil was extra nice to Miss Long Underwear. He later told me that I was indeed snarky, and not just in my inner voice either, and he wanted to be nice to make up for my bad attitude.

We were there about an hour and fifteen minutes and then Phil dropped me at Heaps, where I was meeting friends for lunch. We were chatting in the lobby, waiting for everyone to get there when one of our friends came in. The first thing she said was, "It sure smells good in here!"

It was me. I just know that it was me.

That's me, on the bottom row, second from the right. You can recognize me by the garlic fumes emanating from my clothes, skin, hair, jewelry and anything else I have on.

Photo and outing organized by Pam, who always has a plethora of good ideas.

PS I really do like Miss Long Underwear. She has a certain amount of charm and is way more cheerful in one day than I can be in a month. She says she has had a lot of health problems and they are going away with her Beam Ray devotion. I don't know why I was snarky. I think I must have the snark gene and it becomes dominant when garlic is present. Maybe I have vampire tendencies, too and the garlic just made me want to go into a dark room and lean against a wall. Maybe I should write a book. (A little TWILIGHT humor for you to hold your head in your hands about.)

I'M THEIR HERO 'CAUSE I'M THE FINDER OF THE KEYS

A couple of weeks ago Lord Bumhampton and his charming wife, Nurse Giggleswitch were down for the week-end. We had a glorious time--photos of the fire pit to come sometime soon. We went to dinner at Heaps and then, after the fire had burned to coals, AND the neighbor's sprinklers came on and reached twenty feet and sprinkled us, right on the lawn swings--remind me not to sleep out there anytime soon--we came in and they watched TV and I computer'd. Phil had already gone to bed.

Lord B. started to look for his keys. Nowhere. They were nowhere. He needed to look outside but the flashlight was dim. I found new batteries for him, I'm helpful like that. He looked through the car windows--the car was locked. The keys were not inside. He looked on the lawn. Nothing. He looked everywhere and finally said, "Mom, I may need to borrow one of your cars and drive home--2 1/2 hours away--and get the extra keys and drive back."

"That would be fine," I said and since he wouldn't leave until morning I didn't worry about it much. Lord B. and Nurse G. continued to look.

I finally took pity on them and went upstairs to help. "I've come to find your keys," I said.

He didn't say it out loud but I could read his eyes. "Fat chance!" Since the word "fat" is a forbidden word, kind of like the Forbidden Palace in China--that's how obnoxious that "fat" word is--I didn't look at him anymore.

"Have you looked in Nurse Giggleswitches' purse?" I said, looking at the ceiling.

"Yes, many times."

"Have you looked in my purse?"

"Why would we do that?"

I walked over to my purse and pulled out his keys.

"Are these yours?" I asked.

I know he wanted to kill me or at least shake me until all the "forbidden word" body parts jiggled mightily, but he restrained because he's a good boy. I raised him that way.

"Why," he said through clenched teeth, "would MY keys be in YOUR purse?"

"Well, because," I said, widening my eyes in a most innocent way, "I guess I saw them on the clerk and thought, what if Phil locks the keys in the car? I better take mine, just in case. So I picked up your keys, thinking they were mine, but, ha ha, it's funny isn't it, they were really yours."

"Mom," he said, "my keys have a total of two keys on them. What do your keys look like?"

I fished them out of my purse. "They look exactly the same, don't they? Well, except for the extra three keys and the automatic car door opener and the Eiffel Tower. I saved the day for you, didn't I? Now you don't have to drive all the way home and all the way back. Aren't you lucky?" I paused so he could contemplate how lucky he was. "And you're welcome," I said.

He didn't even smile. That boy need to cultivate his sense of humor.

And I don't think he said "thank you," either.

A SMALL ACT OF KINDNESS

Tonight we took Her Excellency of Mousehole and The Boarder to dinner at Heaps. When Phil paid the bill he tipped the waitress very well. She didn't look at the check, just took it, along with the bill and said, "Thanks for coming in."

It took us a few minutes to leave and on the way out she came up to Phil and--with tears in her eyes--said, "Thank you so much."

It was no big thing, but maybe tonight she needed to feel appreciated. Her appreciation made Phil's day. And because it made his day I realized--once again--how tender and caring he is and I'm so glad he belongs to me. It was a win-win experience, all around.

WEEVIL FOR DINNER

I had boiled a chicken and when it was cool I and cut the meat into chunks. I cooked carrots, celery and maybe peas, I don’t remember for sure. I thickened the broth, tasted it and knew it was just right. I put the chunked chicken back in the broth along with the veggies and added boiled noodles. My chicken noodle soup was as good as that served at Heaps, our favorite restaurant.

Gillmore Girl was at Emily’s and wasn’t home for dinner so we ate without her. After we ate, someone noticed weevil sitting on the top of the leftover chicken noodle soup. There were gagging noises made and then much laughter when we realized we had all eaten weevil—they must have been in the bag of noodles. "More protein," someone said, as if that made it all right. More gagging noises and finger pointing and things said, like, "weevil eater," but everyone had weevil-soup-filled stomachs so we were laughing at ourselves, too.

Gilmore Girl was due home in a few minutes. What was I going to do? We had all eaten the weevil, the soup had been delicious and I had nothing else to feed her for dinner. So I did what any woman who lived through the Great Depression would do—okay, I didn’t actually live through the Great Depression but my mother did and I’m nothing if not my mother’s daughter. I skimmed every weevil off the top of the soup and then stirred it up in case any others surfaced. They didn’t, so I was confident I had found them all. Then I warmed the soup and threatened the kids to say nothing.

Gilmore Girl came home and ate dinner. After she was finished I threw the rest of the soup out. It wasn’t until later—much later that I confessed to my daughter. There were more gagging noises and even a little anger, I think, but you know what? She is the daughter of the mother who is the daughter of the mother who lived through the Great Depression and Gilmore Girl is as thrifty as I am—maybe more so—and I think she may have forgiven me by now. We’ll see what she has to say in the comments section.

PS This is not actually a photo of my chicken noodle soup. I pulled this off the Internet. You can tell it's not mine because there aren't any interesting protein bits floating on top.

LUNCH WITH AN AMAZING WOMAN

This is the Vivacious and Totally Fascinating Shawn. I met her--well, kind of met her--through her blog. She is the mother of a woman who is the friend of a woman who is in my ward (church ward). I don't know how I first stumbled on her blog but it had to be a link from Lisa's blog--the woman in my ward who is also a Totally Fascinating woman and ALWAYS LOOKS LIKE SHE IS READY FOR THE RUNWAY. No, I'm not bitter. Lisa is so fascinating she has two blogs. Here and here. I showed up to pick Shawn up ONE HOUR EARLY. Honest, I did. First time I've been early in my life. So I told her I'd run a couple of errands first and then I showed up fifteen minutes late. One or the other, early or late but not on time.We had a delightful three hour visit and then our little corner of Heaps filled up to overflowing! Noisy? It was noisy. The rest of the restaurant? Empty.

More emptiness.

It's a mystery. Why can't they share the noisiness a bit with some of the empty booths, empty tables, empty rooms. Shawn thought so too.

Thanks Shawn for the delightful lunch and for your spirit of determination and for the love I read in your blog for your children and husband. It makes me want to be a better person. Or be on time, one or the other.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MISS MANNERS

Last Friday I met Gilmore Girl and her two chicklets, Curly Sue and Tuesday at Heaps. I'm a Heaps customer extraordinaire, I should own stock. I should get a yearly bonus. I should at least be on the menu decision committee.

We were there because Tuesday is turning three--this very day she's turning three.

Happy Birthday, Tuesday.

Heaps sends a certificate to children on their birthday, giving them a free pizza and an ice cream sundae along with their must-always-have-one suckers. (See yesterday's post.)

They ate the suckers after dinner. I don't want you to think Gilmore Girl is an irresponsible parent.

Curly Sue, being her charming self with a brand new haircut.
Tuesday, being her charming self, never waiting until ALL the flashes go off before looking away.

While we ate Gilmore Girl and I were talking about Achievement Days--she is one of the Achievement Days leaders in her ward. Achievement Days is for girls, age eight through eleven. They meet twice a month and have lessons and activities.

"My Achievement Days girls need a lesson on manners, I think," Gilmore Girl said.

Curly Sue is in Gilmore Girl's Achievement Days group. She looked very innocent. Her little sister, on the other hand....

Drank her root beer with her finger in her mouth....

Then she messed with her mother's lemon and ice water.... And didn't hold still for the photo, either--or perhaps it was the person behind the camera.

At one point of the evening she blew a raspberry....

And then said, "It was an accident," but it sounded more like "Ith wath an athident." And then she pulled a face at her sister.

She ate her sundae in a very unorthodox way....

A sticky unorthodox way.

She held her head, in consternation at all the rude behavior. Gilmore Girl held her head too, and said, "She isn't old enough to go to Achievement Days but she definitely needs it."

Tuesday actually had more un-mannerized behavior but I have blocked it out of my mind. I called Gilmore Girl to see if she remembered and she has blocked the rude behaviour out of her mind, too.

Who me? Innocent me? Who's having a birthday this very day? How could you ever think of me as rude?

And so it goes. Children, charming their parents and grandparents so we forget about the questionable behavior.

Or perhaps we don't. Perhaps we forgive.

FOUR TIMES FOUR ANSWERS

This came via email today. If anyone wants to do it on their blog...well, it would be a post and you'd be done for the day. I'm done for the day and it's not even three-thirity in the afternoon. Practically a record for me.

Four, Four, Four, Four...

A) Four places that I go to over and over:

1. Church --The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints--The Mormons

2. Grocery store, Costco, the most, probably or maybe Days Thriftway

3. J-Dawg, for those incredible Polish dogs, or Heaps, for the great salad bar, or Smart Cookie for the yummy lemon cookies with crunchy lemon bits baked right in, or Chuck-A-Rama on Thursday for their Mexican salad, or Dairy Queen, late at night, for those frosty's—do you see a pattern here? Not so good. But, hey, call me and I'll pick you up, and away we'll go. It will be fun. We will visit and eat stuff.

4. My writing/critique groups.

B) Four people who e-mail me (regularly):

1. Pam --who always seems to know exactly what to say to life my spirits.

2. Cheryl--who should blog. She has the most incredibly funny things happen to her or maybe she just looks at life with joy.

3. Terri--who also should blog for the same reason.

4. Gilmore Girl--who doesn't email me so much so she really should blog.

Everyone who thinks all these people should blog raise your hand. The voting appears to be unanimous.

C) Four places I would rather be right now:

1. In the Swiss Alps or maybe Paris. If "right now," then the Alps because Paris would be hot and with all the dog doo problem, that Paris has going on, it wouldn't be pleasant.

2. Back in time to when the kids were little and everything was hectic but not as stressful as now, how I'd love to gather them up on my lap and read to them or sit with them on the lawn swings, eating popcorn and rhubarb and just letting them be silly, entertaining Phil and me.

My favorite lawn swing memory is when Lord Bumhampton was about two or three-years-old and Mom was here. It was time to put him to bed but we were on the lawnswings--the lawnswings were out back, that year. We didn't want to go in so we bathed Lord Bumhampton in a bucket on the patio. He was all blond and slippery-wet and delighted to be bathing in a bucket.

Then we "jammied" him and cuddled him down and stayed out there until way past dark, just talking. The crickets turned on and so did the stars and Mom and I sat in friendly mother-daughterness for a long time while Lord Bumhampton went to sleep in my arms. So if I could go back in time maybe that would be two of my choices, once with the kids and once with my Mom and a sleeping toddler.

3. In New York City for a week with a purse full of money and tickets to everything

4. San Francisco, ditto with that full-purse thing. Or maybe Carmel.

D) Four people I wish I were more like:

1. Jeanne Inouye, for about fifty different reasons, some of which are her grace, her love for everyone, her dignity under difficult situations, her wish to be happy and to share her happiness with others, her work ethic, etc. She is one of those people who you cannot believe is real because she is so perfect and yet she makes you feel like you are just who you should be, even if you're not.

2. Terri, Pam, Cheryl and Gilmore Girl for their insaneness. They laugh--and I laugh more when I am with them--than can be imagined.

3. Eleanor Roosevelt, but prettier.

4. Sarah Barlow. She has the most giving heart. She wants to help others all the time--and does. And Boyd Helquist, who is such a social person and he makes everyone feel they are important in his life. He always walks down to talk to us if he sees we are outside, even if he just has a minute to spend. He's that way with everyone.

E) Four TV shows I watch all the time:

1. "Lost," when it's on--and that's what, 12 to 14 times a year? Big whoop.

2. Cooking shows, I don't know why, it doesn't inspire me to cook. I used to cook. Poor Phil, having a wife who used to cook.

3. That's about it--oh, maybe a movie we get from Net Flix—I order never-heard-of-before-movies, the feel-good kind and Phil thinks are lame--the latest one was DEAR FRANKIE, which I loved and he slept through. He has put EVERY SINGLE EPISODE OF 24 on our Queue so I won't be watching TV anymore at all! He thinks Jack Bower is real. Don't tell anyone, it's embarrassing.

4. Oh, wait, "Everybody Loves Raymond," I watch over Phil’s shoulder after he watches the news. I, of course, am on the computer. Blogging, probably, or perhaps waiting for the Muse.